Following dinner last night we went back to our room. Greg was feeling very full and he fell asleep at 9:00. Around 11:30 I was woken by the sounds of Greg's foot steps running to the bathroom. Slightly disoreiented from being awoken from my sleep I had to ask him why he was dumping buckets of water into the toilet. He hurled five violent times, emptying his entire stomach contents, right down to the last pecan from the street vendor cookies he ate at the beach. (lesson 1: don't buy food from street vendors). Greg sauntered back to bed only to immediately return to the bathroom to empty his entire bowels. You could say he was feeling quite drained. After 5 or 6 such trips Greg finally settled down around 1:00 and had a restless sleepless night while I was snoring away in the next bed.
I was again awakened at 6:30 by Greg who was sitting on the edge of his bed waiting with a splitting headache and aching body for me to wake up and go and get him some more water. He was slightly dehydrated and a little feverish from his long night in the bathroom. Since no stores were open at that time of day, he was just lucky that the hotel had a water cooler in the lobby. Needless to say we did not pack up the bike today and instead rested and went swimming in the Gulf of Mexico. Greg has now pledged to only eat McDonalds for the rest of the trip. No more quesadillas for that guy.
Greg's spanish requires a bit of work. Being the friendly guy that he is, he is trying very hard to communicate with the locals. And thus at McDonalds he ordered 4 quater pounders because "quarter" and "quatro" in his terrible english accent mislead the bewildered clerk to ring four quarter pounders with cheese. It all got worked out in the end and we thouroughly enjoyed our American burgers.
For the most part we had a relaxing day, allowing Greg to recuperate. We found a yummy bakery, had Italian coffees, got our laundry done, and relaxed at the beach and the hotel. Tomorrow we hope to load the motorcycle and see how Greg makes out while navigating our way south. Greg hopes there is a McDonalds in our next town.
So far in our travels we have found the Mexican people to be very helpful, friendly and nice. For example, this morning while we were wandering around town carrying arm loads of dirty laundry, one fellow walked us directly to the lavanderia (laundromat). The beach however is another issue altogether. Here we were constantly bombarded by peddlers. "Would you like a boat ride?", "Would you like a beer?", "Would you like a song?", "Would you like a sunglasses?", "Would you like a watch?", "Would you like a cigars?", "Would you like a chair?" Much like the ocean, these people come in waves. Greg likes everything he sees and tries to talk to the people, confuses the heck out of them and they eventually walk away. Greg's favorite thing to say is "me gusta" (me like).