Roberto
Guest
The moon slid slowly, almost parallel to the horizon, a tiny gold crescent, eventually falling out of sight below the distant black horizon. Few lights showed across a dark sea punctuated by an occasional flash of white surf. A cool steady breeze coming off the sea rustled gently in the palms overhead and called for a jacket to keep warm.
A green light appeared, waving in an arc, soon recognized as the top of sail boat mast that bobbed stationary in the sea a few hundred meters from the sea wall. After a pause, the boat coasted silently by, a dark wraith on an otherwise empty sea, eventually showing it's heels and a white light on the mast, disappearing into the harbor. A bright flashing blue light appeared out of the harbor moving slowly up the beach passing the long row of lighted high rise condos, disappearing over the horizon to the south west.
Music floated around, La Bamba in a full throated version from a group of four entertaining a couple, a solitary accordian calling for a customer, and the ratat tat tat of drums in the distance. The background filled in by the soft swish, swish, swish of the surf, murmers of nearby people and the occasional shout or laughter of a child. An annoying motorcycle passed by twice, an advertisement blaring from a powerful amplifyer. A loud clatter and thump punctuated as loads of broken concrete were scooped into large trucks as work on removing the old pavement near the escuela continued into the night hours.
A young lady swept by "would you like a flower" with the recognizable florish of the flower vendors. Two mujeres moved on to an adjacent bench and their fragrance came on the breeze, sweet and cloying. A cat wandered by, hesitated then hopped on to the sea wall, curled up companionably close. A couple walked by trailed by an impossibly small chihuahua. The cat alerted, flicked it's ears and stared intently at what, under other circumstances might have been la cena.
An October evening on the Malecon.
A green light appeared, waving in an arc, soon recognized as the top of sail boat mast that bobbed stationary in the sea a few hundred meters from the sea wall. After a pause, the boat coasted silently by, a dark wraith on an otherwise empty sea, eventually showing it's heels and a white light on the mast, disappearing into the harbor. A bright flashing blue light appeared out of the harbor moving slowly up the beach passing the long row of lighted high rise condos, disappearing over the horizon to the south west.
Music floated around, La Bamba in a full throated version from a group of four entertaining a couple, a solitary accordian calling for a customer, and the ratat tat tat of drums in the distance. The background filled in by the soft swish, swish, swish of the surf, murmers of nearby people and the occasional shout or laughter of a child. An annoying motorcycle passed by twice, an advertisement blaring from a powerful amplifyer. A loud clatter and thump punctuated as loads of broken concrete were scooped into large trucks as work on removing the old pavement near the escuela continued into the night hours.
A young lady swept by "would you like a flower" with the recognizable florish of the flower vendors. Two mujeres moved on to an adjacent bench and their fragrance came on the breeze, sweet and cloying. A cat wandered by, hesitated then hopped on to the sea wall, curled up companionably close. A couple walked by trailed by an impossibly small chihuahua. The cat alerted, flicked it's ears and stared intently at what, under other circumstances might have been la cena.
An October evening on the Malecon.
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