Strawberry Coconut Tapioca Boba

He told me that Yucatan meant "something like...I don't understand your words." He found this out from a book he read in the field of anthropology. According to the scholar, when the Spaniards arrived on the southeastern, northern tail of the country's fish-like shape, these foreigners misinterpreted the words spoken to them by the people already there, and in their audacity, which seemed to me a mixture of ignorance and a sense of entitlement, they designated to the land the title of Yucatan.

I wanted to tell him that Peru had a similar history, but I still need to read more books.That for the Quechuan people, to the day, "Peru" connotes disdain: a reminder of Spanish butchery. I remember asking a Peruvian cabbie about this, but he turned his head, as though shamed, and refused to comment.

What happened between me and the cabbie was Yucatan.

What was happening between me and this young scholar was Yucatan.

What often happens between two lovers is Yucatan.

What happens between the spirit and the academician is Yucatan.

And when Yucatan doesn't happen, we find the more "accurate" Yucatan--a piece of a beautiful country with beautiful people and beautiful songs.

We sought Yucatan, I think, as we walked over for a strawberry coconut tapioca boba. Discussion veered into alien abduction, black holes and time-travel. People testify to these events, he said. They're probably crazy, I responded...after all, who would remain sane after having experienced such events? I once felt possessed by something oceanic but passed it off as mania and held steady under my sweaty skin. Luckily, my sanity wasn't affected much...I think. Besides, there are less important things that tend to affect my mind, like work and rent, for man will not live by bread alone. 

I told him this, more or less (perhaps less). He chuckled. I laughed. We drank our Bobas and parted ways.