Isla de Mujeres.

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On the way to Isla de Mujeres, 26 abril 1990.
We're on a small ferry boat on the way to Isla de Mujeres, a name that James despite three and a half months in Central-America can still not pronounce.
The sea around the ferry is quite choppy and we're rocked to and fro on this small ferry that can hardly hold more than ten customers.
Every so often waves engulf the boat leaving us soaked to the bone and the salty taste of sea water on our lips, good thing that the sketchbook in my backpack is wrapped in plastic shopping bags for just these circumstances. Nora is quite excited shrieking with delight whenever we get yet another wave slapped around our gringo ears. The sight of flying fish left on the deck by the wave excites her even more and being an animal friend, she takes them by slippery tails throwing them overboard back into their watery salty world.
Overhead hunderts of rowdy gulls watch her every action, no doubt hoping these fish would find its way into their hungry beaks instead.
By the time we can see Isla de Mujeres in the distance the wind has calmed down leaving the surrounding waters of this tropical island a turquoise blue colored pancake. Out in the little bay where we dock I can see brown pelicans skydiving into the sea, reemerging again with geep, a pike like sea fish. The overhead gliding frigate birds with their red pouches, watch the pelicans's fishing with keen interest attacking any pelican that has success making it clear to me why some people call them pirate birds instaed of frigate birds. I also see olive colored cormorants as well as blue herons.
According to Nora who has been here before, Isla de Mujeres is a backpackers paradise with a relaxed hippy admosphere in a tropical setting, friendly locals and she knows a small family run hotel with domitories where we can crash for just a few american green backs.
Our soaked clothes have already nearly dried due to the hot caribean sun and dragging our heavy backpacks along we both follow her to the, as she calls it, Poc-Na guesthouse.
James is still brooding over the loss of his mexican lady, Mary Carmen, but he made a score last night in Cancun, cheap but strong mexican grass, so his mood is slowly improving.

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