Walking the Beach

Today after I got home from the mainland (I had phone duty) I decided to walk the beach, I need to walk of some creama....oh, a little side story first. This morning I go to the little store just up the street from my house and buy creama for my coffee and the lady tells me “you do know this isn’t milk right”, (in Spanish of course) She must think that because I buy a carton every 4 days I must just be drinking it straight. I tell her I put it in my coffee, she says “yes that would be better; it’s too thick to drink straight.”They must be having quite the conversations on their decks about this weird gringa, everything from how I do my dishes to how much creama I buy and possibly about how many papayas I buy and that I eat meat without grilling it.....oh and I’m sure they’re talking about how I am limping around in my new thongs that I bought. I am trying to break in a pair of thongs and it’s just not a pretty sight, I have not worn thongs since I was a kid.....ok, let’s clarify something first, I am from a time when thongs were worn on your feet, ok. I tell you in feels like I have a log between my toes and if I ever get used to that I will be amazed. I really do feel like I am always being watched but not in a spooky sort of way, more like in the same way that I am watching them out of my windows....in a curious way. Did I tell the story about when I first got the keys to my house? I don’t think I did. It was a Monday or a Tuesday when I first came to talk to my land lady about renting this place. I asked her how safe it was (like she was going to tell me it wasn’t safe) she told me not to worry but perhaps not to tell anyone I was living here alone, I was wondering how I was going to do that, make up a room mate perhaps. So we agreed that I would come back on Thursday at 11:00 am to pick up the key. I arrive early because I wasn’t sure how long the bus would take to get to the docks so I gave myself lots of time (I’m not Mexican enough yet to show up late) as I approach the house a lady sees me and comes up to me and asks if I am the Canadian lady that is going to rent Bertha’s house, I say yes. She tells me that Bertha had to go to Mazatlan but will be back at 11 to give me the key. As I wander around the neighbourhood just to waste some time an older gentleman approaches me asks me if I am the Canadian lady that is going to rent Bertha’s house, I say yes and he tells me as well that she is coming at 11 to give me the key.....it seems she told the whole village about the new Canadian resident.
Today my neighbour lady invited me over to her house for coffee, (the one that thinks I’m weird) I think...that or I invited myself over, one or the other. I understood coffee, my house and the words any day....I will certainly be taking her up on that, perhaps tomorrow. Such interesting things go on over there and I feel guilty spying on them through my windows, I would like to have a relationship with them so that when I see something interesting going on I can just jump over the fence and say “hey...what’s happening?” instead of running from window to window to see what they’re doing.