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​David Kindopp ~ writing about living in, and adventures in, Mexico
Just for "Parrotheads"!
Hey! You KNOW who you are!
Grab a sheaf of Buffett songs, toss em’ into a blender and you have a recipe for my sailing and land exploits in Mexico.
Or – take my adventures, shake em’ hard, add ice and salt and lime and you get Jimmy Buffett songs spilling out of the shaker.
A MARGARITA in a glass
A MARGARITA
in a book!
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Here are some slices of Jimmy’s songs that reach out and ensnare fragments of the adventure –followed by pieces of the true story, Mañana Doesn’t Mean Tomorrow. This is a great way for Parrotheads to see how Jimmy captured the essence of my adventure, and book-as well as how I captured the essence of many of his lyrics. – and, at the same time, get a preview of the story!
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“He sips, he quips, dreams a lot about
sailing ships. Wants to throw it all away,
wants to have it back someday.”
Jimmy Buffett
Damn, I thought, what the hell am I
doing sailing a thirty year-old wood
boat to Mexico?
Mazatlán had lured me into its mañana menagerie of laid-back beach living, a calm warm ocean, smiling faces, and the catch of the day every day, from the first of several Pacíficos savored in a beachfront cantina while devouring a platter of fresh grilled shrimp. I knew I had to go. I kept thinking of Jack London. Something he wrote about being a flaming spark, a fiery comet, instead of a smoldering ember. And Wayne Dyer reminding me always of Joseph Campbell’s message, “Follow your bliss.” And Jimmy Buffett: “There’s so much to see waiting in front of me, I know that I just can’t go wrong.”
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“And now I must confess, I could use some rest–I can’t run at this pace very long.”
Jimmy Buffett
Wanderlust hauled anchor early the next morning and disappeared to the south on a schedule to get Tom Testosterone to the airport in Cabo. I was still in a stupor. We stayed; I slept. The next morning we brought up some Turtle Bay mud, shackled the anchor, and motored under towering cliffs into open ocean. Along a parched, rugged, vertical coastline we pointed south.
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“There’s wind in our hair and water in our shoes; it’s been a lovely cruise.”
Johnathan Baham
I motored the small, overworked dinghy from our remote anchorage south of the parade of big power cruisers tethered to Pepe’s mooring buoys, slowly making our way northwest around the point into the harbor entrance. As I turned toward the dock, a small wave rolled casually, indifferently, into the boat. We looked at our now-wet shoes, looked at each other, and pretended it didn’t matter.
Our arrival in Cabo San Lucas found us standing unsteadily on the small wood dinghy dock, gyroscopically rolling and pitching with the waves and current and tidal surge. We were windblown, unwashed, unnerved, and unraveled
“Please don’t say mañana if you don’t mean it.”
Jimmy Buffett
They each wore an expression indicating an
attitude that I would come to know very well living
in Mexico. They could not figure out the logistics of
the operation, and even if by some miracle they did
​uncover a solution, they already knew its execution
would be way too much trouble.
Carlos and Juan discussed the situation in Spanglish with Gil on the VHF radio, then jumped into their small workboat, spewing commentary about going to fetch another tool, or lunch, or something. They would be back soon, they said, just before they sped away.
Soon: One of many words about which I was to be painfully educated regarding the Mexican definition. Mexican Spanish is a language of antonyms. But no one ever explains that. They show you, experientially, over time. You won’t figure it out in a week or two—on the average vacation, for example—because words expressing time have no linear meaning. Robert Heinlein convinced me a long time ago that time is not linear. I know that fact, yet I can’t explain it or function very well with it. I know that time loops around, on, over and through itself, and in the grand scheme of creation our view of time is an illusion. Still, my regrettably meager understanding of physics and quantum mechanics keeps me thinking that Wednesday follows Monday. Someone in Mexico says they will be back “soon.” I was to learn that “soon” might be minutes, hours, days, weeks, months or maybe years! And you never know the maturation of the time frame until the event, whatever it might be, that was to take place “soon,” actually occurs.
From Chapter 3
“ . . . when I’m in port I get what I need. Not Havana’s or bananas or Daiquiris, but that American creation on which I feed. cheeseburger in paradise.”
Jimmy Buffett
“Let’s go to Pancho’s for dinner. Maybe we can find a shower, too.”
“I’m ready.” And was I ever ready. I had sailed a thousand miles through wind, waves, the blackest of nights and the unpredictable emotional spectrum of an occasionally panic-stricken companion to get to one of Pancho’s’ cheeseburgers in paradise.
Aahh, Pancho’s on the beach, where the ocean never stopped whispering its praise of each moment, bikini-clad beachgoers were ever stopping by for a cool one, and the best cheeseburgers for two thousand miles kept showing up on a thick, heavily varnished, wood table, right next to a brown bottle of Carta Blanca––the brown bottle of Carta Blanca glistening in the heavy afternoon heat reminiscent of brown ladies on the beach, beads of moisture gathering on glasslike skin, containing the elusive possibility of joyful intoxication if drunk in carefully and tasted with imagination and appreciation.
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“South of the border where, the law and order, Is kept by Federales who just grin .... and tell you they just want to be your friend" Jimmy Buffett
We were both waist-up naked, and I was straddling her stomach, knees on either side in the sand.
“Hey! Yuu!” In the back of my mind, I heard a man’s voice commanding authority and demanding recognition. I ignored it. “Hey! Yuu!” the voice said again, louder, more impatiently, “Whot are yuu dohing?”
On hands and knees over Cathy, raising my head to see what the hell was going on, I looked directly into a rifle barrel, eighteen inches away, pointed between my eyes. It was attached to an ill-trained, well-armed, hot-tempered soldier dressed in fatigues standing three feet away. Jeezus, I thought, This can’t be happening!? Is this a frickin’ federal offense! I looked, but could not discern if his finger was on the trigger. As far as I could see, he was alone.
From chapter 6
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"Who’s that blond stranger who entered my life, making me over,
in the moonlight."
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Jimmy Buffett, Michael Utley, Will Jennings, Josh Leo
Joanie brought her face directly in front of mine while pointing to three blond
ladies babysitting drinks at a large round table. “C’mon; I’ll introduce you.” I sat in one of two vacant chairs.
“This is David, my roommate. She gestured, in turn, left to right around the table, “Eta, Vanna Risa, and Kristy.”
I managed an anemic, generic, “Hi, nice to meet you,” and immediately wondered if I was falling in love with the lady on my right.
