Breaking boundaries

My new best friend Dina runs past me down the beach, shouting and flapping her arms.

She is usually fairly dramatic. But then I notice a small boat approaching the shore through the gathering folds of darkness.

'I'm going to Sayulita! Someone sent a private boat!' She cries, beautiful eyes bulging with excitement. I look at my companions, preparing for a quiet night in front of the fire. Look down at the remains of my flame-toasted frankfurters.

It takes about fifty seconds before I am hauling myself over the side of the boat after her, laughing because I have no idea what we're about to do.

I just couldn't say no to a night-time panga ride.

I know it is the right decision the moment I sit back and introduce myself to the crew. Aside from Phillippe, our chaperone, there are two older people there who introduce themselves as Muck and Carrie, amidst peals of slightly maniacal laughter.

Carrie is all over Muck - evidently they have not seen each other for a while. She has several holes where teeth should be and talks a lot about their days touring with the Grateful Dead. Muck has a long, grey ponytail, a voice like Louis Armstrong and the glint of LSD in his eyes.

'Away we go!' cries Muck, and the wind whips my hair saltily. The air is soft on my skin and the stars peer at us in disapproval.

I am still confused as to why we have this boat, but it soon becomes clear that this is standard with Muck and Carrie - their stories being unerringly incomprehensible and bizarre. I find out later Muck 'got lost' in Sayulita for three days. When he came to that afternoon, he donned his knight's hat and commandeered a panga to fetch Carrie, who he'd left a hundred miles away in Yelapa, providing a convenient steed for my and Dina's adventure.

We swig Ricea - the local firewater - and laugh because it is all that good.

Bioluminescence sprays from the front of the boat like welding sparks. We put our hands in it, spellbound. The water feels warm. I bend backwards out of the boat so the spray is above my head and the starry bottom falls out of my world. I am soaked.

'I can see the light!' screams Muck in his half-voice, waving an imaginary lasso. Dina climbs onto the prow, picks up the painter and surfs her way to land.

Just like this movie-scene journey, the subsequent few days could never be justified on paper. I did try.

But how could I explain the speed with which Phillippe drove from Boca de Tomatlan up the coast to Sayulita? The glow that greeted us at the huge orange mansion that someone called Taylor was renting, purely for the purpose of 'picking up strays' like us? The magical brother/sister trio that was borne when Taylor, Dina and I were joined?

The dancing on the bar. The hole in my foot. The circuits around town in a golf buggy.

These events are best left to the imagination. For it is there that invention can draw freely, lavishing scenes with the deserved paint of legend.

I become Carrie's mascot. She even gives me a dress. I find out later she is bipolar, which wouldn't have bothered me had she not thrown all of my belongings down the stairs in a fit of rage and then called me baby afterwards. I then understood how it was that Muck could 'lose' her for three days.

For that moment, though, no one can stop smiling. Least of all me. I have taken the power back. I am Ju again. The world toasts me with another synchronicity.

Last week I read two random pages of a book about 2012 - two pages that happened to be about England.

Today I see the same book at Taylor's house and randomly open it. It falls apart at the same pages I read before. At the top of the page I find the following lines, that I hadn't noticed first time round.

'Ultimately, it boils down to what you, the observer, wants to see.'

Taylor tells me I can keep the book.

Serendipitous. Spontaneous. Extemporaneous.

Carrie was nervous about returning to Yelapa. Apparently this was because she accidentally stole a horse.

'But how can you accidentally steal a horse?' I ask.

'I don't know,' she replies, 'but I think it was the happiest hour of my entire life.'