Magical Realism, Writing, Fiction, Politics, Haiku, Books

jueves, agosto 23, 2012

Fellini In Tulum

Apparently, Fellini's film was never made. But there is a graphic novel on the topic of his journey to Mexico to meet Carlos Casteneda and make a film about it.

I am in Bahia Soliman, in paradise. Yesterday, after a sumptuous comida, chicken and rice with potatoes and beans and tortillas all lovingly prepared by Flor and Dos X, I settled into the hammock for a sweet 4 pm siesta. My feet were toward Bahia Soliman, and the hammock blocked the view between my feet. I fell asleep. When I awoke there was to my surprise an attactive young woman wearing a black bikini on the beach in front of me learning to juggle three Indian pins. Red, blue, and green. She repeatedly dropped number 3, but she had a futbol move to pick up the dropped pin without having to bend over. She walked juggling from left, where I could see her, past the hammock, where I could not, to the right juggling, and then back again, where I could see, and where I couldn't. When she dropped a pin, she kicked it back up. Was I dreaming? I was fairly sure I might be.

Evidently not. The house next door had many guests, a large extended family. I think they were all speaking Italian, though I'm not sure. It was not a language I know. I did not speak to any of them. The juggler, however, showed they were doubtless from one of those countries where property lines have symbolic but not actual, behavioral significance. Do not consider this a complaint. It is not. It is definitely not. I enjoyed watching her juggle. I fell back asleep a few times. I doubt she knew I was there. Or she didn't care. I don't know how long she was there practicing.

It was as if I had awakened in 8 1/2 at a circus. Only it was the beach near Tulum.

I fell back asleep. When I awoke again, she was gone. Later in the early evening, I saw her on the beach showing an older woman, maybe an aunt, how to do it. It was clear that the aunt didn't know anything about juggling. So my theory that they might be a circus family on vacation was wrong.

When I was waking up from my siesta I had some thoughts I've been thinking about on and off since. At first I thought that maybe people sleep better when they are in love. That might be so. Then I thought that I liked sleeping best when I was in love. That somehow love made sleeping better. Maybe that's because dreams were more active. I don't know. This afternoon this idea morphed into the idea that sleeping deeply, comfortably in one's lover's bed, after s/he has gotten up is a pinnacle of intimacy. I'm sure there's more too this.

I have no idea what this has to do with the juggling on the beach. Or the siesta. I'm happy to admit that I do not know the connections between any of these things. I suspect, however, all will eventually be revealed.