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It's ten-thirty. I guess this is the start of my travelogue of Mexico.
Just up the street is a king-sized readerboard advertising Vaginas Are Us. Live Sex! It is apparently not a very popular sign with the local merchants. a controversial sign: click here to find out more. On the other hand, hey! merchants!, I still patronized your Circle K and Denny's, despite being traumatized by the sign. That's quite a motto anyhow.. . .
Vaginas are us. They're like God's second greatest invention, right behind the sun.
Tomorrow I join Keelin, Dave Hokit and Maureen Roberts in the little beach town where we've vacationed together twice before (we went sans Hokits in 2003). It's a sleepy town, and you mostly just walk, go to the beach, swim, and cook. One of my favorite part of our trips there is doing the cooking and shopping from all the Little markets (I have to be writing about this because I just had a salad from Denny's). There are fantastic briny red snapper and shrimp, unbelievable mangos and pineapple, shockingly fresh eggs and still warm corn tortillas, bunches of gleaming onions and radishes, tomatoes better than Maranzanos, bundles of mint and cilantro, massive piles of sweet Mexican limes, the chicken you meet in the morning, and pick up at noon, plucked, dressed and ready for the fire, the marinated slices of flavorful beef that you toss on a wood fire for a few minutes....this is food porn, isn't it? Like I sad, blame Denny's, sleep deprivation and aviophobia.
I just arrived in Los Angeles, to a sprawling, not quite ramshackle Travelodge anchored around a Denny's . Last night, I went to bed at 3:00 and the alarm went off 4:45. I was on the plane by 6:20, and tomorrow, it's one more plane at 8 and I'll be in Puerto Vallarta by noon, and catch a bus or cab to Bucerias). I am feeling hale for sleeping not even two hours (but I did catch at least a half hour booster nap on the plane to OC). More tomorrow, from Mexico.
The house we're staying in the next week:
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