I am lured by the once brightly painted boats that line the beach in Acapulco. The fishermen are applying C.P.R. to their wooden crafts which appear to suffer from terminal neglect. These boats contrast in my memory to the incandescently-coloured, beautifully-maintained boats that I envied along the shoreline in Percé, Quebec. The Mexican boats seem to blend with the murky colours of the smog-laden harbour, and the casual attention of their owners echo the lazy surf that gently massages the sand.