Red Flag Day

In my hometown, it's thirty degrees with icy rain. On this Mexican beach, it's eighty two, very humid and the sky is a composition in gray. It's better here than there, yet people are disappointed. They have deserted the beach with its red warning flag. A red warning flag means strong, erratic rip tides. It means be very careful if you must frolic in the sea. Ellis and I must do nothing. We're on holiday. After a morning at the pool painting, I chose to spend the afternoon painting on the balcony of our room watching swallow-like birds gliding effortlessly from updraft to updraft in the ever changing gray sky while listening to Peter, Paul and Mary singing El Salvador. This is the first day, I feel entirely at home, totally at ease, just in time to move on.

After the rain, I added the last ocean view sunrise I will see from this hotel to yesterday's post. I don't think we'll be as lucky with the location of our room at our next stop, the Ritz Carlton, three hotels down towards town.
At breakfast this morning we will be saying good bye to all the friends we made this JW Marriott stay: Mike and Terry, David and Michael, Rich and Chris, Dennis and Kathleen. Strangers all, strangers no more.