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"You know, you shouldn't go there. It's dangerous, especially for a woman." Those were the words that greeted my choice to spend a week away from L.A. and visit Mexico for the first time. I hadn't thought anything of it, I just saw those clear beaches and that cheap flight and thought, "Why not?" So off I went, wearing my non-revealing, unattractive travel attire so as to not inspire catcalls and other unwanted attention. I was still going, I'm not saying I wasn't wary after such a chorus of concern. Landing in Cozumel, the little island off of the coast of Mexico, walking off the tiny plane into the lush jungle to the airport and out to the "dangerous" city, I realized what a massive mistake I had made. It was scorching outside, and I was wearing jeans and a long sleeve shirt in order to detract attention. Which of course had now worked in the exact opposite way. I received no catcalls, just simple stares of disbelief. "Why is this girl wearing winter clothes in the middle of summer? She must be crazy." And they would be right, it was crazy. Walking the small streets with the locals grouped together drinking and talking quietly in the afternoon heat I felt no nerves. The energy was relaxed and people seemed disinterested in me walking around taking in the sights. One day, I took the ferry over to the mainland and was bombarded by the tourism of Playa del Carmen. The resorts lived here and the people were swarming about like buzzards. I was overwhelmed by all the activity after the quiet of the island only a few miles away. I walked down the beach where people bought chairs to lounge beneath. Not me, I was here that was enough luxury for me. I went as far from the chairs and the crowds as I could. Turns out I didn't have to go so far, there was a clump of palm trees and a band of local workers huddled beneath them. They were drinking, and sitting in the sand. I couldn't tell if they were simply on break or had just finished and wanted to enjoy a cold beverage before setting out for home. It didn't matter to me, it was free and they were chill. There was also an American Classic Rock station playing at the bar next door that could be heard from this spot on the sand. I sat down, leaned against a palm tree and closed my eyes. This is all I had wanted. I had made it to paradise. Some Mexican boys came and sat with me. They were done with work and we began talking because there was a one-legged pigeon making the rounds looking for some grub. They were easy to talk to and didn't have any agenda other than wanting to enjoy the moment with a stranger in the sand. When they finished their beers, they kissed me on both cheeks and heading down the beach for home. I leaned back against my tree, completely astounded by my experience thus far. Not one generalization had been proven true. I left scared L.A. and found a haven in the Caribbean. A place where the people were kind and seemed to exist for the same purpose as me; to enjoy the sand and the sun, sipping a beer while some Beatles song played off in the distance.