Just got back from some vacay in a little place they call Mexico. It was pretty sweet and I am totally not excited about being back home. Or going back to work. Especially going back to work.
I started off in The Cleve and flew to Phoenix, AZ. From there a complete stranger that I met via the interweb picked me and my lady friend up and we drove to Puerto Peñasco, Mexico (aka Rocky Point). There we hung out, drank beers and margaritas and ate tacos. But really the reason we went was to see Roger Clyne & The Peacemakers. They do an annual show there called Circus Mexicus. A little play on words there if you missed it. It was pretty great. Totally chill with hours of music (and I mean
hours), drinking, fireworks, flip flops on my feet and sand under them. The next day was a little hangover brunch/gathering with some other bands providing the tunes, the guys from RCPM hanging out with their fans, some breakfast burritos and some beers to make things right again. Really fun. I think I might be doing it again next year so if you want to get on board, start thinking about it. Really. Do it.
After the Mañanathon it was time to hit the road back to Phoenix. And let me tell you, that desert? Nothing to fuck with. It is hot. Jesus. I’ve never exposed myself to that section of the world. My eyes were all dry and my lips were all dry and funky feeling. I don’t know if I could live in that. I did see a roadrunner which was cool. Speedy little fuckers. And there’s about a million miles to bury a dead body. That’s all I kept thinking about.
And let’s briefly speak about the border. On the way into Mexico there was nothing. There were like three speedbumps and four border guys + one dog just sitting at a table. No glances our way, no asking for a passport, no “where are you coming from”, no nothing. And then you get into Mexico and a few miles down the road it’s a “No Hassle Zone” which pretty much translates into “the cops aren’t going to do anything about anything.” So it becomes a racetrack. That’s fun. If only I had a gun. I could have fired it in the sky all wild, wild west style.
Of course, on the way back into the U.S. it’s all a different story. Border guards, passport swiping, quizzing, general attitude and staredowns are all part of the routine.
Anyway, back to Phoenix we went. There we parted ways with our nice car share amigo and spent the night in a motel by the airport. The next morning it was onto a flight to Cancun. Then a bus to Tulum where the rest of our time was spent.
Tulum was a cool little town. We stayed at a place right on the beach. It was a bit “rustic” as there was no electricity but who needs that crap? Actually, it was pretty warm. I wouldn’t have minded a ceiling fan. But whatever! The beach overshadows and cures the warmness. Mostly at least.
Although neither myself of my traveling companion opted to not opt that way, the place we stayed was “clothing optional” meaning I saw more penises than my previous vacations. Probably more than all of my previous vacations combined and
definitely more than I needed. I also saw a good number of boobs that I didn’t really want to see. The general rule seemed to be: whoever I would have liked to see naked = not naked. The people I definitely did not want to see naked = very naked.
So beyond the nudity there was swimming, eating, drinking, some site seeing, some SCUBA diving, some meeting new people, some shopping, some napping, more drinking, etc. It was quite nice.
Then from there it was back to Cleveland via Charlotte, NC. Now it’s back to the grind and back to not blogging worth a poo.
The photo doesn't really do it total justice. It's pretty gross. Blisters and torn blisters and calluses. The base of each finger and then one or two spots on each finger. That's what happens when wood and skin and moisture clash. Skin seems to lose.
