We sit sipping frozen Margaritas as the turquoise water rocks the local fishing boats. Sizzling Fajitas call to our tastebuds, Bee Bee and Lucinda wrap us in face masks, cover us in oil, stretch,manipulate and rub every joint and muscle as we lay in a spa pavillion on the beach. Lea is unsure whether Bee Bee's hands are rough due to the calluses from her work or whether it was a wart infestation. We roam the island in our Golf Cart stopping off at cemeteries, beaches and ruins. We watch the setting sun, and visit the cliffs of dawn where the first rays of the sun caress the Ixahel ruins. We haggle for Lucha Libra masks, knowing we are easy prey, but are happy with our haul. We roam the sea side township with our masks on and a new identity is born. We get lost, argue, but laugh in the end. Brad looks at evey map, a sparkle comes to his eye,and yet at every turn we roam and roam and roam. We find a post office and watch in wonder at the origami manner in which they package our parcel. We also know that it will be a miracle if it makes it to our home. We feel the sand encrust our feet as we wonder the pure white beaches and we are greeted as locals at the Mango Café as we devour our way through the menu. We frolic in the pool at Casa Caribe and Salud the world, the majestic Isla and ourselves with our Pacificos, Coronas and Champagne. We are mighty happy!
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