Dispatches from Mexico

We walked down to a more public beach today.  I mean, how many days can you sit at a pool on the beach which is less than 100 yards from your hotel room and the restaurant?  For us, it appears to be three, three days.  Although we have left the compound every day and walked into town and went shopping and such, this is the first day we have left right after breakfast and returned just before dinner.

I have been asked if I want fresh oysters, multiple bracelet and necklaces, a temporary tattoo, weed, blankets, and a foot massage. I’m waiting to find someone to give me white trash tourist cornrows.

The only thing worse than a gecko tattoo is a temporary gecko tattoo. It means you can’t even commit to being a pathetic cliche.


Anyone need me to pick up anything?

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