Central America | Mexico | Istmo & Gulf of Mexico | Chiapas | Palenque – Computer Issues

Central America | Mexico | Istmo & Gulf of Mexico | Chiapas | Palenque – Computer Issues

11.20.05    7:49PM
I started writing this once before this morning, but the whole thing froze and I really didn’t get the chance to finish. The sun has fallen and everything is starting to cool off. I am at a palapa, which is one of those grass roofed open structures, in a campground called Maya Bell which is right at the entrance of the base of the ruins access road. There is some live music, a fat man with a red beard is singing traditional songs from Veracruz. I’m a little bummed out, because I wrote the same thing last time and it was much more interesting. I was writing about the people that were in the palapa and what they were doing. It went something like they come and sit in the open aired palapa and eat and drink coffee or tea or beer.

Holy @#$%ing @#$%. I have written today’s little ditty three four or five times now. Every time I get relatively close to the end and it gives out. I don’t even know what to say. Plus, two of the times the writing was good. Really good. I wrote about making love to a Mexican girl. What color her skin was and how she told me exactly what she wanted done. I wrote about how nice that was. I wrote about the palapa, and the people that were under it and what they were doing. I wrote about playing chess with a bunch of people from a bunch of different countries. All if it, all the times I wrote it sounded so good. I don’t think I could do it again. I don’t think I want to do it again. I just told Nicholas this afternoon how I had to write things twice. He said that he likes to write everything twice, that it helps him to get any bugs out of what it was that he was writing. I told him that I loathe revisiting anything. Here I have had to write tonight’s writing so many times, I don’t really feel like I am writing them anymore, but instead reciting a sonnet. However, let me start with what was going on in the palapa. A palapa is an open aired structure that has a dried palm leaf roof. They are very common down here. I was so excited when I saw my first one. They use them for everything here, barns, houses, palapas. This one has a restaurant and a little store and some tables for eating or hanging out and talking or just playing games. The group of us were doing all of the above. It was really quite a blast. We were all playing chess. Nicholas the German who could speak Spanish, English with a British accent and Gil, pronounced like Jill, who was French and could speak Spanish. I was the only one who really couldn’t speak anything other than English. There were times that Nicholas was translating what Gil said in Spanish into English for me. I was amazed that a German was translating Spanish into English. It leads me to this next topic that I met another couple, Bret and his wife, who was really hot, but who’s name I now forget. I think I was making a special point to let him know that I wasn’t attempting to encroach on his territory, so I made a special point of remembering his name first. Anyway, his hot wife told me about a English language school in Guatemala, in a town called San Pedro, that is forty-five dollars and you get a weeks worth of lessons and get to live with a Guatemalan family the whole week. I am going to do that for sure. Who knows, I might even do it for two weeks, depending on the situation. I have been having a really hard time communicating with the locals, and think that this will be good for me, good for the travels, and quite honestly, if I tell the people back home I am studying something, I might not be in quite as much trouble when I get back home. I don’t really know if it is a matter of whether or not I am going to get into trouble or not. I’m at the age now where I don’t really get into trouble. I’m at that age that if I want something to happen for myself, I need to make it happen. And running around the countryside might not be what is required to make it happen. Who knows? I am fairly certain that things are all going to work out for the best no matter what. They always seem to, even if we can’t see it at the present time. Anyway, the last thing wrote about, was how I didn’t write about making love with this wonderful Mexican girl, for fear that my Mother, or Grandmother, or well, I guess that is it, Mother or Grandmother might read it. That being said, let me say that I ate an apple yesterday. It was a golden apple. Golden like the skin of a Sri Lankan, but without the yellowy luster. The apple was young and fresh, and its skin was thick and tight against the meat. The skin was also more smooth than any skin I have run across my lips or teeth in a very long while. Beneath the apples golden skin was an ample amount of meat. The apple was not so skinny that you bit right through to the core, but healthy and beautiful. In fact, once the skin of the apple had been removed, the apple looked even better. The apple was special because it knew exactly what it wanted, and exactly how it wanted to be eaten. Almost as if the apple were eating me.

[The computer lost power again and I refuse to rewrite this]

Category : Central America | Mexico | Istmo & Gulf of Mexico | Chiapas | Palenque , Uncategorized