It was in Isla Mujeres, Mexico; probably 1997. We'd had a rubbish couple of nights in Cancun in the concrete jungle and were keen to get back out away from the big American hotels.We got the ferry out mid afternoon. It was hot, no shade anywhere. At the ferry port in Isla Mujeres a smiling, short plump Mexican grandmother offered us a room.
The apartment was airy and comfortable. After a quick discussion on price, we happily accepted, and as soon as she left we clambered into our swimsuits and dashed down to the beach for the last of the sun.
We took a swim in the sea as the sun was setting over the horizon, and then from one of the beach shacks we bought our first frozen margerita of the evening, and toasted the perfect end to a great day.
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