Mexican Heat

Even the minutest effort in this Mexican heat like getting in a car to cross a few streets for brunch at Starbucks and return to the hotel makes my genetically northern European body exorcise sweat like rivulets joining the Amazon River delta.

[I have always dreamt of going to the Amazon jungle one day, but now I know I can forget about it. Upon my arrival I will probably liquefy and melt away like Jello.]

I know what I am going to do the rest of the day. Stay in my air conditioned hotel room, type away on my computer, sip Skyy Blue's, watch some of yesterday's Currie cup matches and forget about the world out there.

Just lazying around. Isn't that what Sundays are all about?