Half a moon tonight, so fewer stars visible. Still, I loved my moonlight swim.

I also swam first thing this morning. Have I mentioned that none of the showers in this park have hot water? If I swim during the heat of the day, my pre-swim shower is warm, at least for a few seconds - but early in the morning, before the sun has heated the pipes, the shower is cold, and so is the pool. A week ago, I would have shuddered at the very thought of taking a cold shower, but now I accept it as part - several parts, actually - of my daily routine.

I could take a shower in the RV, of course - except for one little problem. When our tire blew a few days ago, it destroyed the compartment under the rig that holds the sewer hose in place - so although we could use the hose, getting it in and out of its precarious perch is a most unpleasant proposition. I have been asked, therefore, to put as little waste water as possible into our tank, thus postponing the inevitable task. Not that any of this makes sense to me, but I am trying to co-operate. Someday, I trust, we will be able to get that compartment replaced, and I will have my shower back. Meanwhile, I am a traveling ascetic.

So after my morning swim, we took the RV to the tire shop from which Robin had ordered two tires. They installed those two, plus the two that we bought in Manzanillo. We now have four brand new rear tires (the front tires were replaced just before we left Canada). With another four thousand miles or so to travel on this journey, we really needed to do that.

I was unwise yesterday, spent too much time in the sun, so when we got back from the tire shop, I was wary about going for my afternoon swim. Instead, I spent the day inside the RV, with the air conditioner blasting. It was 33C outside, far too hot for me. I wanted to go downtown to buy groceries, but there was no way I was going out in that heat. I waited until 4:30 this afternoon, then took two buses to get to a supermarket, rather than going to the public market, mostly because I figured the supermarket would be air conditioned.

The first bus was parked down by the beach. When I boarded it, I saw that there were four men on board with guitars. One of them was strumming a bit, but nobody was actually playing, to my disappointment. A big man with grey hair and a lovely voice boarded after I did. He started singing, then chatted with one of the guitarists, then sang some more. The bus might hold twenty people in a pinch, but there were only eleven of us on board today, including the driver, and the atmosphere was convivial. A few blocks into the trip, the driver turned on the radio - to something like a Mexican version of soft rock - and the man across from me sang along. It occurred to me that I was doing something I've always loved - sitting in the middle of a group of strangers who didn't speak my language. I used to love walking around in Chinatown in Toronto, for the same reason. Nobody knew me, and nobody understood a word I said (or vice versa), and I found it oddly liberating - as long as I didn't really need to communicate.

I came home by cab and shut myself indoors again, cooked and ate supper, and finally went for a walk on the beach with Robin, well after sundown. This time, the beach was empty - except for what we thought were a couple of swimmers way down the beach, standing hip deep in the surf. They turned out to be not swimmers at all, but fishers. One of them walked out of the water, grinning, carrying a big fish on the end of a short line. A restaurant halfway down the beach was surrounded by lighted tiki torches. All I could think was omigod it must be hot in there!