Always go to other peoples funerals.

18. 

29/03/2009

Pigorilla Power!

There is a big part of me that wants to believe that Acapulco hasn’t seen the best days of its life, but what I want to believe is very rarely what I can believe. I’m sure it was a lovely place in the 50’s. The night life is probably still what it was, but while there appears to be the odd little opulent bubble of cosmopolitan flair, many of the half finished, never to be finished buildings remind me of what happens to Africa when the invaders pull out. A pleasant ride on my bicycle yielded a fine view of the bay and after admiring the most haggard looking pelicans being fed on the beach by the fishermen, I went to a bar in a lovely old square in the old town and had a couple of beers with a couple of mates off the ship. I then cycled to a bottle store to buy some Agave tequila...I wanted the one with the worm in it, but it was going at a premium so I bought two litres of the other stuff for the same price. It has been quite some time since my days when we used to smoke the worm and while I know the times were there, every time my memory tries to scrape some knowledge off the surface of my grey matter, all it comes up with is a dazed and confused look. Before I start my book, I will round up the culprits who contributed to my look and will put down what they have to say in my book.

I tried out the Tequila last night and it gave me a wonderful content feeling without even denting the bottle so I look forward to wonderful times before the two litres are finished. We had a torrid time during our drills this morning as the dudes that came on board yesterday to start doing our audit over the next few days made us do a full evacuation drill to check all the lifeboats were working and that everyone knew what to do in the case of an emergency. By the time the drills had finished at 11h30, I was a little sleepy and put my head down in my cabin for one and a half hours. Getting up to know that I was going cycling in the oppressive heat was not easy until I thought of all my friends (most, anyway) with proper jobs, at which time I sprang out of bed, wolfed down a couple of fat-burners, in case the feeling didn’t last, prepared my bike and hit the road. Thirty kilometres later I was in the middle of Mexico, endorphins flowing freely through my body, and not a care in the world.

Back on the ship, I have got everything so together that it doesn’t even feel like it is me, but being me is the last thing I’m going to worry about if I’m feeling good, and I just cannot help but feel that this all has so much to do with all the carbohydrates I’m eating...as long as I keep cycling, they shouldn’t affect me too adversely. I haven’t made one pound in a week and I’m sure that it doesn’t matter...I’ve taken a lot more than carbohydrates during my life to get rid of the feeling that situation can nurture and all to no avail. Without a doubt, the best way to feel better is through your stomach.

I have a couple of sea days coming up and then we are all looking forward to a day heading through the locks of the Panama Canal. Hopefully the sea days will not bring me down too hard and the buoyant contentment will continue through this division between the first half and the latter part of my life (all things being equal and the unusual assumption that I may live a full life).

A spot of advice from the good Yogi Barra regarding death, “Always go to other peoples funerals-

Otherwise they won’t come to yours”.