camellie in Mexico, part 3

There's a multi-level, clifftop restaurant on the way to Mismaloya called, imaginatively enough, Le Kliff. I saw the listing on Yelp while searching for the city's best (it was my birthday trip, after all), but we initially balked at the $$$$ price rating -- until we remembered that a Puerto Vallartan $$$$ = an LA $$, so we said fuck it, and went. It was our most expensive meal by far and it was about $70. Huzzah.

We had the place entirely to ourselves, and it was every bit as breezy, airy, and glorious as it looks:





Full disclosure: I didn't like the food, which was overwrought and overthought. But they made a killer pina colada, which was really all I required the entire trip - one pina colada per hour of daylight; two per hour of nightlife. And maybe some guac.

And so, nightlife. We dined and we danced, and we divided our time between straight bars and gay bars. Storms had been forecast for the entire week, but we lucked out -- there was maybe one evening of very light rain. I will never forget that night, the gritty streets still hot from a scorching sun, now sizzling as raindrops hit them. For some reason, now long lost to rum and tequila, we sang the Little Mermaid soundtrack as we walked across town. Later, after dancing ourselves sweaty and emerging from a pulsing club, we caught the tail end of some fireworks. We ate street tacos, debated continuing the night despite our exhaustion, because we never wanted the trip to end. The sights and sounds and smells pushed everything else from our heads, all our worries and stresses from back home...until, of course, being the best friends that we are, we disclosed them in the quiet of Cameron's room. Or rather I did, and he listened.

It was like he'd never moved away. It will always be like that, I know, and for that I am unspeakably lucky. To have a true best friend, to have real emotional intimacy and boundless comfort with even just one other human being in this crazy, crushing life? If you have that, what more could you possibly ask for?

Reinas, an awesome little spot frequented by expats, queens, and would-be queens (there's an entire rack of dresses as well as a vanity loaded with cosmetics, and patrons are encouraged to go to town with both)

Hydration is important, kids. As are post-dinner, table-top disco naps. 

Tannest my legs have been in a decade. I was proud, ok?


Fuel.




Bo Derek I am not.


It was great to get away, to take a much needed break from work and from LA. But even better than coming home feeling refreshed, I felt empowered. It was a reminder that having someone amazing in your corner can make you emotionally invincible -- unfortunate maillot fabric folds notwithstanding.