Oaxaca Mexico: We’re Still Talking About This?


Okay, I know I’m like the worst blogger ever. I despise it when my favorite bloggers go on hiatus and my continuous *click*refresh* yields nothing new. BUT I’ve been on the move.

Oaxaca was so much fun that I have been dragging this story out for like 3 weeks now I think. Just to put us all out of our misery:

We danced, danced and danced some more (well, Paul did anyway)
We bought drinks until our pockets held only lint
We stayed out until it was so late that we debated going to breakfast
We drank the prettiest cappucino ever made
I talked literature, music and travel with The Crush under the stars
The impossible curls, smile and baby brown eyes of The Crush
We watched bootleg movies
Visited The Crush at work
We drank the best.hot.chocolate.ever on a beautiful rainy evening
We watched locals dance in the zocalo at midnight
We sang more karaoke
We took Salsa lessons ($5.50US for 1.5hrs-video here of Andrea)
Received roses (no, these are not from the crush)
Danced with The Crush and The Crew
Drank the worm
Fell in lurve with the Moon
Laughed, laughed and laughed some more
Caught a cold

And…we left for Cuernavaca, holding out hope that The Crush could join us, but college boys gotta work hard for the money.

3 thoughts on “Oaxaca Mexico: We’re Still Talking About This?”

  1. Dia,
    Three weeks is not too long in the scheme of things to make many happy memories. The Crush was worth the stay all by himself, not to mention the added benefit of dancing for exercise, sampling the delicious looking drinks and bettering international relations.
    Don’t work too hard and hope to see you soon.

  2. Really nice pics – though “The Crush” must have been getting suspecious (sic) – particularly after your “Just one more picture – this time I need to jump in your lap.”

    Also, if you are drinking and drinking until there is nothing but lint in your pocket, I have it from some British lads (the worlds authority on fast and heavy drinking) that you are doing it wrong:

    Stage 1: start drinking with enormous amount of money
    Stage 2: Wake up, having remembered buying 3 or 4 drinks tops, but all you money is mysteriously gone
    Stage 3: Call your friends to ask them if you should go to the police but can’t get a word in before they start in on how they couldn’t believe it when you hired that stripper to go over to the police car
    Stage 4: Stare at your hand and try to read the 8 different club stamps that have magically appeared.
    Stage 5: Wonder why all of your friends and a few strangers now call you a new nickname, “Karaoke Killer”, but are too afraid to ask for details.

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