Not doing much of anything for a week in Mexico

It's hurricane season (as I am writing this, Hurricane Ian is taking aim at Florida after leaving a million or more Cubanos without electricity), and that means it is all-inclusive season for me. With the last race of the year (unless something unexpectedly pops up) behind me and no urgent tasks at hand, I decided that a week at the Ocean Coral y Turquesa on the Riviera Maya might be a good way to wind down after the last three months of heavy travel. Since my single-supplement is almost as costly as paying the all-inclusive fee for a second person I asked my friend Bethany whether she wanted to come along as the trip dates were going to coincide with her birthday. Somehow she finagled a way out of her teaching duties for the suggested dates, and off we were.

For Beth it was the first time to visit Mexico, despite her having been to far-flung places such as China, Russia, and New Zealand. I forewarned her that being in an all-inclusive wouldn't really count for "having seen Mexico," but that didn't matter much. There's still excitement in leaving Lubbock and going to a new place, especially when it involves a First Class flight, free with miles. 

I had arranged for our ground transfer, and after the now-normal AA delays we arrived Saturday evening at the resort. Check-in was less organized than usual, and what I had written in the past about H10's nosediving customer service unfortunately was even more evident than it had ever been. Alas, I won't get into the various snafus and rather concentrate on the good times we had.

Foremost was the weather! Despite gloomy forecasts of daily 60% to 80% chances of thunderstorms we experienced no rain. The mornings were gloriously sunny, the sea was smooth, and having breakfast in the Privilege Lounge right on the water was spectacular. (We also had several dinners in the same spot.) In the afternoons we were glad when some clouds moved in and helped us avoid burning to a crisp. We alternated between swimming in the warm waters of the Caribbean (unfortunately not the clear turquoise of tourist brochures as this area has always had a lot of seaweed) and floating in one of the three pools of the resort. Beth was surprised how easily she took to clutching her pool-noodle and motion to one of the waiters to please bring another piña colada con extra amaretto.

In an all-inclusive the truly stressful moments always arrive when important decisions need to be made, such as where will we have dinner, and shall we go for thirds? While hanging out for a week in an AI does have a certain appeal, I simply cannot understand how some of the European visitors can spend two or even three weeks in the same resort! I'd go nuts, even with daily mixology demonstrations, entertainment by the resident iguanas, or the bubble extravaganza at the swim-up bar.

Generally I bring one of my bikes along to escape the compound for a few hours every day. But with having a companion I had decided to forgo the bike (and thus the daily exercise) as I didn't want to smash the other hip and put Beth into a situation that neither of us wanted. Obviously knowing about her birthday I had told her that I'd treat her to an all-day excursion so that she'd get at least a small whiff of life outside the tourist prison.

Our day-trip to Chichén Itzá (booked through Viator) started at 7 a.m. with a hotel pick-up and a short drive to a more general meeting point just outside of Cancun. Thanks to some major road construction the large bus didn't materialize until almost an hour later, making us wonder whether we had been stranded. But you know how Mexico is: Just remain tranquilo. The bus eventually showed up and 30 international tourists hurtled toward one of the Seven Wonders of the World.

I had been to this site on several occasions before, and I have to say that I like the fact that visitor no longer can climb the main pyramid or wander through the many other archeological digs. Our tour guide, Luis, was extremely knowledgeable, yet at times he tried to convey more information that most of us could digest. The two (very hot and sweltering) hours at Chichén were just enough to wet my appetite to revisit some of those places that I explored 40 or more years ago on my first forays into Mexico and Guatemala. So many places, so little time....

From the ruins, with all of us trying to revive ourselves in the air-conditioned bus, it was just a 30-minute drive to the Cenote Samaal at Hacienda Selva Maya, a few kilometers outside of Valladolid. I have been to numerous such sinkholes, which have become increasingly popular with tourists as they offer a cool respite from the oppressive Yucatecan heat. Included in our visit was a buffet lunch in the so-called "authentic" restaurant of the hacienda, but I have to say that I have had much better, much more authentic food in many places. Oh well. But the cenote, despite all the visitors old and young, was still rather spectacular, and we enjoyed our 45 minutes of swimming in the cool water.

The final stop of the trip before heading back to the Riviera Maya came in the center of Valladolid, a pleasant town with a beautiful zocalo, or main square. I wish Beth could have experienced what life in a typical town like Valladolid looks like on a Friday or Saturday night; instead, a short visit to the (unimpressive) church and a walk around the zocalo had to suffice. Of course, I see the whole thing with different eyes, having spent so much time over the years in Mexico; for Beth it was all new and exciting.

Similarly exciting (for her) was our second escape from Alcatraz, this time in the form of the resort-operated bike tour to nearby Puerto Morelos. I knew what was coming as I had seen the wobbling string of tourists with their fearless leader on many occasions when I had been returning from my forays into the hinterland on the Ritchey. Sure enough, we had to wear safety vests and were briefed on how to ride single file. The bikes were coaster-brake beach cruisers, but at least the helmets were OK. We rode a whopping seven miles (out-and-back), and the leader asked on several occasions whether we needed a break, but our group of eight or so was much more athletic than he imagined: We pedaled at an average speed of almost 6.6 mph, after all! 

But as I said, it was another way to see a little bit of the Mexico outside of the resort, and I think Beth has a better understanding of why I always talk so passionately about our neighbor to the south. She got to experience potholes and speedbumps from the tractor-saddle of a beach cruiser, and she saw the well-kept yards and small tiendas in town. The bike tours in the resorts may be as hokey as they come, but if they allow some folks to understand that there is a different world beyond those gates with the watchmen, well, then it's all good.

After a week of bloatin' and floatin' it was time to go back to Lubbock and face reality. It's always fun to go to one of these places, but if I'm brutally honest, I don't think I could stand a stay much longer than a week. 

The flight back to Lubbock started out with yet another delay, then a rebooking, and then an unplanned overnight stay in a Courtyard by Marriott in DFW when AA's maintenance of its airplanes once again was lacking and we missed our final connection back home. Tranquilo. It doesn't make sense to get all riled up, and on Sunday we made it back to Lubbaville right around noon. And now it's time to work off those extra pounds once again....

Jürgen