MUNGO EATS Latin America

We moved to the coast today.  Oh, FIRST, we found a good grocery store (with cheese!!!) and loaded up the van.  We were planning to camp on the beach, but as usual, things don’t always go as planned.  The place where we believed we could camp was not open to us because of Mungo.  Not that the owner did not like dogs, just the opposite, he liked dogs so much that he had 4 or 5 of his own and would rather we not add ours to the mix.  He did suggest a friend that might let us camp in his yard, but after we were on the beach for a while, we decided that a hotel might be a better option.  Mungo (and let’s face it, I) was very hot and I just couldn’t see how we could enjoy the beach and have him panting up a storm. 

There were a number of hotels along the beach and so Kevin and I started heading towards them, when we were stopped by a lady named Ana.  She knew of a hotel, that would allow dogs and had a kitchen and a pool and she could take us there if we wished.  Many people in Central America earn a living trying to find people for different hotels.  If they bring in a customer,  they earn a commission, so at first we just thought she was one of these people.  Then she started telling us about how she could get us a free breakfast, deals on tours, etc.  So then we thought, okay, maybe this is some sort of time share scam.  Anyway, eventually we decided to go and check out this place that she was trying to sell us on.  As we were leaving the first beach, two different people told us to be careful with this gal and not to trust her.  ALARM, ALARM, ALARM!!!  She was in a van ahead of us as we started up the road, and at first all was good.  At one point she turned into a gated community, ALARM, ALARM, ALARM.  She jumped out of her vehicle and told us there was more than one way to get to the hotel.  Okay…At one point the van she was in stopped in the middle of the road and a second vehicle that we had just passed started coming up behind us.  I thought it was some sort of ambush.  ALARM, ALARM, ALARM.  Eventually, we got to the so called hotel, which was actually a condo complex.  We had to wait to be shown the room because the person that had the key had just left.  ALARM, ALARM, ALARM.  And of course, we will need to have a credit card number on file to cover any incidentals.  ALARM, ALARM, ALARM, ALARM, ALARM!!!!  Okay, time to leave this crazy woman and go look for a legitimate hotel. 

So we went back to beach number one and after a record 5 “sorry, no pets allowed” responses, we resorted to the old “he’s a service dog” act.  Now Sean can’t be seen alone without the “Caesar dog”.  We are pitiful!!  Oh well, I am happily pitiful as I sit in an air conditioned room.