The morning began with a holler through my screen door:
Bryan: “You awake??”
But soon I roused myself and joined Bryan for a beautiful walk over the hill behind their house which spit us out onto the beach. At noon, we departed for “third breakfast” and found ourselves at Cafe D’licia, a beautiful garden restaurant in the back of someones home. Alicia, the matron of the establishment, cooks everything herself: the bread for our mango french toast, the english muffin for my Torta D’licia, the short bread for the strawberry short bread and….everything else. It was grand meal.
At four I biked over to a gallery in town where Donna, my boss from La Palapa, had invited me to a “reading” that a group she had gotten together had been doing for years. Everyone was almost three times as old as me. Though a very relaxed, cordial, pleasant, event some of the writing made my ears bleed. A cat in the premises was whining loudly, interrupting the readings with literal cat calls. They thought the cat wanted attention. I knew better. It wanted quality literature. However to hear original mind-boggling prose from the ilk of Mary Oliver was not why I had attended, so what was I complaining about. I enjoyed reading some of my own poetry and was pleased that a few of the other pieces presented were quite good. Everyone couldn’t be nicer and Donna took me out for coffee after. Iced chai.
After returning home, I set out on a jog, tracing the path Bryan and I had taken that morning. The trail was earthy yellow, orange and pink in the falling light and Pantofla kept me company as we jogged through the desert hills and eventually out onto the beach and across the shore back to Bryan and Sergio’s place.
Later I went out with Bryan, Sergio and Molly to the Cafe Santa Fe, for Molly’s farewell dinner. Molly and Bryan both depart Mexico tomorrow, to Georgia and China respectively. It’ll be Sergio and me holding down the fort for the remainder of my stay. Dinner this evening almost killed me with it’s perfection: focaccia, tuna and marlin carppachio, tomato and goat feta insalata, and the most incredible (no kidding) lobster tortellini one could ever imagine. After every sumptuous bite, I had to pause with it in my mouth, close my eyes, and just grin softly to myself in ecstasy for a few seconds. It was so rich I could only stomach a handful of bites but I was beyond satisfied and the bar has been placed very high on my lobster tortellini standard as a result.