We Can't Drink The Water

Because there is no water.

It has been five days, and the water came on once. Just long enough for all the people in the house to take a shower. It is about 33 degrees. That's over ninety for you North Americaners. And it is just getting hotter. In a few months, though it gets colder up north, it will get warmer here, so that by the time you get up in the morning it is already climbing into the hundreds. But the nights get cooler then, at least there is some release.

Chris is washing his laundry in the pila, the mother's should be proud. And I am at the shop, trying to reconnect with technical cyberspace contemplations. Soon, the water of the Pacific Ocean will cool down and Chris will start spear fishing, and hopefully, collecting oysters. We will head into Puerto Vallarta to buy more mosquito nets and coils. Someone nearby has Typhoid Fever, and Dengue is on the rise as well. Bu, there are no terrorists on the subway. And no subways either. So the things we fear are those that we cannot control.

It is Monday I hear. And for the first time in most of my life, it does not signify the beginning of the week, work or school. It is only a day in this long string of time, named for the ease of identification in places other than this. So we ask the question: Are we living, or surviving?