Dear Blob -
This morning I jogged through coconut groves strewn with garbage, startling and being startled by chickens, frantically hop-squawking away from me. Having grown-up in an area of private dirt driveways, I was briefly concerned I was jogging on a private road; then remembered I am in Mexico and dirt roads here are not private driveways to palatial hippie homes.
Some JogQueries about The Land of Roosters, ScrawnyDogs 'n' Mangos:
1. If the GarbagePeeps pick up everyday, why is there so much trash everywhere?
2. Are there marathons in Mexico and other humid countries? If so, are they only in the winter? Because I jogged 30 minutes today and the sweat-recovery took the same amount of time.
3. Do the upscale Mexicans jog? Because the poorer folk, clearly, don't. Not that they are overly plump; their expressions of, "Crazy Gringette", conveyed their impression that jogging is ridiculous.
Love The Ukulady
ps: The waves of Barra de Navidad are no joke. Enormous, powerful, & unpredictable.
pps: Upon a beachside stroll, I was head-to-toe soaked by 2 enormous waves yesterday, fully-dressed with backpack full of Meep. JoyMeepily, I was relieved to discover my Flip camera & digital camera, still work!
pps: The waves are pleasantly warm and chock-full of sand, which got Everywhere upon my soaking; removing sand grits from lace-brassiers is not easy.