First things first: I was too wired to be hungry so I went to get a cell phone (whew--amazing what a relief that silly little piece of technology was. Communication. Don't get me started) and went to the bank and the grocery store.

[The local cock fighting ring, apparently no longer in use.]

When I got back, I decided I was settled enough to have breakfast. And my disappointment in the hostel melted away in a single moment like the salted butter that would soon be spread on the homemade bread they serve with their omelets. Their balcony and breakfast are... well, un pedacito del cielo, or a slice of heaven, as they like to say. Yep, that confirmed it. This would be my home.

[Jen on the terrace, later in the day.]

I met Patty Mothes and Jen Connor, the daughter of a colleague of Patty's who was touring Ecuador and had spent the night at the observatory, for a little afternoon adventure. We went up to Loma Grande, a hill across the valley from Banos, to check on the progress of a new equipment shed. Data from the volcano is repeated back to the observatory via Loma Grande. Loma Grande, as in "big hill". Aptly named.

[Jen and the volcano at one of several stops on the way up.]

[Banos, nestled in between two high ridges at the volcano's base.]

[Tungurahua. The gray areas at the base and to the right are pyroclastic flow and lahar deposits. Banos is off the picture to the left.]

[Patty chats with the contractor up at the equipment hut on Loma Grande.]

Patty knows everyone in the entire region. She knows everyone because she stops to talk to everyone, and she gives out whatever she's stocked up on. Today it was bread and mandarines.

[Patty can't help but share some bread with the dogs, too.]

The road we traveled is the escape route from Banos should lahars or pyroclastic flows or landslides or avalanches shut off the main route. Patty said it was in poor repair until recently. For now, it's great.

[Cliff of lava to the left, river to the right, volcano straight ahead.]

I picked Patty's brain the whole way. On our way back, she pointed out massive lava flows and we stopped for lunch by a constriction in the river called the Key Hole, where tourist pay to cross the canyon on a tarabita, or cable car, and where we ate delicious chicken ceviche.

[The Key Hole.]

Patty's the best.

And she knows so, so much.

She dropped Jen and me back in Banos and went on her way to the observatory to continue working. Jen and I checked into a six-bed dorm room on the third floor of the hostel where the windows were never shuttered and we had a bathroom in the room and a view of the virgin statue on the hill above the west side of town and we dropped our things to go for a hike.

It had not even occurred to me to hike from Banos. It had not occurred to me, either, to bring my guidebook, since I was not there as a tourist. But Jen had a guidebook that told her there were hiking trails leaving right from town so we took one of them. We got a little lost finding the trailhead and were assisted by two very helpful young men who were keen on joining us on the hike until we said no, thank you, that we weren't interested in smoking weed with them, and then somehow and fortunately they immediately changed their mind.

[A break on the way up.]

[beer koke water.]

The hike was great. Steep and steep and up and up and lovely and we kept following signs past a couple lookouts toward Runtun, until the signs seemed to contradict themselves and we asked someone how to get to Runtun and she said we were there. Oh. I had one of those tourist moments. But Runtun is just a town? What's there to see? What's there to do?

[Puppies in Runtun.]

[A brief almost-view of the volcano from Runtun just before turning back to town.]

We could have continued up, but dusk was just stepping in. So we headed back down, lost our way and found our way and ended up unintentionally on a different path to Banos and were a little uneasy until we came upon a substantial structure that felt like a reentry from the wilds and then came upon a group of Europeans soaking in a rooftop hot tub in that structure who looked down on us, literally, with what might have been some pity as we walked by. Yes, we were definitely back from the wilds.

[Prominent lights: Virgin statue on the hill to the left, church towers on the bottom right.]

And just in time. We arrived back to town at dark. Went to our hostel, made some new friends in our dorm room, and went to dinner with them at what would become one of my two favorite spots. We almost turned away from it, seeing all white folks inside, but decided we were hungry and done looking around and why deny what we were, anyway, so we went in and had a slow but delicious meal. Casa Hood lasagna = I love you. I do.

After dinner, Catharine, a nursing student at Emery, opted for bed, but Jen and Simeon and I tried for a drink. Somehow, the town was as quiet tonight as it was busy the night before. Turns out there's a law in Ecuador prohibiting the sale of alcohol in bars on Sundays, but since Monday was a holiday they'd switched it to Monday, at the very least unofficially, so everything was closed. But Simeon had remembered seeing a brew pub, probably a German brew pub, on his way back from his bike trip that afternoon and was determined to find it. From my journal: Jen and Simeon and I went all over town looking for a brew pub Simeon had seen earlier and it turned out to 1) exist and 2) be the only bar open.

The brew pub was not German. It was not even run by a Belgian, as Simeon had later decided (I think based on the brewmaster's last name as posted next to a picture on the wall). No, the German was wishfully thinking the brew pub he had seen, tired and thirsty at the end of this bike ride, was a product of his homeland. As it turns out, it's run by a couple U.S. ex-pats from Chicago. Jen and I had a drink at the bar after Simeon left and chatted with the bartenders and I decided that probably every night of my stay I would be there for a nightcap of tequila and fresh maricuya (passionfruit) juice.

I went back once more, two nights before leaving Banos.

---

The weather is ridiculous. It's hot! This is not the Quito I remember!

[Indeed, it was not the Quito I remembered. It was unseasonably warm. Except it had nothing to do with the season. It was just plain hot. That's all there was to it. It was strangely hot. I really did wish I was wearing shorts or a skirt instead of pants. This is very unusual for Quito.

I went to a park called El Ejido that's in a commercial center in hopes of buying a phone. But since it was Sunday, and a holiday, everything was closed. But this also meant the park was packed. It was fun to walk through and watch the people.]

It feels breezy. A lovely day--a day in the park! I don't even need this awesome jacket. Maybe the whole trip. I need a skirt, and sunblock! And sunglasses. And a hat.

[It's a good think I brought the jacket. I wore it every day, including that evening. Banos, as it turns out (I couldn't remember), can be chilly too.

After the fruitless but nice visit to the park, I headed out for Rosi and Modesto's house, where I stayed last time I was in Ecuador.]

I am just beside myself that I've learned the metro bus system. 25 cents! Why did I not know this before? It's brilliant!

[We had plans to have lunch at 1:30. I was running a little late, but felt like I was doing pretty well, considering I don't know the city that well.

At their door, however, they greeted me with "We were so worried! We thought something happened!"

Okay, I was a little late, but Rosi did say between 1 and 1:30 and I said 1, so I didn't think 1:15 was that bad. They fawned over me a little more and I apologized but was a little confused. I mean, come on.

We sat in the living room to chat. So good to see you, they said. How are you? We were so worried! Something must have happened. We waited and waited, and we're sorry but we ate.

You--you ate? What, you waited 5 minutes, and then scarfed it all down in another 5?

And then I figured it out.

"What time is it?"

Yep. I'm an idiot. I was going off my iPhone, which had updated the time in Houston, but not after. Because I had it in airplane mode so as not to get charged for any service. And I hadn't bothered to 1) look up the time change from Boulder to Quito (I know, I know...) and 2) thought to but forgot to ask the woman at the hostel what time it was as I checked out.

Which means a few things. I didn't get to the hostel at close to 3 a.m.--I got there at close to 4 a.m. And I checked out an hour late, at 1 p.m. And, of course, I was an hour and 15 minutes late to see Rosi and Modesto instead of just 15 minutes late. It also meant I was an hour behind my intended schedule to get to the bus for Banos.

[Rosi in her living room. Note the wax nativity on the right, catching that great light they get through their dreamily big window.]

[I took this for my mom. All the pieces are handmade.]

I left their place at around 4:30 (the for-real 4:30) to get to the bus terminal. The first cab wanted $10! No way! So I got out. The next cab wanted $20. I paid him $13. Sigh.

At the terminal, I was told there would be no bus until 10:30 p.m. I dejectedly took this to mean that everything was full until then, since it was a holiday weekend. But check back with the other companies, they said. Good, I thought, something might open up.

Funny thing about Ecuador. They have more than one bus company. Curious, no? And maybe it's even more curious that in a country (the U.S.) that frowns upon monopolies there's only really one bus company. Anyway. They have more than one bus company, all leaving from the same terminal. I was proud of myself for understanding this part of the system.

But when I was up walking around and found that there was a bus leaving for Banos at 7 (hooray!) and then I got on that bus and there were fewer than ten of us, I felt like I was back to square one. I'd originally thought that a spot opened up on a full bus, but apparently a whole bus opened up. Do they just add and take away buses at will? Did a bus driver wake up from a nap and say "Hey, honey, I think I'm going to drive to Banos. Call the company and make me some coffee, will you?"

[Strolling in the Quito bus terminal at night.]

Well, whatever. Getting on a bus at 7 was much better than having to wait until 10:30.

The bus was in cruise mode. I forewent the bad action movie shown in the front of the bus to listen to some of my interviews from last time on my iPod, which is also how I spent much of my flights. (When I wasn't waxing poetic about the clouds.) I think we were in Banos by 10:30.

And I went to my hostel. The one I had found by looking not-very-hard online, and had called to say I'd be in late. (Turns out there are still pay phones in this world!) And I buzzed the door. And it was opened by.... the guide Judah and I had last year to take us to the jungle. When it was just Judah, me, and the guide. (Awkward.) The one who told us he had five women who didn't know about each other. The one who explained to us that a drum was an instrument, and that you hit it with a big stick to make music. The one who was supposed to speak English but didn't. I almost wanted to run. Either away, or in to my room to e-mail Judah and tell him right away so we could burst out laughing. I held it in. If he recognized me, he didn't let on. And as it turned out, he wasn't the regular night guy. I think I only saw him two more times in my stay there.

I dropped my stuff in my room and went out to walk around with my camera. Banos has a little bit of everything everywhere, but it makes life simple for tourists by concentrating things in small stretches. There are two blocks of concentrated family restaurants and artisan shops, leading from the church square to the town hall square. There are two blocks of bars, perpendicular to and halfway down the restaurant strip. One block has both the supermarket and the --nonsupermarket? (There's also an open-air market a few blocks away on the weekends, blowing my simplicity theory to poop.) Since this was still a holiday weekend--Monday was a national holiday--the streets were hopping. Including the bars, funnily enough. I learned later that by law in Ecuador no alcohol can be sold, in bars anyway, on Sundays. But apparently it's more of a night-before-we-start-the-week thing than a Sunday thing, because the bars were definitely open that Sunday night. And definitely closed on Monday.

[One of the town's main attractions.]

[Busy Banos.]

[The bar strip.]

[The town hall? Or a party?]

Small kids were still running around with their parents when I headed to my new home an hour or so later. Welcome to Banos.]

Oh, good morning. 8:30 a.m., time to take off for Houston. It's December? It doesn't feel like December. It's new year's eve? It doesn't feel like new year's eve. Hmmmm. I'm also running on a few hours of sleep--four? So that might have something to do with it. I drove to the airport this morning, not preferable but fortunately not too bad, into the sunrise, from darkness to the light, the sun threatening to rise into my eyes but the timing was such that I turned to go north, the godlike clouds lined gloriously in a yellow-pink sky beside and behind me, and before the sun could peek above the horizon and blind me I had parked, and then I was done.

Sleep to Houston? Probably sleep to Houston.

---

Nope, didn't sleep to Houston. Woke to turbulence, felt a tap on my arm, talked for the rest of the flight to the woman in my row with her two kids, one three months old and the other two and a half years old. She was nervous in the turbulence, needed to talk. I was nervous too. It's been crazy windy lately; bumpy ride for a while getting out of Denver. [Judah said there were wind gusts in Boulder up to 72 mph that morning. Miserable for flying...]

Are you excited? Judah asks. Or maybe it was Mom. Uh.... nervous. Why so nervous? So many unknowns! [I was nervous about getting to my hostel in Quito and getting to Banos the next day and getting to my hostel in Banos, which in hindsight all just seems very silly. I was also nervous about getting all the 'right' material, which seems not as silly. Not only was I nervous about getting all the 'right' material, but also I was nervous about not knowing what the 'right' material was. Mostly that. "I think that's my fundamental fear--that I don't know what I need to do." GPS fieldwork, I might add, is much more straightforward. Here are the sites. Occupy them. Organize the data. Bring the data and the instruments home. Boom! Much simpler.]

---

Okay. So. (Somewhere over the ocean.) I woke up over the water and decided, for that moment, that it was too beautiful for me to feel anxious. The sun way out there shining bright but diffuse light--through thin clouds or moisture--over colonies of tiny cloud-puffs clinging to the ocean, the light yellow-white and the sky at the horizon almost yellow-pink, even though the sun is still far from setting.

And then, food--what a bonus!

And now tea!

For a long time I thought there were thin veils of moisture flowing over the wing, like small continuous fronts of fog generated one after another by our movement through the air. But now I'm thinking they were reflections of the thin clouds above, all along.

And periodically huge sun rings, like now, a rainbow of yellows and oranges all the way around the sun, brightest directly to each side and below, on the ocean. Does anyone else see this? Long shadows cast by the low-lying clouds. What was casting shadows on the ocean before? Were they oil rigs?

You just wouldn't believe how fantastic it is outside! We're approaching land--now over it--and there was this amazing moment in which a small delta was lit pink! by the sun--and then immediately we were over a higher cloud bank, puffy and popcorny, purply at the tops with yellow light soft between the puffs! It was amazing! Has a cloudy landfall ever been so grand?

[I sound like I'm just on some happy-drug, but it really WAS incredibly beautiful, a palette of seemingly unreal light and texture, constantly changing, one surprise after another.]

---

WOAHHHHH! What? These crazy thin eery lacy see-through setting-sun-orange ghost clouds just moved as a crazy ghost cloud film, all stretched apart and hollow looking, over the normal living clouds and land. Super nutso. This place is crazy.

And poof, the sun is almost gone in a bank of thick clouds, the light now blue, and it's extinguished fzzzzzzz in a blue-grey world. It comes back orange-pink in windows of poofing light backed by a pale blue-green pre-sunset sky, and then smudged out again by grey. Something of it makes it through to make the clouds almost purple--or is that a competing color force? Like the drive this morning, yellow through the windshield and black in the rearview mirror as if I was purposefully driving away from it, fleeing the night for the light.

And, I think we're done. Goodbye, sun. Thanks for all the wonderful afternoon games. Tomorrow, or the next day, I'll see you again.

---

[The sun leaves, but the trip's not over. Not even close.]

FOREIGN--what is foreign? It's this foreignness that makes me nervous about traveling. Different systems: different language, different currency, different cell service, different standards or customs. All challenging.

Wish phone coverage was equal everywhere--I think that would make things feel much simpler and closer to home.

[The novelty of being in a different place. Systems are *not* the same everywhere. And we can't always be 'connected.' But these things are changing amazingly quickly. Once I bought a cell phone, the day after arriving, things felt much simpler. Also, I had my computer. With a WiFi connection. I could voice chat with Judah for free. So could most of the other travelers I met (but not with Judah)--which was a lot, since I stayed in a hostel this time. Most travelers, these days, have small laptops or tablets. It's amazing. So they're chatting with friends back home, checking in on Facebook, posting to blogs, and making reservations for lodging--all online. It's pretty amazing, whether you think it's good or bad. Oh, and Ecuador uses U.S. currency--this is a huge commonality that makes traveling there easier (for me).]

What's left of the sky? Just sparsely dabbled popcorn clouds up close, tall broad anvil clouds in the distance, and a small fire burning fierce scarlet at the far horizon. And then, up high, one single light. It must be a planet. Hello, Venus?

We're descending into Panama City. Really? Still one more flight to go? I already feel like I've been traveling all day. I guess because I have.

---

Panama City airport! How deliciously familiar to be in the warm humid decay of the sub-tropics, the airport music upbeat merengue... Ojala that I was getting off to bask in the stench of damp overheating, eternal sweaty Central American party.

[This is pretty funny, given how I felt about stopping in the Panama City airport on my way back at the end of the trip.]

P.S. I stink.

---

I wish I was getting in in time--like, yesterday--to be in Banos for New Years. Apparently they burn effigies. If I had listened to my interviews from last time before planning my trip, I would have known!

[I was thinking at that point that maybe I would catch some in Quito. Land at 11:10, get taxi, make it to hostel just in time for midnight?]

---

Okay! Descending into Quito. To do now: Get out! Find taxi! Negotiate with taxista! Get to hotel! Get in hotel! WHEW!

Pockets of fog in the hills leading up to Quito make the populated valleys look like glowing fuzz.

---

Sounds like we're in a holding pattern, waiting for better conditions. Ah, Quito. New Years in Guayaquil?

[Guayaquil is the largest city in Ecuador, on the coast. Flights that can't make it into Quito land in Guayaquil.]

---

I have to pee. And suddenly I have gas. We're still circling. The valleys are still glowing poofs. We seem to be getting close...

Oh. Five more minutes and we're off to Guayaquil. New Years in the air?

---

Yep! I guess so. Feliz ano 2012. A few happy new years and then some clapping, which woke up the girl next to me. Captain just came on to say happy new year and 15 more minutes of circling.

So. Happy New Year. 2012 in the air. Wouldn't it be cool if we could see effigies burning from up here? I'll look for bonfires.

---

Guayaquil. Is this the end of their service, or do they fly us to Quito tomorrow?

---

Okay well. Now 15 minutes on the ground in the plane and we're headed to Quito. Just like Judah! Hopefully it will work. It would be much more convenient than staying the night in Guayaquil.

[Potentially long story short, the same thing happened when Judah came down to meet me in 2010. Except I was waiting for him in the airport with no idea that this was not all that uncommon. Pretty stressful, and confusing. For both of us! And I hadn't given him my local phone number, because why would I?]

---

And... made it! 3 a.m.! In my hostel! In my jammies! On my bed!!!

My mom's the queen of frosted leaf shots. They're absolutely beautiful. Don't think I'm trying to outdo her by posting this one.

But, when a frosty morning yields something so lovely, how can I not take a little for later?

Fortunately, class has been cancelled. Chip and I figured that out at 9:29 when we were still the only ones here. And then we realized we'd been talking about media law cases for the ten minutes we were waiting for class to start. Dorks.

Right.

Smart, right?

But, of course, things change. The social pressure of they hype, and figuring out what all the hype is about, or acquiring the taste little by little, or shifting into adult tastebuds or whatever. I began to like beer in college. (Although it took a while. Honestly. I'm a nerd. A social nerd, but a nerd.) I began to like coffee just within the last couple years.

Coffee. I still don't crave the taste, but I crave.... it. The experience. The treat. (I don't drink it every day. But even if I did, right, there's that ritual aspect to it.) *The smell.* I walk past a certain mega coffee shop every other morning on my way to class and I take it in. I love walking past. I relish walking past. I look forward to walking past. It smells like a better morning.

This morning, all of about ten minutes ago, I poured oatmeal in the kitchen and saw the small amount of coffee left over from what Judah made this morning. He almost always does this--he calls it a 'Beth-amount.' I usually don't touch it though, for whatever reason. I drink tea. I don't drink anything. Coffee. Eh. It's more of a weekend thing.

But this morning, awaking a little anxious and seeing Judah out a little depressed (it's a work day, after all), I went for it. I poured the Beth-amount of coffee into a small mason jar and took a sip as I walked to the office.

And my immediate thought, not contrived, not consciously constructed, not with pause or deliberations, was

It's a better day already.

Coffee. I don't think that with tea. I love tea--I drink it all day, spicy sweet black tea, earl gray, chamolmile, mint, rooibos--but I just don't have that same reaction. Unless it's a Tanzanian-style black with sugar and milk (special, nostalgic) or a chai latte (special) (or is it the milk? smell? caffeine?)

Anyway. I'm TA-ing an intro advertising class and I think this just proves that I should be writing copy.

It's a better day already.

Catchy, right?

December 31 through January 17, the week classes start, because that's where I found the cheapest fare. Under $700--whew. Hopefully I'll get funding for this, but until (and unless) I do, I'd sure like to keep it on the cheap.

Why back to Ecuador? I have to produce a 'professional project,' the CU newsgathering master's degree version of a thesis. Like a thesis, but much cooler. Because it's a piece of potentially creative communication. (Not saying it's more important than a different kind of thesis--it's just more fun.) I will be producing an online, interactive piece about living on a volcano, using the photographs and interviews I collected at Tungurahua last year plus updated material I'll collect in January. Very exciting. If I pull it off the way I envision it, I think it will be very, very cool.

Things they had that I did not:

• warm beaches
• white Christmases
  (I don't think I realized that the places with warm beaches probably didn't have white Christmases, and vice versa)
• crunchy fall leaves

Every once in a while, we'd get a dry enough spell long enough to make a pile and do the quintessentially fall jump into it, but generally the pile was soggy and slug-infested.

In semi-arid Boulder, however, the leaves are crisp and crunchy and beautiful and abundant, and then it snows and they become snow-covered, and then the snow melts out and the leaves dry out and are crisp and crunchy again. What a marvel.

[Fall is here.]

Last weekend, when the weather was lovely, we went to friends Kacey and Craig's wedding.

We headed out with Eric and Erica--Erica is a long lost friend who is back in Boulder after six(??) years of living elsewhere and traveling around. It's finally sinking in that we live in the same town again, and it is *lovely*.

[Eric and Erica.]

And, Barbara and Marcus were in town from Arizona with little Sebastian.

[Sebastian and Marcus. How do you beat that suit?]

[Much of the (absolutely delicious) dinner came from the farm's own bounty. Thanks, Pastures of Plenty!]

I didn't get any pics of the bride and groom because, well, they were busy with their photographer and had enough lenses in their faces. But thanks, Kacey and Craig, for spoiling us all with a fantastic event, and congratulations on your wedding. May you have many, many, many happy years together!

Judah found our hike online in the morning. An old mine in old gold rush country.

Judah uses his precious-metal-based-machine (iPhone) on top of an old tailings pile.

A spent bedspring.

Judah caught playing with Sonora.

Sebastian, or Seba, is a mover. He's a lot like Sue and Michael's Virl--tall and thin, looking a little bit more like a kid than a baby, and *busy*. Busy busy busy. He's busy scrambling, climbing, pulling himself up to standing, reaching for this or that. Barbara says he's on the go as soon as he wakes up. I think it goes something like: "I guess I'm kind of waking up now, maybe I--hey, what's that?" Reach. Army crawl. Grab, put in mouth.

He also happens to be a very smiley kid. Barb, wish you guys didn't live all the way down in Arizona. But I'm so very glad I had a chance to see you in Colorado.

But first, an update. It's summer. I was stressed the first couple weeks of summer about doing all the things I was supposed to do that I didn't have time to do during finals. And then I was stressed about not doing as much as I could on other things like work for $$ even though I didn't have classes. But that was all mild. Now I've started my summer for real--with two classes, a weekly workshop, an internship, a weekly mentoring thing, and work somewhere tucked in that actually pays. All this, and I'm in debt. Whoever said the 30s are the new 20s (me) was right. I'm in debt like I'm 24 instead of 34 and looking a job prospects that pay like I'm 21.

That said.... damn, I love journalism. We'll see where I'm at in the spring when I'm back on the job market. Come on, job market, come on...

Spring in Boulder means sun, sleet, snow, and sun again, all in the same four hours. It's one of the (many) things I love about Colorado's Front Range.

Spring also brings 420, which I guess is a pretty big deal on the CU campus (much to the administration's chagrin). Here's some of the aftermath:

[420 was the one-year anniversary of the BP oil spill. But, big surprise, stoners aren't so good at cleaning up their messes, either.]

Yesterday, we headed off to 63rd St. Farm, where my ex-housemate Angie worked last summer and where Alyson (Judah's sister) works now. We saw a goat pee on his own chin.

[This goat.]

[And this is how Marianne felt about it.]

Alyson was later told that male goats do this to attract lady goats with their scent. This guy only had one female goat anywhere even close, and she was in the same pen with him already, so I'm pretty sure he could have saved himself the trouble.

Marianne felt better about the dried sunflower we found nearby.

[Baby turkeys are really just small dinosaurs.]

[The greenhouse took Marianne and I back to McMurdo: The one place to experience humidity and plant life on station.]

The farmers, Amanda and Brian, built their own wood-fired pizza stove, which Brian's son Christian kept crankin' the whole time. When we were done with our farm tour, he taught Alyson how to put together the awesomely delicious pizza.

Yum.

Today, in celebration of Easter, we went over to Marialyson's house (Marianne's house, where Alyson also lives) for brunch.

We tried hard to stick with the typical gender roles, so the women worked hard in the kitchen--

--while the men watched cartoons. On an iPhone.

Later, the men worked to decorate the Easter eggs the chickens at 63rd St. Farm were kind enough to color for us.

In case you didn't notice, we dressed in our Easter Sunday best and/or favorite Bible-era garb to pay homage to the holiday.

[Hat and scarf complements of Judah's mom!]

Happy Easter.

And here's my homage to Mexico, Spring Break 2011. Judah and I were there with friends for a wedding, which took us to the touristy, but still lovely, face of the country. (Resort hell pics not included. Three-liter margarita pics also not included.)

The first four are from Sayulita; the last three are Puerto Vallarta.