When in Cancun, I usually stroll down to my favorite Mexican restaurant to listen to my favorite mariachi:
This last time, I noticed a faint path following the shore of the lagoon going in my direction, so I figured I'd try it and get away from noise and exhaust fumes of the sidewalks.
I bumbled into someone's camp, and took the pic below before backing out. He (I assume it was a "he") had been using it long enough for a remarkable amount and variety of trash to accumulate. He had made himself a raised sleeping platform with a sheet of plywood. There was a tiny boat tied to the brush a few feet away. The spot was well-hidden, shady, and dry. Aside from the aforementioned trash and his apparent habit of defecating wherever he happened to be when the urge hit him (I actually smelled the camp before I saw it), it was an idyllic place.
When I got to the restaurant, I was the only customer. So six waiters hovered around amusing themselves by teaching me useful phrases like "tetas grande" ("big tits") and "tu nueva es tu mano" ("your girlfriend is your hand"). The table was on a deck overlooking the lagoon. There was a crocodile directly beneath until some local kids ran up and pelted it with rocks.
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