Mi semana en México por los números
10 Approximate yards from my room to the beach.
4 Bruises sustained from learning how to windsurf.
1.5 Hours spent kayaking on the ocean.
3 References to The Wizard of Oz ("You're certainly not in Kansas anymore, are you?!" — And people think they're so clever when they say that, as if they must be the first person who has helped me achieve this enlightenment.)
5 Middle-aged American men who bought me drinks.
2 Young Mexican men who bought me drinks.
0 Drinks I bought.
6 Times I heard Madonna on the radio.
1 Tackle shop named "Master Baiter" in the city center.
Also 1 Woman wearing a Willies t-shirt (the Columbia bar) in the Puerto Vallarta airport. She grew up in CoMo and still lives there.
809 My America West flight home.
Countless One-kiss greetings on the cheek.

• Mexicans smoke. A lot. There were ashtrays on top of the toilet paper dispensers in the airport.
• I am much more impressed with my French retention after realizing how little Spanish I've remembered from elementary school. (Although I could easily recall "Vino tinto, por favor," the phrase I memorized before spending a weekend in Barcelona two and a half years ago.) Actually, I impressed myself with how quickly I learned, thanks to my Mexican traveling partners/language coaches: Rocio, Maria, Fernando and Diego. Although, I did find myself creating some kind of English-Spanish-French hybrid language: Sprench. "Oú est les baños?"
• Not only has Wal*Mart (plus Sam's Club), McDonald's and Madonna invaded Mexico, but so has Gold's Gym, KFC and — horrors! — Comic Sans on local signage.
• They pronounce their "V" more like "B," so Puerto Vallarta sounds more like, "Porto Bayarta."

How I ended up spending an evening in the penthouse of the resort with a trio of millionaires
I'm sitting on the bus between the parking lot and the Phoenix airport when the middle-aged guy across the aisle from me says, "So where are you heading?" "Mexico," I reply. "Really? Where in Mexico?" he asks. "Puerto Vallarta," I reply again. "Really? Where are you staying?" he asks yet again. "A resort called the Playa del Sol Grand, I think," I reply for the third time. "Ha! Same here! I own a condo there." Having grown up with a timeshare-owning family, the phrase, "We have a condo there," hasn't ever really impressed me, because I'd always interpreted that as owning a week at a condo, not the unit itself. He was meaning it literally, though. He owns the penthouse unit. And during his time there, dropped another $2.2 mil on two more condos, including another penthouse. Idiot that I am, I never even thought to give them my card, or ask for any of their's in return. So I'll probably never see my Phoenix golf-course owning millionaire friends again.

Pictures TK...as soon as I take the time to install my new camera software on Jack the Mac

While I was out
The following notable events happened:
Kate and Adam got engaged!
My sister was accepted to a summer institute at Georgetown.
Ralph Edwards died. This is significant for our family; my grandfather will be speaking at his funeral.
Bill Snyder retired from coaching the K-State football team.

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