Read Online Villa Pacifica by Kapka Kassabova - Free Book Online Page A

‘Organic ice cream from Puerto Seco… Flavoured with palo santo , for inner peace…’ Yadi-yadi-ya.”
    â€œWhat’s he on about?” Mikel turned to Lucía in Spanish. She maintained her patient smile, her hand on Mikel’s shoulder. It was as if Max’s words were washing over her like ambient music.
    â€œListen to me,” Mikel said, turning again to Max. “You’re welcome to stay here with your wife. You are our guests. But don’t try to sell me your business plans. I’ve had the likes of you before. They wanted the monkey. They wanted Jorge. They wanted a swimming pool. They wanted to poison our animals. I’ve been offered thousands. You know what I did? I kicked them out. Simple as that. Me entiendes ?”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with you people?” Max was getting heated now. “I never met anybody who don’t wanna make money! Are you hippies or something?…”
    â€œYeah, that’s exactly what I am,” Mikel snapped back, pointing at Max with a burning cigarette for maximum impact. “A socialist. That bother you? I believe in treating the earth we live on well. I believe in treating people like people and not like sources of capital. Do you know how much rain we got last year in the wet season? Five days! Do you know that the tropical forest has shrunk to ten per cent of its original size because of climate change? Do you know that America has fucked its neighbours in the south with aggressive foreign policy and backing up military regimes for decades? Do you know that globalization is making the rich richer and the poor poorer?…”
    The tirade went on for a while. Mikel sprayed the guests with cigarette ash until the cigarette in his shaking hand burned down to his fingers and he tossed it away. Lucía was gently clawing at him, trying to calm him down, but without success. In the end she gave up and went back inside, leaving him to exhaust himself – and everyone else. When he finally did, Jerry was the first to react.
    â€œAbsolutely,” he said. He looked at Ute with mock seriousness, for confirmation.
    Max had calmed down a bit in the face of Mikel’s outburst.
    â€œLook, buddy,” he offered to Mikel, “I’m not in politics. But I will be soon. I’m gonna run in the local elections in a coupla years. And anyways it was the Spanish that came here with their guns and diseases and wiped out the Incas, the Mayas and all those dudes…”
    â€œI’m not Spanish, I am Basque,” Mikel announced – then, in a moment of house-keeping repentance, he bent down to pick up the fag he’d just discarded, and placed it in a table ashtray. “I haven’t been to Spain since 1988, for your information.”
    â€œGoodnight,” Lucía waved from inside the lounge and headed off to their bungalow.
    â€œGoodnight,” mumbled a few voices.
    â€œOK,” Mikel said abruptly, and frowned at his guests in an unsuccessful attempt to smile. “Goodnight.”
    Max sprang to his feet.
    â€œAll right, buddy?” he said, his hand outstretched as if about to strike a deal with him.
    â€œI’m not your buddy,” Mikel said and hesitated, but then took the offered hand for a second, withdrew quickly, and was gone down the white pebbled path. The thatched roof of the master bungalow showed above the high plants. The collie got up, shook its furry coat, and padded off behind him.
    They were all quiet for a moment, sipping wine.
    â€œSo, anybody wanna swim across to the animals?” Max grinned at the company.
    â€œDidn’t you hear what he said?” Eve snapped at him.
    â€œSure I did.”
    â€œSo,” Jerry said, turning to Ute, “what was all that about? What was he saying? There was a lot of references to America in it.”
    â€œHe’s Basque,” she summed up. “And he doesn’t like the US.”
    â€œWhat, a