Olive Mountain.

Ive been in Mexico a weekish now. Enjoying it thoroughly. Except the hundreds of bites I got this morning because our hostel is infested with mosquitos apparently.

The other day we went out for dinner at this Italian place, Don Mucho´s. I was starving before hand and just really wanted a hunk of meat (who doesnt really) but when I got there not so hungry anymore and just opted for a salad. Not just a boring salad though, it came with garlic bread, cheese (oh my god I miss decent cheese!), pecans and olives, a SHIT LOAD of olives. In fact so many olives I moved them all over to my bread plate to successfully eat the salad, olive oil dressing, hello delishicousness, and here were no joke 17 olives in my salad! This was pure joy for me, the person that walks past the little olive bars in grocery stores, takes a big whiff and goes weak in the knees. I fucking love olives. Black ones, phew I spit on you. Its all about the big green ones with the pits in the oil and hot pepper stuff (pause to wipe drool). I kept asking Geoff if he was sure he didn´t want an olive and he kept saying no, which I was secretly happy about. Then as I filled my salt intake for the next week and ate the last one, he proudly(?) or maybe it was a mixture of disgust and amazment said You just ate 17 olives. Which, is pretty ridiculous I must say, but also a major achievement I think. I have no shame. Bring on 18 olives. Who puts 17 olives in a small salad anyway? The greatest kitchen staff ever, thats who.