26^th

Today was the final day of the rescue diver course. The written test was accomplishable in one half of a minute and somehow my hand was able to answer each question without the use of any at all cognition. The two days of practical exercise were much more entertaining. Yesterday the instructor went AWOL, viciously swimming with so much intent I thought he saw a whale shark, we followed the endless underwater sand dune down to 135 feet, leaving the three of us following completely Narc’d. The officials will tell you narcosis is like being drunk. I will tell you the actuality, it is like being too drunk.

To celebrate, the instructor took us into the interior Spanish neighborhoods to play billiards. Walking down “main” street, we swung left into what looked like a dingy alley. This alley turned out to be something of a secret passageway into the heart and bulk of the island, the unseen arteries and heart of the isle. We went into three pool halls of varying repute. The first holding a wily transvestite and a sound system rivaling early rock concerts, the second a small cozy hall with smiling faces, and a dark bathroom up two stairs, so it sat like a soaked kings throne. The third held the must uncertainty, dark, laser lighting, a sound system rivaling Madison Square Garden, silent quiet people in the corners, Honduran military passing through, girls coming in and out of backdoors, were are not certain, but we are pretty sure it was a brothel.

In each of these three places we played the most fascinating pool game, Honduran in origin, the balls are lined up numerically around the table, touching all the sides, with the one ball in the center. You start with the one ball, this being the subject ball, you can hit the one, then any other ball. Every ball you sink, you get the points of that ball. So once the one ball goes in you proceed to the two and so on. It is reliant on combos and care, if you miss the subject ball or scratch, it is negative the subject balls value, or if you hit another ball without first hitting the subject ball it is minus the ball you hit. It is far more difficult and contemplative than 9 ball or any other such thing, because there are cases where you could be the world champion pool player and still have a shot that could only result in negative points. My favorite part of this game was the nano second you finished two or three girls would run out from behind the bar and reset the table. Muy rapido.

I returned to the dock on the back of a motorcycle, the motorcycle in my mind still having absolutely no excuse for being on this island, even more offensive than driving a hummer through mid town Manhattan. I found the security guard feeding rum to a bunch of six year olds, I left for my room indifferent. There I found my bike had been stolen, and to salt the wound they also made off with the soggy cheese I bought just that morning. My only comfort being an alley cat, who crawled into my coat and eventually shared my bed nestled up to my chest, but not before trying to burrow into my cranium.

The following day.

Found myself at the helm bright and early, a pod of dolphinos played chicken of the sea with me. Bearing down on the bow with great intensity, preforming a jet fighter maneuver rounding the stern and returning forward to ride the bow for a bit. Even more alluring, I think is the sail fish, or flying fish. Bursting forth from below the waves like a sparrow leaving a tree. Moving from water to wind, surfing the air just above the surface with grace and shimmering dewy wings. Eventually touching down 20, 40, even 70 feet from where they emerged.

When we got back I headed straight for the ferry dock to try and cut off the cheesy bike thief from his break for the coast. No cigar. Always attentive I watch every spoked wheel riding by, but it’s hard when the bicycle market has been corned by one brand, Bacini. Still, having only the bike three days I know I can spot it anywhere.