Ceviche

Believe it or not, today I took my first foray into Mexico.  I know, I know...  You are thinking that with all of this travel, all of this history of movement under my belt... and the fact that it's Mexico and not so far away in the grand scheme of things... How could this be her first time?!?  Especially considering the lengths I regularly go to in order to escape and go Go GO!

But it's true.  This gal can finally claim having been to Central America.

Granted, after hearing stories about drug-filled cadavers; gang shootings and rapes; jail, jail, jail,... it almost did not happen.  In fact a sense of doom had plum settled on me by the time we got in the car this morning.  Death! Destruction! White Slavery! Montezuma's Revenge! Who knows what fate awaits me, I thought, but it cannot be a good one!  My mantra on the way south went a little like this:

"Get out alive.  Get out.  Get out alive. Get out."  I hoped that all would go well and we would not wind up in jail.  Or otherwise mis-occupied.

Several Christmas gifts, a decent amount of stress and photos, and some tequila later, I am happy to report that Puerto Nuevo, Mexico, is amazing, silly, touristy, nonsensical- filled with people trying to make a living in a cheerfully capitalistic fashion.  It is bright and bold and spilling over with colors and music and life and livelihood.

I can also report that Marisco's restaurant in PN serves a damned fine ceviche. 

I can also report that if you, for whatever reason, find yourself in an 'authorized vehicles only' lane at the border crossing (back into the States), you should probably find a way out of it.  Otherwise you will, in fact, be detained.  And sent to secondary inspection.

So much love, Muchachos.