Entries from Puerto Peñasco
We're sixty minutes into Mexico, sitting on the enormous terrace of our itsy bitsy, teeny tiny, rented room. Hiram has asked me to name my five favorite Pet Shop Boys songs. When I try to negotiate counting the entire first album as one song, we have to change the subject. There was an eensie weensie crescent moon when we started this that is nowhere to be found. Now we’re alone here under a black sky observing Taco Tuesday eating takeout empanadas with chimichurri, an Argentinian thing for which I am offering no alliteration.
First beach day, 2017. All of Playa Bonita and Sandy Beach was covered with discarded plastic bottles and Doritos bags – typical but it still always bums me out and leaves me thinking the worst things about people.
Here's a photo of some festive and neglected garbage bins.
Did you know the Spanish word for industrial drum is tambo? I get a kick out of saying it because it's also the sound they make when you drum on them. ¡Tambo!
And here's to words that are fun to say, bright colors and finding the good anyway.
We're on one of those cruises. At the Nutcracker tea dance we make friends and gyrate to classical standards reimagined on jazz flute laced with a fierce backbeat. Too tired to keep our dinner plans, we return to the room and lament that wearing flip-flops in public always makes our feet itch.