We both do a little work in the morning from home, but otherwise have the day off. We decide not to go to the beach because we’ve missed the high tide, and here that can make all the difference. We take the bikes to the malecón, which itself is empty, though the bars are filled with Americans enjoying the balmier weather and beer. It’s the kind of day that will sell a lot of beer. The air has cooled but not dried. There’s a breeze. The shrimp boats are out.

We head over to the old pier and families are swimming. A booze cruise returning to the docks gets stuck in the low-tide. It belches black smoke and Guns ‘N Roses as it struggles.

In the evening we watch Alphaville. The first eight minutes feel like an hour, but we stick it out and end up enjoying it. The moody shots of Modernist interiors remind me of Tucson banks from the same era and watching them makes me feel like I’ve done my part for Tucson Modernism Week even though those buildings are in Paris, I’m in Mexico, and Tucson is in Arizona.

I see an Amtrak bus headed south and board it. I hand the driver my ticket which I already have but still need to pay for and ask how much it would be. Could I pay her and if not where was the ticket window? The driver speaks to me Spanish I can’t understand. “¿Qué?” I ask. And she motions me on without paying. The bus is crowded with people and the aisle is narrow. Only one person can get through at a time and that is walking sideways. The chairs are wide and roomy though, so I decide that must be the reason. A little boy pushes my belly in and squeezes by. At first I sit next to an academic with a stack of old hardcover books next to him. I have to move the books over a bit. Then I get up and go to the very back of the bus to a history exhibit of two seats from a space capsule. They have the names of the astronauts John and Adam in uppercase block letters on them. I try to take some pictures with my phone, but I’m checking now and they’re not there.