The Flood
The Flood
Good morning sir Is this the port of La Paz? Asked the stranger. Good morning, gentleman, answered a man dressed as a marine officer. Yes, here is the port of our most serene Virgin of La Paz, or well, it used to be, because a year ago, after the Odile storm, nothing was left: the pier, the boats and the small farmhouses that were drawn from the beach and that they were lost by the edge of the town, they were all destroyed; some by the wind, others by the rise of the tide and the others by the flood of three days of incessant rain. People say that when it rained the most, a great whirlpool formed that rose from the sea, from beyond that arm of land that they call the Mogote. That whirlpool loaded with water and fish was coming. - Live fish ?, interrupted the stranger.- Alive and dead, big, huge fish, there are those who say that giant squid also came, monsters, those that are only heard in stories but are never seen.
Right here where we were standing was the pier, the officer continued. Here a German tourist ship was docked, that same day arrived at the port. It was a splendid, sunny morning and the fresh wind moved the leaves of the almond trees in the streets. Some tourists got off the ship to buy souvenirs with boxes adorned with sea shells, fans and palm hats while enjoying a rum with mint and ice in the cafes of the boardwalk, others more stayed on the ship to save the payment of ten dollars by descent in port.
Well, right here where you stand gentleman, here was that boat that arrived that morning. I was one of the port officers and was in charge of receiving the ships: review of documentation, passports, cargo and passage records. I remember that it was ten in the morning when the German ship arrived; by two o'clock in the afternoon it started to rain and by six o'clock in the afternoon an enormous curtain of water and fish rose up, beyond that arm of land that they call the Mogote, and came upon us, many tourists they sheltered in the building of the old town hall and others in the kiosk of the boardwalk, from where the water later took care of them with the rising tide; but those who remained on the ship, those who kept their ten dollars to go down to a next port, those were covered in water and fish.
- And where were you? Said the stranger, embarrassed by the story.
- I was right here, where I am talking to you now, I was a port officer at the time.
- How is it possible that you have been saved?
- I did not, the water swallowed me, filled my lungs with sand and sea water. Now I am a ghost.
- But how is that possible? So who am I?
- You too, you were a German tourist.
Good morning sir Is this the port of La Paz? Asked the stranger. Good morning, gentleman, answered a man dressed as a marine officer. Yes, here is the port of our most serene Virgin of La Paz, or well, it used to be, because a year ago, after the Odile storm, nothing was left: the pier, the boats and the small farmhouses that were drawn from the beach and that they were lost by the edge of the town, they were all destroyed; some by the wind, others by the rise of the tide and the others by the flood of three days of incessant rain. People say that when it rained the most, a great whirlpool formed that rose from the sea, from beyond that arm of land that they call the Mogote. That whirlpool loaded with water and fish was coming. - Live fish ?, interrupted the stranger.- Alive and dead, big, huge fish, there are those who say that giant squid also came, monsters, those that are only heard in stories but are never seen.
Right here where we were standing was the pier, the officer continued. Here a German tourist ship was docked, that same day arrived at the port. It was a splendid, sunny morning and the fresh wind moved the leaves of the almond trees in the streets. Some tourists got off the ship to buy souvenirs with boxes adorned with sea shells, fans and palm hats while enjoying a rum with mint and ice in the cafes of the boardwalk, others more stayed on the ship to save the payment of ten dollars by descent in port.
Well, right here where you stand gentleman, here was that boat that arrived that morning. I was one of the port officers and was in charge of receiving the ships: review of documentation, passports, cargo and passage records. I remember that it was ten in the morning when the German ship arrived; by two o'clock in the afternoon it started to rain and by six o'clock in the afternoon an enormous curtain of water and fish rose up, beyond that arm of land that they call the Mogote, and came upon us, many tourists they sheltered in the building of the old town hall and others in the kiosk of the boardwalk, from where the water later took care of them with the rising tide; but those who remained on the ship, those who kept their ten dollars to go down to a next port, those were covered in water and fish.
- And where were you? Said the stranger, embarrassed by the story.
- I was right here, where I am talking to you now, I was a port officer at the time.
- How is it possible that you have been saved?
- I did not, the water swallowed me, filled my lungs with sand and sea water. Now I am a ghost.
- But how is that possible? So who am I?
- You too, you were a German tourist.
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