Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Adopting the "Dirty Dutch"

Marilyn and I are exploring Mayan and Aztec ruins on the Yucatan in Mexico. We’re in the courtyard at Coba, one of the best preserved. We encounter two Dutch Hippies. Jan and Greta. He’s tall, thin and handsome. She’s tall, stacked and beautiful. Both are very bright. They also need a shower. Two weeks later we’re having dinner on Isa Mujeres, Island of The Women. Believe me, it is! Jan’s trudging down the sandy avenue. We hail and he tells us ‘ Greta fell from a step at Coba. She has a bad infection. We’re in the Youth Hostel.’ he says. I go over. The wound is on the top of her foot is badly infected. I dig out bits of sand, gravel even bits of glass with a tweezers. She never flinches. When we leave, Marilyn insists we pile them in the back of our truck, and care for her until the infection is gone.

We stop in Tulum where she strips down to bikini shorts and dives into the surf. Mexican men stare. So do I. Then to Kohunlich and huge Mayan masks on a long stairway. She has to sit in the truck. At Palenque we all dive into the crystal clear pool at the foot of a sixty foot waterfall. The ladies sit to dry. The guards ogle. The sixty mile gravel road to Agua Azul, (Blue Water) is dotted with signs proclaiming, ‘ Natural Park, Restaurant, Hotel, Camping.

It’s the rainy season so there’s no hongos to pick. The falls are muddy browns and the river is raging yellows.. An upturned V.W. Van rests on its banks. It’s pouring when we arrive. The restaurant is a cement slab with a leaky thatched roof. An old man sweeps the gathering puddles out with a worn broom. There’s one unshaded flickering electric light bulb. The hotel has six inches of water on the floor, six foot high walls between rooms. You can stand on the rumpled cots and look into the rooms on either side. There is one unisex toilet, sans roof. I sit holding an umbrella over me. It’s 1983 Mexico Amigo! The thunder rolls and the lighting flares behind the black low hung clouds. The Dutch swing their hammocks in the Restaurant with seven other nationalities. We are determined to drink the bar bone dry that night.

Before we start drinking Jan, Greta and I try to push our truck to higher ground. We’re up to our knees in rushing water. Suddenly I feel a slight shock, Jan jolts back and falls flat on his face. “I’M NUMB!” but not for long! The fire ants attack and he’s up, screaming and swatting. I run over and start blotting them off his barer legs. It’s difficult to stand on one foot in this current, but we manage.

There are seven languages around the table, yet it’s more effective in solving problems than the UN. The old man keeps sweeping. The German couple break out something to smoke. Marilyn and I take a pass. The conversation gets warmer almost instantly. Why can we elect someone as ignorant as Ronald RAY GUN!!!The old man keeps sweeping.

In the morning, the sun is out. But the mud is still ankle deep. However, everyone joins to push us out. Hooray! We shove them in the truck and head back of the Yucatan. Each night they sleep in our truck and we get a hotel. They use our showers. Her foot looks better after ten or twelve days, so we release them in Merida, and head north. But that’s hardly the end. As Marilyn says, ‘ Family are not only by blood or birth. They are also those who choose you or you choose them to become your family. These bonds can be very strong. The chosen family often become the closest family you have. In Amsterdam there are now seven Dirty Dutch in our family. We love them all and often visit to laugh walk the streets, have a coffee and remember. Much later Jan told us he and Greta thought we were a lovely couple, that it was too bad we wouldn’t last, that we argued too much. This coming Good Friday my Dwarf and her Bear will have been arguing for 32 years. So it goes. Next time Italy and the Sistine Chapel.

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