Another lovely bread and coffee breakfast on the terrace. We split up three ways this morning. I head to the Ahorrara. (supermarket) It is a hot walk, but worth it. A real supermarket – so much fun to look at stuff. I get a few necessities (mostly paper products) and load up my knapsack.

Dental floss is purchased across the street at the Farmacia. That was fun to mime for the shopgirl. I buy a notebook and pen from a young woman with sad eyes. When I get to the beach I discover one of the notebook pages is a letter. Sara translates the letter written in the notebook for me. (Capsule: I am young and my life is tragic and I am so unhappy.)

From the main part of town, it’s all downhill to the Adoquin. I wander about looking at everything until I get to the beach. I’m ready for a rest. I walk along the Playa Principal for a short way and then am enticed by a young man with a menu. I get a chair, table and an umbrella right by the water and order uno cerveza y quesadillas con queso (Basically, a beer and a cheese sandwich.) This is all the Spanish you really ever need to know.

Playa Principal

View From My Umbrella on the Playa Principal

As I sit contemplating the sun and the water and my fellow loungers, I spot Sara wading in the surf. She rests under my umbrella for a moment, but is anxious to get on with her exploration. I sit here for a couple of hours. There are so many things to look at: sun, surf, boats, birds, swimmers, waders, walkers, loungers, waiters, vendors.

The Omnipresent Hammock Vendors. I Wish I Had Somewhere to Put a Hammock. They are Great.

Eventually, I get up to find los banos. A young waitress motions me to the back of the café, thinks better of it, and then leads me there herself through an assortment of store rooms until we come to a room that is divided into two toilet stalls and an office. I use the closest stall, and nod and smile to the bookkeeper and then it’s back out to the beach again to find a set of stairs up to the Adoquin.

I shop a little. I’m looking for a long-sleeved white shirt to fit me. No luck with that. But I do find some good post cards. Now my pack is getting heavy and it is bloody HOT! My t-shirt is dripping sweat. I flag a taxi and carefully tell the driver “Rinconada, por favor. Carrizalillo. Calle Tiburones y Calle Delphines.” And I am deposited on the corner I have specified, so they must be used to American accents.

Mitch is home sorting laundry, so we combine lights and darks for a couple of loads. Luckily, I’d thought to buy detergent at the Mercado. I send him off to the beach and sit by the pool waiting for the washer to finish.

I’m almost through with Angels and Demons and can’t put this damn book down. Dan Brown is such an annoying writer. Preposterous and compelling, all at once. After filling up all the clothes lines, and then a few chairs in the back yard with laundry, I have a short chat with our neighbors and go upstairs to finish my book. The neighbors are nice, but not exactly people I want to hang out with. Some crackers and cheese and a few nuts tide me over until the beach rats return.

Mitch whips up some great guacamole and we swap tales. Sara has clearly worn herself out today, but she is starting to become more relaxed that I have seen her in ages. We are all tired and the alcohol slows us down further. We rouse ourselves, though, for dinner. No cabs on the boulevard tonight. In fact we could probably lie down in the middle of the street with little danger of being run over. I guess there are only plentiful cabs on the week-end.

So we go to Café Ole, the Portuguese restaurant we went to the first night. I am not hungry – too many crackers and cheese, I surmise, but decide on a bowl of jicama soup. Good choice. Excellent flavor – mint garnish. Very good and just the right amount to eat. Home and asleep by 10:30.