Club Nautico

January 2

Just when we get comfortable with a month it changes. Pretty soon February will arrive, January will be relegated to the landfill of history and all the energy expended acclimating to that next one will be a sunk cost after only 28 days. This, adding insult to injury, occurs concurrently with changing not one, but two digits in the new year (a zero remains, but is moved to a different location; how diabolical is that?). It's not, of course, as traumatic as a new century, but decades are still no slice of pecan pie.

After recovering main and spare halyards from masthead... OK, so here's what happened. To show support for Club Nautico (currently having difficulties), pay tribute to Cartagena and raise money for some kid's belated Christmases, someone organized a scheme for collecting donations in return for tree lights to adorn 100 boats on New Year's Eve. Said decorations were so flimsy (how flimsy were they?) that anyone injudicious enough to haul them up the fore and aft stays might discover they broke upon first attempt at hauling down. Anyway, walked all over Cartagena searching every gas station, residence, warehouse, farmhouse, henhouse, outhouse and doghouse in the area, to no effect, looking for, among other things, DVD player to replace Radio Shack junk that lasted for two and a half movies, siphon hose, vent loop siphon break and 5000 peso lunch. Did, however, find a 10 cent cup of coffee (tinto) and the dirtiest, smelliest open air "fresh" market on six of seven continents.

Having thrashed delicate physiology today, plan a day of rest on the day of rest by, ummmmmm, resting, in contrast to yesterday, when inactivity was produced moment by moment with a remarkably comprehensive absence of conscious thought.

Jack