An americanisation.

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El Castillo de San felipe, 25 febrero.
Two days now have we been camping out here near the ford on an open clearing in front of an old cycamore tree, its brances hanging down to the earth.
Some of the locals told us the tree is hunderts of years old. We believe them feeling its positive energy when it watches over us during our sleep.
We've been spending our time here reading books, swimming in the lake, playing chess and going to the village called El Relleno, a dusty collection of wooden huts, a few bars and restaurants where we have our meals and a few beers at night. Every woman in this village is "available" and the girls that serve us our breakfast in the morning will serve us our Cabro beers at night in one of the bars asking us if we wanna have a "quicky" in their hut.
A few times a day a cruise will arrive offloading several dozen americanos dressed in baggy shorts and colorful T-shirts, expensive camaras in hand, ohing and ahing about the marvel of this place.
Whenever this happens an old woman will hurry over from the village on a crappy rusty bicycle and open the ticket booth. Other village women will open the restaurant carrying pre-cooked food in reed baskets, yet more women come out of the village spreading old blankets on the ground covering them with handicrafts, children join the happy melee asking the americanos for schoolpens, bon-bons and one Quetzal notes.
I see a kid in green shorts that are full with holes and naked upper body, happily showing off his prize, a five Quetzal note. If memory serves me well James f..... his mum last night for a mere ten Quetzales.
Two fat americanas in white shorts and and T-shirts come over to our camp where we're having a game of chess sitting on our sleeping bags asking us if they can make a few photos of us.
They are fat and sport enormous big asses, the stereo type americans!!!
When finally the whole shit is over and the americanos have been rounded up and guided back abourd by an obviously bored local travel guide, the villagers pack up their dirty blankets and handicrafts and return to El Relleno. Peace soon returns to the ford and we continue our game of chess.

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