The fishermen descend almost before we even make it through the door of the rattletrap bar. They beg us for a game of pool, conversation, anything. The bearded guys hunched over their beers rivet their eyes on us. There's a guitarist at the open mike who, as soon as he spots Annie, stops strumming and says, "I'm dedicating this song to you."
A fisherman with scraggly hair plants himself in front of me and launches into his life story. Once he shot a man. He's about to leave on a fishing boat that will be away from port for three months. The string of whale teeth around his neck is from a whale that was hunted and killed by his late wife.