Thanks for all your kind comments on the pattern! You've already helped me work out a few kinks.
While the pattern marinates down there, let me tell you a little bit more about our Mexican Adventure earlier this month...
Ensenada California is in Mexico, actually, regardless of the name. We had this sleepy little Baja town mostly to ourselves as we wandered through the streets on a hazy Saturday morning. I herded Ben and myself off the boat first-thing, while other ship passengers nursed hangovers over their crunchy eggs and bloody marys. We slipped away with slices of toast. I wanted a peek at an unadulterated Ensenada, bereft of the waddling tourist and their booming voices.
We emerged so early that we even beat most of the locals to town, it seemed. Early in the morning, Ensenada felt like a ghost town, which was fine by me. The air smelled like Mexico should smell, a scent of sea and wind and burnt corn. Our only goals were to explore and perhaps nab some sunscreen (stupid airplane policies). We managed both.
It's a town that doesn't quite know what it wants to be, I think. Modern and historic shops fought it out side by side. We eventually stumbled into a quaint cafe, open on one of handful of narrow streets.
Ignore the menu ~ they do not actually know what a "frappe" is. However, whatever this honey-vanilla drink was that they gave me instead was a pretty nice way to begin my day. Don't I look relaxed in this photo? Well, I can tell you that I was indeed a laid back and happy girl that morning. I only have wee coin purses under my eyes, a vast improvement from the slouchy handbag look I've had going on lately.
It didn't take long to explore the main corridor of Ensenada, but we were mostly charmed by what we found. The people were very nice.
From the proliferation of signs and shops, we figured prescription drug sales (without a prescription) are a cash cow for this border town.
As the day warmed, street vendors popped up everywhere. We happened by one of their staging areas, where a woman prepared candies in little packets for waifish children to sell to the tourists.