Sitting at Buho's in mid afternoon, I stared into what appeared to be a canvas of blue before me. Framed by the overhanging straw from the palapa above, the volley ball game on the white sand below, the three young girls sitting on swings on the far side of the bar to the left, and two American guys so drunk that they were about to fall out of their seats the far side of the bar on the right. My eyes focused on the blue sky and sea that formed my blank canvas of blue, set in this moving frame. Ever so carefully, I was constructing a visualization onto the blue canvas ... a visualization of a problem that I was trying to solve in my head slowly began to take shape. The numbers appearing and dissolving as my concentration intensified then waned. As I concentrated deeply, the imaginary white chalk moved over the light blue field.

I was attempting to correlate the volume of a 325 ml bottle of Cerveza Superior to a 12 ounce bottle of Budweiser. Having consumed numerous bottles Superior in the past few days, I had surmised that each 325ml bottle of Superior contained slightly less beer than the 12 ounce bottles that I was accustomed to drinking at home. It looked smaller, but looks can be deceiving, and I was determined to empirically prove my hypothesis to myself. Being totally without resources such as a calculator, or pen and paper, I was determined to visualize the math. My only reference with which I could accomplish this task was a tiny bit of knowledge that I was able to pry from the far reaches of my brain where apparently some cells were not yet completely dormant from my afternoon of beer drinking. I was able to recall that one gallon contains 3.8 liters, and that one cup contains 8 ounces. Why this problem seemed worthy of all of my concentration that afternoon, I don't know. I had been in a strange mood all day, very quiet, excessively contemplative, almost meditative at times.

That morning we had awaken to our fifth Isla dawn. Every sunrise had been spectacular. We had sat on the verandah watching the birth of this day, marveling at the wonder that unfolded before us.

The white numbers on the blue field dissolved as my concentration was disrupted. One of the young men on the other side of the bar slapped his dirty sandals down on the bar. How rude, I thought to myself. In most Asian countries doing that would surely get your ass kicked. But, I told myself, it really doesn't matter. I took a big draw on the bottle of beer in front of me and closed my eyes; my body relaxed again.

I had been so relaxed all day. Breakfast had been especially sumptuous that morning. I had ordered a huge glass of fresh orange juice at M&J, this was an accompaniment to my breakfast of eggs with chaya, toast, coffee, and fresh tortillas. As Ritsuko and I had walked back to the hotel, we made our customary morning stop at the supermarket for water and munchies. On the town square taxi after taxi had stopped, depositing groups of school children from what appeared to be various schools for some sort of outing. Isla was like a step back in time for both Ritsuko and for me. In some way we had seen, in the daily lives of the people, a spirit of what we had both remembered from a simpler time, decades ago, in each of our respective cultures.

The sky had been clear since just after sunrise, with a band of clouds lingering over the Cancun skyline. The sun had been exceptionally hot, so Ritsuko and I had both spent a lot of time in the water during our morning on Playa Norte. I enjoyed swimming in the calm water, swimming until exhausted, then floating on my back, arms outstretched, embracing the sun as it casts its warmth upon the Earth, granting it life.

I opened my eyes, again focusing on the canvas of blue. Conjuring the chalk, I once again began to draw, focusing on the problem with which I had become so consumed.

The numbers again collapsed as I heard loud giggling from the young girls at the opposite end of the bar. One of them had jumped from a swing landing her bottom on the bar. I couldn't avoid the distraction, enjoying the show; her wiggling little derriere moderately tethered in a floral print bikini as she scooted across the bar to the hoots of laughter of her friends. I almost laughed out loud as I pondered the lack of logic behind my not finding it objectionable that her ass was on the bar, when I had only a few minutes before been momentarily incensed by a young man placing his sandals on the bar. Surely, from a hygienic point of view, one should be as objectionable as the other. Having established that common point of reference, I had to surmise that neither incident is of any consequence after all.

Most of the day, there had been no negative vibes interfering with my balance of mind, body, and spirit. After having spent the morning on Playa Norte, Ritsuko and I had walked into town to the bank in order to change some more dollars into pesos. After leaving the bank, we walked across the street to the Miramar for a lunch of fresh grilled fish, veggies, rice, tortillas, and cold cerveza. Taking our time, we looked at some of the wares of the street vendors along Rueda Medina. Like the sudden appearance of a school of hungry little fish, we found ourselves surrounded by a group of neon wristband clad day-trippers. I felt as if we were moving in slow motion as the group molded itself over us like a shell of tense, uptight energy. Ritsuko and I looked at each other, smiling, oblivious to the noisy banter, and sarcastic criticism of our newfound paradise, happy in the knowledge that Isla does not appeal to everyone. The group passed, just like a cloud passing overhead, and we proceeded unscathed to our hotel room for a siesta.

After our siesta, Ritsuko decided to spend some of our newly converted pesos in the shops downtown. I decided to spend some in the bars on the beach, which, after a couple of stops, brings me to my present state, sitting at Buho's in my cerveza induced meditation. I finished the bottle of cerveza in front of me, and ordered another, downing half of it as soon as it was served. Once again, I concentrated, determined to solve the problem through visualization. I focused on the canvas of blue; all those around me disappeared as my visualization became clearer. The white chalk began to move again.

At that moment, I realized that the answer was less than 12, and that I really didn't care what the exact answer was, only that it was less than 12. Simultaneously, I realized that if I am able to do this, then I probably haven't had enough to drink, and really it didn't matter. Picking up my beer, I downed the rest of it. I felt really good. I felt as though my mind was purged of negativity and trivia. I felt really mellow.

Thunder crashed in the distance, and rain began to fall on Playa Norte. The volley ball players ran for cover, as did most of the people on the beach. I heard a startled female voice behind me as a young lady awoke from her nap in a hammock, startled by the drenching rain. She climbed up on the bench next to me, telling me that it was the first rain on Isla in three weeks. Three weeks on Isla. How lucky she was to be able to stay for that long. She was soon joined by her boyfriend and his brother. Estelle and her boyfriend Jean and his brother were from Montreal. We all sat at the bar and talked while the rain passed. They were delightful people, somewhat sad that they had to go back the next day to the real world of jobs and deadlines. I told them that my wife was probably in town shopping, and that I hoped that she had found shelter from the rain. Estelle laughed and said that some lucky shop owner was probably very pleased to offer her shelter. The rain soon passed, and they went on. I began to wonder about where Ritsuko could be.

In just a few minutes, I saw her walking through the bar, shopping bag in hand, smiling joyfully. We walked down the beach, watching the sun sink low in the sky, arriving at Sergio's for the final half hour of the sun's descent to the sea. I went to the bar, bought a couple of cervezas, and we took a couple of chairs out to the water's edge. There we sat, watching another sunset. I told Ritsuko about my afternoon, and she told me that she had met another couple from Iowa, who were on Isla celebrating their 25th wedding anniversary, and that surely we would see them again tomorrow.

We sat on the beach until dark. Walking back to the hotel, we took a quick detour up Hidalgo to the little grill across from the Internet Cafe for some tacos and for a chicken torta to go. It had been an quiet, interesting day. A very peaceful day on which, in the end, all things were balanced, and we could rest peacefully. And, in my vision of a perfect world, that is how life should be, peaceful, harmonious, balanced.