As soon as we touched ground we swung our heavy packs over our shoulders and hit the ground running. (*NOTE some packs were MUCH heavier than others. errr...mom) Good thing she's in better shape than I am because there's no way I would've made it carrying that bag around!
We knew our hotel was within walking distance so we wandered the flower lined streets of Santa Cruz like a couple of America hooligans, loving every moment, taking in all in.
We had to stop and ask a couple old gentlemen, who were visiting in their front yard for directions. Even though they didn't speak English they were very polite and through the first of many games of charades we were able to find which direction our hotel was. It turned out to be right on the ocean with an amazing view. (Sigh) I could really get use to being in a place like this!) 
Zero sleep in nearly 48 hours (except for David who managed consume enough caffeine only to keep us up until we were to the point of no return and then he quickly crashed out...) wasn't enough to keep us from throwing our bags as quickly as we could into the hotel room and in no time our sneakers were pounding the streets.
Every turn felt like a new adventure was waiting and it was impossible not to think that these were the same streets our grandparents wandered not even 100 years ago.
After running around we were parched, tired, and failed to locate any type of store where we could buy water. I was down to rationing out our water supply to "Two swallows a person" (haha. Yes, I'm a tyrant, laughably so.) Later we couldn't help but be amused when we discovered the "mercado" was the so the closest building to us but we had refused to walk down the street because the back alley-side appeared to be hosting some sort of autobody chopshop grease monkeys and seemed questionable. 
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