Our room is just wonderful, large with a separate living room and kitchenette, big bathroom with shower and tub, two queen beds, and a balcony with table overlooking the pool area, palm trees, and the ocean with Bird Island in the distance. Almost the exact same view as in the picture below.
Dean and I took a pulmonia (an open air taxi made from a golf cart) ride this morning, down to the historical district and Olas Altas, which is part of the 20 km long boardwalk along the seawall. Full of hotels and shops and beaches and views. But also a fair amount of abandoned buildings and graffiti and poverty. I love how it all seems to coexist peacefully here.
Toured the old Cathedral, and went to the Market (too touristy there, though). Had a great lunch of Ceasar salad with shrimp and margaritas at the “World Famous” Shrimp Bucket, on the ground floor of the La Siesta Hotel, made famous by Jack Kerouac. Walked along the seawall, took pictures, one of us standing before the of the “Devil’s Cave” at the base of Icebox Hill. Such a fascinating old (in a New World sense) Mexican city.
Came back to our hotel, and sat out by the pool in the sun and read. I read most of the poems in the latest issue of New England Review, and was quite impressed by some of them: particularly the Carl Phillips poem, about peonies, and love and desire, and habit and need; the wonderful Debora Greger "Orpheus in Florida;"and a delightful palindromic poem by Natasha Tretheway (I love palindrome poems, but have never yet been able to write one). Good stuff (nice selections C Dale!).
Dean had commented this morning the the mattress in our room was a little too hard, like an old futon. And I joked that I would call the concierge and have a new one brought up right away. And then, when we returned from the pool, they were actually in the process of installing brand spanking new mattresses in our room! We both just laughed. But it was spooky . . . . in a delightfully weird Ricardo Monteban Fantasy Island sort of way.
The intenet connection here is only a dial-up, though. And there are no three-pronged plugs for the laptop transformer . . . so I may not be able to blog anymore, or the battery will run dry (surely they have an adaptor somewhere?).
Best to all in blog world (and elsewhere) . . . more later if I can . . .