The Anti-Havana

I am surrounded by pink.
A gaggle of Bratz, a dozen Barbies and a hunderd other dolls stare in my direction with empty eyes.
To my right, a metropolis of cheap perfumes in bright plastic bottles tops a dresser.
To my left, an ominous plan chest. Toys cover every available surface. Teenie bop idols plaster the door.
The bed is firm and I didn´t spend the night battling mosquitoes, nor did a four o´clock rooster make a drunken declarations to the neighborhood.
But you can´t drink the water and everything is served in styrofoam.

More on Mexico later...