When going ashore in Puerto Lemon (Costa Rica) we had to walk
through a park where the town’s people sat or walked enjoying
the evening breeze. They didn’t like us, we’re uncouth seamen
up to no good. We felt their odium and it made us noisier than we
otherwise would have been. We were on our way to the seedy
part of town where we were welcomed because we had money.
One evening, I sat in the park enjoying the peace and sea breeze…
after some time I was approached by a police officer who told me
to move on, he never said where, but the good people felt offended.
As I left, I was filled with sadness and I had only one place to go.
Late at night when the good people had gone home, the park was
a whore house, just raucous noise, the sea breeze had died.
