Mexico

I made it to Mexico yesterday, braving mile-long lines at the Denver airport. The closures have really wreaked havoc with travel! It feels good to be here, although the madness has already set in. We woke up this morning at 5 am to sparks and flames darting over the wall next to our property. Willow screamed, "Dad!" and jumped out of bed. Dad grabbed the hose (and his shorts) and ran up the outside stairs to see a thirty foot bonfire blazing away in the yard next door. The Mexican warming his hands at the flames seemed startled by our yells and cries. "Tengo agua," he said, pointing at a five gallon bucket by his feet. "No problema." As the sparks danced dangerously close to our tinder-dry palapa roof, my dad yelled back, "Si, es problema!" and turned the hose on, damping the brush. After a few more minutes of yelling and Spanglish, and after another huge flare-up, Dad gave up and just soaked the fire.

We hesitated to leave the house, but we sure weren't going back to sleep, so we pulled on our surf gear and headed to the beach. The sun wouldn't be up for another hour, but hey, we were (almost) the only ones in the water, and it was plenty light to see the waves rolling in...  

When the sun did come up, there were almost twenty surfers out, and we came back in for "second breakfast" and a warm shower.  I'm writing this on our second floor porch, poaching an internet connection from the little Italian restaurant down tbe block. This town sure has changed!