La Más Frescura

I've conquered my fear of the bus. I'm on the charming side of town waiting for a store to open so I can buy things. It's one of those nice, folk-arty stores, which sells retablos (I'm copping Devin's style) and other things that aren't Puerto Vallarta shotglasses and blue straw hats.

I'm much happier here than where I live. Where I live, it's like any city, which is depressing when you don't really have a schedule or a job. It's too easy to sit around playing Snake on the cell phone and reading. I did finish reading The Pickwick Papers which I ended up really loving. It's Dickens's first novel, and it starts out kind of slowly and he's making fun of people without caring about them, but then everyone becomes really human and lovable, even when they are objects of fun-making. Now I'm on to Don Quixote another great big book with people traveling and so forth, but slightly more appropriate to my current situation, since it was originally in Spanish. And also because the guy goes crazy from reading too much. A fate which has befallen many people I know.

I went to this little consignment store and bought a cool little etching by a Cuban artist, signed and framed and everything for 370 pesos. It has a face with wings and the upper part of an elephant with a bird on its back.

I think I'm going to Yelapa tomorrow, a beach town with electricity only part of the day, and which is only accessible by boat. Lots of hippies live there and it's an "artist's colony". It's advertised as a place where people have gone to escape from society and, in some cases, the law. I'll let you know if I meet any dangerous characters or artists.

I think that store is open now, so I'm off to spend some more of my tourist dollars.