Living on a Commune

The next few days at the beach were spent much as the first. We napped now in the shade to avoid sunburn, and in the afternoons or mornings indulged ourselves with a few marvelous runs on the beach. Of the original travelers only Avicena (my original travel buddy), Igmar (the friend of the owner of the house) and I remained.

Although the weather, scenery, and shelter were perfect, we were low on money and the house lacked running water. Under these conditions we slowly became a sort of commune: the boys would pull up water by hand from the well in the front yard so we could wash the dishes, and we bathed each other outside in the grass. Our food we shared together, having bought out the entire stock of potatoes in the area's one store and making use of the tamale lady who walked from house to house selling her goods. Opening up one tamale at a time, we would all dig in with our hands. Somehow eating six together seemed like eating more than two by yourself. At night we all slept up in the one loft bedroom with its three twin beds and in the morning we ran on the beach and swam in the hotel pools to cool off. When the afternoon wind came up nap in the yard. 

Finally on Friday afternoon, after three lovely days at the beach, we purchased our bus tickets to Xalapa, a college town three hours to the south. I needed to start my trip back the city and Avicena had convinced Igmar to ditch classes for another week and explore the country. Either way, this time was much easier getting out than getting in: we found a bus hub down the street at a restaurant and climbed aboard at 5pm.