It’s hot. Humid. My face was bright red and beaded with sweat when I came back from my errand at the edge of town. I had to walk further than I had planned because the first bridge across the canal was closed at both entrances—I had to take the second bridge and walk back to the stationery store via the tourist stalls.
I’ve cooled off now. And the Frappe Nutella will cool me even more. I’m in Zihuatanejo, Guerrero State, Mexico.
Café Caracol has three small tables, each with two ladder