It seemed at first like any other family trip with mom all excited and planning, my step dad telling everyone not to pack to much, getting on another plane, and then we land. First thing that I noticed was the heat, it made my knees buckle. Then looking around and seeing all the men with guns, everyone seems so serious going through the lines that have green and red light that either say that you can go or you have to be stopped and searched. It was scary seeing all of this right before my eyes. Everyone was speaking a language that I wasn't understanding. All sorts of people running out to us trying to give us rides or selling stuff, I don't really know because I don't know what they were saying. Once we found the bus that my mom had reserved it was a long, hot, bumpy ride through poverty and dirtiness. What seemed like a ride that wouldn't stop and seeing accidents and almost being in one myself, we finally reached a green, tropical area along the beach, where our condo was. The moment we got into the condo we all got our bathing suits on and ran to the beach. The first thing that I noticed was how hot the sand was. The sand wasn't think the sand that was have in Washington, it was soft and clean and dry that was without rocks and sticks in it. We found a place to lay and put our stuff under one of the large umbrellas. When we went to go into the water I noticed something that I will never forget. The Mexicans where roped off from our area and all lined up wanting to sell us jewelry, shirts, hats, and pottery. My brother said that they tried to sell him some marijuana, but no one tried to sell me any of that stuff. Which is a good thing because I am only nine. I didn't go to the ocean as fast as my brother and younger sister did. Or I didn't do what my older sister did, which is flirt with the pool boys and try to get her tan started. I stayed with the people selling stuff. I kept thinking that I could swim any time but I could... [continues]
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