A year's worth of planning finally coming to fruition, and I'm in full "morning-person" mode. From home, to airport through the up-close and personal TSA, I'm so happy to be alive I can't stand it. Even the security officials are annoyed with my 6am smile. With little more than a back pack full of wrinkled and rolled up clothes, I'm ready for a week in Mayan paradise to explore not only the Yucatan but also my own inner need for some deep breathing. Even the lay over in Jersey felt amazing... and the airport food? I mean, just marvelous. Over-priced water never tasted so refreshing!
The soothing 3 hour flight to Cancun lulled me into a semi-dream like state. I dozed and sipped on a disgusting cup of airpline wine... but I didn't care. I was on my way to paradise! Disgusting or not, it was wine, it was mine and I was on a plane to vacate in the tropics.
And then we landed.
The moment our feet cross through the formidable customs of Mexico, we are surrounded by a spanish-speaking mafia wishing to wisk us away in their pricey caravans to this place and that. Time has suddenly sped up and I see lots of hispanic mania... need money? need taxi? Nope. Need an interpreter. Or just my rental van.
Before long, a group of 15 has dwindled to a group of four... and I find myself bargaining with the Mexican clerk in the National rental car office. Tempers have flaired amongst group members, while half have been safely shipped off to paradise in a chartered shuttle.
The smart ones.
Somehow I manage to maintain a level of calm and gentility, while also communicating that I want to clearly communicate and failing miserably to communicate clearly (say that five-times-fast). I ask the clerk 20 questions at the risk of annoyance, though my 6am smile has morphed into a slight furrow in the brow. Eventually, I convince his coworker to yell "More Beer!" with a country accent to make it all better. He did. The van magically appeared.
After learning how to drive a 15 passenger van around the Cancun airport for an hour, the remainder of our group are finally retreived with 3rd degree sun burns and dehydration. Four has become seven, and we quickly decide to keep with the theme of the day... BEER.
My, how culture can change one's perspective... for once we were the minorities lined up outside of a Mexican 711. Dos Esquis? Check! Smokes? Check! Savviness with pesos and/or currency exchange in USD? Haha. That's funny. Those clerks made bank on us new arrivals. We didn't even know what hit us until we piled back in the van. And doing some quick math realized that... we're not in Virginia anymore.
Oh well. BEER.
A sulky and quiet ride to our final destination reunited all 15 of us once again...
Casa del Corazon beach bungalows: Soliman Bay Mexico
... our home for next week.
Image with me, if you will, 7 grown people pouring out of a van like grade-school children at recess. It's a pretty accurate assessment. Complete with giggles, gasps and flying beer tops, we traipsed and skipped all the way to Tom... who stood there beaming as if he'd been waiting on the remainder of his children to come home. His beautiful staff greeted us warmly, not minding the stale smell of well-traveled bodies. If my memory serves me correctly, I believe we performed a jazz number in unison all the way to the shore line.
Let me not forget the scenery of enchanting bungalows encountered in the midst of our musical number. Spacious, open and ornate, each group member nestled in quickly to the inviting and spacious living quarters reflecting the saucy and colorful culture that is Soliman Bay. From the beautiful wooden windows that allowed the fresh Riveria breeze to breathe into each room, to the beautifully tiled counter-tops... I believe I actually hugged the sun for a second.
Catching my breath at the shore line, lazy hammocks begged to be of use while the kayaks patiently waited for exploration of the bay. The crystal blue water gave gentle applause for our arrival and seemed to whisper "Hey, I'll be here all week. No rush man."
Ok. I'll accept that. Let's eat!
Oscar y Lalo's was just a short dusty drive from the resort... authentic Mexican dining with Lala the spider monkey. I enjoyed fresh mango margaritas with tortilla's, pico de gallo, queso and vast quantities of bug spray. The mosquitos enjoyed vast quantities of my ankles. Need a break from your dining experience? No problem. Just pull your chair aside and lay in the hammock next to the table... take a siesta before the next round of shots. Or play with Lala, she'll give you kisses on your belly. In my case, she'll kiss your belly, sit on your face with her gnarly little diapered monkey butt and shove her salty ass toe in your mouth.
Next time, I'll laugh with my mouth closed.
With full bellies back at ocean-side, one by one the gentle breeze and swinging of the hammocks lulled us to our new homes for a night's slumber. My final thought? We've only just begun...
Viva La Mexico.
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