It doesn't take long to find where you are and aren't comfortable. The moment I stepped off of the plane in San Pedro, It felt like I was coming home. I knew the streets, which restaurants I preferred, where the best coffee was and where I could go to get any information I needed. Even the Conch Shell Inn gave me that I'm home feeling.
All in all, the next two days were nothing much different than the last visit, other than gathering info on living costs, rental availability and so on. People still remembered who I was, and many even wondered about how my trip down south went. But there were a couple of things that stood out.
The first was while walking down Front Street with my guitar strapped to my back, I was stopped and asked if I would be interested in doing a gig at the opening of a new restaurant in San Pedro. Ah, what the hell. Unfortunately, the venue did not have a sound system, and I convinced the owner that the tiny travel guitar I had could not be heard and it would look a little Mickey mouse for a new spot. So I ended up playing on the beach for a number of parties, and all went well. A couple of the tunes brought a couple of tears. What I did realize is that I do not have a burning desire to play my music for people I do not have a personal connection with. It is nice, getting a warm reception, but strangely enough it felt like I was telling stories to people that had no business hearing them.
The second was another chance encounter with another bar owner. I had headed over to Wet Willies, which is a large palapaya bar at the end of a dock a few hundred feet from my hotel. They have one of the best swimming locations in the area, and it was a hot day. One of the owners came over to say hello and thank me for patronizing the bar, and we hit it off well. Her and her husband were from Baltimore, and similar ages to me, and we spent half an hour reminiscing about the Baltimore Oriole teams from the early seventies. Brooks and Frank Robinson, Boog Powell, Jim Palmer, Paul Blair and so on....They were my team, and Brooks was one of my sports heros. The owners had purchased the place in January, after having sold their graite usiness the previous year. They were happy with the move, and we're most interested in what I was up too. Dianne took my contact information and her and hubby will keep their ears to the ground and contact me, as opportunities are known.
All in all quite a productive two days. Sunday morning I got up at he crack of dawn, hit the San Pedro to Chetumal water taxi, and picked up the bus to Tulum. Of course on he way I met new people including Russ from Oakland, who was a real estate developer until the market tanked, and now restores vintage race cars.
All in all, the next two days were nothing much different than the last visit, other than gathering info on living costs, rental availability and so on. People still remembered who I was, and many even wondered about how my trip down south went. But there were a couple of things that stood out.
The first was while walking down Front Street with my guitar strapped to my back, I was stopped and asked if I would be interested in doing a gig at the opening of a new restaurant in San Pedro. Ah, what the hell. Unfortunately, the venue did not have a sound system, and I convinced the owner that the tiny travel guitar I had could not be heard and it would look a little Mickey mouse for a new spot. So I ended up playing on the beach for a number of parties, and all went well. A couple of the tunes brought a couple of tears. What I did realize is that I do not have a burning desire to play my music for people I do not have a personal connection with. It is nice, getting a warm reception, but strangely enough it felt like I was telling stories to people that had no business hearing them.
The second was another chance encounter with another bar owner. I had headed over to Wet Willies, which is a large palapaya bar at the end of a dock a few hundred feet from my hotel. They have one of the best swimming locations in the area, and it was a hot day. One of the owners came over to say hello and thank me for patronizing the bar, and we hit it off well. Her and her husband were from Baltimore, and similar ages to me, and we spent half an hour reminiscing about the Baltimore Oriole teams from the early seventies. Brooks and Frank Robinson, Boog Powell, Jim Palmer, Paul Blair and so on....They were my team, and Brooks was one of my sports heros. The owners had purchased the place in January, after having sold their graite usiness the previous year. They were happy with the move, and we're most interested in what I was up too. Dianne took my contact information and her and hubby will keep their ears to the ground and contact me, as opportunities are known.
All in all quite a productive two days. Sunday morning I got up at he crack of dawn, hit the San Pedro to Chetumal water taxi, and picked up the bus to Tulum. Of course on he way I met new people including Russ from Oakland, who was a real estate developer until the market tanked, and now restores vintage race cars.
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