
It's "sexylicious," can't you tell? Woof. I can't even imagine what this place is like in March. In an area so heavily populated by drinking establishments, wouldn't one think there needs to be a stop for drunken pizza?

Oh, there it is. Pizza Pazza. I don't really understand the name, but I know "paz" means "peace," so maybe this is Cancun's version of America's Peace a Pizza. What a strange... cart? Stand? I don't even know what to call that thing, but it has the cutest little gas deck oven I've ever seen. Since everything else had meat on it, I ordered a plan square:

Wow. Um... okay. I don't think this had any sauce on it, since there isn't any visible nor could I taste any. Let's be frank: this slice was disgusting. No flavor, just salt, and the smallest sprig of basil on Earth. It wasn't crispy, or gooey, or anything appetizing; it was floppy and flavorless.

It was however extremely hot, and since they serve it on wax paper instead of a plate, I looked like a street performer juggling the slice between my hands while occasionally taking a bite. The flavor (or lack thereof) here represented my feelings on the surrounding area: tacky, overpriced, and tasteless.
Hey, they can't all be winners, right?
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