I like being a regular. Don’t know why, it just feels good. So of the dozens of beer and ceviche stands lining the waterfront, this is the one I frequent almost every day for my end-of-the-day solo happy hour. Occasionally, I’ll sit at one of the tables for a bit; this weekend I sat on that teal plastic stool and wrote out a whole mess of postcards. But usually I just get my Corona con limón para llevar and head for the docks. Often I get a package of elotitos — spicy corn nuts — too. She knows my order now, and when I walk up her three little boys grin and yell “Hola!” And by the time I get to the stools, the napkin cape is already swaddling my cerveza. Sometimes traveling the world is about grandeur and change and awe. And sometimes, it’s just about the same smiling woman handing you a beer in the evenings and knowing you’ll be back tomorrow.