It's Thanksgiving evening, and I am stuffed, not with turkey, but a delicious Mexican dinner that also included three margaritas plus some Kahlua as well as Baileys for dessert, of course. This is no way to live a solid life, but then who ever said that all inclusive resorts will lead you in this direction?
On Thanksgiving we're supposed to be thankful, and I have lots of things to be thankful for. A little less than three years ago I was down here, on a similar trip but in the spring, and went for one of my routine daily rides when I hit a speed bump that I never saw, went down hard, and ended up receiving a replacement hip. I think I need to be thankful that I am still riding and relatively active with that extra wear and tear.
It's been a year with a busy bike race schedule, all the way from the early NICA high school season to three national championships, several UCI mountain bike events, two UCI World Tour road races, and even a Pan-American Championship. That alone took me to two foreign countries and numerous US states, and my personal travel isn't even done yet and nevertheless I've been to a several spots that some folks have on their bucket list. I won't just give away yet how I hope to ring out the year.
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| Have bike, will travel |
The annual doc check-up showed no "abnormalities," whatever that may mean; close friends may beg to differ, but I take the verdict when it comes from a doc. I cleaned up my personal life a bit with a badly needed change in relationships, not really the way I had expected but for the better nevertheless. And despite the fact that BravoXteriors failed to deliver on much that its owner had promised and left my backyard project unfinished, not taking responsibility for its myriad fuck-ups and trying to squeeze an extra $10K out of me, I am glad that I finally made the move to create a happy habitat for the times when I'm actually in Lubbock.
So, thankful it is. Of course, it could always be better (the right shoulder is becoming increasingly obnoxious, my perceived—and actual—fatness and fitness levels are curiously inverted, and I don't see many of my friends often enough), but we do need something to bitch about, right? So, good it was and is.
There's not much to tell about my stay here in the Ocean Maya Royale, one of two H-10 resorts on the outskirts of Playa del Carmen but one that for some reason I had never visited. If anything, I have to say that this may have been my best stay in an Ocean all-inclusive yet thanks to the exquisite meals. Maybe the entire chain finally made some changes to the corporate menus, but from what I understand from the staff that's not the case. This adults-only resort dishes up some truly outstanding meals in its various specialty restaurants, well prepared and lovingly presented. When you travel solo, food takes on an even bigger role when it comes to the level of satisfaction you derive from your vacation. Of course, their wine still totally sucks.
The rides that I took were, well, same old, same old. The Riviera Maya is not a place where you go for scenic rides. I brought my bike to burn off at least a few calories, even if it involves fracturing the occasional femur head. It's good to escape the compound for a few hours, and I have a much better idea of where I am compared to the folks who take a shuttle from the airport to the hotel and then head back, seven days later.
On my rides I got to see construction on the
Tren Maya, the controversial 966-mile train track that will loop around (and cut through) the Yucatan peninsula, with a supposed completion date of early December. Yes, this year. Well, that ain't happening from what I saw, but there are lots of worker bees that will keep an itinerant cyclist well away from the construction. Together with the new international airport in Tulum, about 40 miles south of here, the impact on the region with the expected influx of even more tourists will be significant. The employees that I talked to here at the resort were guardedly optimistic as more tourists mean more job opportunities, but there was also a bit of hesitancy in their answers. Indigenous people are adamantly opposed to the projects, but who cares about the Maya, right?
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| Truckload after truckload of concrete ties for El Tren |
My daily routine consisted of waking up with the morning sun, doing a quick email and news check, taking a shower, and strolling over to the Privilege Lounge where I'd have breakfast on the small veranda overlooking the Gulf of Mexico. Cappuccino, a plate of fruit, and a bagel loaded with smoked salmon, capers, and red onions would be enough to sustain me for the three-hour ride that'd follow. (With all the speed bumps and navigational stops my average speed wasn't too high, and most days I rode just about 25 miles, for a total of around 130 miles for five days of riding.)
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| Morning Bloody Mary on my final two no-ride days |
After getting back to the compound I'd take a shower and come back to life with a few cold cans of Club Soda and then go to one of three different restaurants for lunch. Sitting there, enjoying really tasty dishes and downing a few cold ones, was a total treat after the hot, humid rides. An hour into this lull of activity I'd be sleepy enough for my siesta, usually on the beach where the gentle sound of the waves would put me out to pasture in a minute. With the afternoon progressing it soon enough was time to retreat to the pool,
piña colada in hand—or a
mojito, a
caipirinha, or some other AA-verboten drink.
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| Iguanas and coatis populate the Ocean Maya Royale |
Evening comes quickly in these latitudes, and while some hardcore partygoers revelled in the pool until the bar would finally close at 6:00 p.m., I managed to tear myself away to slowly gussy up for the evening routine: a G&T on the lounge veranda and then an 8:00 p.m. dinner appointment, followed by the resort's (at times excellent) animation or simply a nightcap at the main lobby bar. And then it was time to turn in and repeat.
A week of this lifestyle is enough to bring a grown man to his feet. How much can one possibly eat? How much can one stand to drink? The body screams out, this can't be healthy! And so, when it was time to bid farewell and take my taxi to the airport I didn't feel terrible pangs of sorrow but rather the satisfaction of having enjoyed a full week of riding and not having to worry about cooking a single meal. Going home is easy, because an all-inclusive is not reality!
Jürgen
