Salsa redux.
My last night in Sayulita was Salsa night. And my first night, after 24 hours of travel including a lost surfboard and its bag which held all my clothes, was Salsa Night. The same players at Don Pedro's, in the same places—hot older solo salsa lady, American Crock couple who've been to classes, Doc Chili with latest girlfriend, Mustang killing it, Joel being smooth, Quai in the far corner bigger and blonder than last year, Kristen the and different couples from Golden, and me dancing to my own special beat that sure as shit isn't salsa. All very amazing.
This morning I'm sitting by the beach, in newly purchased surf trunks, next to new dogs who seem to come and go with the seasons, the surf today is double the biggest day last year. Smiling, sipping coffee, I'll just sit in the shade until United gets my board to me. Que Bueno!