It was raining when I took the water taxi to town. My clothes were damp from the rain, but it wasn’t cold enough to be annoying.
I walked through town and got even wetter, not caring, and found the things I needed; bananas, a plantain, fruits and vegetables, a piece of snapper, and a bottle of some stuff Jody told me would clean the green mold off the ropes on the boat. I can’t imagine that anything will keep the mold at bay, as it has been raining so much. I left a 5-gallon pail on deck and it was full in a few days.
I stopped in La Buga. They make good smoothies, so I ordered one, but drank it fast. The music was loud and meaningless and a parrot was screeching. I wanted some peace. I headed down the street to Leaf Eaters, a vegetarian restaurant over the water, and hidden behind a store with folks who have fun working there gringos who have been here forever and speak Spanish. They have wifi, but won’t let people Skype or talk on the phone. My kinda place.
I ordered a burger and fries. They laughed and gave me a hippy bowl. The seat of my pants had soaked through from the wet painted plank that passes for a seat on the water taxi. I sat and looked out over the bay to the mountains separating the Caribbean from the Pacific, and thought it would clear before long.
Cat Stevens was playing in the background, just loud enough for me to sing along without anyone noticing.
Now that I’ve lost everything to you,
You say you want to start something new,
And it’s breaking my heart you’re leaving,
Baby I’m grieving.
But if you want to leave take good care,
Hope you have a lot of nice things to wear,
But then a lot of nice things turn bad out there.
Unlike the noise at La Buga, this song means something. I flashed back to years and years ago, places I have been, and a woman or two I have loved and lost, or who lost me. The rain helped my mind wander to Maine, Massachusetts, and the Isles of Shoals, a back porch, a moldy couch, and a few old friends.
azuldelmar2kr 
Love this. I can relate. I remember taking the speaker out of the back shelf in your Plymouth so we could grab the iced beer from the trunk. We age, we learn, maybe get a bit smarter, but there are always going to be those moments when we tuck ourselves into being younger and the whole life unrolls. Maybe we do live in a 4-dimensional universe where the past, the present, and the future all happen at once. Einstein thought so. So did St. Augustine. They were sure that the separation of past, present, and future was an illusion. Albert called it “a very convincing one.” Moments like the one you describe make that theory very plausible. Great stuff, my friend.
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Thanks, Jim. I forgot about the beer in the trunk. Makes me laugh. Well, we survived.
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