This weekend my boyfriend and I ducked away for a final trip to the beach before I leave for England. We caught the bus to Manzanillo, about four hours away. I was extremely neurotic before-hand, as it had been raining quite a bit in Guadalajara, and I didn't want to spend the weekend sitting under a rock watching the ocean. Saturday turned out to be beautiful; Sunday rained, but it was all right anyway. I always forget that once you're at the beach it doesn't matter so much what the weather is like, so long as it's humid and smells salty, everything is just fine.
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