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Travel Blogs from Monte Gordo
... an English language book in Tecolutla was practically nil. I could watch television without understanding it--that sounded like fun. Meander around town in the heat? Exercise?
I’d been in training for an eighty mile backpacking trip later in the summer, and had hurt my knees in late May. After a month of inactivity, they were finally feeling OK again. I wanted to exercise, but every time I considered running or jumping jacks or mountain climbers in ...
... the fact that I had no business being there at all. Or that Aurora was there and was whispering to her friends and surreptitiously pointing at me.
The whole thing was over in fifteen minutes, and we stood around another fifteen while Luis and Fernando discussed our next steps. It was decided that Estela would help Scott and I with banking matters and everyone else would wait for us in a cafe down the street.
... in an hour.
Between the turtle camp and the road was another house. It wasn’t a hotel, but it did offer guest services to beach-goers, like showers and a place to wash your feet. On the porch was a man with a large knife. "******ned gringas!" he swore loudly as I passed, and stabbed the table. "*******s! All you do is take!" He swore some more, and I hurried past, looking away, my heart pounding. Checking over my shoulder to make sure he hadn’t followed, ...
... with friends back home. It was just me alone in this alien place. Unwanted. Rejected.
A couple of dogs ran by, chasing each other happily. Meanwhile, my sense of alienation expanded. I felt rejected by the people at the camp, by the vacationers on the beach. I looked out at the horizon and everything seemed gray and dull. Even sound had become muted. The sky was rejecting me, the sun, the sand. I was in hell.
... my palms as instructed, concerned about accidentally harming the tiny creatures. My enjoyment of the moment was marred by my worries about why Dominga had been so cold and why Maria might have been ignoring me.
Once again Jorge tried to get the crowd’s attention. He was starting his count to three when we’d all release the turtles at once. “Uno!” he shouted, one finger in the air. His voice was carried away by the ...