Spanish tutor

There’s a café – true mainland style – above the surf shop. It has the best sandwiches on fresh French baguettes and, of course, bountiful caffeine supply. I am proud to say that I have only had 2 lattes in 2 weeks. This has to be a new record for me. But, Celia likes the hammock chairs and from their rooftop location, it is like out own private hideout from the bustle of the street below.

We swayed and tapped to the Gypsy Kings waiting for our sandwich and sipping a fresh watermelon slushy, we inventoried our favorite things about Mexico and discussed whether we’d come back to Todos Santos next year. Celia said, “Next year we can make sure the school is open so I can play with someone beside you.”

I shook off the dig because no one would like that better than me. I said, “And I will arrange for a Spanish tutor for me.” Celia looked at me for a moment as if to judge whether I was kidding and then started giggling.

“Maaaaamaaaaa….yuck! Why would you want a Mexican person who farts?”

When I eventually composed myself enough to spell out the distinction between “tooter” and “tutor”, our lunch arrived and I enjoyed my latte in exceptionally good humor.