Ricardo and Omar, of the aforementioned sports television fame, did indeed take us to El Silencio yesterday for a day on the beach. This was a positive turn of events, because hanging out with grownups means you get to do grownup things: in this case, eating mussels and octopus under a beach umbrella and having rounds of pisco sours appearing out of thin air.
I find it disappointing that I'm not as smart as I feel after three of these little time bombs. A list of things we thought were GREAT ideas after baking in the sunshine and enjoying the local moonshine:
1. Buying large fake tattoos of Che Guevara's face. I cannot explain this one.
2. Buying bootleg copies of Precious and that Hugh Grant/Sarah Jessica Parker movie where they have to move to Wyoming in witness protection. Stellar cinematic choices.
So there I was, enjoying a nice leisurely dip, swam out into shark territory, and came back to shore only to have my first riptide experience. I literally got repeatedly punched in the face by the Pacific Ocean, tried to escape and got sucked under again. Finally Marlo and Ricardo pulled me out of the stupid waves and I have never more closely resembled a sea monster. I'm still finding sand in my eyelashes (etc).
Later, the doorman at our apartment told us the waves yesterday had also messed up a bunch of the boats in the shipping port, and I felt a little better about my traumatic experience, but OH MY GOSH, everything they warn you about in swimming lessons in elementary school is true! If you run into an undertow in a back alley, give it all your money and don't talk back.