The Rhythms of the Night

Everything in Mexico moves to it's own rhythm. The ocean, the animals, the people, all are in sync with their own beat. One block off the beach is a restaurant that we pass every time we walk to town. It was once the location of a very good restaurant called Sr. Froy's, but Froy's has moved to the center of town across from the bank. The new place specializes in steaks and such, and their theme is the music of the 50's and 60's. As with most Mexicans when they play their music, they play it loud. Elvis and Buddy Holly Blair from a sound system from which the high notes could break glass and the base resonates deep in your stomach. I wonder why they feel the music and level they play it at will draw gringo customers. I can barely walk past the place, let alone sit down for dinner. It might be that 50's music has never been my favorite genre.

I have come to believe that if you have a car or truck in Mexico, they provide you with two things that you must install in your vehicle. First they give you all sorts of LED lights, mostly in blue, to place around your licence plate, the running boards, on your windshield wipers, on the water squirters for the windshield and some times on the air caps of your tires. I have noticed that even the worst run down junkers have one or two of there lights installed somewhere.

Next, when they give you your licence plates they must hand you the biggest car audio system that you can fit into your vehicle. If you have a VW Bug, then the back seat is comprised of speakers, on seats, just speakers. If you have a truck then they give you ten or twelve small tweeters and a base tube that fits under your seat. Some have video screens with the newest popular MTV music videos playing. Others just have an amazing amount of sound emanating from the open window. Some of the sounds are of rap or 80's disco, but most are Mexican Mariachi style music played as loud as the stereo can go. You get used to the sounds mixing and it is rather enjoyable to wander to the different beats of the passing locals.

Tonight's walk took us down to our usual sunset bar, Bigoties. We reached the end of the street where the city turns to beach and to our surprise Bigoties was boarded up. Linda suggested we walk up the beach a bit and there it was relocated and prospering. Many of the faces were familiar. Over the years you run into the same expatriots and relocated Canadians. Most are retired, heavy drinking, chain smoking people who have the same daily routine which end here at the bar. You nod your head, they smile and wave, but that's about it.

Bigoties has always been the spot to watch the sunset, drinking margaritas and beer. Tonight was no different from the last night we were in Mexico last year. Our waiter take our order, expressing the fact that it's always two for one
cervezas at Bigoties. About two drinks into the night the music starts. Three musicians play guitars and bongos and entertain the patrons. They are not great, but good enough to make you tap your feet and move to the sounds of Mexico.

We pay our tab, tip the band and head into the town in search of dinner. We have tacos, tamales, and enchiladas at one of our favorite spots, then we go buy some donuts from the Donut Man who is always on the corner by the Church, and we sit in the town square and watch the people of Malaque.

We return to the place at about 9:00 PM, the sounds of the 50's floating down the street to the ocean. Linda fell directly to sleep and I laid on the bed reading. I woke some time later to the sound of a marching band. The wind was blowing out to the bay and our 50's music had been replaced by clean brass sound of a Mariachi marching band. It only lasted a couple songs and then it was quiet. Except for the tick, tick, tick of the celling fan and the booming echo of the waves smashing onto the shore. In Mexico everything has a rhythm and the people have embraced this syncopation of life so we sleep.