Mexicans also drink beer.

It was already dark by the time my bus arrived in downtown Cancún.  Mildly lost but not willing to stop and pull out a map, I did figure 8´s around the bus stop and acted like I knew exactly what I was doing.  I tried to look as inconspicous as a blonde kid can while wandering the streets of Mexico for the first time with a gigantic backpack.

I´ll admit I was a little nervous.  I had approximately 12 shadows and they were all following me from different directions.  With each whistle or chuckle I tried to look tougher.  My knife was growing tired from the 846 checks to make sure it didn´t jump out of my pocket.  My family and friends´ repeated well-wishings and warnings about being safe left me convinced that each passerby was ready to rob, mug, and then kidnap me for some ancient ritualistic sacrifice (home liquor and bloodletting included).

Maybe it was the puffed up chest, the hardened stare, or perhaps my new lightweight, quick-drying, non-wrinkle, waterproof yet breathable pants that impressed the locals enough to know that this wasn´t the gringo to mess with.

Once I found my hostel I dropped my bags and headed back out into ¨the streets¨, which was a friendly urban park.  Kids asked their parents for ice cream while couples cuddled on the benches.

Despite overzealous tourist warnings, Mexicans also enjoy taking an evening stroll, chowing on cheap, delicious food, and maybe grabbing a beer on the way home.

I think I´ll like it here.


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