Our second morning of awakening on Isla was a lot more pleasurable than the first, at least for me it was. Anyone who has read my story thusfar might think that we drink a lot, but in fact, aside from when we are on vacation, we rarely drink at all anymore. Being a bit out of practice, it took me a while to remember some of the basics, like drink more water than usual, and have a late night snack in order to avoid morning discomfort from over indulgence of the brew. Anyway, this morning there was no headache, just a slight fuzzy feeling...nothing that a cup of coffee couldn’t cure.

My early morning ritual was becoming more established now, as I made a pot of coffee, and sat out on the verandah luxuriating in the cool Caribbean breeze, watching the sky for the first light of dawn, all the while marveling at the early morning on Media Luna beach. As the sky became aglow with the colors of morning, I woke Ritsuko so that she could see the sunrise, and together we watched another beautiful sunrise from our bed in the lovely little room at Secreto.

This morning we walked into town, seeking street food for breakfast. The dogs had already dispersed for the morning, no doubt in search of food as well. On the square, in front of the supermarket, a man was selling some tasty little delicacies of chicken, onions, veggies, and some killer green chilies. We sat on the stone wall behind his stand, along with several local Islenos, eating our little morning treasure. The smiles and sparkling eyes told us that our breakfast companions were enjoying these treats as much as we were.

After that, we walked on down toward the airstrip, walking around the navy base, and up Rueda Medina. There we got the last of some incredible pollo tortas, which we devoured as we continued to walk back to the supermarket, where we bought more water, some fresh baked goodies, and assorted munchies. Then we walked along the seawall and beach back to Secreto, where we quickly gathered our beach things and headed out to Playa Norte.

It was a calm, clear morning, and the early sun worshipers had begun to gather on Playa Norte.

My Zen:

Calm warm turquoise sea Hot sun in a clear blue sky My baby and me

This is how I wanted to spend every morning on Isla. Drifting in and out of consciousness, while my senses were overloaded with sights , sounds, sensations of touch, and the smell and taste of the air and sea. My conscious being fused with a dream state that taunted me to dive in every time I closed my eyes until I was living in the dream, and everyone and everything around me seemed to be bonded into a sublimely surreal feeling of peace and serenity.

“Don’t you want to eat?” I heard from a voice in the distance. I looked up and saw Ritsuko. “Aren’t you hungry?” She asked. The dream had delivered me back to the bedsheet on the beach. I was so relaxed. I began to move as a mortal again, feeling the weight of my body as I sat up under the palm tree, squinting as I opened my eyes to the noon day sun, intensely aware of the pains of hunger. “Damn!! I’m starved. Let’s pack it up and find food.”

We packed up our beach paraphernalia and walked down up the beach to one of the places we had spotted on day one, the Palapa Bar. There we dined on grilled fish, fresh grilled veggies, rice, and fresh tortillas while we watched the people on the beach. A wily little black female cat approached our table, taking refuge from the sun in its shade. How is it that cats intuitively know which people are cat people. I reached down and handed her a piece of fish. Soon I felt a furry little cat face rubbing against my ankle. More fish. Then Ritsuko joined in, sharing her lunch with this skinny little feline. Our waiter laughed when he saw what was happening, telling us that this little cat eats so very well, as she is there every morning when they are cleaning the fish. I thought that Eeper and Smoochi better never find out about this place or they might stow away on our next visit.

We went back to the hotel, threw our backpacks on the patio, and jumped into the pool. The cool water of Secreto’s pool felt so good, as did the gentle breeze from the Caribbean. Hanging onto the wall at the end of the pool, we watched the sea crashing rhythmically onto the rocks.

“Do we have enough pesos?” Ritsuko asked.

“Enough? enough for what?” I asked.

She smiled her best “little girl” grin. “Oooooh, you know, hehehe”

Oh yes, I knew that it was TIME TO SHOP. Now, to me, shopping is when I decide that I need to buy something, then I go into the store, buy it, and get the hell out of there as quickly as I can. Wrong! wrong, wrong, wrong!!! That is not what she means when she says shopping. Shopping to her is an art form, an expression of that which is essential in the female psyche, the concept of which is way beyond my simple understanding of life and the world in general. I don’t understand it, but I don’t fight it, for I do know that fighting it would upset the cornerstone of tranquillity in the world as I know it.

I held on to enough pesos for beer and food money for the rest of the day, and for breakfast tomorrow, and handed her the rest. She was giddy and laughing as we headed down the hot dusty road into town. As we walked down Hidalgo, it was like running the gauntlet, the merchants all giving their best pitches. I just walked along smiling, thinking to myself “Jeez, give it up folks, you’re talking to a used car salesman, ok?” One guy just looked at me and said, “How about buying something from me?” I laughed out loud; a man after my own heart. I told him to talk to the lady, waved her over and said to her, ”I like this guy.” I guess he thought that I was giving him carte blanche to make a huge gross profit, but little did he know that he was facing one of the toughest negotiators I have ever met. Ritsuko stands there with a pretty smile, and she is ever so sweet, but in her head is a memory of every trinket that she has seen in town, categorized and priced in dollars and pesos, as well as a repertoire of closing tactics that would have impressed Dale Carnegie himself. I have seen her work street vendors down to the point to where they are about ready to give her the merchandise just to end the ordeal of negotiation.

This, to me, is way too much like work. I would much rather be drinking cerveza and looking at the sea. I tagged along with Ritsuko until I told her that I didn’t want to dampen her exuberance and joy, and that I would not be good company for much longer. I suggested that she shop to her heart’s content, and then meet me later at Sergio’s or on the beach near Sergio’s. That seemed like the best solution to avert what would be an inevitable disaster if either of us tried to bend the will of the other for an entire afternoon.

We parted company, and I went back to the beach. At Sergios, I bought a bottle of beer and drank it slowly as I walked out onto the beach.. The beach was almost deserted. A gentle breeze blew across the sand as I laid out my sheet, applied oil to my body, then laid out to bake in the mid afternoon sun. Finishing the beer, I put my head down on a pillow that I had fashioned from sand under the sheet, closed my eyes, and drifted off to sleep as my skin temperature reached stasis, being simultaneously warmed by the sun and cooled by the breeze.

I am accustomed to being awakened in the early morning hours by Smoochi, our little female kitten, who likes to lick the top of my head. Being mostly void of any covering of hair, my head is probably a big warm salt lick for her rough, sand paper like little tongue. I was coming out of my slumber on the beach that afternoon, thinking that Smoochi was licking the top of my head. I tried to move my right arm in order to push her away when I realized that my arm felt extraordinarily heavy. That was because it was buried in sand. The wind had picked up while I was asleep and the top of my head was being sand blasted as a dune was forming over my body.

I got up, my body covered in sand that had adhered to me since I had meticulously covered myself in sunscreen oil prior to my nap, and tried to brush it off. I was white with sand. Gathering my backpack, sheet, and empty beer bottle and walked back to the bar, trudging like a walking dune through the sand, looking like a B movie monster. What a site I must have been. I was really thankful for the shower next to the bar. It must have taken a good 15 minutes to wash the sand off. As I finished my shower, I washed off the Cerveza Superior bottle, took it back to the bar, and ordered a cold one. A couple of people just looked over and smiled as I sat at the bar, fresh water dripping off me into the sand. I spent the rest of the afternoon there, chatting with the people who came in and out, until Ritsuko walked up to the bar with a big smile on her face and a full shopping bag in her hand.

She began to extract from the bag, bracelets, earrings, necklaces, etc, most of which she had bought for friends back home. I knew that she was holding back something really special when she asked, “Do you want to see what else I bought?” I leaned back in my chair, waiting for the climax of the show, as she produced a tiny wood carving of a bull with a black bobbing head adorned with long horns, just like the bull’s head on the ladies room door at Isla Tequila. I laughed so hard that I almost fell out of my chair.

We finished our beers and began walking back to Secreto, stopping at Taqueria Glennsy for a takeout order of tacos de pollo con frijoles y queso. As we got back to the hotel, it was almost sunset. We sat on the third floor roof of the hotel. looking out over the town, drinking cold cerveza, eating our delicious tacos, watching the spectacular sunset as a flock of frigate birds hovered overhead in the Caribbean breeze.

As the sky darkened, we went back to the room, showered, and sat on the verandah. Sitting out in the cool night breeze, we drank freshly brewed coffee with some of the baked goodies that we had stored in our little refrigerator. We were too tired to go out again, and considered this to be a perfect close to another day in paradise.