I had barely unpacked my carry-on bag and tossed in a load of long-overdue wash, when I discovered a forgotten souvenir of my travels tucked in the side pocket of my bag. It was reminiscent of an unopened present discovered beneath all the torn wrappings on Christmas morning.
Flip flops, bathing suits, souvenirs, watches — all for a buck or less. We descended on the shops like aged Canadians at a Florida all-you-can-eat buffet. We relaxed a bit on our budget and had supper at an excellent Chinese restaurant so we could idle in the air-conditioning after a day traipsing up and down the frying pan that doubled as a sidewalk. Afterwards, we strolled into the immense Supermercado Rey and bought huge jars of peanut butter and paid less than 40 cents for cans of Balboa beer (an indicator of the true cost of living, verdad?).
