Armed with Charm

We’ve been so busy that there has been scant time to blog so I’m rolling up a few stories into the blog today, our last day of relaxation in Mexico.

Many people are afraid to travel to Mexico…there is plenty of violence. However, about the most violent thing I’ve seen or heard this week came from behind closed doors. Night before last (actually, around 3 a.m. in the morning), I heard a woman scream. OMG. Was she being brutalized? Was anyone coming to her rescue? Believing that the Rayman was asleep, I just lay in the bed frozen with dastardly thoughts. When we got up later, Rayman said, “Man, some woman had a hell of an orgasm last night.” Really.

On another note, one of the most violent shots (golf shots) witnessed this week was Richard of Arroyo Grande. When he teed off with his driver, his ball swerved dramatically and hit a big tree on his right which was clearly out of bounds and then it sailed across the fairway (left) onto the road which was clearly out of bounds and it hit the curb of the road and bounced dramatically to the right and came to rest in the middle of the fairway. No penalties there. Just wish I could have seen it. What a hoot.

Our caddie the first day was a man called Pancho. At first he wouldn’t look me in the eye. By the end of the round, he was telling me that he wanted to caddie for us again. A very sweet guy, quiet and unassuming and a great reader of the putting green. The second and third day I had a caddie named Florenzio (?). Because I was a bit unsure of the pronunciation, I resorted to calling him FloSenor. He pretended to like this. Another very good caddie. These caddies work their asses off. They chase after the carts (in which we are ensconced) with assorted weapons (read 6 irons, putters, etc.) in warm weather. They don’t carry anything so are beholden to the kindness of man to give them water and food. They ask for nothing. We ask for everything. It’s not a comfortable situation, really. So we over tip them and hope it helps.

The sunrises here are fabulous. Pink and orange and the sun arises over the Sierra Madre mountains to our east to lighten the sky so that we can view the lagoon off the Pacific where our hotel is located. It is worth the price of the airfare just to see the sun come up every morning.

But I digress.

Yesterday was our third golf day. We got up and donned our golf attire. And then the Rayman asked, “Dianna, did you see this big squished bug on the bathroom floor?”. No, I had not. So, Ray reported that he had not stepped on it…suggesting that perhaps I had. So, I looked on the bottom of my nude feet. Eeeeeekkkkkkk. There was a big brown spot on my right sole. I had stepped on la cucaracha…the cockroach which was by now about the the size of dollar bill (it gets bigger with each rendition of the story). OMG. Then we noticed bug parts on the sheet on my side of the bed. OMG. Well, what could be done? Nothing. So we went to breakfast. Fast forward to the room after breakfast. We did our biz and left the room. I had forgotten my golf shoes so I ran back to put them on. Well, this necessitated washing my foot. As I was getting ready to leave the room, I felt water on my foot, dripping water. I opened up my purse and it was full of water which had leaked from the bottle I was transporting. This was not a good thing. The camera was in the purse. So, besides squishing a bug with my bare feet (which I don’t even remember doing, thank god)…I drowned my camera. This is camera number three that has met it’s doom and this one is only new since November. The other two cameras were dropped. I think I need to buy stock in Canon. So, I don’t know if I have any pictures that can be salvaged because the camera won’t even turn on anymore. And it is a such a lovely color…bright orange.

But I digress. I poured the water out of my purse (thank goodness I left my wallet at home), dried the purse with a towel (thank goodness I brought my nylon purse), and headed for the elevator and from there to the golf course.

It was day 3 for golf and the Rayman and I have been doing great…winning money each day. But what will happen to me-of-the-drowned-camera? Well, I shot my best round of the week. Go figure. An out of body experience. Oh, Mexico, will all your charms. I love you. Between the weather, the caddies, the fabulous courses, the great friends and the Rayman…Mexico was a charmer I will return to again.

The Rayman is ready to return home. He misses Beau. He misses his bed. But alas, we don’t leave until tomorrow. The funniest thing he’s done this week is that he followed through on a golf swing yesterday so violently, that he lost his balance, hit the deck, rolled over a couple of times and when he stood up the caddie ran over and started picking blades of grass off his shirt. Great shot though!!!

Let me now digress by expressing our appreciation to the Smiths of King City who had the foresight to bring Pepto-Bismal with them. Thank you so much. And while on the subject…I love the bidet in our bathroom. Admittedly, it was a bit un-user friendly at first in that I got my hair and blouse wet trying to tame the beast. Not to be discouraged, I googled ‘How to use a bidet’ and then read the instructions on this uncommon convenience. So…the next time out it worked like a charm. Really, I don’t know why more bathrooms don’t have bidets. They are fabulous. Enough said? And they can be used by both sexes (this is not understood by everyone, I have found). Okay, enough said.

Perhaps the last story worthy of your time is the margarita day. After returning from golf, we all swarmed the outdoor cafe for lunch and getting into the spirit of Mexico…we all ordered margaritas…which I shall now refer to as ‘jet fuel margaritas’. By the end of that one drink, I was a bit delirious. And then some of our group ordered a second round. Well. After lunch we all went to our rooms to rest or pass out, depending on tolerance and ounces of margaritas consumed…and it was reported at dinner that night by those still standing (2 of the ladies never made it to dinner)…that some of those that took naps, woke up a few hours later thinking it was the next day. So that is what I mean by ‘jet fuel margaritas’. I was most impressed with Michel. She had two and made it to dinner…perhaps looking a bit piqued but she made it!! That woman has spunk. In her defense, she probably needed two. The golf gods were unkind to her…does drowning your sorrows have meaning to any of you?

So…Mexico is dangerous. It’s margaritas are dangerous. The golf had the potential of being dangerous…Rayman having almost broken his crown. The food is dangerous…delicious but dangerous as evidenced by the fact that there has been a run on Pepto and Imodium. The sex may or may not be dangerous depending on who is telling the story. And so all in all we had a dangerously good time.

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