spring break

one time i had a dream that i was on the beach during spring break. while i was there the military of the island decided to throw a coup d'etat and overthrow the dictator. it was very exciting.

bubbles and i had gone to the caribbean island of st. gwenn for a week. it was a very wild time. the island people were having their carnival after easter. college kids were partying on spring break. the island tennis championships were being held. the famous movie-star/musician/model lorenza was vacationing on st. gwenn's and she was being followed by a massive contingent of paparazzi. there was also a convention of confectioners being held at one of the major hotels in the capital city of candida. 

while were there we sampled the local foods which were simple but fresh and enjoyable. they had fruits that are hard to acquire in new york -even in woodstock- like "avocado-berries" (not regular avocados. these are different and better). we stayed at one of the hotels that catered mainly to french tourists. it was a good thing that i parley. one afternoon, after lunch, bubbles said he wanted to visit the beach. we had been swimming there that morning and i was bored of the beach. so i decided, while bubbles went swimming, that i would make a trip to the old port section of candida and wander around the wacky narrow-streets and open air markets. 

while i was on rue tabarnouche i thought it would be a good idea to visit the basillica of st gwenn. as i headed into the building, i noticed a large number of photographers outside. now the building is very pretty, but i didn't know it was that popular. it is a very nice place. it has an old frenchy feel to it, it is quiet and reflective in contrast to the festive city atmosphere, and it is a good place to cool off from the island heat. i decided to light a candle and meditate. while i was looking for matches, i noticed a lady a big straw beach hat. she said hello in french and i answered back. we started talking about st. vincent who is one of the patron saints of mustard makers. i told her i was from woodstock and albany and she switched languages to english. she said that she was an american too, and that she had always wanted to visit woodstock because it sounded like such an amazing place to make music. i asked her if she played an instrument or if she sang. she said that she did both. i told her that my pet-fish was d.j. but he mainly spent his time trying to avoid work. she laughed at that. it was a pleasant conversation.

she asked if i could send her some of my mustard. i told her that i could if she gave me her address. when i got back to the states i would ship her a sample pack. she gave me her business card with her mailing address, email, and phone number (sorry everyone, i can't give this information out - professional standards apply). i gave her one of the cards that bubbles had made up for me. she told me her name was lorenza -just lorenza. i told her my name but she didn't seem to recognize me. it wasn't a big deal- i didn't know she was famous either.

i told her i had to get going. she said she was going to leave through one of the side doors and cautioned me to avoid all of the photographers too. i asked her who they were and she said "journalists" and snorted. when we got on the street the coast was clear. she ran off to the left and i went straight.

i wandered through candida until i came to a stop at a large group of people on the side walk. traffic had been held up and there were many people running around like crazy up and down the street. everyone was nervous. some people were crying, while others moved slowly and were stunned. the bells of the city hall and the churches started ringing. you could hear police sirens in the distance. i asked one the people on the side walk what was happening. they told me that the president of the republic of st. gwenn's, who had been the dictator for the last 12 years, had been assassinated. it was a very dangerous moment because the police were rounding up people as suspects.

i decided that i should go back to the hotel. as i got closer to the center of the city, i noticed even more noise. all of the college students on spring break were in the street smashing things. it reminded me of the mardi gras apprentice riots. apparently, the national tennis championship had reached the semi-finals and dujardin, the player that the americans had adopted as their own, won his match and was going to be in the finals.

when i got back to the hotel the confectioners convention was going full swing. they had just adopted a resolution in favor of endorsing dujardin as their candidate for the presidency. i wondered if any of these people had actually met dujardin. myself, i had only seen a photo of him playing, and it was sort of a blurry shot. when i got back to my room, i turned on the tv. the island was in a state of chaos and the international media were arriving in droves to cover the unrest. fighting had broken out in the streets and in the absence of the dictator, civil disorder was replacing the rule of law. 

i was worried when bubbles didn't return back to the hotel that night, but i must have dozed off. when i awoke it was morning. i turned on the tv to find out what was happening. dujardin and his opponent were going to finish their tournament in an effort to show solidarity with the suffering of the people and out of national pride. the fighting in the streets was continuing as supporters of the former president did battle with the rising movement in favor of democracy. the general of the army was expected to make a statement that evening declaring martial law.

the best thing to do was to go out to look for bubbles, i decided. i asked the hotel if i could borrow a bicycle to look for bubbles. they  loaned me an old bmx, and i took off in downtown candida. there were reporters everywhere. i kept my eyes open for bubbles and asked around. no-one had seen him. i stopped for juice at a small street stand. i asked some of the people there if they had seen a fish matching bubbles description. no-one said anything, until one guy eyed me aggressively and asked why i was looking for him. i told him bubbles was my pet fish and i was worried about him. the guy said nothing, but eyed me suspiciously.

at the juice stand they had a small radio playing. the international press was reporting that the military was expected to take control and establish one of their own as dictator for the island. they reported that lorenza the famous american actress/musician/model had gone missing in the chaos. the radio announcer, who had a british accent, also told the listeners that dujardin had won his tennis match and was the national champion of st. gwenn's. he was likely to go on to the all atlantic championships.

unfortunately i had no luck in finding bubbles. the american students had gone even more wild when the discovered that dujardin had won, and that lorenza was somewhere on the island. everyone was talking about it. i finally realized that the lady that i met in the church was the famous actress. i decided to go to the police. i told the captain of the police that my pet-fish bubbles was missing. he said he wouldn't take any paper work on this because too many people had gone missing in the last two days to count. i told him i had information about lorenza, but he said the military probably had kidnapped her. that made me unhappy because i thought she was cool.

that afternoon, the general of the military gave his announcement to the country. he came out of the balcony so every one could see him in person. before he addressed the nation, several other speakers made remarks about how terrible the dictator had been. then, dujardin came out and waved. he didn't say anything, but he was indicating his support for what the other speakers had called "the revolution." all of the american students on spring break gave the loudest cheers for dujardin. then, much to my suprize, my pet-fish bubbles came out on the balcony. he wore a beret an eye-patch over one eye.

bubbles was giving a speech about the revolutionary triumph of the working class. i'd heard this sort of thing from him too much before to really follow closely what he said. after a while it all starts to blend together. what really intrigued me was how bubbles got up there in the first place. he seemed safe -and happy. while i was standing there, lorenza slid up next to me, but i didn't notice at first. she looked over at me and said, sort of enchanted, "he's brilliant, isn't he?" she wiped a tear from her eye. i asked what had happened to her -- that the whole world was wondering where she was.

lorenza told me that she had been kidnapped by the revolutionaries, while she was sunbathing on the beach, and had been brought to their head-quarters out in the hills. they were going to execute her for espionage, but bubbles who had already joined the revolution talked them out of it. he told them that first of all she wasn't a spy- just a dumb pop-star, and  secondly, that it would look good for their reputation if they let her go. the general of the military agreed with bubbles and they set her free earlier that afternoon. bubbles was up on the balcony, but now he had shifted to talk about the glorious future of the liberation movement in an international context or something. i'm pretty sure he mentioned brotherhood and peace. the crowd cheered loudly. i'm not sure if it was because he was a great speaker or because everyone had been drinking rum during his speech.

then bubbles announced the general of the army. people got quiet and serious very quickly. he slowly approached the microphone. the general wore his dark green dress uniform. the jacket was triple breasted, and the silver buttons gleamed in the bright sun. he spoke softly but clearly. he told people that as a soldier he had seen violence and knew the horror it involved. the general told the people they must no longer fight each other, that the revolution had won. he announced that there would be elections on the 3rd of october, which was the national feast-day, for a new national assembly and a 5 year presidency. until democratically elected leaders could be installed on all saint's day, the military and the courts would run the country. unrest would be punished severely. in order to protect them all foreigners (except the media and international observers) would have to leave the country in 48 hours. the navy and airforce of st. gwenn's would assist in this effort. the general told them in the following year, they would be welcomed back as guests of the republic. however, there was too much chaos now. he was responsible for their safety. he told the island that a bright future awaited them, if they embraced democracy. he walked off the balcony back into the presidential offices. no-one cheered because they felt too solemn, but everyone was joyous. it was clear that the disorder in the streets had ended. lorenza said that she was going to leave the island in the morning, but she didn't want to say where she was going. she told me to send my mustard to her.

when i got back to the hotel, i returned the bicycle. the man who had questioned me at the juice stand was there. only now he was wearing a triple breasted lieutenant's uniform and the revolutionary cockade in his hat. he told me to pack bubbles's suit-case and bring it with my own. he escorted me down to the front door of the hotel where an official car was waiting. it took me to the airport. bubbles was waiting there. i asked him about the eye-patch. he said he wasn't wounded in battle. instead, he had got hit by a stray tennis ball at the national championships that bounced in his face. we got on a small plane that took us to florida. from orlando we flew back to albany.

we made a brief stop for some oysters on state street. while we were there, bubbles told me that the general of st.gwenn's army had declared him a hero of the revolution, gave him a medal, and told him that he always would have a refuge on that island for life.