Real connections between people in Isla Mujeres
Working remotely on the island for a few weeks. My place is a short walk from Playa Norte and the laptop mostly stays there. The island is small, about 8 kilometers, and most people get around by golf cart. Wifi is fine. Groceries are the open question. Do you rent a cart for the whole month, or do walking and the odd taxi cover everything?
At Punta Sur a fisherman was trying to fit a very large fish into a very small bucket, and I offered to hold the lid. We sat on a rock for an hour, he with the bucket and me with the lid, both a little unsure how it had happened. He gave me the tail. I gave him my sandwich. Neither of us has discussed the exchange rate. I go back on Fridays. The bucket is bigger now, which feels like it was my doing.
Did anyone find a straw sun hat with a faded red band, left on a bench along the Malecon waterfront walk on Wednesday evening? Inside the band there are a few words in Portuguese written in marker. I was watching the water, which is what the island does to people, and walked off without it. I am still not sure whether things left out here go to a nearby shop or simply get taken. I will check this board again on Sunday.
At Playa Norte a visitor asked the man renting out chairs, "Is this the best beach on the island?" He thought about it properly. "It is the closest," he said. "The quiet beach on the other side is better, and the cliff at the south end is worth the ride, but you need a cart for both." The visitor wrote nothing down. I was a few chairs away and nodded like it was news, though it is exactly what I would have said, with a third beach added.
A sea turtle was resting in the shallows at Playa Norte and a crowd stood in a perfect semicircle, all holding their phones at the same angle, like a very serious ballet. Nobody spoke. The turtle blinked once, turned around and swam off without a nod. The semicircle exhaled together. A man behind me said, well, that was rude. We all agreed. I do not have a photograph. I have a feeling about phones.
On my first morning in Colonia Electricistas a skinny dog followed me home, and the man next door said, he is nobody's but he eats at my place. For a month I fed the dog on his step. Now I help the man mend nets on Sundays and the dog sleeps between us. I came for a week and booked another month. It was supposed to be a holiday. The dog does not care what it was supposed to be.
The brakes on my rented scooter went soft on the road down from Punta Sur. A man on a bicycle stopped, looked at my wheels, and led me slowly back to town, riding in front, ringing his bell so cars would give way. It took forty minutes. He said it was nothing, he lived that way anyway. I looked later. There were no houses in that direction. I would like to give him back the forty minutes. I would like to give him a bell.
The last ferry left the Isla Mujeres dock at 9.40pm and I was three minutes late, just standing there. The captain saw me from the deck, shouted something to the crew, backed the boat up to the dock and waved me on. Nobody on board minded. I was the last passenger on a dark sea and the whole boat clapped when I sat down. I think about it often. I have been early for every ferry since. It was not a good habit to lose.
I was crossing the road near Playa Norte when a golf cart came around the corner too fast, and you grabbed my arm and pulled me back. Then you looked mortified, said sorry in two languages, and walked off with your red towel. I should have thanked you instead of standing there. The cart did not even honk. I think about it every time I cross, and I have started to cross very slowly, hoping you are on the other side with the towel.
