The Sirens Live!
August, 2017. This is a true story about my encounter with a Siren (Sirena in Spanish), a creature of Greek myth. The Sirena is so enchanting that her romantic song lures sailors to their death on Sirenas’ island. The only person known to survive a Sirena encounter is Odysseus himself, and now, me.
Background I was in Merida, the capital of the Yucatan, Mexico. The famous ruins of Tulum is a long bus drive. I decided to go to Tulum and then back to Merida on the same day. I could have stayed in the town of Tulum that night but I had already paid for a hotel room in Merida. On my bus trip from Merida to the town of Tulum, I met a Sirena of mythical proportion and lived to tell of the experience. –Here is my story:
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I was on a one-day excursion by bus to Tulum, beautiful ruins overlooking the beach. I am seated next to this attractive local woman from Mexico City who is wearing a skimpy outfit. The Sirena is younger but is somewhere near my age. She has curves in all the right places. She has a beautiful face of a model with high cheekbones, brown hair with blonde highlights, and owlish glasses. The Sirena is reading a book, which has a lot of sex appeal. We strike up a conversation in both English and Spanish. I complimented her English. The Sirena tells me she also knows German, French, and Italian. She lived in Europe for five years studying Art History.
The Sirena kept moving or rearranging her dress around as she was “cold” from the air conditioning. This allowed me to slowly map her ample contours. The Sirena drops a lot of references to her personal wealth. For example, the Sirena tells me she lives in an exclusive section of Mexico City adjacent to the City’s famous Central Park (Chapultepec Parque). I tell her that I live in North County San Diego. The Sirena responds that when she was twelve, she stayed for a summer at the exclusive Bishop School in La Jolla taking lessons at the nearby La Jolla Tennis Club.
The Sirena’s interest in conversing seems to fade. We are silent for a long time. As we approach Tulum, she strokes my forearm like I am a cat and asks my name. She gives me her name: Gabriela. As the bus pulls in, Gabriela suggests I go with her to the nearby Vegan and Organic Cooking Festival. I figure I can spend one hour with Gabriela, and then, on to the ruins. Gabriela talks to the bus crew for directions. She announces the Festival is within walking distance. We head out and find nothing. Then she asks a series of people for directions to the Organic Cooking Festival. Gabriela is wearing breezy, black and white striped, Furstenberg-knock-off, wrap-around dress, with cute matching shoes. Gabriela importunes several locals, including workers digging a ditch, and then some teen who needed a bath along with his clothes. Her question: “Where is the Organic Cooking Festival – you know, the one with the vegan cooking?“ These people don’t have a clue. Each local informant pointed in a completely different direction. We duly followed each lead to nowhere
We crisscrossed the area, and then gave up. Gabriela suggested I go to the beach with her and I skip Tulum as it is, “just a bunch of buildings that fell down.” She said the beaches were at the juncture of all these hotels and we could use their facilities. I replied “I came here to go to Tulum”. Gabriela suggested I go with her to the beach, then go to the ruins. She ends with, ‘’plus I know a great little French cafe where we could get lunch” I reminded her I have five hours in Tulum total before my bus left. I hesitated and fought back a growing attraction to just go with the Sirena. My eyes toured her curves and a faint smell of gardenia emanated from her bosom. My knees buckled. Somehow, I witnessed myself muster up a “No gracias“. I knew that I was weakening. If this fleshy creature suggesting anything else, I would have begged: “YES please YES“. Gabriela had to retrieve her bag from the nearby bus depot. When she returned, Gabriela suggested something else to me. However, by that time, I had plugged my ears with chewing gum so as not to hear anything. I learned to read lips due to my hearing loss. I was able to lip-read her suggestion that we go out for lunch first.
I put out my hand and said it was a pleasure to meet her. We shook hands and I forced my leaden feet to turn. I left without saying another word. Actually, I ran like my feet were on fire. Ever see a fat man running downhill on gravel? How about in 98 degrees with an equal level of humidity? As I ran across the street, in the middle of a block, some random bus stopped for me. I jumped on without a clue. It turned out to be the bus to Tulum. The Gods had taken pity on me.
Did I get a picture of Gabriela to prove how beautiful she was? Would you take a selfie with Medusa as her hair is trying to bite you? What if I stopped to get her home address in Mexico City (which is an easy bus ride from my Spanish school). If I had her address, I would be watering Gabriela’s houseplants right now. I would dutifully await her return, so I could cook her dinner. Then, I would be stuffed in the back room for the night with all the other houseboys.
The Gods let me live so I could tell the true story of Brave Zephereus.
