Mazatlan Poolside
The azure chlorine pool rippled in the Pacific breeze emulating the ocean waves tumbling on the stretching golden beach only meters away. The navy and royal blue tiling lined the sides and bottom like carefully groomed teeth. The edge closest to the beach stood like an implacable guardian between the self-assured north-American tourists and the hostile Latin essence of the third-world beach beyond. The chemically tamed water of the swimming pool brimmed timidly against the bulwark of tile as the primal sea churned just out of reach, the two melding in an ironic dance of human striving and natural indifference.
The other attendees of this poolside tribunal convened in unsettled bliss, wary of each others relative affluence, yet united in condescension and common fear of the Latin culture that surrounded their little island of tidy civilization. James, the interloper among them, had, by this time in his self-imposed exile, assimilated into Mexican life as well as anyone could have expected. Desiring no compatriots in his life, his language, eating habits, and diurnal rhythm had unwittingly adjusted themselves to his adopted land. Yet, in spite of his efforts to fit in, it is never easy being a stranger in a strange land. Both his wife and his mistress were proud of themselves, having landed a gringo - a status symbol of the highest order. This neither pleased nor irritated him.
Aqui tiene Usted, fired the elegant elderly waiter as he placed a rough wooden tray laden with a glistening ceramic mug of hot coffee, a mosaic bowl of dark cane sugar and a tiny brown crucible of thick cream.
The azure chlorine pool rippled in the Pacific breeze emulating the ocean waves tumbling on the stretching golden beach only meters away. The navy and royal blue tiling lined the sides and bottom like carefully groomed teeth. The edge closest to the beach stood like an implacable guardian between the self-assured north-American tourists and the hostile Latin essence of the third-world beach beyond. The chemically tamed water of the swimming pool brimmed timidly against the bulwark of tile as the primal sea churned just out of reach, the two melding in an ironic dance of human striving and natural indifference.
The other attendees of this poolside tribunal convened in unsettled bliss, wary of each others relative affluence, yet united in condescension and common fear of the Latin culture that surrounded their little island of tidy civilization. James, the interloper among them, had, by this time in his self-imposed exile, assimilated into Mexican life as well as anyone could have expected. Desiring no compatriots in his life, his language, eating habits, and diurnal rhythm had unwittingly adjusted themselves to his adopted land. Yet, in spite of his efforts to fit in, it is never easy being a stranger in a strange land. Both his wife and his mistress were proud of themselves, having landed a gringo - a status symbol of the highest order. This neither pleased nor irritated him.
Aqui tiene Usted, fired the elegant elderly waiter as he placed a rough wooden tray laden with a glistening ceramic mug of hot coffee, a mosaic bowl of dark cane sugar and a tiny brown crucible of thick cream.
adara:
maybe i won't wreak havoc on your page...i don't know what the fuck you're talking about.
anarchie:
Thanks for the photographs sweetie, you've made my day- all those hot hot memories!!