Enduring a Chubasco in Zihuatanejo
We watched from our cottage as rows of arched terra-cotta tiles slid off the steeply pitched roof of the open-air bar, sliding off in perfect sequence. First one row would go, and then when it was gone, the next row would begins its journey, like soldiers marching across a parade field. The raging bay-water, just a few feet away, hurled itself against the up-tilted rock outcrop, exploding like wet fireworks. Beyond the shore was an endless procession of peaks and troughs of white-capped waves that terrified my seasick soul. [Ira Spector]
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International, The World We Share, Travel and Food



