When I left my job in Guatemala, I was in run-down condition. I hopped on a day-long bus ride through Belize to Quintana Roo, Mexico, where I awarded myself the expense of my own cabana, for the first time of the trip. I spent a week in Rancho Tranquilo, recovering, meeting travelers, hanging out with the kind and comical hotel manager, Abaristo, and spending a good deal of time walking, laying on the beach, tanning and bbqing with my new friend, Mary. Mary came to Rancho Tranuilo to revamp her life, to run away from the cold of the mountains in which she previously lived, and to have a perfectly suitable past-midlife crisis in a spontaneous, admirable fashion. She did everything she pleased, when she pleased and as she pleased. We gossiped, laughed, taught one another
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