Chena, Contemplating Ice Cream

December 28

Crew spent morning at open air fresh market enjoying the flavor of a third world bazaar while the rest of us, me, took under advisement a suggestion to have someone from the marina (who speaks Spanish) check out Tonio, the prop guy, across town in Parque Los Borrachos (yes, in a park) before blindly venturing out there. Dockmaster John, recommended a short, stocky, bald fellow named Hymito meaning Little Hymie. Was so bemused by name, forgot to ask if he is Jewish or an oddly named Colombian. Will search for him again tomorrow.

Early morning trek to Asistencia Technica Maritima disclosed potentially good news. Sven had checked inverter and found mosfets were not fried as none were installed. Better system uses something else which were absolutely fried, but possibly obtainable. Also, found corrosion in VHF remote mic that may herald total fix. I'm not buying. Four days (over Christmas), instead of ten, to find easily fixable problems. Right! And Santa Claus is Foster Brooks.

Plied the well-worn calles and carreras of the old town with Inspiration Ladys to find reported food festival. Someone neglected to organize it, so we just plied some more. Had cervezas in a plaza beside three drug lords and their babes, straight from central casting. Who knows? Didn't ask. After still more plying ate a fine, reasonably priced meal before returning to boat with slight detour. Path home leads by Mimo ice cream parlor and Chena, fiendishly clever wench that she is, used her devilish wiles to lure us in for a cup. We blame her, entirely. It's not visible, but guilt runs rampant.

Jack