Mexico, Day 21

Cancún.

Can you find the bottled water?

How about now?

I didn't know that was there. I thought it strange that the maid ignored my note requesting more water (nor did she take the pesos). The perpetually hot wood should have tipped me off.

It's nice by the beach. The only trouble was that the water was mostly too rough for swimming. The lifeguard wouldn't allow it until later in the afternoon, and even then you were likely to end up with a face full of sand after the surf had its way with you. I think the chop was on account of the wind.

We'd broil on the beach for a while late in the morning, and then head to one of the pools to cool off. Unlimited drinks everywhere. They come around and ask you what you want. Is it noon yet? I'll have a margarita, please. The guy with the box of cigars sells cocaine. You can drink the tap water. I finally finished Mingus's autobiography.

It's "all inclusive," so the only things you have to pay extra for are bottles of wine (the house wine is unlimited), tips (optional), and I suppose the cigars. One glass of wine will knock Grace right on her ass, so we just had what was included. In four nights we never left the resort. There are famous clubs, pyramids, and outdoor activities to be had beyond, but did I mention the pool? Next time.

The portions are small, so order double. You already paid.

We're currently aboard a Boeing 787-8 Dreamliner en route to Mexico City. Then back to Aguascalientes.

You know those mornings when you wake up and ask yourself, "did somebody hire a mariachi band last night?" Such is life. The idea was that Grace's mom would prepare cocktails for the four of us. They were delicious. We should have started much, much later in the day. Next thing I know, Manuel is a couple tequila shots in, talking excitedly on the phone. Next thing I know, I'm playing an ill fated game of chess with Grace's brother (another Manuel, I blundered my bishop). Next thing I know, a family friend is making requests to the group of eight musicians who had been assembled in the backyard. They were quite good. I do not have any pictures. Here is my last picture.

These people are not drinkers, but perhaps I have a way of bringing out the Irish within. More likely, this they deemed a special occasion. My personal impromptu mariachi party. The singers had trained voices, and the trumpets were in tune. Yes, they played "Cielito Lindo." Of course they did.

Ayyyy yaaaay yah yahhhhhhh...