… a bora bora story …

Just this morning,  while waking to cups of strong steaming coffee
colored of cream, for some reason I remembered a little tale that
Alcir told me many years ago…

This was in the early days of our story, back in 1987 when he was
diving for urchins in the little Point Arena town in Northern California.

He’d come west from Lake Tahoe, where he was living, hearing
about the cash and thrills of that gold rush time…
It was a free-for-all, no limits, with ice trucks standing by to rush
the fresh treasure off to the Japanese buyers, who have deep
passion for that succulent, creamy delight.

He could earn a great deal of money any day he dove…
I remember one day he said he got over $1000… that was the day
he came in, surfing the top of that tan van as it drove into my
driveway, that familiar broad grin of his painting his face.

He often mesmerized me with his wild tales of adventure, and
this one became one of my favorites.  It wasn’t until this morning,
gazing at the clear blues of the BoraBora lagoons, that suddenly
this little story floated up and surfaced in my mind.

When he fled from Brazil, back in the late seventies, it was because
there was a price on his head.
He had been robbing banks “to finance the Revolution”, he told me…
“An then a cople of peeple got Keeeeled…. An I had to Leeef”…

His grandfather gave him a boat, which according to legend, he
took around the Horn, and escaped before they could throw him
in jail and likely kill him.
He was 19 or 20 then.

He landed in Bora Bora, and stayed there for a year, as I recall.

“At first, they deedn’t like me…. I spoke French, an they
Hated the French…

“They stayed away.  I lived on the beach an dived, an ate feesh….

“After a while, they figured out I was a cool Brasilian, an then
they began bringing their girls to me…
“On Sunday mornings, there would be a knock at my door….
…an there would be a woman with a beautiful young girl…

(knock knock knock)
‘Scuze mee….? Could you fertilize my daughter pleeese?’

“What could I doo?” … a sly smile joining his shining eyes…
”I could not Insult them……

“I theenk I haf to go back to Bora Bora someday …
….an veesit my cheeldren…”



…leaving on a jet plane…

February 9, 2005

OK… so here I am, sitting in the airport, all packed and ready to go…
It’s about 5:30 am, and the plane boards at 7.  > EGAD…!

The day is finally here, and I am a bit numb.  The last 24 hours
are a blur of lists and deadlines… I was up at 3am yesterday, and
I think I dozed a couple hours between 5 and 8.  Very physical day,
moving tons of boxes and furniture.  Last minute things all day,
finishing the animals and ebay, and mending,
cleaning, packing…all of it.

And now I’m here, waiting to begin my journey to my future.

She wondered how she ever got here… Looking ahead, to a future
unknown, yet so full of strange foreign fare.  Possibilities loomed…
She’d felt many things in the past 2 months…lately she’d been
saying she felt like the girl on the half shell.
Like a mail order bride. Like Grace Kelly leaving all she’d known,
to be with her man, in a strange country.
All pleasant……all prickly strange.

If it all were true, this would be the last hours of aloneness.
So many years seeing herself alone…how many? 21?  Lots of
false starts, lots of maybe – maybe nots….. And now?
Could this be a cosmic joke?  The signs were auspicious,
she had to admit.

Could things really just fall properly into place, and aside from
the usual day to day drab realities of really knowing someone,
is it possible, just possible that the two of them were inheriting
some sort of golden egg, laid how long ago, but now fully ripe
and hatching forth a creature of shimmering luminescence,
full of light and ready for action.

To see him finally face to face… His specter prowled
the cove of her heart, and she desperately desired
a peaceful resolution to her longing.

It would be many hours, stops in Chicago and Miami, time changes,
dozing and rousing in that dream state that travel creates…
And by late tomorrow afternoon, they would be together.



…the story of the weeping camel…

I just watched ‘The Story of the Weeping Camel’ last night,
and I have to say it was so beautiful, touching, deep and real…
I just Love the lifestyle, so in touch with earth and animals,
the generations of family together, the Yurts, the fire, the rituals.
Loved ooogling the decor as well…. surroundings were all so
artful, clean, yet wide open, sparse yet homey.

And the camels!  That baby was just delightful, and when…
oh, but I can’t say too much, I’ll give away the story!
It’s a Must See, Mood Altering, Spiritual Adventure in a world
so far from ours, yet like it.
Isn’t it wonderful how humans are all alike, in their own ways!

And don’t shy away because it’s foreign….Mongolian… there just
isn’t that much dialogue, and the visuals and heart feels predominate.