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Fishermen of Puerto López

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A beer wielding man approached our table and gestured to one of the stools. I smiled and nodded that it was free for him to take. I wasn’t expecting him to sit and join us at our table, but he did. Pulling the sleeve of his top up he exposed a large scar along his arm. “Whale, do you understand the word whale?”, he asked in Spanish. I understood. “A whale was underneath my boat, it came up and whoosh capsized my boat,” he explained, acting out the scene with his hands. He turned his weather-beaten face towards me and started to ask where I was from and whether I had any children. “No children?! Pray to God that he will give you children!” he exclaimed whilst pointing to the sky and kissing his fingers. I tried to explain that I don’t have children through choice, I don’t want children yet, but he was on a roll, telling me I will have children when God deems the time is right. Giving up, I accepted his sympathy and left the drunken fisherman to drown his sorrows.

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