Pamplona has the running of the bulls, and Ixtapa has the running of the turtles. No one gets hurt because what they do at one of the hotels is release hundreds of baby turtles who, upon release, act on an instinct to return to the Pacific. A yearly festival here: the turtles lead us into the New Year. Mighty environmental of them.
Kris and I had a great day. We took three long walks on the beach, got plenty of sun, read and read and read. I finished Sowell’s Personal Odyssey, read a chp in Schmiechen’s Saving Power, and started Sensbach’s Rebecca’s Revival.

Tonight the hotel is putting on an Ano Nuevo festival; dinner doesn’t begin until 9:30pm, and that is almost bed-time for us. I can’t remember the last time we made it to the midnight hour — we sometimes, in CST, make it until the New York apple falls.
It was fun to get up for the early risers approach to the beach: there has always been some kind of heron on the beach scarfing up shells and small crustaceans, and he welcomed me back this winter. I’m usually joined by the occasional early morning walker or runner, but tomorrow, Jan 1, I’ll probably be alone. Nothing like having this piece of the Pacific to yourself for a half an hour or so. Today I did the Little Book of Hours from the Community of Jesus. Nice set of prayers.