#91
The Casitas el Tajin Campground on the Emerald Coast was 30Pesos per person, per night. It’s there, not long after we got the tent set up, that we met Mort & Diane, who had had been traveling for months from British Columbia in their RV, loaded with Mort’s home brew “vodka” and a freezer full of meat.
D: I just saw Diane, she invited us to eat dinner with them.
We hadn’t had a proper meal since we left the States, so the invitation was a welcome one.
That evening the four of us walked over and sat around outside their RV while birds flew in and out a nest in one of the palm trees lining the campsite. The sun was low, the air was warm and humid. Mort was working the BBQ like a pro while Diane finished preparing some salad inside.
Mort: What brings you guys down here?
Me: Escaping the cold.
Mort pulled out a bottle of his home brew and six shot glasses.
Mort: Make it myself from sugar and potatoes.
Diane: It will knock your socks off!
The next morning, my neck hurt. No one else was up. Mort’s home brew had kicked our asses. I slipped quietly out of my sleeping back and ran down to the water, stripped, and ran in. By the time I got back to the tent, the guys were awake. Their eyes, red.
Me: I’ll make the coffee.