Everyone is moving slow today. It was one hell of a party last night. A cocktail party planned at the last minute by Nancy turned into an explosion of French cheeses and wine. I think that everyone who is staying here was in attendance. People were inside and people were outside talking and laughing and catching one another up on their lives.
Then the collective group made it over to Papagayo, the restaurant, bar and dance floor. Coop is from Louisiana and sings like Louis Armstrong and he wrestled the microphone from the D.J. and we learned what a wonderful world it can be.
At one point I was standing beside Carlos who is my friend and the manager of Papagayo. He had his arms crossed and was just watching making certain everything was going fine.
“You want some real entertainment while you are here?” he asks me in his French, Creole, and Caribbean lilt.
“You mean like last time?” I shoot back.
He starts laughing. “Yes, like last time.”
Last time, Carlos picked me up at 3:00 on a Sunday afternoon. I was crying as I dressed to leave the beach but I made myself do it. Carlos drives a big SUV and was wearing a Lakers Jersey that we’d given him. I had a tee shirt on with shorts AND underwear. I don’t wear shoes down here.
So he drives us down the dusty road lined with bushes that can break into your car if you get to close to them. He is happy that I am with him and I’m happy to be experiencing another piece of the island. He takes me to this other beach and there must have been a thousand people there, grilling, drinking, laughing and kids were running around everywhere.
Carlos pulls under a tree to park and we walked what must have been a mile through the crowd until we stood in front of a stage. Well, it was really the back of a large truck, but it was being used as a stage.
And across the bed of the truck were girls wearing lingerie. One after the other they came parading and dancing.
“That is what I am talking about!” Carlos told me, laughing and slapping me on the back.
I had to admit that I’d never seen anything like it.
“You stay here and keep our spot,” he told me, “I’ll get us some beers.”
“No, I’ll go with you. You’ll never find me again.”
“Trust me,” he said pushing his hand against my chest. “I’ll find you.”
And he left me there in a sea of people watching girls in underwear parade across the bed of a truck.
Then I busted out laughing. Of course he would find me. I was the only white person there!
So I told him sure. I’m up to hang out with my friend and let him take me wherever we end up next.
Cindy stumbles over from her and Randy’s studios turned palace to tell me that they are going to the grocery store and asks if I need anything. Her eyes are red from the party last night. I jump up and give her a list and think how nice it is to be taken care of.
I watch her and Randy walk away. The breeze is light and the sun is brilliant and it is 87 degrees. The water dances a tango of blues, greens, and aqua.
I love it here.
