Sitting here in limbo, with some time to search my soul
The Christmas vortex has swept down from the north, a juggernaut of good cheer and emotional current near the breaker limit. A blitzkrieg of children strung out on legends of scarlet clad fat men swarming down their nonexistent chimneys. Parents wrought with standards of delivery set by global marketing groups, gathering in cells to self medicate like jonestown sub stations. Here in the Baja we do not even have the earthworks of Thanksgiving to break the festive wind. As soon as the halloween sugar high has begun to subside mounds of alien plant species begin to pile up in department stores, parking lots, and normally vacant lots. Families from the outlying areas bring their young children on a pilgrimage to view these foreign flora that many of the younger and non traveled have never seen. Conifers and pines, an occasional cedar, under strewn with a carpeting layer of the red leafed harbingers of the holiday, the poinsettia. Walking through this faux forest, inhaling a smell that they have previously only identified with a clean bathroom, they choose a victim with whom to share their household for the next 2-3 weeks, and have it ceremoniously "chopped". They haul it home to be re-erected, and decorated to celebrate the repeating rebirth of the tree. At this point christmas here and where you are follow closely aligned parallel paths, and you know the rest of the story......
A bit grinchly of late, eh? Well of course, as a curmudgeon in training i follow the traditional script. I must admit that this festive time is a bit like disassembling a stephen king designed matroyshka doll. As you peel your way down through the layers of holiday wrapping a pleasant core reveals itself, much like the legendary soft centered nougat. Family returning and friends sitting around taking a breath after scaling the christmas peak. Our christmas board, replete with things both traditional and uniquely local, groans along with the rest of us. Sugar cookies sharing attention with seared tuna in pineapple/serrano chile sauce, Gerry holding forth even without a microphone, lentils for Val, eggplant from Eileen, and conversation in at least two languages. Mulled tequila? Not yet, but hmmm.....
After all the furious preparation, the pinche aguinaldos (the involuntary christmas bonuses for policemen and garbage collectors alike), the frantic muleing of presents for Enriques' kids, and the dyspepsia caused by an intake of toxic comestibles that equals the total of the other 50 weeks in the year, we arrive at that which is really what we all really want this to be about, hearing your children chattering with their friends, listening to your beloved laughing over shopping stories with Mimi, watching those that you care about enjoying themselves, relaxed, comfortable, and not needing or wanting to be anywhere else.
That's a little more Christmasy, eh? As with every year we wade through the commercial effluvia, and arrive at the essence of the season. We hope that you have all successfully made the journey, and have enjoyed that which is enjoyable, and begun your carbohydrate detox. In terms of your company and patronage this time of year has always been somewhat barren, but like Chaunceys' garden, the spring will bring forth the new growth, the familiar flowers of your presence will bloom with the increasing hours of the sun. After you've put away the strings of lights, some of which may even work next year, we hope that at least a few of your thoughts will turn to the good times, good fishing, and good company that we, and you, know that La Paz can provide.
Take care, have a great new year, come down and see us when you can,
David jones and the whole Fishermens' Fleet Family
P.S. And this year, a special bit of holiday warmth to Scotty, El Passportero, and our great joy that he is recovering from some scary bits.