Back from the Yucatan

Ginger and I are namby-pamby chickens. We didn't go to Cuba. We knuckled under at the threat from our own government of massive fines for exercising our right to free movement and stayed in Mexico. Being die-hard Mexico lovers, this was not a tragedy for us. We were able to discover several Puuc-Mayan archeological sites that no one has ever seen before (pictures forthcoming), and enjoy the elite privilege of climbing pyramids that are sure to be restricted from the use of hoi-polloi tourists in the course of time. OK, we didn't "discover" them. But if Colombus can make that claim, I guess I can too.
In case you wonder why I posted a picture of a dingy-ish fruit juice shop instead of kick-ass pyramid or beach pictures, let me say that I feel compelled to begin my series of reports from Mexico with a diarrhea warning. In my many many many trips to and travels within Mexico, I have suffered diarrhea on several occasions. Usually it is just a temporary adjustment to the food. This time was something different. Ginger and I had trudged into the main plaza in Mérida, after a very pleasant air-conditioned $22US per person bus ride from Cancún, and found lodging at a hostel on the main plaza (more about the hostel later). We bunged (that's bung with an ed at the end- British english) our stuff into a locker at the hostel and hit the streets to see what we could of our favorite city. There was a sort of sad-looking little juice shop next door to our hostel (see picture above) and, driven by primal memories of a veggie-juice mix called a vampiro, I steered us to seats at the counter. The shop workers were not apparently much concerned with proximity to godliness. Ok. It was pretty dirty. But I didn't get skeered. I've eaten and drunk from much dirtier-looking places before (my own kitchen is not all that clean) so my spidey-sense didn't set to tingling. I ordered a vampiro. Vampiros are heavenly, when properly prepared: carrot, beet, and celery juice, all together and fresh - you can FEEL the vitamins entering the bloodstream. I was so stoked about finding a vampiro that I was willing to ignore the workers' reckless disregard of all water-hygiene practices. Ginger was more circumspect.
She questioned.
She pointed out.
She hesitated.
And then she ordered a papaya-water.
After we watched the barista half-ass wash the blender in mucky-looking tapwater and proceed to frappé the papaya with some highly questionable H2O, Ginger and I raised our glasses in a toast to arriving in Mérida, the jewel of the Yucatan, and to the bacteria and amoebas that we were pretty sure would soon be tunneling into our digestive systems (picture forthcoming).
Yes, massive diarrhea followed within 2 days.
Now, we cannot say FOR CERTAIN that Jugos California was the scene of the crime. It could have been anywhere else or it could have just been the normal result of the change in food. But I want to have somebody to blame besides myself, so Jugos California it is.
Look for more reports and awesomely cool pictures soon...