The Harem

I reserve the right to say things here that would normally get my ass in a whole heap of trouble.

With that said: My girlfriend is lucky I love her. There's a group of young women here that I would have readily made a fool of myself for otherwise. There's about seven of them, all tall and curvacious, all dark and sexy in different ways. They're beautiful, even the little one with the damaged hair, faded t-shirts, sweats and flip-flops. And they all sing-song along in french.

I don't think they're actually a harem. I heard one of them arguing with a tall, lanky fellow. She is equally as tall, though certainly not lanky, and whatever they were going back and forth about, neither one of them was about to back down. And with the communal nature of the Hostel, I got to actually feel the tension between them since I was...well...between them.

It sounded so frightening and beautiful.

I wonder where they're from? Which country could possibly spawn women so absolutely beautiful? And seven of them to boot!

Day 2 - Chasing our tail

Traveling today was smooth, and got smoother as the day progressed. I think its because of our visit to Grand Central Station, our first for this trip, and therefore our first opportunity to pay propper homage to the statue of the messenger god that sits atop it. I think we got lost all of...once. And that was on foot, following instruction provided by the same service that would advise those from San Francisco who wanted directions to Honolulu to rent a canoe and roe for the final leg of the trip. (Its true. I checked. You should too.)

But then Hermes came along, dressed in the skin of a brown skinned, power-walking woman with an odd accent. (Greek, perhaps?) She pointed us in the right direction and then off she went, strutting her way up the steepest hill I'd ever seen and even pointing the direction we should go next while we struggled a couple dozen yards behind. Good 'ol Hermes. Lucky Hermes. It's not her fault afterall. She didn't know we were travelling toward disappointment. Greek gods are enither omniscient nor omnipotent. They've got very specific fields. I'm not sure who is in charge of assanine policy like "You recieved your first immunization shot ten days before your first birthday, therefore it does not count, therefore you may not register right now." But I'm pretty sure it's not Hermes.

But yeah, travelling was good, even if we spent a whole day getting nothing done.

Day 1 - Travel

Survived Cancun, despite personal anxiety. Despite being turned back at the border so Erica could use the right passport. Despite getting on to the most obnoxious bus ever created from Belize City to the border, and then having that bus abandon us on the Belize side of the border.

Thank goodness for travel mates. Erica and I noticed a guy on the bus with two bags big enough to smuggle an adult. From the look of the guy struggling with the weight, he might have had two adults in there afterall. We heard him ask the conductor if we would be crossing the border, and later he asked another passenger if he knew how long it took to get to Cancun by bus. During the grueling five hour trip in an uncomfortable bus with intollerably loud music (And a drunk that decided to join us the last fifty or so miles to the border), he was cheerfully chattering away the time with another passenger, and doing so with impressive confidence, even though his Creole accent made an otherwise elegant language sound like tumbling rocks.

As ut tyrbed iyt ge was a Belizean studying Electrical Engineering in Cuba. Not only was he flying back from Cancun the next morning, just like we were, it turns out he was from our old neihborhood to boot. His company, assistance, and quick translations made our trip immeasurably more tolerable. That guy is a lifesaver.

I just wish I could remember his name.

***

I don't remember the flight from Houston to Laguardia. I remember someone nudging me, and I mumbled 'orange juice' to that person. I remember drinking my orange juice. I remember landing.

So we're here! Getting to the hostel was a bit bumpier than I had planned. The problem was Lennox Avenue and Lexington Avenue look too similar when reading through the smeared window of the third bus you've been on in 24 hours without a shower. Too bad they're about five or six blocks apart. So much for cutting down on the walking time.

I miss Merri. This place isn't the same without her. I was afraid of that.

New York in summer. I was dripping sweat by the time we got to the subway, and the train kicked up a hot smelly breeze redulant of childhood memories. I'll try to make the best of it.