Monday, April 20, 2009

Another Bonfire - Wednesday 4-15-2009


Leonie left this morning. I gave her a big hug and wished her good luck when she left to catch her bus. I am now the second longest guest in residence at Casa Brian after Catherine, the 19-year old Norwegian girl who is in town to study at the language school and arrived a couple weeks prior to me.
 
 
Tyler Drake Nash
Tyler comes by Casa Brian in the evening. He and I walk around the block to Jimmy’s house to pick him up. Jimmy is the owner of Jesse’s Surf Shop. Jesse started his surf shop a decade ago, Brian told me several days ago. He sold the surf shop to Jimmy several years ago and moved back to the US. Jimmy kept the name Jesse’s Surf Shop and started calling himself Jesse because that was easier than trying to explain to vacationers that no, he wasn’t really Jesse, that Jesse was happily retired in America but he (Jimmy) would be happy to rent you a board or teach you how to surf.

Tyler, Jimmy, and I get out to the beach and the pile of branches and palm fronds we are going to light is nearly taller than I am. Jimmy pulls out some cotton balls soaked in gasoline and some flint. Like an expert surfer turned jungle survivalist, he strikes the flint, lighting a cotton ball. Then he places the lit ball on the pile of fuel, setting a palm frond on fire. The flame quickly spreads and soon the pile is aflame. He also lights a smaller pile and soon two bonfires light the night. Flames from the big pile jump ten feet into the air. I am nearly ten feet from the fire and I am sweating from its heat. We all talk and watch the flames. Three twenty-something women and a twenty-something man come up. They took surf lessons from Jimmy today and also met Tyler today. They are all from New York City and still have jobs. Good for them. The bonfires die down and we all get to talking. Somehow, Jimmy and Tyler talk two of the women into going skinny dipping with them. In a flash, they all run off into the black water. I talk a bit with the pair left on shore before calling it a night, dry and clothed.

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