Monday, January 31, 2005

Us Old Guys

I was the only gringo on the ferry boat, which was a funky wooden boat maybe 30' long that was loaded to the gills with crabs and fish being transported from the island to mainland. No conveyance of any kind over here goes anywhere until it’s maxed out in cargo, passengers and weight. An older guy sitting on the deck (no seats for the four-hour trip, you just sit or lay on the wooden deck, which is OK with me and actually better than sitting in a cramped airline seat), so this guy motions me over to sit next to him. He pointed to himself and held up 6 fingers. (In this part of the world, very few people speak any English.) I finally figured out he was saying he was 60 — he looked pretty good — and asked how old I was. Since it was getting to hard to convey 69, I told him I was 70 and he didn’t believe it. Finally I showed him my driver’s license. He started telling everyone around us how old I was. Then he touched my forearm and rubbed his hand on the hairs there, this seemed to fascinate him — then my leg. Next he got two of what I suppose were his grandchildren, one a girl about 3, and a boy about 8 to feel the hair on my arm and then the grizzled whiskers on my face. Everyone was delighted. 3-4 teenagers were hanging there and they were vastly amused. All of us were sitting real close together, arms and legs touching, it was a warm and nice experience — no words. One thing I’ve learned of late is to smile. I didn’t used to, but I actually learned from a Chi Gung teacher about 5 years ago how to smile on demand (like girls and women have always been able to do) and it works wonders.

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