Across the bay from
my new
home I watched the construction of a new hotel being built
right into the cliffside. Workers being paid $5.00 a day were
climbing up and down the mountainside with their heavy loads.
I often swam out there at sunset
to watch, having to be careful not to get dashed up against the
rocks.
One Sunday afternoon--
another lonely day in Paradise! -- returning from La
Ropa beach, I ventured into the nearly finished hotel . The
architecture was so original and breathtaking that I began to
weep -- something I had only done one other time due to the influence
of architecture -- Chartes cathedral. Down winding steps to salt
water pools
I finally found the
responsable for this magnificent work -- Casa Que Canta is now
ranked one of the best hotels in the world -- Arch.
Enrique Zozaya. Tow-headed, modest and sweet, I could only
say, "Mis respectos."
Zozaya didn't want to
take all the credit. He had a socio, Enrique Muller*.
Before I could complete
my tour of the construction site I was accosted by Nicole,
the imperious French Canadian chantailine. Picking me up by the
scruff of the neck and tossing me out as an undesireable, part
of me laughed as I wondered how she would have treated Hearst
or Howard
Hughes in their respective disrepair. None-the-less her ejection
left me weeping once again as I left the hotel to the rich who
would inherit it...
