More soldiers: Monday nite 22nd

I’ve ask a few mujeres in town when did the soldiers come and what do they think of the soldiers being here.

I was very surprised, to say the least, to realize they were stationed here. The only time I’ve ever seen soldiers in Mexico, they just appear out of nowhere and disappear into nowhere.

But the womyn tell me, if I understand them, the soldiers came two years ago and got rid of the drug dealers – meth, speed – not inside their town but close by – and the sweep of arms seem to point west, or maybe the next dirt road over.

Meth users, here in this calm, slow place??? I doubt dealers had much business here. I wonder where and to whom they were selling their drugs?

The drug of choice here is beer.

So tonite, I ask Ernando (I think that’s what he said) how long he has been in the army, how it likes it, how long he has been here, and why is he here.

He appears slightly older than the others and the one who seemed in charge the first day they approached me. His eyes appear either very tired or the eyes of an alcoholic.

He tells me (if I understand) he entered the army at 18 years old and LOVES it. He smiles broadly then and appears almost trustable. He is a lifer. He has been here in beautiful Yavaros the whole time and he feels fortunate to be stationed here.

We talk about the beauty of the ‘mar’ as everyone calls it, and the full moon. He tells me it is safe to sleep on the beach – ooookay – because the soldiers patrol all night long and keep an eye on me.

I’m not sure if I should feel more danger from them, the boys in town, or the illusive drug dealers.

He meets lots of gringas, he says with a mischievous grin as he motions to the western shore again, and he goes to San Francisco a lot. He says, leaning into a meaningful stance, lots of gringas are over there, and they invite him to come to San Francisco.

He asks me if he can visit me in San Francisco.

The little turd is trying to hit on me. I tell him of course he can come visit San Francisco whenever he wants to. I will not be there for many years but he certainly can go.

I tell him I am waiting for my friends – mis amigAS to visit. I tell him Buenos Noches and Hasta manana and he politely returns my farewell, turns and heads towards the little stark white house at the very end of the land surrounded by a tall fence and barbed wire as I head into the camper, wishing I dared bring out my sleeping bag and lay it, and me, on the beach.