cacique rum

i'm in the office, drinking some rum and blogging while the bosses read the reports and make some final, anal corrections.

the rain has started falling again. unsurprisingly. constants are a good thing in life.

yesterday we escaped the prison, for a night in Tepoztlan. on the way over, as we climbed the mountains, on taxis driven by crazed mexicans, the mountains looked like giant green teeth, to eat and to be eaten. lush with tropical life.

we went to a restaurant perched on the mountains. the full moon came out to watch, as we drank sangritas and tequilas -- herrero blanco, nothing else will do.

melvin wanted to talk. he talked and smoked and drank. and after a while, i had him down. small faces, dylan, bit of tropicalia, madness but only to dance to, charlie parker, gillespie, jazzman core. he's going to cuba. he's got £2m. he's the finance director. i said, 2m...we can do something with that in cuba! he's not interested, just wants to hang out in jazz clubs. he'll have a great time, i'm sure.

back to the hotel, racing down the highway. one of the taxi drivers had a mini-tv in the car, which he was watching as the car sped down the mountain.

our own driver, pointed out the sights as he talked on his mobile and discussed with us the relative heights of our respective countries.

7000m high, he points to a cloud in the sky.

it's not a cloud. it's the volcano, breathing ash that the locals have to sweep off their rooftops everyday, so the sky doesn't fall in on them.