Monthly Archives: July 2012

Amor en Playa Azul

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If you’ve been reading LooseGringa, then you know that I’ve featured a mysterious man in my postings: my traveling partner, my partner in crime, my lover!

I am in love. In love.

And while I won’t gush — though it’s quite easy to do — I will say that traveling with him has been the greatest experience of my life, and our trip to Tulum was just another one in a string of unforgettable experiences with him, and in my Mexican adventure. But after two days in the town, we hadn’t had the romantic beachfront moment I’d fantasized. Not yet.

We packed up from the in-town Maison Tulum after two nights and remembered a sign on the town’s beach road advertising rooms starting at $79 — a bargain on the hotel strip, where on any given day you may just bump into a celebrity. The place was Playa Azul, a funky and colorful little joint with a cabana cheap enough that we had to say yes. We plopped a credit card down and enjoyed a light breakfast on the hotel’s whimsical waterfront restaurant, watching the sun come out.

How fantastic does this place look?

Hotels on Tulum’s beachfront road are expensive, but rustic. They’re required to generate their own electricity, so in the daytime electricity in your room is turned off. At night, it’s allotted at certain times. I was fretting over the loss of my beloved air-conditioner — my life’s true soul mate — but I would have to make do with a fan. A fan.

But you can bet I had that thing blowing directly on me all night.

Yet it was all perfectly romantic. Our room was outfitted with candles. There was no door on the shower, not even a bathroom door. If there were anymore gastrointestinal meltdowns, we were shit out of luck. There’s a pun in there, you clever folks.

There’s a magic in Tulum. It’s not just those yoga-loving, granola-types, wandering around wearing kaftans and gauzy pants, sending good vibes into the air … but I felt so utterly relaxed that I absolutely transcended vacation. I was on vacation while already ON my vacation. It’s a rare feeling.

And it was in Tulum that I imagined a life here with my lover, so overtaken with the beauty of our surroundings and the irrepressible wanderlust that travel evokes. As we barefooted down Tulum’s beaches, we dreamed our life in words — opening a hotel here, chic and minimalist bungalows, a small space, but perfect. It’s always been a dream of mine to own and decorate a hotel. And even if it was just fantasy, the magic of Tulum was such that it felt like we could actually make it happen if only we kept talking about it.

And as impractical as it may sound, If he had said, Let’s stay, I would’ve stayed.

But we had one full day left ahead of us, and we would take advantage of more of this paradise’s offerings. It’s ruins, it’s indescribable beaches, and a culinary feast to remember.

As happy as I was, a sadness was churning inside me. My time in Mexico was running thin: soon I would leave this gorgeous place, this gorgeous man. My heart burned.

But we seized the day (stay tuned!). And we’ll always have Tulum.

Saving Grace

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After our bungle in the jungle – a tour de force of mosquitoes and humidity — we followed the signs for nearby cenotes. (Read about my swim in Cenote Dos Ojos.)

I wanted to submerge my body in freezing cold water.

And that’s what I did.

I needed to be reborn after donning a pair of Levi’s cut-off shorts. LooseGringa does not wear shorts. I would gladly wear Bruce Hornsby concert t-shirts before I wore shorts.

But this was Mayan ruins, so I couldn’t show up in a dress or a skirt. I had feared this moment, the moment of wearing shorts, of exposing thighs and all sorts of unpleasantness. (Dear readers, I haven’t worn shorts since I went to Disney World in, like, 1999. The year before the world turned modern. So, may you understand my distress.)

The locals told us that cenote Tamcach-Ha was the best in the area. So with our crude map and our 4-cylinder rental car, we dodged potholes and stray dogs down dirt paths to the cenote.

But first I had to take a photo of a church we passed. This is the kind of place to get married in, if you’re into religious weddings.

It has character, no?

The cenote guide who greeted us informed us that we had to take showers before we entered the cenote. I can only imagine he understood my need for an immediate baptism from abysmal shorts-wearing.

But, in all probability, it was to wash away sunscreens and other toxins that could upset the balance of the pristine freshwater cenote.

That's my silhouette taking a shower. Glamorous

We crept down a wet and winding set of stairs to a below-ground cenote. It was almost entirely cut off from air, and a little difficult to breathe.

That photo above is what you think it is: a diving PLANK.

I couldn’t wait to jump. I am afraid of heights, but I love jumping into water. The plank was about 25-30 feet in the air, and scary as hell. Some people jumped, and others couldn’t muster the courage.

I decided not to think about it. I was that desperate that I just needed to throw myself from great heights for fashion forgiveness. And when my body hit the water, I was clean again.

After the dip, we stopped at a no-name family-run restaurant where I had one of the best meals of my stay in Mexico. The waiter whipped us up some mango water — simply, sliced mango and water, blended until smooth. I could drink this forever (and with vodka, too).

And a shared plate of cochinita pibil. Heaven!

Back in our Tulum hotel room, I balled up my wet shorts and cast them into eternal damnation forever.

But it was still a really good day.

Welcome to the Jungle

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We made it to Tulum — iPhone blaring Tom Petty and delicious jamón torta downed along the route — and found Maison Tulum, an utterly charming, budget-friendly option, operated by one of Mexico’s finest wingnuts, and, being a bit psycho myself, I mean that in the best possible way.

He told us that Guantanamo Bay is just a farce, and that the USA operates a clandestine naval base underneath the island of Cozumel. He also revealed the truth about secret Mayan ruins in the area, and knew the hidden sexual proclivities of Mexico ex-president Vicente Fox, who apparently prefers the company of eunuchs.

Deliriously puzzled, we laid our beaten bones down for the night, save for the exception of a pilgrimage for delicious seafood stew and a few Coronas, natch. We needed our rest — we were headed to the jungle ruins of Coba the next day.

But of course fate — my body! — had other plans.

I confess, I had a touch of the Montezuma come morning. I had a touch of something. But navigating the uncharted waters of gastrointestinal distress while sharing a hotel room with your lover is never comfortable, and the anxiety probably added to the problem. After countless trips to the loo, I had to come clean.

“I can’t stop pooping,” I admitted. Just like that.

With a laugh we headed to the drug store, where my lover grinned to the pharmacy girl that I needed something to stop diarrhea. (Savvy ladies, behold: always carry a secret stash of Imodium while traveling in Mexico.)

Now that that’s out of the way … Coba!

We hit the road — surrounded always by thick jungle with hand-painted wooden signs poking from the brush, advertising land for sale. The area of and outside Tulum is definitely on the make, and Tulum even has plans to build an airport. With gentrification imminent, I was grateful to experience it all in glorious low season, dusty back roads and grit in my rear-view.

Not to mention the side-road vendors hawking wooden lanterns and dreamcatchers and pitaya, a fruit I’d never seen before in my life, but which is best eaten cold, with a spoon. It’s milder than kiwi, and addictive.

It's me!

The highlight of Coba was scaling the Nohoch Mul pyramid, the tallest in the Yucatan. It’s 138 feet tall with a rope threading down the center, to assist frightful climbers, like me. I climbed, knees wobbling, and mid-way looked down. Big mistake. The chicken in me wanted to turn back, but I proudly kept on.

I’m the type of girl who can get to the top, but needs a team of firefighters to get me down.

Getting down is the hardest part, for some reason. But the view was spectacular! Nothing but trees, forever.

I sat and scooted down each step of the pyramid until I was on land again. With sweat pouring from us, we hired the amazing services of a bicycle taxista to usher us out and onto the next adventure. Stay tuned!

 

Crystal Blue Persuasion

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It’s painful to fathom that my time here has dwindled and that my Mexican sojourn is coming to a close. It seems like only yesterday the plane was touching down and I had the whole two months ahead of me. Now I have two weeks. (But, what kind of gringa would I be without some secret plans in the works? Please, cross your fingers for me!)

So I’ve been keeping active as a distraction from the mounting depression and instability I’m starting to feel. Last week was incredibly eventful — beginning with a snorkel tour I took on Tuesday. Even though I’m now a PADI-certified diver, sometimes I just wanna snorkel.

I grabbed a cab to the Money Bar at 8:30 and when the boat arrived, who should I see but fair Antonio? Cozumel island’s favorite comedian/party animal/all-around good guy. I went from snorkeling by my lonesome to having a partner in crime. I love surprises.

I befriended Antonio during my November trip to Cozumel, and we’ve kept in touch since. If there’s two things Antonio loves in this world, it’s Tecate and tourists. He’s never a dullard.

Wakey, wakey!

Antonio happened to be the photographer for the tour I’d chosen, which would take me to a beach called El Cielo, rife with starfish. Also on the docket: Columbia shallows and Palancar reef. Antonio was super-hungover and told me he’d been on a 12-hour bender at some of the island’s cantinas — still, I entrusted in him to take some amazing underwater shots of me, Little Mermaid-style, after his crab breakfast, of course.

What do you guys think?

Glamorous and exciting photo-shoot concluded, I spent the rest of the day indulging in hair-of-the-dog Coronas with Antonio and eating fresh tuna with our fingers from a plastic yogurt carton. We spotted a few sea turtles while snorkeling, but the current was strong and the visibility suffered because of it.

But at least I got to drive the boat!

With Cap'n Martin and JJ the snorkel guide

Island of Women Pt. 2

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By the looks of this foreshadowing breakfast, I knew our second day in Isla Mujeres would be excellent. Grilled skirt steak, chilaquiles with avocado and crema, and there’s nothing quite like a slab of beans to start your day off right. Am I right? Coffee and orange juice. Al fresco seating. It was joyous; one of my favorite meals I’ve had in Mexico thus far. So simple, so fulfilling.

Afterward, we headed to the docks to hop on a whale shark tour — but the tours had all left hours ago, and it was only 9 a.m. After some finagling, we smooth-talked a captain into taking us. We paid a bit more for the private charter, but it would be worth it.

So while the captain went to fill the boat with gas, we hung around the docks for some beers with the boys, who were hauling in their catch of the day: barracuda!

It was time to set forth upon the sea. We loaded into the Mahache with Captain Fausto and his first mate!

The water was unbelievably choppy. This video doesn’t quite accurately capture the rollercoaster effect of the waves that day, but lucky for me, I am made of steel. Others would’ve been less fortunate, I’m sure.

It was a long, wild ride to the middle of nowhere to see the whale sharks. But as the engine slowed and we stalled, I stood up to see dozens of whale sharks basking around the boat.

We grabbed our snorkel gear and jumped in.

I was a little intimiated at first. The whale sharks were huge and they were everywhere around us — I had no idea what to do. But our guide took my hand and dragged me right into the path of one. “Go on, go on,” he called to me. I was breathless.

I followed each shark until it quickened its swim and advanced too far ahead to catch. But I’d turn around and there was another whale shark! And another.

I know it was wrong, but I touched one — and their skin is hard, almost plasticky. The guide said the biggest one he saw was 42 feet long!

I turned sideways and swam alongside one shark for a few minutes. Its eyes, which are located on the side of the body, turned to me and I looked right back. I looked into the eye of the whale!

It was the weirdest feeling. I felt so small, so out-of-body; and so overcome with emotion. I wanted to cry. I did cry. I can’t really explain why, except that I was alone, in the middle of the ocean, in Mexico, with dozens of mystical whale sharks, glimpsing something rare and beautiful. It was the culmination of my trip — dare I say my life? — to witness them.

Maybe it was hormones. But, just like with the snakebite incident, I thought about my life, about my family, and about my trip as a whole.

I am living. This, friends, is living.

It was definitely the adventure of a lifetime. If you have a chance to swim with the whale sharks — do it. And see Captain Fausto if you can.

He will change your life and then pour you a Sol.

Island of Women Pt. 1

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The road to the Island of Women is paved with travel.

From Cozumel, you take a ferry to Playa Del Carmen, a bus to Cancun, a taxi to another port to catch yet another ferry, but the end result is paradise, even if it’s at 10 o’clock at night and you’re a bit drained after crappy Tom Hanks movies dubbed in Spanish and hair-raising ferry bathrooms.

But there was some delicious ice cream and elotes to sustain us along the way.

Sunset from the ferry

The vibe in Isla Mujeres is different than the other places I’ve been to in Mexico. While its name may be a nod to those fair Mayan maidens, I felt completely surrounded by the salty sea-going men who wear sharks teeth necklaces with khaki chino shorts. Its an immensely livable island, if you catch my drift.

Our first order of business was finding a cheap hotel for the night, one that would allow us to stay past the normal check-out, since we were in town for primarily one reason: to swim with the fabled whale sharks!

After visiting a few places, we settled on the economical and clean Los Arcos, bare-bones style, but smack-dab in the middle of the island’s main square. One night here was $600 pesos, or roughly $45 USD. Not bad, and we negotiated a check-out of 5 p.m. No rushing around without a shower for us (thank god I found a lover who takes more showers than me).

We threw down our woes and headed into the night, lured by the music of La Terraza, a mere stone’s throw from the hotel. The margaritas here were the best I’ve savored so far, indisputably fresh and handmade, with a salty, chili rim. And strong, too. After three of those, I was ready for … well, you can use your imagination.

But just as we were readying for a dance, the band announced their last number.

We stumbled to the waterfront a bit drunk. Isla Mujeres was hunkering down and it was only a little after midnight.

Goodnight, moon

The hotel bed was hard but the soft-core porn on the Golden EDGE network was plentiful. It was time to rest up for the day ahead, which I didn’t know then would be the most incredible experience of my life.

Stay tuned to tomorrow for my part-two journey to Isla Mujeres!

Force of July

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Yesterday marked my one-month anniversary living on the island.

I wasn’t particularly nostalgic for back home, it being the 4th of July and all, however I’ve had a chronic hankering for a decent, all-beef cheeseburger while in Mexico, and the holiday only exacerbated that need. A decent burger is so hard to come by, especially here. Most burger patties I’ve gotten here have been the anomalous pre-made sort, the kind that makes me shudder.

I know, I know. Hamburgers in Mexico? But I eat tacos and tortas and enchiladas all day, and all night. I deserve that hamburger.

However, the need is still unfulfilled. I am searching for THE ONE. (If you know where Mr. Rightburger lives, clue a gringa in.)

I’ve been writing up a storm lately, and yesterday I managed to start five — FIVE! — new poems. I think my ‘Mexico period’, to quote my workshop friends back home, will be especially prolific.

But finally I had to abandon a few drafts — it was time to meet with Tatiana for drinks in Cozumel’s main square. I strapped on my sandals and walked downtown. The best part about walking through the island streets are the smells of the food — especially the little open-air shops that grill whole chickens on a flat bed of charcoal. I am going to investigate this soon and report back.

We ordered tequila shots, beers, and a botana and after some much-needed girl talk, we settled in for a salsa band at Wet Wendy’s. After two shots, I was an American girl attempting to salsa dance! I don’t think I did too bad.

Soon we walked over to Woody’s, where a Gregg Allman lookalike was belting out some originals and of course some covers, too. After “Brown Eyed Girl,” I drunkenly whooped and hollered for “Sweet Home Alabama,” which hit the spot.

The singer (a native of Nevada now living in Playa del Carmen) followed it with “Sweet Caroline,” and the crowd joined in. It was like being back home … in Mexico.

But I think next year I’ll request this song:

Of course the night wouldn’t be complete without 2 a.m. tacos and a little political debate. It was a 4th of July to remember.

Con Dos Ojos

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Like mama always said, Look before you leap.

Yesterday I leaped to Playa Del Carmen for an afternoon date of snorkeling, sun, and adventure. With the best intentions, things went a bit awry.

After noshing at La Choza for a desayuno rico, my lover and I caught the 11 a.m. ferry to Playa Del Carmen. It was a perfect Sunday where you wake up early and decide not to waste time and head out into the world. I love those days.

There was electricity in the air. It was July 1 — Mexico’s national election day. My lover cast his vote for AMLO, and the day would be full of the kind of anxiety I can only liken to the night Obama was elected.

Once in Playa, we rented a car and dove a bit of ways out to Cenote Dos Ojos. We bought our tickets and were heading down another dusty gravel road surrounded by thick jungle when I saw a man, woman, and child on the side of the road. The man was frantically waving his t-shirt in the air. They needed help and I told my lover to stop. We backed up to them.

The woman ran over and was in a panic, speaking Spanish so fast, I could only make out conjugations or morir — death. Something bad had gone down.

They got in the car and we turned around, speeding to the entrance. Minutes later, we dropped the family off and they thanked us. I still had no idea what happened until my lover explained that they’d been clearing brush and the man had been bitten by a deadly snake.

He had an hour to make it to the hospital or he’d die. He told me the man said that he was trying to stay calm, because an elevated heart rate would only push the venom faster through his system.

I felt so deflated and I’m not sure I ever really recovered after this chance encounter. It made me consider so much about my life this year and about my sojourn to Mexico to capitalize on that life.

I gave up everything to come to Mexico, literally. And I’ve had some amazing adventures here, and I’ve been truly disappointed here — by my own expectations, and by people, too. I looked before I leaped; I took a chance. I hoped for the best, and still do. At the end of the day, that’s all that matters.

Sorry for the vagueness. Like I said, I’m not sure I ever recovered.

But I hope that man is okay.

We carried on to snorkel the cenote, which is a freshwater sinkhole made from limestone. Stalagmites and stalactites and caverns galore. Tiny fishes and cold water and, in some corners, complete darkness. It was refreshing and a bit of calm after the snakebite, the long drive, and temperatures escalating into the 90s.

We dried off in the sun. I drove back to Playa — my first time ever driving in Mexico. I navigated the topes with caution and we found a cheap hotel for the night.

After dinner, we walked to the pier, and I thought again of the man and the snakebite. I will certainly never see him again. Whoever you are, I hope you are still here.