Every time I walk to town, San Juan, about 10 minutes from my cabin on the beach, I pass a host of characters. Off to the side of the mud road, before turning onto the pavement, broken tube lights hang over a dozen pic nic tables. It's Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde-ish. The roof is made from corrugated metal and blue tarps. Illegal gambling.
Across the mud road: a dozen or more knee-high A-frames for roosters. Illegal cock fighting.
I pass the gambling, roosters, and men who watch me intently, before turning the corner on to the paved road in front of the church.
And there they are: two giant white slabs inscribed with the ten commandments. See the irony? Non?
Across the mud road: a dozen or more knee-high A-frames for roosters. Illegal cock fighting.
I pass the gambling, roosters, and men who watch me intently, before turning the corner on to the paved road in front of the church.
And there they are: two giant white slabs inscribed with the ten commandments. See the irony? Non?
