Boobies & Tacos... Nov 3. Blog #6

I have set my alarm... just in case for 7:00am. Since arriving in Sayulita I have not kept to any schedule... I sleep when it suits me and rise when I’m called... crowing cocks ( of the feathered variety ), thunderstorms, early morning calls for fresh fish or avocados bellowed from a truck mounted speaker, the sunrise. I don’t want to be late for our 8:15am departure from Ally Cats to Marina La Cruz where I will be spending the day on a 60ft catamaran. I stop for coffee and a croissant at Boulangerie Patisserie and head to meet the bus. I am pleased to see some familiar bodies. This group is easy to spot~ did I mention earlier that many of them are adorned with intricate, colourful and almost entirely body covering tattoos... literally covered... chest, arms, legs, back, buttocks... It must be a trend for this particular Colorado Firehouse. One in particular is nicknamed "Cardigan"... he sports a Japanese style chest tattoo~ it is unique in that the tattoo leaves a center strip bare in Horimono means the recipient of this tattoo can partially unbutton his shirt and not display his canvas. His crew tease him in that all he needs "is a few buttons down the center". I feel modest with my two smaller tattoos. The first is privately located on my upper left Arse cheek. It is a Yin & Yang Symbol with a Cancer symbol within one side and a Scorpio symbol in the other. My boyfriend and I had matching ones done in our 20's. Perhaps back then we were instinctively aware how different we were? In Chinese philosophy, yin and yang describe how seemingly opposite or contrary forces may actually be complementary, interconnected and interdependent. During the divorce stage of my life I considered having it covered or transformed into something else. It was a reminder of my failed marriage. It was my daughter who was 8 at the time said to me one day "Momma leave it, its like you and Daddy coming together to make me". From that day forward I look at it very differently. For him he is fortunate, the woman he is marrying is also a cancer. I'll need to find another Scorpio lol.

We jump on the bus... 2 rows of double seats and one solo seat right at the front. I opt for that one- it may as well have my name on it. The ride is about 20 min long to La Cruz and I’ve got the best seat to take in the sites while avoiding car sickness on the winding, pot holed road. I’m amazed by the dichotomy- beauty of the jungle terrain set amongst the shanty style buildings... crumbling brick, laundry lines, ripped tarps, rusted metal and garbage. Our driver is relaxed but custom to the road and its drivers, as I experience. While dilapidated trucks with riding passengers in the open boxes speed past us another comes directly at us. I can feel my gut clench and I grip onto the metal bar in front of me instinctively to naively brace myself. It’s funny in hindsight as the bar would do nothing to avoid me being hurled through the glass windshield should we collide.

A year ago I would have proactively avoided this "up front exposed to danger seat" entirely. Politeness put on hold even to accommodate couples wanting to sit together. "Safety first" . I wasn't always this way... A couple of years ago I spent six weeks (37 days to be specific) immobile in a hospital bed to heal a broken back and pelvis. I had insisted on being released a couple of days early as I was desperate to have some privacy with the man I had fallen in love with behind the hospital curtains. The day after my release we were driving up my road. Curtis is a steep, winding road, chock full of potholes and a steep bank on the one side. The Speed limit at its best is 20 km. As luck would have it (or not in our case) some teenagers sporting their N in Dad's truck came speeding around the corner in the middle of the road. They slammed into us causing our big truck to flip over and careen down the bank. It all seemed to happen in slow motion, Him grabbing my hand as we flipped over and braced for impact. I got the familiar sense of déjà vu in remembering an accident as a teenager I had strangely forgotten about. The truck stops, airbags disburse and I let out a breath. Nothing hurts... the truck is crushed but we are remarkably completely unharmed. Neighbours hear the crash and climb down the bank to assist us. I am carried up the bank as we hear the fire truck and ambulance arrive.. The thought of going back into that hospital "I just can’t do it"~ I sign the necessary paperwork to be released and make the call to my mom who is staying at my house. “Mom, we are ok... the sirens are for us... the crash you heard was us going over the bank. The truck is a write off~ we are OK”. As we sit in the ambulance a client calls... I oddly take the call. I have sold him a home while in hospital. He is due to get the keys for his new home and work is work right? (He is now my favourite Electrician)

That day I’m not physically hurt but something in me mentally starts to break... that is the start of the fear that takes over in my life those next few years. I didn’t know what to label what I was experiencing at the time... heart racing, the cold sweat, anticipation for pain, blurred vision, shakes, seeing danger at every turn. The lack of control and the constant fear of what if... This fear only deepening and being reinforced as I rush (that's what I used to do those days... "All or nothing mentality” ) into buying another new horse the moment my pelvis has stabilized. I never remotely considered any mental ramifications of that accident. It was an "accident" and riding was "my thing" after all. I admitted my previous mare did live up to her barn name "Lucifer" over "Lucy". I decided on a large but quiet gelding with mostly Western training but young and willing to learn more English. He has kind eyes.   The day he is due to arrive he has ripped open his eye on a nail. The vet up island sews it up and he is trailered up to me in Comox. He is remarkably calm and settles into his new stall easily that eve. The next morning a group of riders are heading out on the trails and I decide to join. I throw on my saddle hastily and jump on. My energy is high and I leave caution to the wind... No lunging, no time for my new horse to acquaint himself to his new surroundings, little patience, and not listening to his signals... he is anxious, head tossing, prancing his feet, refusing to stand still to let me mount. The group is waiting to leave and ego steps in and common sense is ignored. We cross the busy road avoiding traffic and head to the trails. He is distressed and I push him forward. At some point my adrenaline bottoms out and I notice my hands are shaking. His neck muscles are bulging and he is already dripping in sweat. We head deeper into the trails and he kicks out. HOLY FUCK. The memory comes flooding back of Lucifer kicking out and then the series of bucks and then the crunch of my back on the frozen ground and the searing pain. The knowing I have really hurt myself and too scared to wiggle my toes in case they can't. My body starts to uncontrollably shake and I can't see anything. I don't know what’s happening up me and I don’t know how I got off... that day I walked home on foot with my new horse ~ dazed and confused to what was happening. FEAR... Horses are mirrors of ourselves. I let my ego and excitement blatantly ignore his fear until his fear grew too big. He then mirrored it back to me ten fold. Fear can be debilitating. Fear can creep into every aspect of your life... steal your confidence, question your intuition and leave you immobilized. Fear did that to me.

Fast forward to today... I still drive with caution on my road. I gently remind drivers to stay to their side and slow down... I can’t help myself. I have a tendency to my daughters disdain of swearing out the window to speeding teenagers that refuse to acknowledge the speed limit. Curtis is dangerous... Slow the Fuck Down!

Back to the bus ride...today I am oddly calm. In a culture where there are no seatbelts or helmets, babies are bounced on laps on front seats and dogs wandering the streets aimlessly in the roads there are no accidents, no curbside deaths. I breath deeply and accept what is. While in Sayulita...

We arrive in Le Cruz... more developed, xoxo and even a few high rises. The side streets remain less cared for ~ we come to the marina. I am drawn to the yacht that anchors~ life of the rich and famous... but I wonder are they any happier than the people we pass on the narrow side streets?

We climb aboard the Ally Cat and are greeted by the staff. It’s an impressive boat. I claim a spot at the front amongst familiar tattoos and we head out to sea. Within 5 minutes there are 2 dolphins in front of us . One decides to surf the wake of the boat directly below where I’m laying. It keeps turning its face as to smile back up to us. It’s another magical moment for me. We are served fresh fruit, coffee and tacos. Our tour guide is well versed, relaxed and did I mention handsome? It’s a beautiful sunny day, not a cloud in the sky. I put on sunscreen. I’m not usually a fan of the greasy lube and question whatever chemicals in it are in fact more dangerous than the sun ? Regardless I apply the creamy lotion along with everyone else.

We are on our way first to see the rare Blue Footed Booby Birds. I am by no means a Bird Enthusiast but these rare birds are native to only las Marietas Islands and Galapogas Islands, are monogomous for life and actually have bright blue feet~ with a name like Booby Bird... I am intrigued. The male Boobies display their feet in an elaborate mating ritual by lifting them up and down while strutting before the female. It is interesting that Marietas Island only attained National Park status in 2005. The birds along with the remaining natural habitat is now protected.

Our next stop is La Napalera Beach to snorkel and explore the caves. Flippers, masks and snorkels are assigned and we individually flip backwards off the small boats and into the ocean. The water is tepid and clear. The underwater show is impressive~ Bright blue iridescent fish, a school of pencil fish along the surface and sea urchins. We are cautious to avoid the current pushing us into the rocks. The current takes us through into a cave. It is eery and exciting as I hear the sound of my own breathing through the snorkel. It feels good to swim with the strength of flippers & explore within the safety of a group. We then return to our small boats... Next stop La Nopalera Beach. There are Rules before we swim a shore... No climbing the solo ladder onto the top of the bank, no climbing the bank, no removing sand, shells or items from the beach. The fines are hefty to our tour guide and everyone happily abides. We swim ashore and there is an out of place 10X10 brick wall in front of us. The tour guide asks us "Do you know Trump?" "That is the start of his wall."... There is laughter amongst the group and then a comment... "Did the Mexicans pay for it?" More laughter... there is a consensus toward Trump... He is an ass. I am the solo Canadian. The beach is small with various rock caves that are deeply inset into the bank. The caves are cool and wet and home to only the hermit crabs.

We return to the catamaran where lunch is served and the music begins. The younger generation shake their shaky things in lieu of lunch and visit the bar. We stop again just outside of le Cruz to jump off the boat, swim and paddle board before returning to our waiting bus. We all tip generously and clamber back onto the bus. My solo seat awaits me. The trip home is far less eventful on the road. The BEST $95 US I have spent in a very long time. I highly recommend Ally Cat Adventures.

I say my goodbyes to the firefighters who are returning home the next morning and return to my Casa. Too much sun even for this sun worshipper. The pool is refreshing and cools my baked skin. I find a shady spot and the cat joins me on the other lounger. The sunset tonight is spectacular from my veranda although I am struggling to keep my eyes open. I opt to take a siesta.

I awake at midnight and I’m hungry. The fridge houses a solo beer and an aging thin slice of pizza. My options... try to return to sleep or venture out... I opt to throw on my favourite pair of cut off shorts. I’ve had them for as long as I’ve had my daughter ( who is now 15) They are the real deal... worn in and I’m oddly attached to the torn seams. There is music still playing in the distance in the Plaza and I make my way towards it. It occurs to me... at home I would never venture out past midnight and never alone. I walk down the dark alley and past some locals~ there are no cat calls only polite smiles. I feel safe. I wander to my familiar hot spots but they are closed. There is a lineup of people waiting for tacos at a street vendor below a bar. A large piece of seasoned meat is turning on a spit while a woman is slicing from it. Chunks of mystery meat are placed onto tacos with fresh pineapple and cilantro. It’s a younger crowd tonight and many are dressed up...heels, suit, dresses, makeup and curls.   I’m just glad I opted for my shorts and not just my nightie and t shirt. ( I thought about it) It is there I meet Colin... a graphic designer from Oregon here for a wedding that celebrations have evidently just begun to wrap up. The line is long so we exchange pleasantries... of which I am getting much better at. I’m amused by his boy like charm and the way he keeps running his hands through his longer perfectly waved dark hair. He smells good, but so do the tacos.

I find myself a seat on the sidewalk curb to eat my tacos. A few minutes later he wanders over and politely asks to join me leaving his well dressed wedding party behind....He wants to sit on the ground in his glamour suit with the girl in the comfies? The tacos are tasty and I’m surprised to learn its pork. I don’t like pork. We finish our tacos and he asks if he can buy me a drink. Before I have a chance to say "No" I remember my homework. “let a man buy me a coffee and just say Thank you”. There’s a story behind that... I’m overly independent to a fault. "No thank you" for helping me out with my groceries, "No thank you" to helping me carry out heavy supplies from Home Depot, " No thank you, No thank you, No thank you". Not sure where it came from but it’s got out of hand... to the point I “must” pay the bill... uncomfortably always... it has made for some awkward dates this year.

We head to Su Casa (a popular local watering hole with rave reviews), there are a few lingering couples on the dance floor this early morning. We pull up two stools at the bar and order margaritas. The margarita is strong and salty. He’s curious about my solo adventure and life in BC. He is an avid skier and was a college scholarship level soccer player... the bell goes off... even at 1am apparently I still attract a certain type... the handsome athletic ones. I realize our intentions for the morning are evolving into something very different as he repeatedly caresses my hand and reaches for my thigh. I’m flattered as he repeatedly tries to lock eyes with me. He has those “sexy bedroom eyes with long dark lashes” ... Very flattered but not interested. He’s 34, beautiful, interesting and I’m... getting tired. We embrace and I wish him luck for the eve... “it’s not too late for you ” I say with a chuckle. I thank him for the drink and head home. “No taco for you, young handsome one”

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