Our group decimated by departures to roughly half its former size, ~15 of us head to the mountains outside Monterrey. The air seems fresher, and one sees why: there's a visible brown line in the sky at the height of the city's smog. Our altitude places us (seemingly) out of the worst of it.
Waterfalls are always wonderful, and today's no exception. This particular agua features 5 dead, headless chickens, a momma and 4 chicks, in a pool next to a burned-out candle. Santeria, maybe? At any rate, I convince at least one friend to climb / follow upstream for some skinny dipping that is anythign but cursed.
Dinner is delicious as usual; our hosts have been providing decadently-dumpstered delicacies throughout our stay. Homemade tequila, chile piquin sauce, serrano sauce, cheese, and garlic-lemon homeopathic remedy put my homesteading culinary efforts to shame and make my stomach sufficiently pleasantly plump to slumber.