Then, later, as we sat in a (well-deserved) Mojito soaked daze on the veranda of the Hotel Casa Grande, the same couple arrived and sat right in front of us.
Such blatant willingness to participate in the narrative of the day couldn't be ignored. So here they are.
I just allowed myself an English nod of the head to them in acknowledgement of our mutual path crossing, and resisted the urge to stagger over and make them feel morally accountable for my throbbing, ravaged thighs.
I am not joking. By then end of the trip we could hardly walk, and HAD to spend an entire afternoon laying on sunbeds.