Typing here, a foolishness, a bright glowing magnet for all coast dune-lurking bandits.
Under the quilt now--better. I met a white beggar just the Mexico side of la frontiera. A small head, dark slick-combed hair, freckled face, large dress or polo shirt over what suggests a bulletproof vest. Jeans, new tan work boots. "Do you speak English?" he asks, then explains he spent night in Ensenada jail and is trying to raise $12 for bus fare to Oxnard, been asking an hour . . . "in vain. Can you help?"
"Probably-- wait until I'm finished (doing the tourist card scavenger hunt)," I say. I lived in NYC, I think later--I can't give, I've seen the pros work the subway cars, same story day after day--. To make it easier, the woman ahead of me in the card-stamping line asks the stamper about him--. Even so, walking by, saying no, I get nastiness about karma and "you won't even help your own kind." He had just solicited one who looked Mexican.
The next white bandits, besides perhaps Trump, besides perhaps the Spaniards, the Porphirites (sp?), the ruling class, me, my grandparents, etc. . . are in that van over there--Pat and Mike, beautiful surfer Canadians (Ottowa), just out of college.
We got to talking, "So tell me what all is in your pack," says Pat, probably after I blabbed about the <10 lb ideal. Walking back to my spot, mind imagines, what if _they_ were banditos?
They went through the horror story gauntlet without getting any positives (I at least had Graham Mackintosh, Warren Goetze, _People's Guide_), having spent three weeks in San Diego before finally crossing and getting at last some good news from a friendly Mexican in Rosarito. What was the news, beyond his friendliness? Not sure. "What would they want to take from us?" they asked. White-girl porn was all they offered. I sheepishly suggested, "passport?"
--
The only other typing I may have for you this evening is that I have cooked my first meal--lentils, tapioca, seaweed, haberno, eggplant (the latter two from Mark B's garden), garlic, three eggs, some dried anchovies, red/hot spices, shiitake--, always a significant accomplishment in new territory and/or newly on the trail. (vs. eating no-cook food).
Things to burn are often more difficult to find down here.
--
Still walking--, things continue to be interesting and varied enough, partly due to alteration between road and beach walking. And the continuing observation of difference and novelty everywhere, even if unable to articulate what.
Peace,
[fell asleep before posting]
No comments:
Post a Comment