Here’s how it works. You are walking down the street to go to breakfast at the community center, which is the gringo hangout in downtown Punta Pérula. They make donations to the local schools which is nice but it’s also nice sometimes to spend an hour away in a familiar culture.
And then there was the goat. The sign above says this way to goat milk and they weren’t kidding.
You can lambast me for seeking a little piece of North America in Mexico but I’m open to new experiences too. I’ll bet you anything you want you’ve never seen this set up before. Come to that neither had I. This is Mexico, one handful at a time.
Fresh goat milk on demand, with flavors you choose. Layne rejected the addition of moonshine but she did choose chocolate and a touch of marzipan. It was warm and delicious.
The community center breakfast was classic North American and I enjoyed a croissant for the first time in a while.
We hung out with a couple of women who came in from the morning pickleball game in the town square. The conversation meandered around the world as we shared stories from the road. One woman sailed with her husband to the Mediterranean down the Suez Canal to the Seychelles. She her husband and their child ended up in East Africa where he settled down to a job with the United Nations. Their two year sail led to a twelve year working commitment. It was a good breakfast.
Rusty had a bit of a dog gauntlet to run to get back to GANNET2 but Layne and I bent down and picked up stones, the universal Mexican gesture to tell a dog to back off.
Rusty checking the way ahead:
Mexico runs on small motorcycles generally around 150cc and used like little workhorses.
Our neighbor across the way had been getting ready to go north to the US on his eventual way back to Québec.
