A motoconcho drives by, after having honked inquiringly - something that happens dozens of times as we walk down the road. Almost every man on a bike shouts, "Concho?" at us as he approaches.
A little fruit and vegetable shed, the store owner sitting just outside the door, as is typical. Inside are rough-hewn wooden shelves loaded with root vegetables, peppers, sacks of dry beans, coconuts and pineapples, etc.
Two little girls dance on their balcony. (No railing, but it's still a pretty fancy building for this part of town.)
A man walking down a street at the quiet "gringo" end of town. The rented cars of tourists drive towards the beach hotels. The road has been smashed up, in preparation for repaving, by men with sledgehammers... very few power tools here.
A motoconcho drives by, after having honked inquiringly - something that happens dozens of times as we walk down the road. Almost every man on a bike shouts, "Concho?" at us as he approaches.
A little fruit and vegetable shed, the store owner sitting just outside the door, as is typical. Inside are rough-hewn wooden shelves loaded with root vegetables, peppers, sacks of dry beans, coconuts and pineapples, etc.
Two little girls dance on their balcony. (No railing, but it's still a pretty fancy building for this part of town.)
A man walking down a street at the quiet "gringo" end of town. The rented cars of tourists drive towards the beach hotels. The road has been smashed up, in preparation for repaving, by men with sledgehammers... very few power tools here.
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