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Mexico |By Joyce Carles

Walking along the ruins of Tulum, I felt the sun like a blanket wrapped around me. A blanket I could not discard. Wanting to crawl into one of the gray, dilapidated Mayan structures and curl up in a shaded corner, maybe just melt into the sand. I heard the tour guide speaking about the sea and how the people could see the boats, but their city was disguised by the embankment lined with palm trees. She said once we got there we could go down to the beach and take a dip. The beach looked to be a million miles away. All this was running through my aching head. Hearing a sudden shout from Ursula, “We’re going back.” Ursula shoved a water bottle into my hands. “Drink,” her anxious voice demanded. I took the bottle and poured it over my head. It evaporated immediately, but I enjoyed a second of pure joy. My legs were getting wobbly as Ursula pulled me along. She stopped under a lone palm only to pull my bottled water out of my purse and when I got it I did the same thing. I was dry in minute