Post-Puerto

I find that now that I'm back home in SF -- from 85 degrees and tank tops and easy strolls down cobble-stoned streets and gently crashing surf -- to 45 degrees, sweaters and waking up at 6 am, I am less able to reaccount my vacation here.

Briefly: It was wonderful and relaxing. Sam and I travelled all over on Mexican busses. I had to learn to give up and let Sam conduct all conversations for me. I learned that too much sunscreen is not good, while Sam learned that no sunscreen is equally not good. On New Year's Eve we sat on the balcony of a palm-frond roofed second story bar watching over the town square of sleepy Sayulita, watched the hippies drumming and the kids shooting bottle rockets at each other, drank blended cocktails, wandered down to the beach, looked at the sea and the stars and drunkenly talked about our future.

We are doing all right.