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July 28, 2010
You never hear about the beauty of this place. Just an hour walk to those hulking mountains (barely more than ragged hills) and few hours hike to the tip of them, and you find yourself in Mexico. It is hot, yes. The sun flings itself from the sky like a widow from a tower, and her body breaks on the scrubbed-raw earth and throws light back into your eyes. But there is color in the wind-whipped air. There are flowers--the most delicate, fragile petals you have ever seen, covered, as everything here is, in violent prickly armor.