Jim and I flew down to Cancun, Mexico for a week of fun, relaxation and sun. Magaly (my sister-in-law) has three siblings who live with their families in the area and we stayed with them rather than in a hotel. On Day One of our trip, Magaly's
sister-in-law, Laura, took us to what is called the Hotel Zone. The spring-breakers who usually haunt the chic hotels in this area had not yet arrived in force and, we realized after talking to several people, that they wouldn't be coming in the droves of years past. This is because Hurricane Wilma hit the area hard last October and I hadn't realized how it had devastated Cancun until I saw it with my own eyes. There are literally miles of palm trees stripped of every leaf, still leaning in the direction the storm whipped them almost 6 months ago. Almost every hotel bears residual damage...some, like the Hilton, in such disrepair that they still won't open for months, some open but still superficially wounded and some that are simply abandoned, with no intention for re-opening. You can also sense the psychological scars of the people who lived through the storm. Literally every person we talked to, from family members to taxi drivers had a story about Hurricane Wilma. Lupe (Magaly's sister) is a doctor and talked of all the people who came into her hospital in the days after the hurricane claiming that they had been hit by debris in the storm and needed stitches, but she knew they had most likely injured themselves looting. Mario (Magaly's brother) talked wearily of the 30 days it took before they got electricity back in their neighborhood and how everyone kept round the clock shifts for safety purposes (he somehow always got the early morning shift and then got to go to work afterwards). One person talked about the smell of burning tires from the bonfires that were lit in the streets at night. Another talked about how all the fine white sand that makes Cancun's beaches so beatiful was simply blown away until all that was left was a foundation of limestone.
On day two, Jim and I took a ferry to Isla Mujeres where we rented a golf cart to tour the small island and visited a turtle sanctuary. As I took pictures of iguanas lazing in the afternoon sun, Jim scared me with a stick by saying that an iguana was running over my feet. I yelled, of course, and then hit him (you think that he would have learned from the pencil incident). We spent the late afternoon flopped on our backs on the beach drinking marg
aritas and gazing into the impossibly blue sea. Then we had this amazing dinner of shrimp scampi for only 100 pesos each while water laped the edges of the deck where we sat before we boarded the ferry for home. On Day Three we boarded a bus at 8:00 a.m. to go to Chichen Itza. This would be my second attempt to visit the ancient Mayan ruin. In 1997, I had started the trek with Jim, Magaly and several of her relatives in a dilapitated car that had a radiator problem...as soon as we were deep enough into the jungle for it to be inconvenient, the car broke down on us and we had to turn back. So I was very excited to be on the bus that would take me to this adventure almost 9 years later. But after we were about a half hour out of Cancun, the bus suddenly pulled to the side of the road and the tour guide told us we had to go back. Seems that President Bush was at the ruins and they closed down the entire freeway as a protective measure (with good reason...we were later told that the Mayans actually came out of the jungle to protest him). After a lot of confusion, Jim secured a handwritten note from the tour guide promising two seats on the bus that would leave the next day. We weren't very certain the company would make good on the scribbled note that represented more than $75 to us for the tickets we originally purchased. When we called Mario, who works for a local hotel and he promptly got his car over to us and insisted that we drive to Playa Del Carmen. On our way, we briefly got lost on the outskirts of town and the clearly depressed neighborhoods were a sobering experience. Once we found the hotel area, we marveled at how much more upscale it was than Cancun and we had ourselves another lazy afternoon sipping margaritas on the beach. Jim got into a conversation about global economics with a gentleman that had been travelling around in Central America for the past month and I immersed myself in a romance novel.
On Day Four, we re-boarded the bus at 8:00 a.m. presenting our handwritten note with no problem at all. Bush was by then immersed in a summit meeting and didn't interupt our plans again. Chichen Itza was breathtaking--both figuratively and literally. I have never been so hot in my life but I was in awe the entire time. My brother has a special fascination with the
Mayan culture and, exasperated after hearing just the introduction from the tour guide filled with false information, took me away from the group and gave me my own guided tour. It was amazing to be able to see all that has been pieced together like a puzzle to reconstruct the ancient Mayan city, but mostly I itched to dig into the mounds of clearly untouched ruins...what secrets did THOSE hold...on the way back from Chichen Itza, we stopped in a small Mayan town for an authentic meal of all you can eat hot dogs :P and we then swam in a cenote (a deep hole in the ground filled with supposedly fresh water, though my brother later pointed out all the swallows that were living, and pooping, in the cave and if the stench coming off my bathing suit was any indication, I would say that water hadn't been fresh for months..ewwwww...On Day Five we shopped at a place called 28th Street Market which boasts at least 100 shops and according to the locals is the ONLY place to go to get fair prices for, well, anything! Unfortunately, there were a lot of strikes against me from the start. First of all, I am not much of a shopper. I much prefer experiences to material goods so I tend to be rather impatient in settings where I foresee hours worth of shopping (that is not much of an experience to me). Also, I had not really formulated in my head what I wanted to get anyone (I tend to think about it and then get my shopping over with in a relatively short time span once I know what I want) so I wasn't mentally prepared, but the REAL issue turned out to be the many, many, many vendors trying to hustle you into their store. I got sooooo tired of people try
ing to sweet talking me into looking at their stuff and then berating me when I didn't. I started off nice, "no, sorry, but thanks" and I ended by briskly walking past with a beligerent look on my face...the look also did not help in the negotiation of the prices...as you can imagine, I tend to be a person who just wants to be told what something costs and then I will make my decision about whether or not to buy. As it happens, my sister-in-law is a master negotiator and I usually rely on her for what I consider to be this unpleasant task, but alas she was back in the States working, so I turned to my brother for help. I choose a few things and relied on his good Spanish to weather me through. I much more enjoyed the slushy afterwards. That evening we attended a birthday fiesta for Magaly's niece and nephew. Watching the preparations for the party was fascinating. The entire extended family was involved. On the first night in town we went with Laura to pick up paper mache for the pinata, the next morning we watched Lupe melt chocolate and drizzle it into plastic forms for big chocolate suckers. Then the night we arrived home from Chichen Itza family members from out of town starting to arrive enmasse to start the extensive cooking process. Talk about a spread...there was no less than 4 different kinds of meat and various accompanying items in addition to two huge cakes. It was a relaxing evening of watching kids enjoy the antics of a professional clown and debating politics with family members.
Day Six turned out to be one of the best days in recent memory. We started the day by meeting up with Mario, Laura and their daughter Leslie. We all tumbled into their car at 6:30 a.m., more tired than usual because of losing an hour to daylight savings and a late night before at the fiesta. We took the freeway with the intent to catch a ferry to another island called Holbox. On our way there we passed village after village of clear poor, but hard working people who had carved out an existence against the harsh backdrop of the jungle. We also almost killed ourselves as we spotted one of at least a million of the speedbumps that litter the freeway a little late and had to burn rubber before sliding over it a little fast. When we got to the dock, Mario let us all get out and went to go park. As he came back, he talked to the owner of an independent boat who offered to take us not only to Holbox, but also to an island inhabited by birds and a freshwater lake. The price would be $75 for the four of us...Mario was intrigued, but wavered until the guy also said that if we got lucky we might see dolphins. DOLPHINS! We were in. The bird island was fascinating. The hurricane had shoved literally tons of shells onto the island that glistened in the late morning sun. A short walk around the island revealed several animal inhabitants in
cluding crabs, iguanas and...well...birds. We found a bird egg nestled in the sand with a protective mama nearby and leisurely walked back to the boat. Back on the water, we were lulled by the motor and the reflection off the water, just completely relaxing. All of a sudden, our captain (isn't that what you call all men in charge of a boat, even if it is only 15 feet long?) pointed south and said "Delphins"...Dolphins! We all jumped up and intensely surveyed the area of water that he had pointed to. We didn't see anything. The captain patiently turned the boat in that direction and sure enough, there they were. There was two pods of about 4 dolphins each and they were in a playful mood. Our captain quietly, but assuredley, inched our boat closer and closer and before we knew it, dolphins were arching out of the water a mere five feet from our boat. I was in heaven. Seriously, it was one of the most amazing moments I have had in at least a decade. I definitely have an interest in dolphins, but don't feel comfortable going to any of the entertainment attractions that house them as it has been well documented that they are a social creature that really suffers in confinement. So to see this animal in its own environment was almost overwhelming. After about 20 minutes of life among dolphins, they eventually got ahead of us and we turned toward our original destination, Holbox. When we first got off the boat, we were all a bit drained from the dolphin experience. So we slowly walked up the chalky street to the small town in the middle of the island. Stopping a man and buying ice cream off the back of his bicycle revived us enough to find a little restaurant for some real lunch. With our stomachs full, we rented a golf cart and headed for the beach. This is where the true leisure began. Cold beer. A deserted beach. Blue water for miles and sun, sun, sun. I was determined to come back from this vacation with a tan. Now, I don' t just tan, I have to burn first and then the color eventually subdues into colors more fit for fashion. So I found myself a piece of beach and I settled there for a solid 
45 minutes. Sure enough, I was crunchy for a couple of days afterwards, but as expected, I was able to wear a sleeveless shirt on my first day back to work sporting a brown that my co-workers envied. On our return from Holbox, we stopped at a fresh water lake on yet another deserted island. By the time we reached our car to go home we were TIRED. It was a great lazy day in the sun and our tummys were full of food and it was nap time. Unfortunately, it was also now time to drive one of the scariest roads I have ever been on...we were back on the freeway (as opposed to the tollway, which more resembles our freeways)...and to the speedbumps. I bumped my brother sitting next to me in the backseat everytime I saw Mario's eyes droop in the drivers seat. Laura and Leslie were fast asleep in the passenger seat and I was scared to death. I told my brother to convince Mario to take over the driving. Mario resisted at first, but then relented and let Jim drive. We drove into a historic city called Valledolid and had great panuchos and churros. The next two days passed in a blur of sunburn and family obligations. It was an incredible trip that I won't soon forget.
