What time is it? is it What time? it is What time? it is time, What? time, What is it? time, it is What? What is it, time? What? is it time?

The clock was only inches from my head as I lay in bed in the predawn darkness, wondering what time it was. Fighting the temptation of looking at the clock, I thought through the rationale supporting my instinct to ignore time measurement. Whether we measure it or not, time passes, we pass through time, or time space and matter maintain their relationship. The measurement is mostly irrelevant, and our collective preoccupation with that measurement serves very little purpose, and usually only reminds us of what a small amount of time is actually relevant to our own existence. Freeing oneself from the constraints of such measurement opens the mind to altering the perception of the passage of time, thus allowing one to savor the good feelings and experiences while also allowing the perception of bad experiences or negative feelings to be a mere blink of the eye.

It would have been easy to cup the tiny clock in my hand, walk out onto the balcony, and hurl it toward the beach ... but then there would be a time when we needed the clock ... a time in the future ... a future from which we would have to reach out and grasp that tiny handhold in order to bring us back to the reality of everyday life. The time of that event would come regardless of whether I was cognizant of how many ticks of the clock would precede it.

Pulling back the curtains, I could see that nighttime was giving way to daytime, and that was measurement enough. My body was reminding me that it was also time to feed my caffeine addiction, so I got up, ignoring the tiny clock on the nightstand, and began preparing a pot of coffee. That morning I found it necessary to open the second of two packages of Starbuck's Colombian coffee that we had brought with us on our trip. I thought to myself as I pried it open that this morning must be, more or less, the halfway point in our trip. Since the trip thusfar had seemed infinitely pleasurable, I found comfort in that revelation of this being a halfway point after surmising that the remainder of our trip also had the potential for being infinitely pleasurable. I found comfort in entering my own little time warp.

It's just a jump to the left ... And then a step to the right ... With your hands on your hips You bring your knees in tight, But it's the pelvic thrust That really drives you insane Let's do the time warp again!!! Let's do the time warp again!!!

Ritsuko awakened as the fresh morning breeze filled our room, and I held a cup of coffee under her nose while humming the theme to Rocky Horror over and over.

"What is that?" she asked, sleepily.

"Coffee"

"No, what are you humming?"

"Let's do the Time Warp again!!!", I sang aloud, characteristically off key.

Ritsuko giggled and shook her head. I quit humming, and we walked out onto the balcony, sat down, silently enjoying the quiet of the morning as we drank our coffee.

Thus began one of those endless days where the passage of time seems to slow down to be whatever we want it to be. I love the way that time seems to stop when you have no need for any measure of it, and in my mind, that is how vacation should be. Sure, Ritsuko and I have to work for a living, but who wants to think about that. Certainly we will have to go home at sometime in the future, but let that eventuality remain, for now, as an undefined point in time. I don't want to slip out of my time warp.

Finishing our coffee and pastries, we got dressed and struck out toward town, seeking a more substantial breakfast. Passing Sea Hawk divers, we heard Shooter's voice. Shooter and family were sitting on their balcony, watching the morning come to life. We exchanged morning greetings, then onward we went, with the hope of having breakfast at Cafe Cito. Cafe Cito had not yet opened, so, having laundry in hand, we walked on down the street to Tim Pho which was also closed. I suggested that we take our laundry to Playa Media Luna and beat it on the rocks ... Ritsuko merely raised an eyebrow, and suggested that we go for a walk. Walking through the streets of the town, we noticed a few changes here and there, but mostly things were the same as they had been in June. Walking toward Cafe Cito again, we saw the windows just being opened, so we went in and sat down. We always enjoy having breakfast here, sitting next to the window, watching the people pass by ... most just waking, as well as a few who are just winding down from an all night party.

After a pleasant breakfast, we walked down to Tim Pho, dropped off our laundry, and went on to the bank to change some of our travelers checks into pesos. Leaving the teller window, we saw Ralph standing in line, like us, preparing to do his part in contributing to the strengthening of the Isla economy via the dollar to peso to cerveza conversion program.

In the daylight, I like walking through the streets barefoot. I walk slower that way, paying much more attention to where my feet are going. This morning, as we walked back to the hotel, Ritsuko was on point, making sure that I didn't step in any doggie deposits, dutifully describing every little pile of it along the way. When I am barefoot, that is always a concern of hers, although I can't recall ever having actually stepped in any while walking barefoot. I appreciated the help, even though in following her guidance I did sometimes have to take a path through the streets and sidewalks that I considered to be excessively circuitous.

Having successfully navigated the streets, we arrived back at Maria del Mar, and were soon on the beach. You know the routine ... float ... sun ... float ... sun -- I know it sounds pretty boring, but with practice it becomes an artform and transcendatory vehicle. We laid in the sand, soaking up the rays when Ritsuko felt someone tickling her foot. She opened her eyes and was looking at a silhouette figure in the bright morning sun. It was Isla Toni !!!

I heard her voice, and I too opened my eyes. It was so good to see her again. She told us that she was on her way down the beach to NaBalam to catch up with Lynda, Nat, and Les. It's almost like we were all just here. A year ago, we were. Now again it seemed as though we had stepped into a time-space continuum when and where we are always on the beach.

The morning continued. I dozed in the sun as it rose in the sky, vaguely aware that there were more voices near me, surmising that more people had awaken and found their way out onto the sand -- the wonderful soft sand. How can anyone not want to walk barefoot and lay down in this sand. I awoke from my semi-consciousness and saw that Ritsuko was gone. Looking out in the water, I saw her floating happily, then I decided to walk down to NaBalam and visit with the others. There I found Les, Toni, and Lynda. Nat had gone into town to get a haircut, which has become one of his Isla rituals. We chatted for a while, then I walked back to Maria del Mar, wading in the sea near the water's edge. As I passed in front of Buho's, I couldn't help but notice that there was an extraordinarily large gathering of the International Organization of Ample Bosomed Topless Sunbathing Babes. Surely there must have been a sign on the road somewhere directing them all to the same location, but I didn't see it that morning. Anyway -- "Ladies, glad you could all be here this morning," I said inaudibly as I walked by.

I went up to the room, and got a t-shirt and our laundry ticket. As I walked back on the beach, Ritsuko was on her way to Buho's for the first cerveza of the day. I waved the laundry ticket at her, and walked down the beach to Hidalgo, then southward into town. Daytrippers were on the streets, and the vendors were pitching to people as they walked along. I felt like I was moving in slow motion around and through the commotion, not really connecting with anything that was happening, except for enjoying the feeling of the hot paving bricks under my feet, the aroma of so many different foods, and the hot sun warming my skin. Pitchmen came out trying to get in front of me. I just waved them by and smiled. "I want nothing." I was too content to want anything except for the bag of clean clothes that awaited me at Tim Pho. Walking back to the beach, no one bothered me, no one attempted to sell anything to the old guy in swimtrunks, a tshirt, and a big smile, carrying a bag of laundry, walking barefoot down the street. I had not a single peso on me anyway, so it is just as well that they didn't bother. I was in my own little time warp, on my way to Buhos to meet up with Ritsuko, who was waiting for me with cervezas and lunch.

This was truly a perfect day.

You're spaced out on sensation Like you're under sedation Let's do the Time Warp again Let's do the Time Warp again.