Manzanillo is one of those beach resorts that Mexicans recommend, after they’ve already recommended all the other ones. I can’t think why. It’s actually the closest to Guadalajara, a bare four hours in one of the luxury buses. The restaurant strip is a bit crappy, judging by the beyond vile, spongy sushi that we had, but no complaints at all with the beach.

We stayed in a little pink hotel that faced directly onto the ocean, and when I opened the door the first morning, it was to see sunshine, waves and the sparkling falling drops of a little old fountain. We were right by the port, but personally I kind of love watching port activities. There were plenty of beach walks, though no swimming in the ocean—these days I find it makes me a bit seasick. It’s probably because of all the margaritas. However, the hotel also had a lovely, clear, and very deep pool, with was a joy to drift around in. I have yet to figure out how to balance a margarita on my stomach, but I’m working on it!