Here are a couple of our buddies, or so we like to think of them. Actually, they're our masters. We exist only to keep their supply of orange juice flowing, but they're so lovely, we don't really mind.
Yesterday was fairly uneventful, except for the cocktail party, and even that wasn’t all that much of an event. One of the local restaurateurs, another friend of Alfredo’s, comes to the park once a year and throws a party to attract customers to his restaurant. One of the neighbours mentioned it to us, so we wandered over. It was held in and around the outdoor room where I had my chat with Luis a few nights ago. They served calamari, mahi-mahi, nachos. Margaritas were dispensed from a pony keg. A trio of musicians played things like Cielito Lindo. A few people danced. Everybody else sat around eating, drinking, chatting, listening to the music. I re-affirmed my total ineptitude at sitting around and chatting with total strangers. After a couple of calamari and a little cube of mahi-mahi, I excused myself and went for a walk, my second stroll of the day out to the end of the beach. When I got there, I found a group of local kids who had parked their jeep by the water’s edge and were lounging on the rocks, listening to reggae. I sat on a rock of my own, watched the water, and enjoyed this little concert without the need for small talk, then walked back to join R for the sunset watch. He had gone. So had everybody else. I watched the sunset, then walked back to the RV. A man passed me, said “Full house tonight.” “Yes,” I said, thinking he meant the party that was. He meant my house. I found R sitting on the patio with four people he had brought back from the party, telling them all about narrowboating in