Following is the really boring play-by-play of our trip to Sayulita. It’s not boring to me, because all the awesome parts are in between the lines, but I haven’t included anything thoughtful or unpacked the meaning of anything. It’s really just a “first we did this, then we did this” that I wrote to help me remember what happened when. (Also, this is why I can’t keep a regular journal. ~1000 words a day of tedium is just too much to keep up with in the long term.)
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Monday February 4 640 p.m. leave home – drop off Corrie – get Wally’s wrap
820 p.m. arrive Sarah ‘s
9 p.m. arrive airport Sarah olds Preston’s carry-on at a distance to increase odds that surfboard won’t get charged baggage fee. All goes smoothly. No board fee. Neither of us has any other bags to check. security guy friendly – empties my forgottenly full water bottle.
11 p.m. Flight boards on time. We get 300 dollars cash from the airport ATM and what I expect to be our last mocha. 1 row – 3 seats – to ourselves Preston sleeps with my Playboy pillow. Lets me sleep with my feet/legs across him. We both sleep fitfully for 3 hour flight.
530 am local time. Arrive Houston. 2 and a half hour layover. Food court breakfast. I cast on for cotton tank top. Had to cast on twice – long tail cast on not long enough first time. Tried to stay awake but had to lay down on airport floor from 730-8am (yay feather pillow!). Preston spent that time talking up the cute gurl at the sunglasses stand and the fellow traveler wearing the Whitefish t-shirt. I overheard some of that conv while half-asleep, but don’t remember now. I remember thinking it was nice and Preston is nice.

805am board flight to PV. Flight full. Preston able to sleep on window. Im in the middle seat so I knit. Fell asleep for 20 mins or so.

1125am Local time. Arrive PV. Talk to nice Canadian who lives 2 towns north of Sayulita in customs line. Preston and I both give her an opening to offer us a ride, but she doesn’t. She does give the info we need about the big grocery store on the way out of town. Avoid eye contact with timeshare folks on the way out. Forgot to say that customs goes smoothly. They ask me a couple times if I have fruit and I say no. They look through my bag and find 2 balls of yarn that maybe they mistook for oranges. Throughout, Preston resists urge to volunteer that he has a bunch of bananas in his pack. No one asks him. Once out of the airport, we step into the gas station and Preston buys and Orange fanta so we can have change for the bus. (We had exchanged $200USD for pesos in Houston. Got ~2200 pesos, all in $200 bills.) Walked across the footbridge to bus stop, but it looked like only local buses. Preston asked a nice gringo lady, who said we should take one of these bus up the road to the main stop where we could get the Sayulita bus. The main stop was just “2 lights up the road” so we decided to walk. No bus stop at second light, so we ask at a mechanic shop “Donde es al autobus? Main stop?” They said, “Next light. Turn right. 2 blocks.” So we walked some more. We were pretty tired when we got to the main bus terminal, where they said we should walk back to the light and wait there. Took a break, ate stale pb&h sandwiches from packs and a couple bananas and the orange Fanta. Then we were refreshed enough to walk back. Lots of cab drivers tried to offer us a ride. One even followed us down the sidewalk a ways. “A Sayulita solamente 350 pesos!” he said. Preston and I both laughed. Preston said, “Como se dice en espanol ‘no money’?” “No dinero!” the cab driver and I offered at the same time. Cab driver again says “Solamente 350 pesos por dos personas!” and I asked “Cuanto cuesto el autobus?” Driver pauses and we all laugh again. “Maybe like 4 dollars,” he admits in English. Just then I trip over a bucket and he and Preston both pretend that now we have to take a cab since I broke their bucket. We all laugh, and the bucket is fine, and we continue on w/o the cab. Back at the bus stop we wait for the bus to Sayulita. Preston printed a sign at home that says “¿A Sayulita?” so that he can show it to bus drivers, but all of them say no. Finally a nice Mexican man with impeccable English tells us hat the bus will say Sayulita on it. We ask if he knows how much it will cost, and he laughs and says, “Good question! Usually you all just hand over your money and let the driver take as much as he wants. It shouldn’t be more than 36 pesos for both of you. Maybe hand him a 50, then if he keeps the change it’s no big deal.” We chat some more while we wait for the bus and it turns out he was born and raised in Chicago, although he calls himself Mexican. His girlfriend lives in Seattle. His bus comes before ours.

(Just remembered – I forgot to say that Preston’s board made it to PV fine. He’s been carrying it for all this walking.) Finally our bus came. It said Sayulita on the windshield. We got on and handed the driver our 40 pesos “por dos”. He said, “60 pesos for 2 to Sayulita.” We argued with him as he was driving down the road, but he would not accept 40 pesos. As we came to the next stop, he started handing our money back and gesturing that we would have to get off. We really didn’t want to wait for the next bus, so we caved and gave him 60 pesos. Me and Preston and Preston’s surfboard and both our packs fit in the far back seat. We had planned to get off the bus at the Mega grocery store 10 miles past the airport, and stock up for the week, but by then we were too worn out, and not sure how bus transfers worked. We didn’t want to have to pay another 60 pesos if we got off and back on. So we stayed on for the 90 minute ride to sayulita. Preston was a little worried that they bus would only stop at the turnoff to Sayulita, not drive the 3km into town. I as too tired to worry, and even managed to fall asleep sitting up in the back of the very rattletrap bus. We did take a minute to notice how it’s winter here, and the local teens are wearing hoodies and long underwear under their jeans. It was around 80 degrees. The bus did drive us all the way into town and we got out at the edge of town. Preston was so happy he whooped as we got to the street. “Welcome to Sayulita!” he told me, like it was a present he had been waiting until just the right moment to surprise me with. He remembered where the Bungalows were from his previous visit with Ian, and thank goodness for his good sense of direction. The streets are a little wonky, and I would have had to wander a while before I found it. It’s a couple blocks from the beach, tucked in behind a green metal gate. Preston was sad to learn that Susan wasn’t managing the place any more, since she had been a built-in surf guide before. Also different is kitchen access. Susan had allowed common use of the full kitchen, but the current folks limit the kitchen to one unit, while ours has only a microwave, coffee pot, tiny fridge, and an outdorr grill. Still not having slept since home, we decided to table that issue, drop our packs in the room, and go find a burrito in town. We walked down to the beach first. It was more crowded than I expected. Lots of people in the water, and the beach full of lounge chair/umbrella units that one can rent by the hour. But the water is 70 degrees and the air is 80 degrees not a cloud in the sky and we were bth really happy to walk on the beach. Preston wanted to show me a couple cool places in town, so we found the smoothie shop run by the 2 Brits. They remembered Preston “Ya! You and your brother were here. You were in a band or something.” We couldn’t find the particular burrito place that Preston remembered, but we found another one where they waitress didn’t speak English and the prices were good. 4 enchiladas, a giant quesadilla with chicken, an orange Fanta (for Preston) and a hibiscus soda (for me) came to $180 pesos ($16 or $17 USD). I started getting a headache and realized I’d had no caffeine since Seattle, darn addiction! We ehaded back to the room to make coffee, and on the way couldn’t help but stop at the little storefront with the full size handmade loom taking up most of the store and the walls covered in beautiful rugs. The proprieter, Gergorio, told us that his family has been weavers for generations and his whle family works on them now. His mother does the carding and spinning. She spns in the grease, and then they boil the yarn to clean it. They dye using cochineal, indigo, and coneflower, with different additives to modify the colors. The loom had just two pedals and was tied up in a simple 1-2-1-2 pattern. The design he was workin on used green, yellow, natural white, and two shades of cochineal red. He said the pattern is one he just has in his head, from his ancestors. It isn’t written down. We took a business card, and Preston asked if they have a website. They don’t and Preston told him that I make websites. I was surprised to see that Gregorio seemed interested. He said many people ask him, and would like him to have a website. He asked how much one would cost. His English was good, but I was worried we were getting into territory with room for misunderstanding. I told him a very basic website would cost $500USD. Also that I am open to trade or barter. I was relieved when we asked about rug prices and he said they were $3650 pesos to around $7000 pesos (about $350 to $700 USD) so at least we’re on the same scale. No doubt his rugs are worth that much (or more!) but I was worried that he was charging wayless and that my website fee would seem astronomical. We talked a little more and it seemed like he was interested in something where people could buy online. He would also have to talk to his family about what they want. I wanted tot alk more and look at more textiles but my headache was getting oto bad. We told him we’d be in town for a week and talk again later. We got back to our room about 4pm, had a cup of coffee, and laid down for a quick nap – our first real chance to sleep in 30 hours! We woke up 16 hours later, on Wednesday morning. Of course, we hadn’t gone to the store the day before like we had planned, so instead we headed into town to the internet café where they grind and roast their own coffee. It turns out I can still get fancy coffee! The mocha was delicious, and the fresh papaya taste so much better than dried. We stopped at a little Mercado on the corner on the way back and got some veggies, beans, tortillas, and homemae chesse to eat the rest of the day. (Oh, at the café, we got their wireless password, so now if our wi-fi is out at the hostel, we can use theirs.)

Then grabbed an umbrella, this notebook, some water, and Preston’s surfboard and headed to the beach. Preston surfed. Crowded and small waves, but he caught a couple good ones and had fun. I sat on the beach and wrote this entry, glancing up every 5 minutes or so to say “no gracias” to someone trying to sell me a sarng or a handwoven blanket or bracelet or some weed. Back to the hostel for simple bean burritos for lunch and met the neighbors who are super friendly and interesting from Placerville, but have been travelling Mexico for a month. Youngest dauhter is 21 now. They invited us to use their kitchen whenever we like. (the one that used to be a common kitchen, but now goes exclusively with their room. It’s outdoors and adjoins the still-common area.) This makes things easier. Afternoon spent chilling on the patio, chatting. Then the few blocks into town to the carneceria (the butcher) for fresh chicken to grill. Dinner was delicious carrots, potatoes, bell pepper, garlic, and chicken, with grilled grapefruit for dessert. Unset on the beach. Internet was down at the hotel when we got back, so we walked down to town center to people-watch and pirate some wi-fi. Lots of good people-watching and we’ve been loving watching the interactions of the street dogs, who all seem healthy and happy. Pets with a degree of autonomy you would never see at home.

Thursday morning: Wake at 730am to the piercing cries of the local blackbirds (need to look up what they are). Good thing they are so pretty, because they are sure loud. Started some coffee, which woke Preston. We hadn’t acquired breakfast food, so I sat on the patio and drank my coffee while Preston got ready and grabbed surfboard. Preston was to grab a muffin and a banana on the way to the beach but we took a wrong street and ended up at the beach before the muffin shop. High tide and not a breaking wave in sight, so we went back to Chocobanana for a real breakfast instead. Croissant sandwich with ham, bacon, cheese, and banana all grilled together. And fresh-squeezed OJ! Yesterday I was accidentally a total pushy American. They brought the tab to the table and didn’t come back to take the money for a while so I took it up to the register. They aced very awkward and had to call the waier over to take it from me. So today I determined to wait as long as it took, and I think he waiter was testing my resolve (same one as yesterday). We finished eating and he cleared our plates, but didn’t bring our tab for a solid 15 minutes. It was hard not to say anything, but I practiced patience, and while we waited we watched a nearby street vendor work on a beautiful beading project on his small handmade loom. I think we finally passed the test, and he brought our tab and took our money promptly. Curious to see how it goes if we eat there again. There is a beaded ankle bracelet that I’d like to have. 80 pesos, and I’ll see if we have any money left over in the budget before we go. Then to the Mercado for today’s lunch and dinner fruits/veggies (86 pesos for the day) and across the street to the carneceria for chicken (large breast for 43 pesos). The saleswoman was a feisty Mexican woman who smiled and flirted and forced Preston to use his Spanish. We all laughed, and after we left I teased Preston that she’s who he should hire to teach him Spanish. He said, “Are you kidding? I can’t even buy any more meat until I learn a bunch of new words!” At our room, ran into John and Tin as they are packing to leave and ended up talking for an hour or more. Interesting stuff about buying rental property and passive income. Sometimes in conversations like that I remember when I would hear grownups talk like that when I was a kid and it would seem so boring and removed from my reality. These days it feels ver real and relevant.

Waves were small enough Preston decided to grab a loaner longboard and take that and his own board down to the beach. I took an umbrella and this journal. Preston was soon frustrated – waves too small for his fish but he just doesn’t love the longboard. After an hour or so, back to the room for lunch. Guacamole and chips and watermelon and papaya, all of which John and Tina had left for us when they checked out. Was a touch call whether or not to nap after that, but we decided to walk to the edge of town and see if we could find our couchsurfing contact where we saw the sign for Sayulita Surf School. From the sign in the road, we hiked up steep stairs to two buildings with only half the usual number of walls. “¡Hola in la casa!” we called a couple times. While we waited, we admired the fully-budded, amazing-looking pot plant growing on the edge of the hill. No one came, and we decided to come back later in the evening. Back down into town and to the ATM for more pesos. We sat on the street to people-watch for a minute, thought about buying a refreshing beverage, decided way cheaper to buy a bottle of tequila and some juice. To the Mercado then, but via the beach in case the waves had picked up. Waves no better, but while we were there, thought we’d walk to the end of the beach we hadn’t been to yet, to see if a rep of Sayulita Surf School was down there. No sign of them. Walked to big rocks on the far side and talked about how the layout is similar to La Push. Except 30 degrees warmer in water and air! Sat on the rocks and watched the beginning surfers for a while. Got super interested in the launch of a fishing boat. No piers here, so he used his pickup to pull it across the sand to the water’s edge. Then pulled around behind and pushed it with his bumper until the bw just atarted to float. Then parked the truck back at the top of the beach and got back in the boat. Then it was really complicated to get the outboard motor started without burying it in the sand. Engine died a few times and he started drifting into the surf lineup. It was all really interesting. Out of the blue, Preston says, “So, I’ve had a bit of a dilemna this week…” Just as he says that, someone starts playing a trumpet on the street above us, and the boat engine dies again. “Sorry babe, I’m super distracted for aminute,” I say. Preston smiles and nod and goes back to watching the boat. One of the trinket vendors sees us over there and comes over with his jewelry display. Preston and I both say “no gracias” and the vendor says “One dollar.” Preston stops and says, “Wait, one dollar?” the vendor nods and preston says, “Ya, DeAnna you should get one.” And then he repeats, “Ya, you should pick a ring, DeAnna.” And then I realized what his dilamna had been. I didn’t say anything. Picked a ring, which the vendor said was 500 pesos. “500 pesos!” Prston and I both say. Preston says, “But you said one dollar!” “One dollar off,” the vendor clarifies, and Preston and I both crack up. We though we were prepared for all their shenanigans, but this one totally fooled us for a minute. But Preston sees this aas a good opportunity to practice som Spanish. We aren’t going to buy a $50USD ring on the beach, but Preston has learned the word “talvez” which means “perhaps” so he tells him, “No gracias, talvez manana.” The vendor keeps trying ov course, but pretty soon Preston is discussing the words for chicken breast (pechuga de pollo) and has introduced himself to the vendor, whose name is Oliver. Any time Oliver tries to brng up the rings again, Preston says, “Talvez manana.” Preston hands him the $10 peso coin he had pulled out of his pocket. “No ring,” he says. “But Oliver, you don’t know how perfect it was that you showed up just now. Thank you.” As Oliver makes his leave, with a handshake for me and a fist bump for Preston, another vendor comes along, this one selling woven bracelets with common names on them. The last bracelet on the rack says “WEED” in the weaving. The man points at it and raises his eyebrows at Preston. Preston laughs, “Talvez manana” he says. The vendor says, 1/8 only 60.” Preston looks taken aback, “60 pesos?!” and the vendor laughs. “No 60 US.” And then Preston laughs. “I’m from Seattle,” he says, and the vendor nods, recognizing the place. Preston goes on, gesturing so the man understands, “The weed there is very good. It costs 1/8 for $45US.” The vender tries to barter a bit but Preston just goes back to laughing. “Talvez manana!” he gives up eventually and says he will see us tomorrow. Preston and I laugh a lot as he walks away, and then Preston says, Well, I don’t really know the right way to do this, but I think I’m supposed to be on my knee.” And then he’s kneeling in the sand in front of me, and he takes my hand and asks, “DeAnna, will you marry me?” I have a hard time getting any words to come out, partially cuz I’m all choked up and also I’m smiling so much that my lips won’t make words. “Ya,” I say. Maybe the least romantic proposal acceptance ever ☺ And then Preston starts talking because he’s been planning this for months and kept it a secret and nw he wants to tell me everything but she’s still kneeling in the sand and I can’t really hear him anyway so I kiss him, and I am really happy. “I talked to your parents,” he says. “I even called your dad and got his blessing.” And then I’m all teary again, because it never occurred to me that he would do that and it’s so perfect. He tells me about what an incredible kind of trust he has in our relationship and how much he has come to believe in the last year that I love him unconditionally, and he’s glad hat we hadn’t already got marries because if we had, we wouldn’t have a way of acknowledging what we have now and how it’s different and deeper and better than it was before. All this time I don’t have words, but I nod a lot and smile like a fool, and he knows me well enough to know what that means. Eventually, we walk hand-in-hand down the beach back into town to the marcado for cheap tequila and juice. There, Preston strikes up a conversation with an expat/snowbird in her 30s named Nikki. She has heard Preston playing around with the word fiancé, so as we’re leaving she says, “Congratulations on your engagement, whenever that happened.” I say, “About 10 minutes ago,” and she gasps. “Just now!!? Oh that’s so amazing! Congratulaions! That just makes me want to cry! That’s so great!” Then back to the room, where we have drinks and grill up our pechuga de pollo and veggies and talk about who all has been in on this secret and what it means t be married and how the conversation went with my dad and how amazing and perfect we both are. At some point, I told Facebook that we are getting married and then we oved reading each new congratulations that came through until time for bed. Internet went out in the night, so I;m sure when it comes back on there will be so many more messages. Preston woke up early to check the dawn waves, nothing too much happening so he brought a couple muffins back. Muffins, fresh papaya, and coffee for breakfast. Chilling on the patio, really good acoustic guitar floating up from the street. Can’t tell if it’s live or someone with unusually good speakers. Either way, it’s unusually good. The days are starting to blur into one long sunny perfect nothing. We walked through the Friday street market where we found the live guitarist and Preston gave him 20 pesos. Through town to the circle to pirate the internet and readmore congratulations on Facebook. To the beach to confirm waves are still super-small, then to the local tortilla “factory” where we were shocked to learn that a kilo of tortillas costs 14 pesos. That’s about 12 cents for around 40 of the most perfect, hot-off-the-grill homemade tortillas ever. We ate 5 of them plain right out of the bag on our way home. The usual stop at el Mercado y el carneceria for food for the grill. At home, we gorge on tortillas and fresh avocados and lime and some leftover pechuga de pollo. Then a siesta. Despues, suited up and got in the ocean for the first time. Perfect temperature and Preston hung out and body surfed with me. Something kept brushing my ankles though. Preston said he hadn’t seen any seaweed and didn’t feel anything touching him. I think he thought I was imagining it until he was standing right next to me and felt it too. “see!” I said. “And it’s because you’re standing next to me! It’s stalking me!” Im not sure if it makes me feel better or worse that he didn’t dismiss my dramatics. “Ya, that did feel kind of weird,” he agreed. Decided to get out before I got really freaked out. Maybe come back tomorrow with a board and when there will be a big crowd to scare away the weird things. Down side is tht ther crowd will be comprised of beginner with no control over their longboards, but I’m okay with that. I should fit right in. Tummy feeling a little funny this afternoon. Hopefully just a reaction to the homemade cheese that I didn’t like, nothing more serious. Simple dinner from the grill as usual – pollo, tortillas, guacamole, grilled grapefruit. Listening to the geckos. Extended our reservation at the Macondo Bungalows through the rest of our stay. Haven’t connected with the couchsurfing folks, and a snowstorm in NY means that our room is now open (other guests were due to arrive tomorrow, but are stuck in NYC). Too bad about no couchsurfing, but me gusta having a nice, stable place to stay. Just three more nights, and I’m savoring every minute. Really serious about eventually creating a part-time home down here.

Saturday morning. Woke up feeling much better, but Preston feeling off so I walked down to get muffins. Really nice to walk around town in the morning sun. ~8am and very few businesses open at that time, not even the breakfast places. Was nice to window shop with no pressure. People friendly and smiling wherever I go. Took a picture through a shop window of a super simple white dress as a wedding dress inspiration. Felt silly thinking about things like wedding dresses, but did it anyway. Checked the ocean on the way by. Not a wave in sight and not a single surfer out. 2 muffins for 28 pesos and Preston was up and in the shower when I got back. Preston maybe starting to feel a little restless – hasn’t slept well since we’ve been here. Simple breakfast, walk down to the ocean and back up through town. Stopped at the iguana refuge and decided to have a smoothie. They weren’t open yet, but Preston charmed Christian who insisted we stay and he made us something special (cardamom, ginger, mango, banana, honey, etc). We sat in the rocking chairs under the trees and watched the giant iguanas. Such interesting creatures. Back to the room for afternoon siesta and journal-writing. My tummy starting to feel really strange. Otherwise feel fine – no fever, nausea, etc. Slow walk through town, stop at the small local diner for Preston snack – chicken taco and margarita for 35 pesos. Anna-lee is the waitress and the proprietor’s wife/novia. Turns out she’s from Vashon Island. More wandering/people-watching/enjoying the sun and warm. Wandered up the hill past the circle, up a street we hadn’t been and came upon a surfboard repair show with an open door. Preston pokes his head in and makes friends with Pilas, the local repair guy. Pilas’ English is slightly better than our Spanish, and they talk shop for a while. Really nice guy. Then wandering up the hill to all the fancy condos. At least one beautiful garden that made me gasp. Found our way around back down the hill, entertained ourselves for a bit reading the Schwa Corp propaganda at the hostel, headed home. Gut alternately fine and not fine.

Sunday morning. To Chocobanana for muffins and coffee. We’ve developed a superstition that our gut upset has to do with the super cheap coffee provided with our room. Excellent excuse for fancy mochas for breakfast! Surf looks flat but we go to stand on the beach anyway. Swell picks up while we’re standing there, and Preston decide to go get his board. He runs ahead back to the room while I wander behind looking at trinkets for sale on tables lining los calles. We’ve been talking a lot about rings, or matching tattoos, or Preston’s Tarantino-esque joke about chopping off our ring fingers together. I’m voting for simple rings, and I see one vendor who has a pile of simple silver or gold bands. Decide to bring Preston back later to see them. Later, hang out on the beach to watch Preston surf. Still poco olas, pero es muy bonito. It’s just fun to watch how he moves. This turns out to be his final session, which is good cuz he tweaks his back trying to avoid the sea urchins below. He got one spike in his tow on Satruday, and that enough to raise his awreness. After surfing, wander through town, pechuga de pollo a la carneceria, where the fun fiery Mexican lady tells Preston that he can’t use English any more when he comes in there, solamente espanol. They laugh and joke about learning una palabra per day but forgetting dos palabras. Home for siesta while Preston grills up potatoes, carrots, onion, garlic, mango, y pollo (and some leftover breaded avocado strips) for lunch. So good! Preston decided that rather than worry about if the airline will charge him $200 for his board, he would rather leave it with Pilas, the repair guy. We had run into Pilas earlier in the morning and had a broken convo about if he would be around. We gathered that he would for sure be there on Wednesday (we leave Monday) but walked by the shop anyway. No one there. I was feeling tired, so waited in the center while Preston went to see if he could find Christian, from the iguace refuge/surf shop, where he figured he could leave the board with a note for Pilas. Mission accomplished, headed back to our rooms for dinner. On the way, stopped on the street with the rings I had seen earlier. Those bands weren’t right, but a couple tables further on were some perfect, simple, stainless steel bands with patterns lightly etched on them. Found two in the right size with matching patterns. 100 pesos each (about $10 US) and the vendor had a great local peaceful vibe. As we thanked him and started to walk away, he said he wanted to give us each a gift and pointed at a small pile of polished rocks. W each chose one, smiling. Walked to the beach, kissed while watching the sunset and put them on each other’s fingers. Talked some more about how lucky/awesome/in love we are. Pondered that only girls are supposed to get engagement rings, but that’s silly and we’re glad be both got one. Home for dinner, then walked around town to find some bread for tomorrow. Wandered quite a bit and decided all bakeries must be closed already, then on the way home, found one bakery still open. One loaf of bread and two sweet pastries $67 pesos. The woman didn’t speak English (or wanted Preston to speak Spanish) so we did the whole convo in Spanish. She used short sentences and paused between sentences, but otherwise spoke at speed. Preston had to work a little, but managed a whole conversation about surfing, and even a joke about bathing in the ocean “llaval en la mar”. Home for our final night.
Monday morning. Chocobanana for mocha and big breakfast for the start of our travel day. Back to the room to pack. PayPal our balance to the Bungalows. Walk to the bus stop and bus arrives in just a couple minutes. From the bus window, the next town south (San ignasius?) looks beautiful. Drive through the valley between Sayulita and Hwy 200 is beautiful – curious to know more about the area. Bus ride uneventful, drops us off right at the airport. We are a couple hours early, so sit against a wall in the sun outside for 30 minutes or so, soaking up the last of the rays. Checkin goes smoothly. We roll out the yoga mat and sprawl (me or stretch (Preston) until our flight boards. Preston falls asleep as soon as we hit altitude, which is good cuz he’ll need to drive home from the airport sometime after midnight tonight. Looking forward to enjoying some of the leftover pollo and bread that Preston brought in his carry-on, as soon as the drink cart gets to our aisle. The people in the row behind us are real loud talkers. The man sharing our aisle just shushed them beautifully, “Can you talk more quietly? You are being really very loud. I’m trying to sleep.” It was beautiful. They’ve been whispering ever since.