Thursday we had a mellow day, starting with room service. Again with the magical mystery cups.
Everyone insisted that we see the cliff diver. It didn’t sound that amazing, but I’m not a lie-by-the-pool kind of traveler, so we headed over. It wasn’t a cliff. It was a ruin, wayyyy too close to the beach. The same family dives here. If you dive when the waves are out, you will probably die. There were rocks submerged just below the water. You have to time it just right so the waves are in and the water is deep enough. It made it much scarier than your average cliff diver.
Plus there is an intense proximity. Like someone walking the high wire in the Big Top isn’t impressive, but if someone walked across your clothesline you’d be pretty damn impressed. I think we gave him 20 bucks if I remember correctly, then another five or ten as a tip for letting me tape him.
I’m glad he didn’t die on my 20 bucks because that would make me responsible. I’d rather be part of a crowd tipping him. Like Shirley Jackson’s The Lottery or firing squad, no one person has to carry the burden of culpability.
We ate dinner at Playa Bruja’s Mr Lionoso. I didn’t realize they had 2 for 1 margaritas. Their ceviche not as good as at El Memin and the lobster was overcooked.
But the giant cheese-stuffed bacon-wrapped shrimp were out of this world.
The atmosphere was charmingly tropical in a Tiki Room sort of way. A panflute player serenaded us with what sounded like early Beegees, and I would swear one song was The Sultans of Swing.
The interesting outdoor tropical décor was enhanced by the location right on the beach. At one point a toddler wearing water wings and little else came tunning up from the beach. My first instinct was, “One escaped! Throw it back into the water, quick!