muisne, enchanted emerald isle of swaying palm trees, expanses of soft white sand, placid cattle in the nearby pastoral fields, and me, reclining gracefully in an ecocabin, organic cuba libre in hand .... scree! [that's the sound of a record scratching.] nope. muisne in the low season is about 95% deserted, and included in that 5% population figure are me, tom, mama inez (proprietress of the hotel calade, the only visibly abierto establishment on the beach), her son freddy (who would not shake my hand, having just been elbow-deep in the toilet-water supply, attempting to fix the plumbing), our tricycle taxi-driver francisco, and about 40 stray dogs. o, and the cattle, all of which are suitably placid, and roaming the deserted beach. hotel calade has neither power nor water. that's ok, none of muisne has power. i've been told that a restaurant will open in about an hour; in the meantime, we have one fiberbar, nicked from whitney's apartment in quito, that tom will not eat because it is quite dry and we have only approximately 6 oz. of potable water, and no leads as yet on where to find more. sometimes the fear of hunger creates a hunger of its own.
No comments:
Post a Comment