washing sewing reading

Sunday 15th September 1985

What with all the washing sewing reading and a thunderstorm didn't make it to the ruins during the day.

However made it to the Son et Lumiere show in the evening with a few others. Ruins impressive lit up at night. Quadraphonic hifi good too, but the music was repetitive and boring and ponderous and the lighting effects repetitive too. The voice overs spoilt it all. Thre breathless voices raised mirth rather than respect with chaotically mis stressed sentences 'where they here or did they come form...' A yorkshire tool fitter who has been wandering the globe for two years accompanied me to a beer afterwards. He regrets didn't get to Tibet, and looks like lack of money will stop him reaching south america too. He got a standby ticket out of singapore.

Dinner with the man of the house. he is as round as his wife, but drunk hence long conversation, although our respective language skills are not up to much actual communication. Spoke proudly of the virtues of the Yucatan and the Maya I think, the locals all look very indigenous and not spanish. We shared endless home made tortillas which were very tasty with pollo pibil. Yum. Muy bueno gusto. He had a very large piece section of chicken which was brutally rendered into tiny pieces by a heavy handed assault with knife and fork. ±Plenty of saliva and sharp intake of breath and smacking lips as he bit into a red chilli or a lime laden with salt. All washed down with three beers and a coke. I think my cash has prompted a feast. The chillies n this household are the very devils balls, but they make a marvellous colonic antiseptic so I managed a small one, poco piquant.

In the village square a large number of people were milling around, with a few vendors, as if something was going to happen. I hang around till 11pm and nothing much happened. Toddlers ran about bumping into everybody, children played marbles, youths smoked cheap cigarettes, older and fatter wiser gossiped on benches and grew fatter still.