Virtual Postcard from the Edge (of Mexico)
OK, here goes to all you lovely people out there who:
a) Asked for my address to either write to me and let me know how things are or send me a Christmas card;
b) Have not expressed a single ounce of interest in writing to me, but who will now feel obliged to do so
c) Have a small list of friends in there address book, and would like another entry to look that much more popular.
d) Said they love me, and would like to prove it by sending me some correspondence.
e) Clearly would rather eat their own excrement than write to me, but might be persuaded with some little bribe of sorts.
My address is:
Sian Ka’an Tours
Avenida Tulum
Entre Satelite y Geminis
Colonia Centro
Tulum, Quintana Roo
C.P. 77780
México
There are no street numbers in this town, and really no street names either. In fact, for all we know, U2 could have been referring to Tulum when they sang ‘Where the streets have no name.’ One thing’s for sure - it definitely wasn’t the inspiration for Bruce Springsteen’s ‘Streets of Philadelphia.’ And probably not for Peter Gabriel’s ‘Love Town’…….although seeing how my last two days went, there WAS love in the town. For sure there was some loving going on in my apartment bunker place, as I had the misfortune of hearing the audio part of two (possibly three) people engaged in copulation the other night. But more importantly, I had the bigger fortune of seeing the Iranian goddesses again, and engaging in some of my own loving with one of them (Zhila, the 34 yr old) – I was in heaven, eating fruit from the forbidden tree….on the beach….in the Caribbean Sea…..in a cabaña overlooking the beach….
As for the chances of your letter or card reaching me….there is a high probability, as long as there are no hurricanes, postal strikes, wars, or other natural disasters. But one can never be sure around here. But please do not let that deter you from writing. I would greatly appreciate it, and would shower you with gratitude and love in turn.
I am still doing well. Meeting new people and getting to know better the old ones. Still have a leaky toilet (leaky is an understatement), and the state of my living arrangements quickly deteriorated when a couple of days ago I was submitted to the agonizing repetition of Celine Dion’s Titanic ballad from my next door neighbors. I thought Martika, Cher, Roxette, and Backstreet Boys was bad enough, intermingled with some shite Mexican soap opera dialogue, the presentation of the next dancer across the street in el Bar Bob (the table-top dancing place), and the Alcoholics Anonymous bunch clapping away at some guy ranting on about how he has had enough of spending all is money on booze while his children go barefoot to school. Oh no, somehow it seems to get more interesting by the day. For example, there are a bunch of workers that are staying in the ‘complex’ as well (complex is in inverted commas because it is everything but complex – one wide open hallway with doors and the only windows giving out to it, where it floods on rainy days), and get blind drunk on most nights, and make more noise than 10 Celine Dions in a recording studio. Then there is the guy who works at one of the two rent-a-trashed-car places in town. He lives across from me, and loves Pink Floyd and duly practices his rendition of Shine on Your Crazy Diamond most days.
But life goes on outside this otherwise disturbed existence of mine. My office has still got a great atmosphere in which to work in. The herons cause a bit of a racket at times, but they soon simmer down. The roseate spoonbills have finally come to work. As for the osprey, he/she has all the right in the world to scream at us as we get so close to it. She would not do well in the NWF working environment, where the cubicle/open office arrangement is being promoted.
The other day I went off (no, Brad, not like Jewish foreskin) to meet my Australian cousin’s boyfriend Stewart who happened to be in Tulum! Random but true. Had copious beers with him and his friends, and proceeded to be flashed by a skanky Louisiana hussy! Danced salsa all night, with the one drawback: had to be up and running for the tour the next day.
I hope this email reaches you all, and finds you in good spirits, or at least beers (ho, ho, bada boom!!). Please keep the email contact. That is one of my daily rituals, and it looks really bad when I walk into the internet place, say hey to Tito and his fiancé Silvia that work there, say hi to some other folk who hang out there, and then proceed to check email, and leave within two minutes as I have nothing!!!
All the best from el Caribe,
Love,
El Licenciado (= the licensed one; a lot of people call me that around here as there are many wanna be guides in the reserve, but none of them are licensed... funnily enough, neither am I....)
a) Asked for my address to either write to me and let me know how things are or send me a Christmas card;
b) Have not expressed a single ounce of interest in writing to me, but who will now feel obliged to do so
c) Have a small list of friends in there address book, and would like another entry to look that much more popular.
d) Said they love me, and would like to prove it by sending me some correspondence.
e) Clearly would rather eat their own excrement than write to me, but might be persuaded with some little bribe of sorts.
My address is:
Sian Ka’an Tours
Avenida Tulum
Entre Satelite y Geminis
Colonia Centro
Tulum, Quintana Roo
C.P. 77780
México
There are no street numbers in this town, and really no street names either. In fact, for all we know, U2 could have been referring to Tulum when they sang ‘Where the streets have no name.’ One thing’s for sure - it definitely wasn’t the inspiration for Bruce Springsteen’s ‘Streets of Philadelphia.’ And probably not for Peter Gabriel’s ‘Love Town’…….although seeing how my last two days went, there WAS love in the town. For sure there was some loving going on in my apartment bunker place, as I had the misfortune of hearing the audio part of two (possibly three) people engaged in copulation the other night. But more importantly, I had the bigger fortune of seeing the Iranian goddesses again, and engaging in some of my own loving with one of them (Zhila, the 34 yr old) – I was in heaven, eating fruit from the forbidden tree….on the beach….in the Caribbean Sea…..in a cabaña overlooking the beach….
As for the chances of your letter or card reaching me….there is a high probability, as long as there are no hurricanes, postal strikes, wars, or other natural disasters. But one can never be sure around here. But please do not let that deter you from writing. I would greatly appreciate it, and would shower you with gratitude and love in turn.
I am still doing well. Meeting new people and getting to know better the old ones. Still have a leaky toilet (leaky is an understatement), and the state of my living arrangements quickly deteriorated when a couple of days ago I was submitted to the agonizing repetition of Celine Dion’s Titanic ballad from my next door neighbors. I thought Martika, Cher, Roxette, and Backstreet Boys was bad enough, intermingled with some shite Mexican soap opera dialogue, the presentation of the next dancer across the street in el Bar Bob (the table-top dancing place), and the Alcoholics Anonymous bunch clapping away at some guy ranting on about how he has had enough of spending all is money on booze while his children go barefoot to school. Oh no, somehow it seems to get more interesting by the day. For example, there are a bunch of workers that are staying in the ‘complex’ as well (complex is in inverted commas because it is everything but complex – one wide open hallway with doors and the only windows giving out to it, where it floods on rainy days), and get blind drunk on most nights, and make more noise than 10 Celine Dions in a recording studio. Then there is the guy who works at one of the two rent-a-trashed-car places in town. He lives across from me, and loves Pink Floyd and duly practices his rendition of Shine on Your Crazy Diamond most days.
But life goes on outside this otherwise disturbed existence of mine. My office has still got a great atmosphere in which to work in. The herons cause a bit of a racket at times, but they soon simmer down. The roseate spoonbills have finally come to work. As for the osprey, he/she has all the right in the world to scream at us as we get so close to it. She would not do well in the NWF working environment, where the cubicle/open office arrangement is being promoted.
The other day I went off (no, Brad, not like Jewish foreskin) to meet my Australian cousin’s boyfriend Stewart who happened to be in Tulum! Random but true. Had copious beers with him and his friends, and proceeded to be flashed by a skanky Louisiana hussy! Danced salsa all night, with the one drawback: had to be up and running for the tour the next day.
I hope this email reaches you all, and finds you in good spirits, or at least beers (ho, ho, bada boom!!). Please keep the email contact. That is one of my daily rituals, and it looks really bad when I walk into the internet place, say hey to Tito and his fiancé Silvia that work there, say hi to some other folk who hang out there, and then proceed to check email, and leave within two minutes as I have nothing!!!
All the best from el Caribe,
Love,
El Licenciado (= the licensed one; a lot of people call me that around here as there are many wanna be guides in the reserve, but none of them are licensed... funnily enough, neither am I....)
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