The long-promised vacation recap
So, since I was unable to fulfill my obligation to write about my vacation last night (due to Jlowe’s kind offer of a salmon-feed at his house) and my need to watch Scrubs and Tuesday’s newest comedy, Committed (which is likeable enough that I’ll watch again to see if it’s likely to get more watchable), I’ve dedicated my lunch hour to filling everyone in on my long-awaited, too-short vacation.
Villa Rolandi is located off the shore of Cancun on an island called Isla Mujeres (Island of Women). The island was so-named after explorers found a Mayan temple at the south end of the island dedicated to the goddess of love, and surrounded with (now gone) sculptures of women.
If you take the time to look at the map, you can see that the hotel is fairly secluded. In fact, it isn’t even shown on a map of the major hotels on the island, which tend to be located toward the south end or near the downtown area on the north of the island. There are some hotels near Villa Rolandi, but to each side of the hotel are private residences, and the hotel has a private beach.
The hotel itself has only 20 rooms, which makes for a nice, quiet time.
So, how did we spend our vacation? A day-by-day run-down for you.
Techically, our vacation started on Saturday the 15th, which was the day of the Great Ice Storm of 2005. That being the case, I spent my first day of vacation nigh-skating to Trader Joe’s to console my wife, who was missing all sorts of fun, to make her German Pancakes (recipe still available…). Sunday, we were able to get out, and the day consisted of some shopping for last-minute supplies.
MONDAY
Monday was the date of departure. Our flight was scheduled to leave at about 5:30 am, so we woke up at 3, left by 3:30, and were to the airport by 4:00. Now, I was thinking “early Monday morning, no problem getting to the plane on time”. Boy, was I wrong. American Airlines had maybe two people working the ticket counter, and maybe 80 people in line to get on a plane (mostly for our plane), and by the time we got to the front, the lady said, and I quote, “you’ll be hard-pressed to get through the checkpoint before boarding time.” Very re-assuring.
However, we rebuffed her negativity and made it to our gate with 10 minutes to spare prior to boarding; enough time to buy some bottled water (I’m notoriously thirsty at all times, and get parched on the airline cup of ice with a soda chaser) and a couple of magazines for The Missus.
As we sat on the plane, waiting to depart, the captain announced that there was freezing rain outside and that the wings had to be de-iced. I was looking through my carry-on bag for my ice-scraper (I knew something would end up happening) when he said that the de-icing crew was on it’s way. So, I sat back and watched the fun, only momentarily deterred by the crink in my neck caused by looking in back towards the wings where the guy was hosing the wing off with some steaming concoction that, I’m sure, is hazardous if swallowed.
Away we flew. I was very disappointed to find that our 3.5 hour flight to Dallas didn’t have a movie on it. I’d gone to American’s website to see what I’d be getting to watch on my flights, and was looking forward to something entertaining. But, no such luck. It was just me and my MP3 player, as my wife slumbered peacefully.
In Dallas, we walked the half-mile to get from gate A-24 to gate A-20, meanwhile passing countless army personnel scurrying about, no doubt readying to depart for points unthinkable. My wife reminded me that our friend, Mr. 12, is in Texas even now, preparing for his departure to Fallujah (the anti-Disney “Scariest Place on Earth”), and we talked about that as we tried to figure out if there was anything quick and easy to eat.
Couple pieces of travel advice:
1) American Airlines may be affordable, but that’s because they low-ball you on food. For a 3.5 hour morning flight, they offer you a cup of yogurt, a bag of peanuts, and a granola bar, which you get in a paper bag on your way down the chute to the plane. On a shorter flight, pretzels only (even during the lunch hour). Fore-warned is fair-warned.
2) Don’t go to McDonalds, or any other fast-food chain at the airport. Besides being grossly over-priced (reminding me of Jerry Seinfeld’s bit on how airport stores must think they’re in their own country with its own pricing structure), I read the book Fast Food Nation on my journey (though after my passage through the Dallas airport) and learned how repulsive the whole industry is (as if watching Super Size Me hadn’t already taught me a lesson). Unfortunately, we went to McDonald’s because time was a huge factor in Dallas, and paid about $145 for a number 6 and two hamburgers.
Then, it was off to Cancun, where the fun truly began.
We arrived in Cancun around 4pm, and were met (in classic Mexican Airport fashion) by some guy pitching us a time-share tour in exchange for fabulous prizes. One of them was a trip to the Mayan Ruins at Chichen Itza, which The Missus wanted to see, so we decided to give 90 minutes of our time to a salesman, knowing we couldn’t afford anything given what we were paying for our hotel. We then were escorted to our driver, Agustin, who was provided by the hotel and who took us in a large, comfortable, empty van to the dock where the hotel catamaran-style yacht, The Coccoon, was waiting for us (and a few more people). As we waited, a family of people from Edmonton named the Caldwell’s (newlyweds, it turns out) joined us and told us about their prior stay at the hotel and gave us a few tips on getting around the island. Then a pair of Frenchies (known to me only as Marc and Francois) got aboard, and we were off.
The ride to the hotel from the dock took about 20 minutes, during which time we alternated between standing on the back of the catamaran and getting splashed something wicked, and sitting inside where the roar of the engines precluded any real conversation. When we arrived, we were greeted on the dock by the hotel manager, who took us inside and gave us a 10-minute spiel on how the hotel worked, as we sipped on free mimosas and washed our hands with heated washcloths. It was kind of nice.
Then we went upstairs saw our room.
At this point, let me apologize. I haven’t been able to maneuver any of the digital pictures off of my mother-in-law’s digital camera yet, so I can’t give you any visuals (unless you go to the hotel’s photo link I provided on the 16th to make you jealous). We were in a room on the top floor and had a lovely view of the Caribbean. As promised, we had a king-sized bed, satellite TV, private balcony with hot-tub, and a shower that doubled as a steam bath, should we want one. And, being on the top floor, we had a cool brick ceiling that was somewhat domed, which made our room seem just that much cooler.
After settling in, we went down to dinner. The hotel has an excellent restaurant, featuring primarily Italian and Swiss-themed food (the hotel owners are Italian and Swiss) and offering some of the friendliest staff you could ever care to meet. The head waiter, Jesus, came and introduced himself to us, and made sure every night to make it to our table to greet me and The Missus by name. In all, we probably dealt with three primary dinner waiters (Jesus, Gilberto, and Ariel), who all spoke varying degrees of English (thank God for my high school Spanish, which came in handy more than a few times to carry on non-food-related conversations with people) and who were all exceptionally friendly. We had a couple of other waiters who didn’t distinguish themselves so much, so I don’t recall their names.
Food suggestions:
1) Anything with shrimp. The shrimp are humongous at this place, and four shrimp are almost filling.
2) Anything with salmon. The quality of the salmon was tremendous.
3) Anything with squid. High-quality, freshly caught near the island (like the lobster and the shrimp)
4) All the pasta was great.
After dinner, we went off to finally get some sleep.
TUESDAY
The day Tuesday was very busy, what with laying on the beach and all. Actually, most days were just like Tuesday, and this is where my description of things will start getting much shorter. Generally, we would wake up at 9am, eat our in-room continental breakfast (mostly pastries and a couple of pancakes), shower, grab our beach stuff, and go down to the beach. On the way there, we’d be met by Pablo, Ponce, or Ariel, who would take our order (Pina Colada for the lady, Corona or Marguerita for me, and always some bottled water) and then we’d go select some prime sun-catching seats. We’d lay out for two or three hours, reading, chatting, listening to music, sipping drinks (well, I slammed the water, but usually only had 2 or 3 drinks on the beach) and eating a light lunch (usually chips and guacamole, sometimes also chicken fingers w/ string potatoes, which are really, really thinly sliced French fries, which The Missus loved because they were all crunchy). After the beach, we’d sign our tab, tip our waiters, and head up to the room for a nap. After the nap, we’d go to dinner. After dinner, we’d go to our room, hot tub, watch movies (never could turn off the Spanish sub-titles, but that’s alright) and drift off to sleep.
Of note Tuesday was a funny e-mail we got from my mother-in-law. Unfortunately, my wife deleted it, otherwise I’d post it here. Essentially, I’d asked my mother-in-law, who was checking our mail and feeding our frog, to get on my cell phone (the sole repository of my mom’s phone number) to call her and let her know we were alive and well. My mother-in-law is somewhat technologically challenged, and I knew that going in. So, in my e-mail, I explained that she’d need to enter a secret code (that means I can’t share it with you, sorry) to get my phone to work, gave her the code, and explained how after that to place a call to my mom. My mother-in-law first had difficulty figuring out which phone was mine and which was my wife’s (no biggie there, we have identical phones), then forgot my code, then tried using my wife’s phone to call my mom (and found that my wife’s phone is hopelessly out-of-date in regard to the number she keeps for my mom), then found my work Nextel and almost used it to call a retired Gresham Police Department sergeant who shares my mom’s former last name. Finally, she just gave up, and was never able get a hold of my mom.
Strangely, I entirely forgot to call my mom yesterday, so she was kind enough to wake me up at 7-something this morning to make sure I was still alive. She is, too, for those who are keeping score. Her cardiologist says she’s probably going to need an angiogram to see if she has some blocked arteries, and if so they’ll deal with them, but otherwise she’s out of immediate danger. Thanks for asking.
WEDNESDAY
See Tuesday. Other adventures included the time-share pitch at a place on the island owned by the Avalon group. They gypped us on our free tequila and blanket, but did follow through on the Chichen Itza tickets and on the free golf cart rental. It was an okay place, but nothing like the places we like to stay (quiet, secluded, and quiet). Call now to sign up.
THURSDAY
Thursday, we were supposed to go on a day-long trip to a small island called Isla Contoy, a nature preserve that’s supposed to be beautiful. However, it turned out there weren’t enough people in the group make the trip profitable and it got cancelled on Wednesday. We were told that we could get a similar trip if we went into town at 6am, but The Missus preferred to get some sleep, so Thursday was basically Tuesday, redux.
Except for dinner. Thursday was the anniversary, so we had a very romantic dinner on the beach. I think I covered that previously in my last post. Anyway, very nice. Will publish a picture when I can. Jesus was very disappointed, because he had the day off and couldn’t be there. But the next night, he congratulated us and wished us continued love and happiness. My wife loves Jesus. Almost too much…
FRIDAY
Friday, we hopped a taxi to town and used our free golf cart rental. The island is 7.5 km long (which is less in miles, but since I lost the metric-English ruler that I got from a McDonald’s Happy Meal as a child, I can’t help you with the conversion), and many people rent golf carts (all gas-powered) to scoot around the island for a day or two. We used ours to hit a couple of the local curiosities, like the pseudo-zoo (12 animals kept in pretty inhumane cages, and some spider monkeys that let you pet them), the coconut stand (nothing like fresh cold coconut juice, straight from the nut), the Mayan ruins on the south end of the island, and a few beaches where we took pictures of the numerous iguanas found throughout the island. Then, back to town where we dropped off the cart, did a little shopping, had a little lunch (pizza, strangely) and went back to the hotel to do Tuesday-ish stuff the rest of the day.
SATURDAY
Saturday we were going to go to Chichen Itza. We got up on time, got to the ferry terminal on time, and started crossing over to Cancun on time. However, on the way, I started experiencing certain intestinal priorities which I clearly understood may hamper our adventure. After we got across the island (and I’d spent time both in the bathroom on the ferry and the bathroom on the dock), we decided to skip Chichen Itza and go back. Because of that decision, I can give blood for the next year or so because Cancun and Isla Mujeres are not in a malarial zone, but Chichen Itza is. But, if we go back next year, the Red Cross will have to wait for met to get to my third gallon for awhile…
Spent the rest of the day on the beach (and in the bathroom) and ate dinner in our room (pizza, again, because my wife had made me promise her two pizzas in Mexico after Pizza Hut and Dominos declared they weren’t delivering on the night of the ice storm, and I wussed out of a mile-long walk to Papa Murphy’s).
SUNDAY
Last-minute shopping for friends, lunch downtown (the only Mexican food we had the whole time, and it was awful), and then back to the hotel to continue Tuesday. The highlight of Sunday, though, was getting our waiter, Gilberto, to take a shot of tequila with us. He had to get special permission from his boss, and then had to be not-too-obvious about taking the shot.
We liked Gilberto a lot. On our second night at the hotel, he was our waiter. I ordered a margarita and drank it, then ordered a Negro Modelo. He accidently brought another margarita, which I was happy to take from him, but I pretended with him (we’d established rapport by then) that I was only taking it to be nice. He grabbed my arm, twisted it behind my back, and said “You drink!” He was freakin’ hilarious.
So, the last night, I had to return the favor. Gilberto was very kind, and ended up giving my wife a pair of earrings he’d made (he helps make earrings for the family’s small gift stand somewhere in town, and had brought some for members of the staff, but gave a pair to my wife instead).
MONDAY
Check-out day. We had wisely packed most everything Sunday night, so Monday started out as a breeze. Until it came time to check out. This was the sign of what would turn out to be a really weird day.
At the front desk, my wife presented her card for our joint account, which had all of our vacation money, and the machine wouldn’t take it. I presented my card for our joint account, and the machine similarly rejected it. My wife went to the computer and verified that we had plenty of money. So the staff kindly called our bank, and I spent the next fifteen minutes complaining, cajoling, and conspiring to get our bill paid. It worked, but be fore-warned that on some bank accounts, you will have a limit on how much you can charge on your card at once. We didn’t know it, but ours was $2500.
After that distasteful experience, we had a couple hours to lay in the sun before the yacht left for the mainland. One last bit of tanning and reading, then we were off.
Everything went smoothly until we got to Dallas. Our plane sat on the tarmac after landing for about half an hour, for no apparent reason. Then, we had a huge line at immigration and my passport was getting stamped two minutes after my connecting flight to Portland began boarding. We then had to collect our luggage and clear customs. That was done by 8:44, which was the time my plane was scheduled to depart. The board still read “final boarding,” so we ran (most) of the half mile from gate A28 to gate A20 and saw an empty seating area and a lady who, seeing our desperate faces (and that I was still putting my belt on from the metal detector) said “THERE THEY ARE” and rushed us aboard the flight. They had held it, just for us. I’ll forever be grateful for that.
So, that’s our vacation. A lunch-hour well-spent. I missed all sorts of exciting news, like the death of Johnny, the football play-offs, the Blazer’s firing of Qyntel (thank God that’s all done) and finally snapping their losing streak. But I wouldn’t trade my week on Isla Mujeres for anything. If you couldn’t tell, I loved my vacation. Unlike our trip to Italy in March, it was one of those vacations where you can just sit and vegetate, as opposed to having to run around everywhere and see all the sights, and that was just what the doctor ordered. For those looking for a place to stay, there’s no way I could possibly overstate how nice our hotel was. For a romantic, or just a carefree, get-away, I highly recommend it to anyone.
Now, lunch is over. Time to get back to the old grindstone. I promise, pictures will be available ASAP. Sunday at the latest.
Catch ya later.
Villa Rolandi is located off the shore of Cancun on an island called Isla Mujeres (Island of Women). The island was so-named after explorers found a Mayan temple at the south end of the island dedicated to the goddess of love, and surrounded with (now gone) sculptures of women.
If you take the time to look at the map, you can see that the hotel is fairly secluded. In fact, it isn’t even shown on a map of the major hotels on the island, which tend to be located toward the south end or near the downtown area on the north of the island. There are some hotels near Villa Rolandi, but to each side of the hotel are private residences, and the hotel has a private beach.
The hotel itself has only 20 rooms, which makes for a nice, quiet time.
So, how did we spend our vacation? A day-by-day run-down for you.
Techically, our vacation started on Saturday the 15th, which was the day of the Great Ice Storm of 2005. That being the case, I spent my first day of vacation nigh-skating to Trader Joe’s to console my wife, who was missing all sorts of fun, to make her German Pancakes (recipe still available…). Sunday, we were able to get out, and the day consisted of some shopping for last-minute supplies.
MONDAY
Monday was the date of departure. Our flight was scheduled to leave at about 5:30 am, so we woke up at 3, left by 3:30, and were to the airport by 4:00. Now, I was thinking “early Monday morning, no problem getting to the plane on time”. Boy, was I wrong. American Airlines had maybe two people working the ticket counter, and maybe 80 people in line to get on a plane (mostly for our plane), and by the time we got to the front, the lady said, and I quote, “you’ll be hard-pressed to get through the checkpoint before boarding time.” Very re-assuring.
However, we rebuffed her negativity and made it to our gate with 10 minutes to spare prior to boarding; enough time to buy some bottled water (I’m notoriously thirsty at all times, and get parched on the airline cup of ice with a soda chaser) and a couple of magazines for The Missus.
As we sat on the plane, waiting to depart, the captain announced that there was freezing rain outside and that the wings had to be de-iced. I was looking through my carry-on bag for my ice-scraper (I knew something would end up happening) when he said that the de-icing crew was on it’s way. So, I sat back and watched the fun, only momentarily deterred by the crink in my neck caused by looking in back towards the wings where the guy was hosing the wing off with some steaming concoction that, I’m sure, is hazardous if swallowed.
Away we flew. I was very disappointed to find that our 3.5 hour flight to Dallas didn’t have a movie on it. I’d gone to American’s website to see what I’d be getting to watch on my flights, and was looking forward to something entertaining. But, no such luck. It was just me and my MP3 player, as my wife slumbered peacefully.
In Dallas, we walked the half-mile to get from gate A-24 to gate A-20, meanwhile passing countless army personnel scurrying about, no doubt readying to depart for points unthinkable. My wife reminded me that our friend, Mr. 12, is in Texas even now, preparing for his departure to Fallujah (the anti-Disney “Scariest Place on Earth”), and we talked about that as we tried to figure out if there was anything quick and easy to eat.
Couple pieces of travel advice:
1) American Airlines may be affordable, but that’s because they low-ball you on food. For a 3.5 hour morning flight, they offer you a cup of yogurt, a bag of peanuts, and a granola bar, which you get in a paper bag on your way down the chute to the plane. On a shorter flight, pretzels only (even during the lunch hour). Fore-warned is fair-warned.
2) Don’t go to McDonalds, or any other fast-food chain at the airport. Besides being grossly over-priced (reminding me of Jerry Seinfeld’s bit on how airport stores must think they’re in their own country with its own pricing structure), I read the book Fast Food Nation on my journey (though after my passage through the Dallas airport) and learned how repulsive the whole industry is (as if watching Super Size Me hadn’t already taught me a lesson). Unfortunately, we went to McDonald’s because time was a huge factor in Dallas, and paid about $145 for a number 6 and two hamburgers.
Then, it was off to Cancun, where the fun truly began.
We arrived in Cancun around 4pm, and were met (in classic Mexican Airport fashion) by some guy pitching us a time-share tour in exchange for fabulous prizes. One of them was a trip to the Mayan Ruins at Chichen Itza, which The Missus wanted to see, so we decided to give 90 minutes of our time to a salesman, knowing we couldn’t afford anything given what we were paying for our hotel. We then were escorted to our driver, Agustin, who was provided by the hotel and who took us in a large, comfortable, empty van to the dock where the hotel catamaran-style yacht, The Coccoon, was waiting for us (and a few more people). As we waited, a family of people from Edmonton named the Caldwell’s (newlyweds, it turns out) joined us and told us about their prior stay at the hotel and gave us a few tips on getting around the island. Then a pair of Frenchies (known to me only as Marc and Francois) got aboard, and we were off.
The ride to the hotel from the dock took about 20 minutes, during which time we alternated between standing on the back of the catamaran and getting splashed something wicked, and sitting inside where the roar of the engines precluded any real conversation. When we arrived, we were greeted on the dock by the hotel manager, who took us inside and gave us a 10-minute spiel on how the hotel worked, as we sipped on free mimosas and washed our hands with heated washcloths. It was kind of nice.
Then we went upstairs saw our room.
At this point, let me apologize. I haven’t been able to maneuver any of the digital pictures off of my mother-in-law’s digital camera yet, so I can’t give you any visuals (unless you go to the hotel’s photo link I provided on the 16th to make you jealous). We were in a room on the top floor and had a lovely view of the Caribbean. As promised, we had a king-sized bed, satellite TV, private balcony with hot-tub, and a shower that doubled as a steam bath, should we want one. And, being on the top floor, we had a cool brick ceiling that was somewhat domed, which made our room seem just that much cooler.
After settling in, we went down to dinner. The hotel has an excellent restaurant, featuring primarily Italian and Swiss-themed food (the hotel owners are Italian and Swiss) and offering some of the friendliest staff you could ever care to meet. The head waiter, Jesus, came and introduced himself to us, and made sure every night to make it to our table to greet me and The Missus by name. In all, we probably dealt with three primary dinner waiters (Jesus, Gilberto, and Ariel), who all spoke varying degrees of English (thank God for my high school Spanish, which came in handy more than a few times to carry on non-food-related conversations with people) and who were all exceptionally friendly. We had a couple of other waiters who didn’t distinguish themselves so much, so I don’t recall their names.
Food suggestions:
1) Anything with shrimp. The shrimp are humongous at this place, and four shrimp are almost filling.
2) Anything with salmon. The quality of the salmon was tremendous.
3) Anything with squid. High-quality, freshly caught near the island (like the lobster and the shrimp)
4) All the pasta was great.
After dinner, we went off to finally get some sleep.
TUESDAY
The day Tuesday was very busy, what with laying on the beach and all. Actually, most days were just like Tuesday, and this is where my description of things will start getting much shorter. Generally, we would wake up at 9am, eat our in-room continental breakfast (mostly pastries and a couple of pancakes), shower, grab our beach stuff, and go down to the beach. On the way there, we’d be met by Pablo, Ponce, or Ariel, who would take our order (Pina Colada for the lady, Corona or Marguerita for me, and always some bottled water) and then we’d go select some prime sun-catching seats. We’d lay out for two or three hours, reading, chatting, listening to music, sipping drinks (well, I slammed the water, but usually only had 2 or 3 drinks on the beach) and eating a light lunch (usually chips and guacamole, sometimes also chicken fingers w/ string potatoes, which are really, really thinly sliced French fries, which The Missus loved because they were all crunchy). After the beach, we’d sign our tab, tip our waiters, and head up to the room for a nap. After the nap, we’d go to dinner. After dinner, we’d go to our room, hot tub, watch movies (never could turn off the Spanish sub-titles, but that’s alright) and drift off to sleep.
Of note Tuesday was a funny e-mail we got from my mother-in-law. Unfortunately, my wife deleted it, otherwise I’d post it here. Essentially, I’d asked my mother-in-law, who was checking our mail and feeding our frog, to get on my cell phone (the sole repository of my mom’s phone number) to call her and let her know we were alive and well. My mother-in-law is somewhat technologically challenged, and I knew that going in. So, in my e-mail, I explained that she’d need to enter a secret code (that means I can’t share it with you, sorry) to get my phone to work, gave her the code, and explained how after that to place a call to my mom. My mother-in-law first had difficulty figuring out which phone was mine and which was my wife’s (no biggie there, we have identical phones), then forgot my code, then tried using my wife’s phone to call my mom (and found that my wife’s phone is hopelessly out-of-date in regard to the number she keeps for my mom), then found my work Nextel and almost used it to call a retired Gresham Police Department sergeant who shares my mom’s former last name. Finally, she just gave up, and was never able get a hold of my mom.
Strangely, I entirely forgot to call my mom yesterday, so she was kind enough to wake me up at 7-something this morning to make sure I was still alive. She is, too, for those who are keeping score. Her cardiologist says she’s probably going to need an angiogram to see if she has some blocked arteries, and if so they’ll deal with them, but otherwise she’s out of immediate danger. Thanks for asking.
WEDNESDAY
See Tuesday. Other adventures included the time-share pitch at a place on the island owned by the Avalon group. They gypped us on our free tequila and blanket, but did follow through on the Chichen Itza tickets and on the free golf cart rental. It was an okay place, but nothing like the places we like to stay (quiet, secluded, and quiet). Call now to sign up.
THURSDAY
Thursday, we were supposed to go on a day-long trip to a small island called Isla Contoy, a nature preserve that’s supposed to be beautiful. However, it turned out there weren’t enough people in the group make the trip profitable and it got cancelled on Wednesday. We were told that we could get a similar trip if we went into town at 6am, but The Missus preferred to get some sleep, so Thursday was basically Tuesday, redux.
Except for dinner. Thursday was the anniversary, so we had a very romantic dinner on the beach. I think I covered that previously in my last post. Anyway, very nice. Will publish a picture when I can. Jesus was very disappointed, because he had the day off and couldn’t be there. But the next night, he congratulated us and wished us continued love and happiness. My wife loves Jesus. Almost too much…
FRIDAY
Friday, we hopped a taxi to town and used our free golf cart rental. The island is 7.5 km long (which is less in miles, but since I lost the metric-English ruler that I got from a McDonald’s Happy Meal as a child, I can’t help you with the conversion), and many people rent golf carts (all gas-powered) to scoot around the island for a day or two. We used ours to hit a couple of the local curiosities, like the pseudo-zoo (12 animals kept in pretty inhumane cages, and some spider monkeys that let you pet them), the coconut stand (nothing like fresh cold coconut juice, straight from the nut), the Mayan ruins on the south end of the island, and a few beaches where we took pictures of the numerous iguanas found throughout the island. Then, back to town where we dropped off the cart, did a little shopping, had a little lunch (pizza, strangely) and went back to the hotel to do Tuesday-ish stuff the rest of the day.
SATURDAY
Saturday we were going to go to Chichen Itza. We got up on time, got to the ferry terminal on time, and started crossing over to Cancun on time. However, on the way, I started experiencing certain intestinal priorities which I clearly understood may hamper our adventure. After we got across the island (and I’d spent time both in the bathroom on the ferry and the bathroom on the dock), we decided to skip Chichen Itza and go back. Because of that decision, I can give blood for the next year or so because Cancun and Isla Mujeres are not in a malarial zone, but Chichen Itza is. But, if we go back next year, the Red Cross will have to wait for met to get to my third gallon for awhile…
Spent the rest of the day on the beach (and in the bathroom) and ate dinner in our room (pizza, again, because my wife had made me promise her two pizzas in Mexico after Pizza Hut and Dominos declared they weren’t delivering on the night of the ice storm, and I wussed out of a mile-long walk to Papa Murphy’s).
SUNDAY
Last-minute shopping for friends, lunch downtown (the only Mexican food we had the whole time, and it was awful), and then back to the hotel to continue Tuesday. The highlight of Sunday, though, was getting our waiter, Gilberto, to take a shot of tequila with us. He had to get special permission from his boss, and then had to be not-too-obvious about taking the shot.
We liked Gilberto a lot. On our second night at the hotel, he was our waiter. I ordered a margarita and drank it, then ordered a Negro Modelo. He accidently brought another margarita, which I was happy to take from him, but I pretended with him (we’d established rapport by then) that I was only taking it to be nice. He grabbed my arm, twisted it behind my back, and said “You drink!” He was freakin’ hilarious.
So, the last night, I had to return the favor. Gilberto was very kind, and ended up giving my wife a pair of earrings he’d made (he helps make earrings for the family’s small gift stand somewhere in town, and had brought some for members of the staff, but gave a pair to my wife instead).
MONDAY
Check-out day. We had wisely packed most everything Sunday night, so Monday started out as a breeze. Until it came time to check out. This was the sign of what would turn out to be a really weird day.
At the front desk, my wife presented her card for our joint account, which had all of our vacation money, and the machine wouldn’t take it. I presented my card for our joint account, and the machine similarly rejected it. My wife went to the computer and verified that we had plenty of money. So the staff kindly called our bank, and I spent the next fifteen minutes complaining, cajoling, and conspiring to get our bill paid. It worked, but be fore-warned that on some bank accounts, you will have a limit on how much you can charge on your card at once. We didn’t know it, but ours was $2500.
After that distasteful experience, we had a couple hours to lay in the sun before the yacht left for the mainland. One last bit of tanning and reading, then we were off.
Everything went smoothly until we got to Dallas. Our plane sat on the tarmac after landing for about half an hour, for no apparent reason. Then, we had a huge line at immigration and my passport was getting stamped two minutes after my connecting flight to Portland began boarding. We then had to collect our luggage and clear customs. That was done by 8:44, which was the time my plane was scheduled to depart. The board still read “final boarding,” so we ran (most) of the half mile from gate A28 to gate A20 and saw an empty seating area and a lady who, seeing our desperate faces (and that I was still putting my belt on from the metal detector) said “THERE THEY ARE” and rushed us aboard the flight. They had held it, just for us. I’ll forever be grateful for that.
So, that’s our vacation. A lunch-hour well-spent. I missed all sorts of exciting news, like the death of Johnny, the football play-offs, the Blazer’s firing of Qyntel (thank God that’s all done) and finally snapping their losing streak. But I wouldn’t trade my week on Isla Mujeres for anything. If you couldn’t tell, I loved my vacation. Unlike our trip to Italy in March, it was one of those vacations where you can just sit and vegetate, as opposed to having to run around everywhere and see all the sights, and that was just what the doctor ordered. For those looking for a place to stay, there’s no way I could possibly overstate how nice our hotel was. For a romantic, or just a carefree, get-away, I highly recommend it to anyone.
Now, lunch is over. Time to get back to the old grindstone. I promise, pictures will be available ASAP. Sunday at the latest.
Catch ya later.
posted by Rusty at 12:54 PM
3 Comments:
Sounds like you had a great time! Too bad Chichen Itza didn't work out. I've always wanted to go there and would have loved to read a first-hand account.
You're totally right about those chintzy American Airlines bistro bags. I wish they'd not even make them available. I'd rather bring my own food. PDX actually has some good places to get sandwiches. Also, that Dallas airport is a nightmare. I once had a 45 minutes layover there and it took me 40 minutes to get from one terminal to another.
One last thing. 7.5 km is just over 4.5 miles. Was that golf cart really necessary?
Well, in my defense, the Island is 7.5 km long, but you actually have to take a main road around it, and the hotel's seperated from the main part of the Island by a lagoon, and so 7.5 km can turn into double that (or triple) by the time you go from downtown to the south end, swing around to the hotel to use the clean bathrooms, go drive up a few roads to see what they hold, and then go back north to downtown.
Necessary? Not in the purest sense of the word. But still a lot of fun. Though, really, I'd have rather rented a scooter, but The Missus didn't trust me to safely drive her on one (and probably was right not to...)
By the way, my mother-in-law thinks the story about her and the cell phones makes here sound like an idiot. I swear she's not. She's very smart. She just has trouble with cellular phone techology.
In a way, that's a great thing. She isn't like the rest of us, feeling shackled and tied to the world by constant availability.
But, then again, we can never get a hold of her when we need her, unless she's at home, work, or The Missus' grandparents' house.
But, whatever. She's not dumb, so please don't think I'm trying to imply she is. She's the greatest (er, only) mother-in-law I've ever had, and all kidding aside, she's truly an awesome lady.
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