Mexico

Friday Aug. 20th

We've been on the beach and there is a pattern. The vendors of the restaurants set up early, around 9-10 a.m. Then, the tourists are driven in by water taxis. Around noon, the beach begins to either crowd or heat, or both, depending on the season. After a while, the obnoxious tourist from Canada or the U.S. arrive, and they get the gringo price at the restaurant palapas, which I'm sure I'm almost getting. After 6 or 7, the clouds begin to roll in over the mountains. They're definitely rain clouds. Steph and I lounge while the other non-Mexicans clear the beach. She is asleep in a lounge chair while I write. The locals begin to fish by throwing a spun wire with a bob attached to it into the shallow water from the shore. The men working the restaurants are dragging in the chairs and umbrellas while the unknowing tourists wait for the torrential rain.

The mountains are covered with dark clouds and toddlers are sitting on the shore allowing the ocean to lap over their clothed bodies. The sun-stricken, sand-walking vendors of jewelry and other paraphernalia are finally packing up and an old lady with missing teeth asks for help. Pesos. We do help.

Around here, I am grateful for my life. I am fortunate. I have never been stung by a bee.