We used to camp for a month at a time.
People seeming to have an interest in Mexico and the
desperate,blood-soakded lives we live here, I asked Vi to find photos
she liked in the archives and stick them together. Herewith. Photos by
FOE Staff.
Average beach, Micnoacàn, at sundown. Fred, dissolute as a matter of
prinicple, supervises waves with a cold Tecate. To get here, you drive
north from Ajijic to Guadalajara, turn left until you hit the Pacific
coast at Manzanillo, turn left again, and find hundreds, perhaps
thousands or millions, of miles of deserted beaches. We stay in a little
town with one hotel of four rooms, one of them a suite, of about two
stars, with chickens cackling in the yard and no gringos, cackling or
otherwise. And eat garlic shrimp in a restaurant whose floor is the
beach, with a leaky thatch roof and usually no customers. Maybe there is
a God.
No comments:
Post a Comment