Today, the second time, pink perals leap out at me from far corners of the map. In a sidewalk crack on Park Avenue, downtown Manhatten, there is a cherry pit sized pink perfect. Some $1000 a square inch elite princess is sobbing somewhere over the loss. Now here, on a Belizian beach, a lumpy beauty presentsit's self. If I keep traveling, pretty soon I'll have a necklace.
The trade wind blows a steady 15 to 20 something. Soft with it's oisture, pelicians hanging in it's arms, rays the size of tables gliuding just under an azul surface. Fine white sand of powdered coral penatrates pleasently between the toes. Flowers and Palms rustel all around. Feral dogs pad happily from tourist to tourist, presumptivly presenting their smilein exchange for a pat and a morsel.
This is the madision avenue ad, selling everything from underware to roof shingles. Paridise. Always the palm, the white sand, usually with the perfect body maiden, leaning partially clad on a vacume cleaner .. All this can be your life if you buy this dream.
But what of living the dream. Them who were born here. No skills, no education, never a job, no oppertunity, no way out of paridise, little hope beyond begging off the opulent NortAmerikino's.
I walk the beach. Dripping form a sealife swim. A young negroid carib woman takes up the stroll with me.
"Havv yo beeen swiming?"
"Yes" I'm surf thrashed
"Where are you staying?" a polite tone
"At Thomas's" like he was an old freind, not a cheap hotel
"Do you have a wife?"
"No"
"Weeil you have sex with mee?'
"No"
"I haaff four kids. I am looking for a donation."
Of what I think. Maybe she's had enough "donations". I wonder if she get's the connection. the reason she has 4 kids.
"No, sorry. I have no money on me."
She angels off up to a bar. I am an obvious mark. White. Male. Alone. I feel very sorry for her, weather she has kids or not. So many mixed breed humans here. Going nowhere. No hope or even knowlege of elsewhere. Stuck in paridise. Paridise for those with the money.
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funny how paradise is....
ReplyDeletelots of talk here among the people I'm doing the teaching course with about the shocking class separation in Buenos Aires and in Argentina in general. I'm staying in a lovely part of town, old buildings, trees, lively bars, modern subway system. 30 min by bus. shanty towns. not enough corrugated aluminum to make a proper shack...
no one trusts the banks so all realastate transactions are done in hard cash. American cash at that. everyone expects the economy to crash at any moment. everyone could be fighting over corrugated aluminum in a year. or not. but it's not fear, like in the states, it's normal life here.
it's paradise for those who have the money now. but they all know that in a weekend a civil war can start, a currency can be devalued to 30% of it's worth, life can turn on it's head. or so they tell me. because it's happened here before.
and they respond.... so why not dance another hour?