I’m sitting at a long, raw edge wood table. One designed for communal meals. Running along it’s center is a living garden. Plants grow out of it where centerpieces would be. Across the table, I can see Utopia Hostel’s bar.
I just looked at Rachel and asked “so.. you left off in Ensenada, right?” That seems like a month ago, but I think it’s only been a few days. I’ll catch you up chronologically, and if I haven’t typed ten thousand words, I’ll get into the details and my feelings and flowery language!