A Walk in Contrasts

 
     Every morning when Vince and I go for our walk, I am struckby the contrasts. From roadways to lanes, from buildings to homes, our littlesuburb of Manzanillo, Mexico, contains contradictions that seem to dominate thecountry. Industry and commerce versus laid-back attitudes and "manana"philosophy.     We walk along stubbly rock-strewn roads to the mainthoroughfare. Cabs, trucks, cars and military vehicles speed by, the latter ontheir way to and from the port. Here the sidewalks display beautiful brickwork, hand laid,designs forming diamonds of grey, red and white. The street itself is brick. Amedium that cuts through the centre is dotted with palms and planters. Red andpink flowers flourish alongside little green, red-tinged bushes and grass. Well-spacedtrees form umbrellas of bean pods and gnarled limbs.     As we amble along, we are met by all kinds of people. Youcan see the Spanish heritage in some of the faces, the native influence, thegringo mix. Most of them, Mexican or gringo, nod, smile, and say Buenos Dias.Moms with babies, people off to work, men gathering cans and bottles from thestreets.     Businesses are spread out over the sidewalk, leaving the pedestrian totravel through or find a way around. Restaurant owners set up tables or servebreakfast. A hardware store opens its sliding metal doors for customers, amedical clinic, a wide-open church, a laundry, an Internet café. Someone sellscamarones (shrimp) and pesca (fish) out of coolers in front of his house. Tiresare piled next door to a small family restaurant, the oil smells dominatingover the coffee aroma.      One of our favourite places to get dinner is an ash pit onthe same lot as a car wash. (Vehicles are water blasted and scrubbed andpolished by hand.) Chicken and ribs are often splayed on poles in the fire pitand we know from experience that they are delicious. Another place we like toeat is what we call the garden restaurant. That's because it's bordered by abeautiful lot of fruit trees and flowers.         One building is crumbling, its windows broken and theforlorn interior echoing its grim present. Next door, the plaster is painted abrilliant white. A beautiful young Mexican girl sweeps the sidewalk.              Behind thewrought iron gates further on, we can spy a traditional hacienda, done in asoft yellow with dark wooden trim and doors. Bougainvillea grace the decks andbalconies. Palms wave in the breeze and always, there is the sound of thePacific beyond.     Construction is booming. A building slowly rises from thesand, its grey concrete bricks with no straight edges propped up by woodenbeams and rebar. Men are spread everywhere, hammering and shaping. At a condosite, two men sit on a platform and place a stunning marble mosaic façadeacross the future balconies. Local hotels, restaurants, offices, and roadwaysare either beautifully improved or in the process. Sometimes these edificeshave been in the process for years, though.     Curved orange clay tiles cover many of the rooftops. Littlehotels, pristine restaurants, lovely residences stand next to abandoned lotsstrewn with garbage, broken glass and shredded plaster walls. Another huge lotappears to be empty, until you look back and see a makeshift shed that houses asleek brown horse. Down the street, there's a lot with huge truck cabs gleamingand ready to go. They're here every day, though, so perhaps their transport business is not sogreat.     A soft brown Spanish home displays a neat garden of cactus,palms, and flowers. A tiled wading pool sparkles in the sun. One fence istopped with brass statues, all carved into various human shapes and poses. Fromanother doorway, a huge dark skinned woman, her dress tented around herenormous belly and hips, stares out at the sidewalk. A man in a wheelchair sitsinside the courtyard of a small hotel and restaurant. He always waves and callsout Buenos Dias in a deep, hearty voice.     Huddled amongst a couple of beautifulhaciendas is a small square house with a dirt floor and muddy yard. Inside, wecan glimpse a bed, a couple of chairs, and several people. They don't seem totalk much.     We can walk past rubble, cracked cement, salt-eroded wallsone moment and be surrounded by brown, yellow or brilliant white haciendas thenext. Dog shit and litter mingle with rose petals and palm leaves.      The air is usually fresh, with its salty ocean taste, andthe sun (although this year it disappeared for over a week) is normallybrilliant. The plants are lush. The people are friendly. The ocean roars allaround us. Stark contrasts aside, the bottom line is that Las Brisas is vivid,alive and beautiful.