Eventide

...Here we are
Pass the stone
Throw away
All you know
Bury it
Under dusk
Wash away
Paint the rust
 ... the Dodos

This will be a brackish post. Hope it's meaningful to you in one way or another. It isn't interrelated or chronological, so don't look for that.

Thoughts on Rust

One of my favorite songs is Joan Baez' "Diamonds and Rust." It isn't just the story of the song; it's little gems buried inside that I can relate to personally:

Well I'll be damned
Here comes your ghost again
But that's not unusual...

As I remember your eyes
Were bluer than robin's eggs
My poetry was lousy you said ...
 
We both know what memories can bring
They bring diamonds and rust

You strayed into my arms
And there you stayed
Temporarily lost at sea
The Madonna was yours for free
Yes the girl on the half-shell
Could keep you unharmed...
 
 Speaking strictly for me
We both could have died then and there

Now you're telling me
You're not nostalgic
Then give me another word for it
You who are so good with words
And at keeping things vague
'Cause I need some of that vagueness now
It's all come back too clearly
Yes I loved you dearly
And if you're offering me diamonds and rust
I've already paid 

I wonder how many others find those lyrics, that voice, and the melody absolutely compelling. I understand that Judas Priest did a version of it. Heresy, I tell you! Anyway, I got to thinking that rust -- so abundant here at the beach -- might be seen as art in the right circumstances, so I went on a little safari around the neighborhood and looked at these examples.  In a couple of cases, it's more corrosion than rust, but I'm going to keep things vague.

How We Went to the Police Station in Downtown Tijuana

I'm afraid I don't have any photos for this one, just a quick story. On Friday, we were told by our Mexican renter's insurance agent that we would have to produce a police report in order to have our claim honored. We went to the substation of the Tijuana Police at San Antonio del Mar when the incident first happened on December 2nd. An officer came to the house and wrote some things down. Even though he told us we needed to go to the state police, I was doubtful and didn't do it. Since the insurance company was insisting, we had to relent. We went back to the substation and asked what to do. They printed out the address in Zona Rio (downtown TJ) where we needed to go. There was no way I was going to negotiate Tijuana traffic on a Friday afternoon, when I wasn't even familiar with the area we were supposed to be going to. I called our taxi driver friend and asked if he had time to run us down there. He found the place, paid a buck to park and walked in with us. He explained to the receptionist what we needed. She said we were in the wrong place (let that sink in). She sent us to another address, not far away. Ivan asked exact directions, including where to park.  He went in with us and waited with us for over an hour and a half. While sitting there, I noticed that TJ cops look like U.S. cops, TJ non-uniformed employees look like U.S. non-uniformed employees, and there is a certain look about lawyers that transcends the border quite easily!  Finally, we were called. The detective told us that Don couldn't go in because I was filing the report and Ivan was there to clarify or translate, and they a had a limit of two interviewees. This surprised all three of us, but Don quietly took a seat -- again! -- in the waiting room. The detective asked a lot of questions and typed very fast. Ivan repeated with absolute clarity everything I'd told him in Spanish, which pleased me because he speaks little English and couldn't have gotten the information elsewhere. After the report was done and ready to sign, he found an error in the amount of money that was stolen, so the detective made the change, and I signed the papers. After we got back into the cab, Ivan talked to his wife on the phone, and she wanted to talk to me. They invited us to their son's birthday party tomorrow. We have a dinner invitation later tomorrow, so we'll be juggling church, party, and dinner. We're happy to have friends!  For anyone thinking that everyone in northern Baja speaks English (something I've read here and there), I must say that I don't think we would have had a very successful time of it by ourselves. My Spanish might have gotten us through, but I doubt it. When the bilingual guy at the reception desk asked if I had a translator to help me with filing the report, I told him, "Yes, my friend is our taxista, part-time lawyer, and translator." I don't think he was as amused as I was. 

Eventide

My last walk was designed to occur as the sun was just about to go down. As you know if you read this blog, I love sunsets! It seems that any walk nets something different. Here, you will see some things that delighted me, plus a photo of our house from the beach and a photo of a neighboring guest house that caters to surfers. Enjoy!