Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Manzanillo: Day Five and Into Six

This morning there are two enormous cruise ships in the harbour. It's been years since so many of them docked in Manzanillo. A good sign for the Mexican economy. The ships are gigantic yet graceful as they appear in the mist of morning, then glint a striking white later in the day.

While sitting on the balcony, I hear a loud slap on the water. It's a fish, silver in the sun as it leaps straight upward and belly flops hard on the surface before disappearing again. Then another one does the same. Maire says they're probably avoiding a predator below, trying to scare it away with the noise. Certainly nothing threatens from above; the pelicanoes haven't yet arrived. A lone tern sails past, paying no attention to the jumping fish. Grackle stays in our garden to peck at the damp grass. The hummingbird has no appetite for fish obviously. The pigeons are grumbling today, voices raised in some kind of protest. Maybe they don't like the construction going on next door. Brand new condos that look like they will be gorgeous, though they have certainly encroached on Koy's property.  

We go out for breakfast with Pat and Bill, right across from Bricio's. We don't feel unfaithful, though, since Bricio is closed on Mondays. This new place is working hard to establish clientele. We all have omelettes with nearly any ingredient you want for one price. Yummy.

When we return, John and Maire are out and about in the garden. We meet Isabella's (the dentist) boyfriend, Jorge, who is a surfer. We're not sure what else he does for a living. He speaks English extremely well, with only a touch of a Spanish accent. We used to think Jorge stood for "he who drives", but maybe it's "he who surfs" instead. (Inside joke, sorry.)

Jorge helps John put up a hammock between two trees in the garden. Oh my! If I get in there, with the sound of the sea and the breeze wafting over me, I may never get back out again.

We spend the day, once again, in utter relaxation mode, though I do get my editing done. I think my editors are geniuses. They pick out so many grammar, typo, spelling or punctuation errors there might not be any for Imajin's professional editor to find. (Of course, I am making a huge assumption that Imajin will accept my submission.)

I sit under the gazebo where I get the ocean breeze and a glimpse of the waves. In and out of the pool, we read (or edit), talk, drink cold beer, do crossword puzzles, watch the waves for signs of whales (of which there are none).

Koy comes to talk before she goes out again. She is a beautiful woman, slim, impeccably dressed. She's extremely friendly and welcoming. With her German husband, she has traveled and lived all over the world. Right now he is in Germany with her son and their grandchildren, while she is here with her daughter. Koy's mother lives here too. The situation causes her some sadness, she says. Perhaps renting out her suites will allow her to travel back and forth more often.

There are two Dobermans here, very docile, sleek and brown/black and black/brown. Beautiful eyes that have only friendliness reflected there. I have no doubt they would protect their family, but they have decided we are part of that category. Their names are Rambo and Rocky.

Vince goes upstairs to relax on the lounger on our balcony. First he's visited by a gecko who slides down the tiles in the bathroom. Later we hear him tut-tutting in the palapa roof, so we assume he scrambled back up.

Next one of the dogs comes wandering into the apartment, since the doors were open. Vince is not very comfortable with Rambo, so I lead the dog back downstairs, talking to him with my cat voice, telling him he's a good boy, which I realize he probably doesn't understand since he only speaks Spanish. However the cat voice gives the message anyway. He becomes my friend and lies beside me as I edit by the pool.

At sunset, we walk down to the Toscano Restaurant. Pat and Bill have secured a beautiful table overlooking the ocean. Unfortunately the sun sets in a bag, so we don't get treated to the usual stunning sight. Our food is mostly good, the wine is excellent, and there's a musical duo who play and sing songs that I know the words to. Isabella and Jorge, with Rambo or Rocky, jog by on the sand.

Bill gets a bottle of that excellent wine (Rioja) to go...

Back home, we take a night swim, drink the wine, and talk. I fall right to sleep when I finally get to bed. We've given Pat and Bill our goodbye hugs, since we are one hundred per cent certain we won't be up at six in the morning.

Of course, we're right. So far, on this sixth day, I have written this blog, watched Jorge chop down coconuts, fish jump, birds fly, waves tumble and recede.  I've had a good session of whistling and chatting with Grackle. Setting the pattern for another day in paradise.
One of the dogs with a coconut treat.

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