The strange noises haunting me in the middle of the night no longer burdened my tired eyes. But that morning before heading out for the day, I did the usual bathroom, fill water, pack bag routine. In the midst of prepping, I noticed a black hair in the front of my head. I'm not talking dark brown. Now, you have to understand that I am blond. And when you are blond and in the sun with your hair pulled back, the front hair turns an almost white blond from being bleached by the sun. Smack in midst of the blond hair a thick, black hair hung taunting in my head. Instantly, I yanked it and wrapped it around my finger to show proof to my parents.
Running out to the dock where my mother was waiting, I cluntched my hand in a fist of fear and disbelief to give proof that I wasn't crazy. I didn't imagine it. Was the little Maya girl taking over my body? Showing my mother the hair, she brushed my comment off, saying that I have lots of different colors of hair on my head and she's certain it was just a dark blond or brown. I pulled my black bag up and compared. I pulled the black trim on my shirt up and compared. I pulled my mom's fleece shirt over and campared. The hair was definiately black.
A baby crocodile waiting for morning morsels by the dock outside Villas Archeologica.
Stampeeding the ruins one last time, we took photos, film, sweat, laughed, and even got a ride on a bike taxi. The day was going smoothly, and I have to admit that I was relieved to be leaving Coba and heading to the coast for a couple of days playing in the Ocean.
Everything was going smoothly until ...
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