Christmas on the beach was incredible. Turns out, we’ve got a pretty amazing group of kids here. Everyone kept complimenting me on my excellent planning, but the truth is, I didn’t have to do a damn thing. I sent an email, figured out dinner, and everything else just fell into place. This group is chill enough and comfortable enough with each other that elaborate arrangements were unnecessary.
Dinners on both the 23rd and the 24th were incredible. There are some darn good places to eat in this country, and we’ve found two of them in Grand Popo. It helps that enough of the group that was there is at the beach often enough that they know our faces, and they know we’ll spend a lot if they give us a good deal (which they always do).
Of course, the beach itself was fantastic. For the first day, we were the only ones around. Once we’d switched hotels (we wanted a pool!), there were a few more people, but it was deserted for the most part. Beautiful aqua water. Clean (mostly) sand. Water as far as the eye can see. Picturesque fishing boats in the background (OMFG fresh fish = love).
I even managed to go the entire weekend without getting sunburned, which is a pretty incredible feat for me. I don’t exactly burn easily, but the last three days were probably the first in my LIFE that I was responsible about applying sunblock.
Let’s see . . . I slept in a bed one night, on the floor another night, and outside on a wicker couch the third. I had one mediocre meal the entire time, and it was my own damn fault for asking for too much hot sauce. I drank about half a litre of Jack (the other half was enjoyed by my lovely fellow PCVs). I had exactly one beer the entire time. I ate it in the surf more times than I can count. I played with two sparklers and zero firecrackers. Others played with one sparkler. I ruined two in the sad (dammit). There are two evenings of which I don’t remember significant portions (speaking of sounding immature).
And dammit, it was just about the best Christmas ever. Seriously, PSL-18 is the mostest awesomest (and I guess our lone 17-er isn’t too bad either).
Merry Fuckin’ Christmas.