I went to a spa this past weekend that involved mud baths and a massage. The mud was really more like the bottom of an old lake than something luxurious and my masseuse was an old hippie who was the love child of Santa and Z.Z. Top. But it was still relaxing and I did drink nearly a whole bottle of champagne by myself.
There were also a lot of women that looked like men at the bar my group went to. I haven't decided if it was a post-op tranny tour from SF or just a bunch of middle-aged granola loving locals. When I tell the story to others it will probably be the first of the two.
All in all, a nice break from thinking about the Zapatistas.
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