flâneur: “from the French masculine noun flâneur—which has the basic meanings of "stroller", "lounger", "saunterer", "loafer"… or "a person who walks the city in order to experience it". (wiki.com)
la flâness: sexier, female version of the above.Archive for March 22, 2010
San Blas-ted
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My first few days here, in San Blas, have been marvelous, hectic, relaxing, stressful, hot, freezing, and itchy.
This jungle paradise is wonderful. My mornings are spent walk-running down the deserted beach in my bikini bottoms and a sports bra, singing out my favorite songs that I`ve never had the guts to sing out quite so loudly before. I usually dive in the ocean to cool off, closer to the cabañas, and a few times have stopped to give the surfer boys yoga classes en la playa.
Bettina and I usually head to the market after that on our bikes – they came free with our cabañas at Stoner`s! We grab food for breakfast and dinner… we have rarely been able to resist the fresh banana bread lady`s goods on the main road to town…
(fresh banana bread, dried bananas, and banana cupcakes are everywhere here!)
After some sort of brekky, we usually wander or read together or separately, with or without the boys, or get iced coffees and use the net at one of the cafes in town… but we have been known to beach a little. And Panties reads like a devil!
Days seem to fly by! Which is what makes them hectic. We always have a plan for dinner, and our group has expanded every day to include more locals and foreigners! We`d been cooking our own little traditional Mexican fiestas at Stoner`s – Panties, myself, Another Swiss Girl, and Tas (Alex, the surfer dude from Tasmania) dancing to Manu Chao (well, that was mostly me and the resident puppy…) and kicking back with the bored-as-all staff… it`s off season here until Semana Santa - Méxican Easter Week – and the place is jus empty.
Our new friend from Idaho who lives down the road often shows up with a crew – he`s listed on couchsurfing.com and constantly has someone or some group staying at his place. First it was a three-man clan of American dudes who loved to call themselves the paparazzi… we decided our favorites had to be the blonde, quiet German girl, who would pipe up to surprise us with her outgoing tendencies at the most random of times… and Tim, the engineer-turned-scuba diving travel blogger. Idaho usually brings his giant long-haired black dog with him.
But after a few days we learned to stay away from the beach at night. I knew they would be bad - I`d read about the infamous Jejenes - but the biting, mosquito/sand fly-like pests were the absolute worst insect experience of my life! And the experience was constant – never ending.
They would bite in the day, yes, and perhaps get you in town if you stood still for a moment too long… but on the beach, in the sand, and especially at sunset, the way these little things would savagely feist upon innocent passers-through was like nothing a simple webpage could ever explain! You could feel them getting you – but you had no where to go! They would cling to your clothes and hide in your room for bedtime. They would wait for you, arm their forces, and attack ALL AT ONCE – and drive you absolutely mad! Ab.Sol.Ute.Ly. MAD. MAD.
After only about half my time had passed, I noticed changes within myself… I was moody and intolerant, and had a short fuse for me. At first, I thought it had been the bad news I`d received from home. I thought it had just gotten to me a bit more than I`d originally thought. But upon further reflection, I was able to more accurately blame the copious amounts of OFF bug repellant, and subsequent anti-itch cream I was smearing into myself day and night! And more than that, I was living in a beach cabaña, where my running water only really worked half of the time, and my showers were never enough to get all of that chemical crap off of me!
The creams, chemicals, and the Jejenes had all joined together to drive me up the wall – and it was working! I had mini-mental breakdowns scratching my thoroughly harvested ankles until they were red and inflamed. Against Panties` better advice.
Long story, made longer: our dinner parties with the growing crew were relocated to restaurants down in the main square, to Idaho`s sizable bachelor pad up the beach, and to the beautiful home packed full of bunnies, dogs, and ducks that our other friend, Zach - let`s call him the Philosopher - was house-sitting.
We rode from Stoner`s to the market, to the bars, to the home in large, itchy bicycle gangs. Very cool.
