This is the sole photo I took during our anniversary trip to Zihuatanejo, Mexico, last week. One shot, no more.
This is the Casa Sun & Moon, which is the Grande Dame of Zihua’s beachfront hotels. It was built in the 1960s, and was a favorite of famous folks. Though physically large, the hotel has fewer than 20 rooms.
Its glory days have long gone, and the hotel is rather tatty now. We’ve stayed there four or five times over the past few years, but we won’t be returning. It’s become preposterously overpriced. Plus, it’s for sale, not a good sign.
There are only three good rooms, large suites with jacuzzis that overlook the bay. We’ve always stayed in those suites. The other rooms are grim.
In the future, we’ll be staying directly next door at La Quinta de Don Andrés, which is where we stayed on our first visit to Zihua about six years ago.
Don Andrés once cost more than Casa Sun & Moon, but now they’ve switched places price-wise, plus the Don Andrés underwent a snazzy renovation.
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Today, May Day, is when Communists feel particularly proud of themselves. In spite of its colossal failure as a political-economic system, many people still embrace Marxist notions, proving the human race is hopeless indeed.
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I opened a new bar of soap this morning. Most folks, I imagine, do this without thinking, but for me it’s always a major event akin to popping the lid of a vacumn-packed can of coffee. My soap brand is Zest.
Coffee and soap improve our lives.
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Speaking of Communism, I just finished a fascinating book, The Aquariums of Pyongyang: Ten Years in the North Korean Gulag. Its author, Chol-hwan Kang, escaped to South Korea in 1992 and now lives in Seoul.
Chol-hwan Kang, along with most of his family, was sent to a slave-labor camp when he was 7 years old. He was kept there for ten years.
The next time you think about your crappy childhood, be grateful it was not spent eating rats, watching executions, and working deep in a mine.
Now that’s a crappy childhood.
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Last week I made a second round of trimming the yard with three types of cutters, small, medium and heavy-duty. As with the first round a couple of months ago, this activity ended with a mountain of green garbage.
This is to prepare for the rainy season, still about a month hence.
I got Abel, my deadpan neighbor there on the other side of the sex motel, to cart it all away, which he did for 150 pesos, about 12 bucks.
Among the victims of this latest round of trimming was the entire red trumpet vine that has graced, embraced and cursed the downstairs terraza for years. In its place, I planted a nice bush with blue flowers.
Like bougainvillea, think twice before planting a trumpet vine.
But now we are ready for rain.