Last full day of this, alas.

Let's see what's on the agenda . The staff sends out a list of activities that celebrates the persistence of 1990s computer graphics:

  9 PM Beach party? Count us in! But first, all the basics.


That was for my last Americano by Valentin, with whom I have exchange a handshake every day over our little ritual. I am at the bar at 4, as is my custom, writing this.


That was an expression of surprise when I saw this fellow foraging in the bushes.

Coatimundi. Natalie, upon seeing the picture, called it a “Borzoi Raccoon.” I demand that they be domesticated and incorporated into the pet pantheon. Apparently they can be, and sometimes are, but I’ve no idea how they bond or if they bond, submit to petting, look at you with big pleading eyes when it’s dinnertime, and all those things.

French dinner tonight, light packing, drink in the Skybar.

Well, once last time to the gym . . .

And there he is. Or was.


We took the boat to the restaurant. Before watching, use the gear icon to switch to the highest resolution for maximum viewing enjoyment.

The French dinner was good. All the food's been good. The Mexican Resort interpretation of French Decor:

The "Modern Versailles" idea doesn't fit with the food, which is all provincial. Peasant fare, but the descriptions were in French. I had the Chateaubriand, and it was delicious. Lovely view (if it displays; not working for me, no idea. Don't worry, isn't much.)

At Gravity, the Skybar, we were reminded that it was Beach Party night:

As fun as it looked, the music was LOUD, and the crowd was mostly the young people who'd come for the wedding, and were careening around to the thumping junk. Pass, alas.









The stay has reached the welcome point of exhaustion with paradise. Time to go home. This means the slightly frantic morning, the long ride to the airport - which gets better every time, since the road construction is better - and then a stay in the ridiculously expensive airport. I intend to use my time to put these Bleats together and work on an essay I have due in a few days.

No more desserts after every meal. No more croissants or French toast every morn. No more Americano made with skill and delivered without a drop marring the perfect white saucer. No Coatis or lizards, no basting lummoxes at the beach or alarming thongs that broadcast the wearer’s supreme, and utterly unearned, confidence. No more walking back from the gym in the sun, just luxuriating in the absence if anything pressing but looking for the bottle opener to pop a Ciel.

The only thing to do now is leave. I have mentally removed myself from the place entirely, and now exist in the in-between state that will not conclude until I enter my own house. It is not an entirely pleasant state, as I am not in full control, but subject to the actions of others. Wife is in no such state and merrily bounces off to play tennis in the morning.

We experience the ritual Severing of the Wrist Band at the front desk, then wait for the transportation. We are served champagne while we wait. The driver is genial and plays Queen’s Greatest Hits all the way to the airport. Another study in MEXICO, LAND OF CONTRASTS

So modern, so new

A block later:

There's a unique form of decreptitude in these places.

This one had pretensions, once:

It has the look of an AI generated picture that didn't have enough instructions:

The plague of graffiti has an international style, borrowed from the US. CULTURAL APPROPRIATION

Claudia Sheinbaum, you say?

Claudia Sheinbaum Pardo (born 24 June 1962) is a Mexican politician, scientist, and academic. Sheinbaum served as Head of Government of Mexico City, a position equivalent to that of a state governor, from 2018 to 2023. Elected as the candidate of the leftist Juntos Haremos Historia coalition, she was both the first woman and first Jewish person to be elected to the position. She is a candidate for President of Mexico in the 2024 Mexican general election.

We arrive with plenty of time, check in, breeze through security, then just sit around and read for an hour until it’s time to get utterly reamed, price-wise, at the food court. Then it’s on the plane and up and out. I have a solid nap, wake, dine a bit, watch a season 8 Perry Mason, and then we’re down. Bags - the long, long wait - and the cab home, where Birch is overjoyed to see us.

And that was that.

I have no idea what I’ll tell you next time.