Tropical Rerun -- The Rock Factor

(I penned this little story after our month spent on Isla in April/May 2006. I think this was my first attempt at blogging on Bob's Isla Traveler's Board.)

I decided instead of a 28-day trip report --I'd give Bob's blogging a whirl. (Translation: We're back to our daily diet of rain here in Seattle and I'm bored.)

View from the Studio

When I was on Isla, I noticed a great quote in Herman Wouk's Don't Stop the Carnival that reminded me of Isla:

Once you've been down here awhile, you begin to think you've turned over a rock . . . and there are always yet more rocks, kid, with more ugly little surprises always scuttling out from under them. Never a dull moment.

Now I'm not saying our beloved Isla is an ugly underbelly. But I now realize it's the rock factor that rips me out of my suburban frame of mind and keeps me coming back for more! I kept a catalog of the bizarre on this last trip. Some of it's printable and a lot isn't. One of my favorite moments was watching a pitbull fight during the dinner hour on Hidalgo. We'd just finished eating our lasagna at Angelos when chaos broke out in the street between Angelos and Bamboo. The big pitbull -- the one with the HUGE cajones -- was duking it out with a brown lab mix. (Larry is now deceased -- may he rest in peace!) They were growling and chasing each other up and down Hidalgo. The lab actually bit the pitbull on the ass, so I guess he won! Diners were scrambling to get out of the way while waiters hurried to try and break it up before people fled. A rowdy pitbull fight puts a real damper on the Bienvenidos sign. Watching the expressions on diners' faces was more entrancing than Javier's music.

The rock factor includes all the near calamities that come with the third-world infrastructure. My husband and I walk down the street yelling things at each other like HOLE, HOOK, TREE, SIGN, etc... On this last trip, a friend walked straight into an air-conditioner one night on the way to the ballpark for tacos. (There was an air-conditioner sticking out of a low window right into the sidewalk.) The impact was so hard it literally knocked him down onto his rear. Thank God he'd been drinking -- otherwise it would have REALLY hurt. There's also a hole in the sidewalk out by the ballpark taco stand that has a plank to traverse it. You could literally lose your leg in the hole! I guess that's why cuidado is probably the most frequently used word in Mexico.

Another day I was sitting on Juarez when the police truck passed. The guys in the back were busy getting their last blows in on the suspect before the truck turned the corner to the police station. (I guess I'll BEHAVE on Isla. But a friend reassured me they only treat locals that way.)

Anyway, whether it's the Easter bunnies and turkeys in the Christmas nativity scene, the stoned guy wearing the FBI t-shirt and hat, waiters lighting each other's rear ends on fire, or the short local guy limping down Hidalgo in the I'm Shy, But I've Got a Big Dick shirt, there's never a dull moment on Isla! And then -- there are all those stories of middle-aged American housewives gone wild. (Just KIDDING???)

Speaking of the rock factor, I've got a rock story from the trip. One morning, Craig and I rode bikes over to Playa Indio. I chilled out under a palapa while he fished at the end of the dock. After about 2 1/2 hours, I was starting to feel charbroiled, so I issued the ultimatum that I'd had way too much fun and was ready to go. He said, "Just ten more minutes. I'm trying some new bait and I know I'm going to catch something." After 20 minutes, I started out onto the dock to ring the final bell. He yelled, "Just a minute. I've got a barracuda." I hopped on down the dock (you have to hop because there are gaping holes where there IS no dock!) with the camera to get a picture of his catch.

Playa Indio's

Nice rock, eh?!!!

Sailboats

Best Sunrise 2006!