"The only problem with doing nothing is it is hard to tell when you are done"
Rob Brezney said to a bum outside of San Raffial CA
"I humiliate myself so you don't have to!"
Linda Silberman
"Shake your Bon Bon"
Rikki Martin
Dear God,
If I never hear another Rikki Martin song, I will live a happy life. Thank you for this paradise and I really appreciate the Salsa lessons, but seriously God, I've heard enough Rikki Martin. Thanks for the trip to paradise. Amen.
I seem to be the only person who takes advantage of swimming in the warm, beautiful pool late at night. It is at my own risk and I feel much safer when all the others are fully engaged in their discos and I am alone in the pool. For as much rain as we've had, the nights are clear, warm, perfect. I love being in the pool under the stars. The pounding beat from the disco is in the distance and sounds like a hyperactive heart beat under water.
Today we were able to go horseback riding. I've been on this kinda of excursion before, but not in Mexico. Cindy is so happy being around all the horses. I don't have a relationship with these kinds of beasts so I try to do what I've seen in the movies. Sit up straight, knees together, don't kick, be calm, relax, the animal can feel you, hold the reins gently, stay at ease. A lot to remember!
Cindy assists me as I need. She is at home, her face is so relaxed and full of bliss. What a treat to see her in her element. She is such a lovely woman. She came prepared with the appropriate clothing...she booked this trip knowing we'd be out on the horses. I think she wanted to spend more than one day here in the jungle on horseback. Such is weather. Cindy takes it in stride and enjoys each moment on her horse.
The plan is for us to stay in formation and ride the few miles out to the beach where we can get onto another horse and ride it into the ocean waves. I decline. This seems too crazy to me. Why would I want to take a horse into the ocean? I mean, us riding on the beach, north to south...that makes sense. But riding a horse east to west into the ocean? And then you just sit on the horse for a couple of minutes while the waves are shoulder high on the animal? I don't get it. The horses seem used to it and there is a Mexican guide who walks the horse and you into the ocean and stands there, but the water is nearly at his head. Several other guides try to persuade me to have this experience and I refuse. I am happy to be on the beach with the horses and enjoying the sunshine.
After the ocean waves, we ride for several miles on the beach in the sunshine. It is a beautiful day and this is lovely but my butt is pretty sore now. It is a different kind of stretching. My horse, Pansy, is unlike the first horse I rode in the Poconos, Bunny. Todd and I met there for a romantic weekend right before the end of our 7 year relationship...it was the thought that count, but it wasn't enough to save the relationship. Bunny and I did not hit it off and she took off during our excursion into a full gallop breaking away from the group. The tour guide caught up with us and slapped me in the face saying it was my fault that I lost control of the beast. Perhaps if I had more than 5 minutes of instruction I would have known what to do with a horse at full gallop...and the slap? Bitch. Oh well...it does not matter, just a memory.
Horses...the most important horsepower for me is in my juicer.
After our excursion I took another Salsa dance class. Anne felt better and joined me. We are working on a little routine that the guests will be performing in one of the nightly shows here. It is good to be with Anne and have her up and around although she is still weak and so pale. We are dancing a routine to Rikki Martin's "Shake your Bon Bon". I am doing my best to enjoy the spirit of it all...but you gotta move your hips in such a way and I don't know if I'm built for that! I keep working on it but the teacher tells me to stop looking at my feet.
Salsa is hard. But Anne and I just keep laughing. Who cares, anyway.
We prepare for our performance and we don't stay in step, I am off beat and don't remember all the moves. Anne and I stay in the background and laugh. I stop dancing at one point and then start doing the basic step I learned over and over. The teacher is dancing with us...thank god, or else the people would have nothing to look at. I remember why I am not a dancer now. I'd much rather be singing or playing or even drinking right now! Maybe alcohol would have made us better...next time we'll get drunk first. That would probably help.
After the talent show there was another "celebration" at one of the clubs. Anne declined to go with me so I ventured off solo. The celebration was the 50th anniversary of ClubMed. Every week they have this celebration for the guests. The banners flying are faded and tattered. So many of these events look like after-thoughts and the props are either over used or purchased from thrift stores. Since it is nearly the end of the year, I figure they are just over used...but it wouldn't surprise me if they were bought at some Tahitian thrift store somewhere.
Following the celebration there is yet another Congo line going into the Disco where people are gathering for a New Year's Eve celebration. They do this every week too. Because it is the holiday season they have brought in some big snow-making machine but it isn't blowing snow, the floor and the air is circulating with this stryofoam like substance. I sneeze, get a cocktail napkin and blow some of this substance from my nose. That's when I decided to leave this disco and go for a swim...a much better choice. I hear the count down from the pool...after "Auld Lang Syne" the music switches to every Michael Jackson hit that you never need to hear again. Time for bed.
Last Day
Anne and I sit with 80 other guests all New York bound. The guests look depressed watching the last glorious sunset behind the crocodile infested lagoon. We are scattered throughout the main bar area. You can tell us from the other guests since we are all wearing jeans and closed toed shoes. Sadness is in our eyes. Suntan lotion washed from our skin, ocean water out of our hair. We wait for our chartered bus to take us to our chartered plane back to cold, cold New York.
Proof of our being here is in our red, sun scorched faces and by our faded magenta wrist bands. These bands identified us as belonging to this ClubMed, and the security staff kept all others off our private beach. Now we fondle our badges like mental patients reluctant to return to the outside world not knowing how we will adapt when requested to pay for things or pick out our own food in the grocery store.
There are a few French tourists who are in our group and they are complaining that they had to eat dinner too early. The French complain a lot. I really would prefer their country if they did not live there...they fit in much more with the ugly Americans all around us. I ask Anne to encourage them to move to the United States and we will go take their apartments in Paris and return balance and beauty to the glorious country. They do not deserve it. She laughs.
Ryan shakes our hands as we get on the bus and thanks us personally for our visit. I take a long, lingering look and say farewell to warm tropical breezes and unexpected thunder storms. I kiss Brien and Cindy in gratitude for brining me along and thank them sincerely for their lovely company. It has been fun.
NYC
Metropolitan Museum of Art, Egyptian Exhibit
Our flight got us back just in time before 16 inches of snow fell onto this beautiful city. One phone call and Brien had us booked again at the Club Level of the Sheraton in Time Square. We ordered room service late and woke up to this beautiful snow everywhere. Anne and I took a swim in the glass enclosed pool and it feels so much more natural for us to be in NYC rather than tropical paradise.
Anne is feeling much better and now we have extra time in the city so Cindy suggested we take a beautiful walk through central park up to MOMA and we are all game. I now sit in the Egyptian Exhibit, a huge room with glass walls, slanted like a pyramid looking out onto Central Park. All flights are canceled today and we are stuck in this glorious snow.
Snowball fights everywhere! Little children riding in buckets down snow banked hills, wrapped up like tiny stars, arms and legs covered in dozens of layers...parents watching laughing. Everyone is happy. We are happy and tan!
This glass room is so big, so full of marble and granite. It has beautiful energy. Pools on either side are filled with pennies and quarters; wishes made from the many, many tourists. In the water surrounding the exhibit is a reproduction of a sargophogus. I want to crawl inside but restrain myself.
Little children approach the wishing pools, handful of pennies, they hold their breath and make a wish. The coins sound like hungry fish coming up for snacks as they hit the water.
A prayer for the little children:
OH MIGHTY ISIS:
Grant all these honest wishes to the thousands of tourists and museum appreciators of New York. Thank you for such a glorious day. You are the coolest and the best...Mighty Isis...Isis...Isis...Isis..Isis...Isis
So much love,
All the way from here...
Linda
Rob Brezney said to a bum outside of San Raffial CA
"I humiliate myself so you don't have to!"
Linda Silberman
"Shake your Bon Bon"
Rikki Martin
Dear God,
If I never hear another Rikki Martin song, I will live a happy life. Thank you for this paradise and I really appreciate the Salsa lessons, but seriously God, I've heard enough Rikki Martin. Thanks for the trip to paradise. Amen.
I seem to be the only person who takes advantage of swimming in the warm, beautiful pool late at night. It is at my own risk and I feel much safer when all the others are fully engaged in their discos and I am alone in the pool. For as much rain as we've had, the nights are clear, warm, perfect. I love being in the pool under the stars. The pounding beat from the disco is in the distance and sounds like a hyperactive heart beat under water.
Today we were able to go horseback riding. I've been on this kinda of excursion before, but not in Mexico. Cindy is so happy being around all the horses. I don't have a relationship with these kinds of beasts so I try to do what I've seen in the movies. Sit up straight, knees together, don't kick, be calm, relax, the animal can feel you, hold the reins gently, stay at ease. A lot to remember!
Cindy assists me as I need. She is at home, her face is so relaxed and full of bliss. What a treat to see her in her element. She is such a lovely woman. She came prepared with the appropriate clothing...she booked this trip knowing we'd be out on the horses. I think she wanted to spend more than one day here in the jungle on horseback. Such is weather. Cindy takes it in stride and enjoys each moment on her horse.
The plan is for us to stay in formation and ride the few miles out to the beach where we can get onto another horse and ride it into the ocean waves. I decline. This seems too crazy to me. Why would I want to take a horse into the ocean? I mean, us riding on the beach, north to south...that makes sense. But riding a horse east to west into the ocean? And then you just sit on the horse for a couple of minutes while the waves are shoulder high on the animal? I don't get it. The horses seem used to it and there is a Mexican guide who walks the horse and you into the ocean and stands there, but the water is nearly at his head. Several other guides try to persuade me to have this experience and I refuse. I am happy to be on the beach with the horses and enjoying the sunshine.
After the ocean waves, we ride for several miles on the beach in the sunshine. It is a beautiful day and this is lovely but my butt is pretty sore now. It is a different kind of stretching. My horse, Pansy, is unlike the first horse I rode in the Poconos, Bunny. Todd and I met there for a romantic weekend right before the end of our 7 year relationship...it was the thought that count, but it wasn't enough to save the relationship. Bunny and I did not hit it off and she took off during our excursion into a full gallop breaking away from the group. The tour guide caught up with us and slapped me in the face saying it was my fault that I lost control of the beast. Perhaps if I had more than 5 minutes of instruction I would have known what to do with a horse at full gallop...and the slap? Bitch. Oh well...it does not matter, just a memory.
Horses...the most important horsepower for me is in my juicer.
After our excursion I took another Salsa dance class. Anne felt better and joined me. We are working on a little routine that the guests will be performing in one of the nightly shows here. It is good to be with Anne and have her up and around although she is still weak and so pale. We are dancing a routine to Rikki Martin's "Shake your Bon Bon". I am doing my best to enjoy the spirit of it all...but you gotta move your hips in such a way and I don't know if I'm built for that! I keep working on it but the teacher tells me to stop looking at my feet.
Salsa is hard. But Anne and I just keep laughing. Who cares, anyway.
We prepare for our performance and we don't stay in step, I am off beat and don't remember all the moves. Anne and I stay in the background and laugh. I stop dancing at one point and then start doing the basic step I learned over and over. The teacher is dancing with us...thank god, or else the people would have nothing to look at. I remember why I am not a dancer now. I'd much rather be singing or playing or even drinking right now! Maybe alcohol would have made us better...next time we'll get drunk first. That would probably help.
After the talent show there was another "celebration" at one of the clubs. Anne declined to go with me so I ventured off solo. The celebration was the 50th anniversary of ClubMed. Every week they have this celebration for the guests. The banners flying are faded and tattered. So many of these events look like after-thoughts and the props are either over used or purchased from thrift stores. Since it is nearly the end of the year, I figure they are just over used...but it wouldn't surprise me if they were bought at some Tahitian thrift store somewhere.
Following the celebration there is yet another Congo line going into the Disco where people are gathering for a New Year's Eve celebration. They do this every week too. Because it is the holiday season they have brought in some big snow-making machine but it isn't blowing snow, the floor and the air is circulating with this stryofoam like substance. I sneeze, get a cocktail napkin and blow some of this substance from my nose. That's when I decided to leave this disco and go for a swim...a much better choice. I hear the count down from the pool...after "Auld Lang Syne" the music switches to every Michael Jackson hit that you never need to hear again. Time for bed.
Last Day
Anne and I sit with 80 other guests all New York bound. The guests look depressed watching the last glorious sunset behind the crocodile infested lagoon. We are scattered throughout the main bar area. You can tell us from the other guests since we are all wearing jeans and closed toed shoes. Sadness is in our eyes. Suntan lotion washed from our skin, ocean water out of our hair. We wait for our chartered bus to take us to our chartered plane back to cold, cold New York.
Proof of our being here is in our red, sun scorched faces and by our faded magenta wrist bands. These bands identified us as belonging to this ClubMed, and the security staff kept all others off our private beach. Now we fondle our badges like mental patients reluctant to return to the outside world not knowing how we will adapt when requested to pay for things or pick out our own food in the grocery store.
There are a few French tourists who are in our group and they are complaining that they had to eat dinner too early. The French complain a lot. I really would prefer their country if they did not live there...they fit in much more with the ugly Americans all around us. I ask Anne to encourage them to move to the United States and we will go take their apartments in Paris and return balance and beauty to the glorious country. They do not deserve it. She laughs.
Ryan shakes our hands as we get on the bus and thanks us personally for our visit. I take a long, lingering look and say farewell to warm tropical breezes and unexpected thunder storms. I kiss Brien and Cindy in gratitude for brining me along and thank them sincerely for their lovely company. It has been fun.
NYC
Metropolitan Museum of Art, Egyptian Exhibit
Our flight got us back just in time before 16 inches of snow fell onto this beautiful city. One phone call and Brien had us booked again at the Club Level of the Sheraton in Time Square. We ordered room service late and woke up to this beautiful snow everywhere. Anne and I took a swim in the glass enclosed pool and it feels so much more natural for us to be in NYC rather than tropical paradise.
Anne is feeling much better and now we have extra time in the city so Cindy suggested we take a beautiful walk through central park up to MOMA and we are all game. I now sit in the Egyptian Exhibit, a huge room with glass walls, slanted like a pyramid looking out onto Central Park. All flights are canceled today and we are stuck in this glorious snow.
Snowball fights everywhere! Little children riding in buckets down snow banked hills, wrapped up like tiny stars, arms and legs covered in dozens of layers...parents watching laughing. Everyone is happy. We are happy and tan!
This glass room is so big, so full of marble and granite. It has beautiful energy. Pools on either side are filled with pennies and quarters; wishes made from the many, many tourists. In the water surrounding the exhibit is a reproduction of a sargophogus. I want to crawl inside but restrain myself.
Little children approach the wishing pools, handful of pennies, they hold their breath and make a wish. The coins sound like hungry fish coming up for snacks as they hit the water.
A prayer for the little children:
OH MIGHTY ISIS:
Grant all these honest wishes to the thousands of tourists and museum appreciators of New York. Thank you for such a glorious day. You are the coolest and the best...Mighty Isis...Isis...Isis...Isis..Isis...Isis
So much love,
All the way from here...
Linda
3 comments:
Anne Rainbow Shepard and I had a running joke in Cancun too. We spoke in very bad French accents and I would say, "Ah yes, the American Jerry Lewis. So funny. Viva American. We love America." And Anne would nod and say, "Oui, oui, tres manific!"
XO
L.
Wow. What a trip!! (and then you were trapped in the airport for like 3 days, right?) Was it MOMA - Museum of Modern Art or the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Seems like the Met would have the Egyptian exhibit. A couple of editing spots (I know, you hate that) and this story is a very worthy sample of your writing!
You're right Anne, it was the Met... I wrote that in my journal and then wrongly edited it...thank you! It's been changed. We were stuck in the airport for a long time getting out.
XO
L.
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