So, we went to Mexico. Way down there, past resorts and potholes. It was muy fun and muy beautiful and we loved it. A lot. Yes, there was the beach. Palm trees, sand, water, all the tropical specialties. Can you imagine it?
It's hard to feel anxious when you're looking at this. (as always, click on photos to enlarge them)
Yes, it's a beach.
And this, too, is a beach. This is right in front of the house. Steps away from the house, in fact. In your bare feet.
This tree looks good from a number of angles.
When you walk on the sand, you will notice trash from everywhere, in every shape, size, and color. I made a vow never to buy any sort of plastic ever again. Except, of course, that's impossible. The waves, the salt, and the beach capture these discarded things and remake them into new treasures to be discovered.
And the house is very lovely too. What house?, you might say. What does it look like? Like this.
And this.
This is a view from down the road. I mean, "road."
The doors open to breezes on three sides. Each door opens top and bottom for optimal air control. We were lucky in that it was very breezy while we were there and we didn't have to concern ourselves about mosquitoes too much. At least, I don't remember being concerned about much at all. Except perhaps about what my next meal might be.
The gardens and the house are maintained by Gilberto and Manuela when S and P are not there and are instead visiting their doggies in PA. The caretakers are warm, wonderful people. We didn't get to meet Gilberto until almost the last day we were there, because he was away seeing the doctor and getting treatment. Manuela was so happy when he came home. They let Rey play in their yard one day, where he entertained himself for hours harrassing a hermit crab. They graciously posed for a photo when we were saying goodbye.
This is Manuela and Gilberto's house. I don't know what the cinder blocks are for.
Manuela and Gilberto have a lot of dogs. Five, in fact. It's a hard life for a dog.
Very hard. Here's a dog on the beach.
Aren't you worried about the dogs?
This shows the corner of the outside of the casita where we stayed. Not bad. I didn't lodge any complaints with the management.
Here's the bed we slept in. Rey slept in a hammock some of the time, waiting until the middle of the night to wake me up and ask to be put into his bed.
This is another view of the outside of the house, looking from the casita towards the main part.
Sometimes it all was a little overwhelming. And what did you catch in your net, Tom? Um, hello?
Tom got up early one morning to get some photos of the dawn. Very nice. Oo-ooh. I tried to do some sun salutations early one morning, but the dogs thought that was about the most fun thing ever, and if you've ever tried to do yoga with five enthusiastic dogs jumping on you, you know that it's easy to lose your mental focus.
People were happy. Hey, I look happy!
Someone else agrees.
Not recommended: playing Chinese checkers with a five-year-old.
But why? Here's why.
I treasured these moments of peacefulness. Here is some bliss on the patio.
One day, we had an important task to complete. We spent hours preparing for this important task. Our preparation involved eating and possibly sitting in the sun. We were up to the challenge, though. Someone has to maintain the coconut road, after all.
Here is a photo of Gale, one of the neighbors, with Phil and Rey and a kayak. I can't think of anything to say that might tie this in with the other photos.
The beach is also very good for stick fighting. Rey achieved the title of Master Stick Fighter while we were there.
I got all arty with some driftwood and magic markers.
Thanks Carolyn for that great synopsis of our stay at the beach house!
More Mexico to come!
As always, click to enlarge the photos...
Dressed for war, our hero prepares to do battle. He is stout and steadfast. Evildoers beware!
With a mighty slash, he vanquishes his enemy.
Having made the world safe once again, he replaces his blade in its trusty sheath.
And all is well.
As always, click to enlarge photos...
Properly attired, the artist is hard at work.
Again and again, brush touches paper.
Again and again the brush returns to the palette for more color. The concentration is profound.
The artiste looks askance at the gawkers.
At last, it is finished. The artist poses for photos from the paprazzi.
Again he poses.
and again.
He is proud. We are not worthy.
In this brief picture series, Rey gives a whole new meaning to the term kickboxing...
As always, click on the photos to enlarge them:
Hmm. Quite inventive, but perhaps not the most practical.