Oh, the humidity!

So it´s definitely been raining. The last thing I expected. The clouds are still out there, hanging around... Oh no, please go away before we need to get to the bus stop! Please!

The temperature´s a little more bearable up here. Mulege is absolutely full of palm trees, and it´s by a river, and it´s quite cute but quite small. They had a flash flood a couple of weeks ago, so down by the river there are dead cars and fallen streetlights.

There´s not a heck of a lot to do. Our hotel room is beautiful, it has bright colours and carved wooden headrests. I took a 40min walk to the beach, and all I found was a lot of stones. It could have been a beach in England (then when I double-checked the guidebook, found that it was polluted and not recommended for swimming). I keep spying these gorgeous beaches from the bus, all white sand and turquoise water, but am realising that it takes a car to get to them. I was so unhappy at this thought that I wrote a song about it.

We did take a tour up to a cave painting site in the hills, a rare tourist luxury. The landscape was incredible, the hills all red and rocky with sunlight playing off them, the cacti huge and towering above the trees, all green from the recent rain. Hiking up to the cave (slash wall, there was minimal concave action going on there) there were frogs dancing all over the place. I guess they don´t get many feet tramping on them. We were shown a cave where the native people apparently used to live; I never really believed that anyone would want to settle down in a big dark hole in a rock, but this one looked quite comfortable and spacious. The painting itself was pretty exciting (although I´ve always thought they look like they´ve been done by a wayward child with a crayon). There were deer and turtles and stuff. Most interesting were the small white handprints; little signatures, marks from a long time ago, with the same mentality as graffiti. I was here, I existed, this is me, this is my mark.