Progressing from Progresso, scooting on to Cozumel

I must be honest, Progresso in Mexico isn't much to write home about. This is it.

One strip of beach with not-too-clear water, and a few streets like this. The main convenience store is called Oxxo, where we bought this interestingly named treat (which was supposed to be tamarind flavour, but was definitely not to my taste although I like fresh tamarind) and here's a street.

Why are all these people waiting here?


The best thing we found in Progresso was a particular restaurant called El Viero e el Mare or something like that, translating as The Old Man and the Sea.

Together with Vampiros (a bloody Mary, but made with tequila naturally) we made friends on two separate occasions with this small cat. The owners of the restaurant told us she just showed up, about two months ago and just stayed, the same day as the restaurant next door had acquired a new inhabitant also. This cat is called Pantera, and they'd named the one next door Tigro.

She was gorgeous, I fell in love. She chilled with us, wanting to be stroked and thrown the occasional chunk of fish from our fish platter for a good hour.

She was fiesty too, as you can see, but mostly she just wanted love and attention.

So, moving on to Cozumel and Eric's Birthday, we rented this "sweet ride" for $30, and went to explore.

It was at least 15 years old, backfired when we slowed down and stopped of it's own accord at traffic lights.

Once you get outside of downtown, Cozumel becomes rugged and beautiful, with unspoilt beaches and only occasional bars or basic hotels.

The roads are falling into disrepair, scooters, beware of pot-holes!

We stopped for lunch at this restaurant, which I'm pretty sure had no electricity.

A big plate of barbeque fish later, we went to the beach, swam (here's the Birthday boy!)

and slept on the sand for nearly two hours. We'd gone all the way down the West Coast of the island (with it's excellent snorkelling opportunities!) to the southernmost tip, and so all that remained was for us to carry on in a loop along the East coast, past scenery like this, and then across the island on the one main road there is, to get back.

Blonde ambitions of my Birthday-boy Boyfriend!

Reader, this post must begin with an admission. Although born a natural blonde, I must admit to "helping the colour along" with a bottle of dolled-up bleach. Here it is.

Now, I do not know exactly why, maybe it was his impending 29th Birthday, but when I embarked upon the latest root-retouch of my hair, Eric became quite involved in the proceedings, helping me with the back bits and generally asking questions.

No sooner had I turned my back than Eric, colour-brush in hand had turned the remnants of the bottle towards his own head.

When I realised he was quite intent on colouring his hair, I tried to help out and was carefully told "I just want an even sheen of colour". These are unusual words from my boyfriend. The same thing applies for his next phrase: "Do you have a hand-mirror?"

Here we are, then. Yes, that is bemused confusion on my face.

After 20 minutes I washed my hair as usual, checked the colour and had to leave for a cut appointment in the spa, and so left Eric with clear instructions on the next step in his colour treatment.

When I returned, Eric informed me he'd already applied extra bleach to some "uneven spots" and unveiled his new look proudly. I'm the girlfriend of a Nordic Blonde, reader!

Eat your heart out, Johnnie Rotten!