SIX MONTHS AGO
Soaking in the mineral baths, I wonder if the water is supposed to caress me so sensually, intimately. Especially in front of other people. The Indian man, Kris, and the Latino man, Kul, recline at one end of the oval-shaped bath, chatting quietly with each other. Kul seems to have gotten his earlier aggression out of his system, and drinks something that smells alcoholic, like rotgut. Is that allowed in this spa?
"Can i get a beer here?" I ask, facetiously.
Kris looks at me as if I've asked a silly question. "Of course--but why would you need to? You are on, how do you say, a natural high, my friend."
"I'm just asking, because he's drinking moonshine," I say.
Kul splutters. "Idiota! Que desgraciado! This is pulque, not some redneck swill."
Pulque?
