Back to Playa del Carmen—maybe for the last time?

The title of this blogpost may seem strange, but it's not completely out of the question. With my timeshare contract with H10 coming to a conclusion at the end of this year, there will be much less reason to spend future vacations on the Riviera Maya. After all, the world offers so many beach destinations, and let's be brutally honest: Playa's seaweed-plagued coastline doesn't fit the image of a tropical paradise with pristine white beaches, which automatically pops to mind when one hears the name. 

After having worked the NICA State Championships the previous weekend and driven home Sunday night, Sandy and I were scheduled to depart Lubbock on Tuesday morning. Alas, when I checked my messages after waking up, I could hardly believe it: Our flight to Dallas and onward to Cancun had been cancelled because of severe weather in the DFW area, and we had been rebooked for the next day, Wednesday. Time to call American. I was stunned to immediately get connected to an agent on the Executive Platinum hotline, and for once I can't praise AA enough as Valerie, after trying almost every option in the book, took my suggestion to rebook us onto a United flight to Houston and then onward to Mexico. Mind you, back in the day that was SOP, but not nowadays, and certainly not for a mileage redemption ticket. Wow.

As it turned out, Valerie had not only been able to snag the last two remaining seats on United's puddle jumper to IAH, but she had also secured first class seats for the CUN flight, and so Sandy and I went from seeing the beginning of our vacation unravel to toasting our good fortune and a phone agent who did the right thing for what the airline so often calls one of their "most valuable customers." United's flight attendants showed themselves from their best side, and Sandy—who had never flown in First—was quite impressed with how much nicer life up front is when compared with the back of the bus.

Before boarding our first flight in Lubbock I had contacted our ground transportation operator in Cancun and let them know that we would arrive almost two hours ahead of schedule. We didn't have to wait long for our shared van and were able to check into the Ocean Riviera Paradise by mid-afternoon, allowing us a bit of pool time before a nice and relaxed dinner in one of the outdoor restaurants that are part of this all-inclusive.

Longtime readers of my blog will remember that on several occasions my H10 stays have been marred by issues with the originally assigned room. As a so-called Privilege guest who was promised to "always have at least an ocean view room" it stings when there's no view at all, except a sea of mangroves with a few palm trees sprinkled in, plus a good dose of early morning construction noise from a neighboring property. I had been in contact with the resort well ahead of this vacation to secure a nice room, and still the difference between #3336 (first four nights) and #3445 (final three nights) could not have been any starker. Well, soon H10 won't be part of my traveling life any longer.

Sandy and I had mutually agreed on no day trips or excursions as she had been with a girlfriend to the Riviera Maya a year or two earlier and had felt as if she had no time to just sit and relax. Fine with me as I have seen the major sights numerous times. And so we spent our week at the ORP lounging by the sea, listening to the soothing sounds of the waves, or hanging out at one of the various pools and making good use of the swim-up bars. We both agreed that this is a wonderful lifestyle, and we also agreed that one can do so for only a week before slowly going batty.

The weather was very nice, with the first four days almost completely devoid of clouds and a steady wind that kept the humidity low. We made sure to stay as much in the shade as possible, and of course we made liberal use of sunscreen—nothing worse than getting burned on the first day of vacation. If you have been to a beach resort, you have seen all those red lobsters doing yet another round of tequila shots while out-yelling each other at the swim-up bar. Attractive gringos and gringas, for sure.

For most of our breakfasts we went to the Privilege Lounge, where we enjoyed the à la carte service; we also went once or twice to the general buffet, just to try it out, but the more intimate atmosphere of the lounge held more attraction for us. Most of our lunches we ate in the Pez Vela restaurant right on the water, a wonderful spot on the open air terrace but out of the sun. We ate our share of fresh ceviche and Mexican burgers, rehydrated with cold white wine or cervecitas, and watched the beach vendors slowly trudge by while armed police patrols in dune buggies made sure we all were safe.

Before dinner we'd have our apéritifs on the veranda of the Privilege Lounge, watching the sun slowly set and life in the resort make the change from pool attire to evening engagements. All dinners were by reservation in one of the six specialty restaurants, and we generally chose a place with outdoor seating as nothing beats a leisurely dinner under the stars. The food quality varied a bit, especially with traditional Mexican dishes that have been adjusted (read: watered down) to meet the gringo palate. Over those fifteen years of staying in H10 resorts I have, unfortunately, seen a decline in tastiness of the food (yet an odd increase in serving sizes, as if people will judge their food by quantity and not quality—well, they probably do!). The presentation of all dishes was, as always, impeccable and made other aspects of the food easier to overlook.

We closed down a few nights with a stroll to the main bar, but since we're really not into karaoke and similar silliness we did that only a couple of times. Especially after our room change it was truly enjoyable to fill up the jacuzzi on our balcony and nurse our nightcap while looking at the beautifully illuminated resort and the main pool. Very nice!

We took a few walks along the beach, with Sandy looking for shells and other treasures. There are a few neighboring resorts, and all of them employ fellows who rake the seaweed into large piles that they then load onto Truper wheelbarrows to dump them just a few dozen meters inland. It's a never-ending, Sisyphean task that looks about as appealing as being a roofer or asphalt layer in the middle of summer. We ventured into the open water only once as this stretch of the beach has quite  a few broken coral pieces to stub one's toe. But we did spend quite a bit of time in the pools, piña colada or mudslide in hand.

Before we realized it, we had lived for seven days la dolce vita. As said earlier, one week in an all-inclusive is just enough. There comes a point where one wants to just drink a club soda instead of yet another sugary fou-fou drink. Food menus start looking alike. And the lack of meaningful exercise means that getting up from the pool's lounge chairs is becoming more and more difficult. Time to fly home.

Cancun proper, with its big old lagoon, about 30 miles north of Playa del Carmen

And so we did. This time there were no flight delays, we cleared immigration without a hitch (Sandy, of Latin heritage, without Global Entry, and owner of an almost virgin passport, had worried just a little bit after reading all the stories that have been hitting the social media), and there was enough time for us to enjoy the Admiral's Club in DFW's terminal D, Sandy's first visit ever to an airport lounge. I think she's hooked. When we got to Lubbock, we took an Uber to my house, and the rather weird driver didn't put the car into the proper park position and I ended up with a small dent in my garage door panels. Uber has already refunded the fare, and a Progressive insurance adjuster has contacted me as well. Travel can be quite exciting!

Jürgen

How to spend a month officiating mountain bike races in Texas

As I mentioned in the final paragraph of my last blogpost, April was supposed to bring three high school mountain bike races—but that was before nasty weather cancelled the first of them, just days after my return to the States. One week after that event, however, the weather gods had mercy on the kids and we got to RACE!

For a long time, Bluff Creek Ranch, in Warda, has been one of my favorite mountain bike venues in Texas. It is located about an hour due east of Austin, in an area of the state where one encounters the first pine forests. The ranch is home to longhorns, beautiful animals with sweeping horns and colorfully mottled hides. Because of the cancellation the week before at 4R Ranch in the Gainesville/Munster area, teams from the North Conference (our league, because of the vast distances, is split into two geographic divisions) were invited to come to Warda and race, and thus it was one of the largest races that NICA Texas has seen in its 14 seasons.

Warda is simply inviting, with the large grassy meadows as well as the camp sites under the trees and close to the various ponds. The entire venue is as family friendly as they come. Of course, I don't camp out at any of the races (Judy and I had decided on that policy at the very beginning of our officiating career: No lying in the dirt when we work an event), and in the past I have stayed in several cheap area hotels. This time, with Sandy joining me and the San Marcos branch of her family coming to the race, it made sense to rent an Airbnb. We lucked out with an (overpriced) double-wide barely five minutes from Bluff Creek, and her son, daughter-in-law, and their two kids joined us for the weekend. Zane, Sandy's 17-year-old grandson, rides for the San Marcos Rattlers, and so Sandy not only got to experience another race but was also treated to time with her "babies." Nice!

We did have a few tense moments in the Airbnb when the oven—with Friday night's pizzas in it—burst into flames, thanks to leftover grease that the host had not cleaned up. For a while black smoke was billowing from the offending appliance, and it took some serious venting to make the inside air once again breathable; the smoke alarm never made a sound, but then, we also couldn't see the thing. An emergency call to the host resulted in his bringing us three pizzas "on the house," and his apologetic manner certainly was appreciated (as did his coming back over on Saturday to clean up the kitchen).

Zane had a good race, Sandy was thrilled by the ambiance of the event, and I enjoyed a stress-free day devoid of any major issues. We stuck around Sunday after the race and then drove the almost eight hours back home to Lubbock on Monday. Total mileage for the four-day weekend: 909 miles.

The next weekend was Easter, a good reason for me to buckle down and clean up my backyard. Even if there are still some live oak leaves that float onto the porch and artificial turf, the volume of descending bio mass has definitely decreased over the past few weeks. With a new high-pressure water washer I cleaned off the concrete on Saturday morning, and then it was already time to prepare that night's Easter dinner: homemade chicken liver pâté as part of the pu pu platter and then shrimp skewers! I had suggested that I'd host Sandy and her Lubbock-based family, Thomas and Amber and their darling daughters, three-year-old Emmie and five-year-old Esther.

The weather cooperated, we had a fabulous evening, and the girls giggled with excitement especially when it was finally time for the Easter egg hunt. We all had a great time, and I enjoyed playing abuelo, with little Emmie falling asleep in my arms while we were slowly closing down the night with another bottle of wine.

One week later I was back on the road, this time by myself since I had to travel all the way out to Longview in East Texas. It's quite a haul out there, and I used the opportunity to stay with my old friend Mike who doesn't live far from White Rock Lake in Dallas. We hadn't seen each other in several years, and the two buddies had a grand ol' time Friday evening before I completed the final three hours of the drive on Saturday morning. The race venue, 29 Pines, had been rained out at the beginning of this spring's NICA season, but with a bit of luck we were able to use this rain date for another successful event. I had never been to 29 Pines, and I have to say it is absolutely beautiful with a professionally built course that may be one of the fastest in the state. 

After the conclusion of the race on Sunday I drove back to Benbrook, on the west side of the metroplex so that I could avoid Monday morning's traffic insanity around Dallas and Ft. Worth. The total mileage for the weekend was 1,031, driven between Friday morning and Monday afternoon. No wonder that my bike mileage for the year totally sucks—I still haven't cracked 1,000 miles! And the fun continues this weekend, when Sandy and I will travel to the NICA Texas State Championship Finals at Reveille Peak, close to Marble Falls—this will be the second time this spring to travel the approximately 700 miles to RPR. The plan is to leave tomorrow morning (Friday, May 2), work the race, and return Sunday evening so that we have one buffer day between our return (one never knows what may happen when one drives such long distances) and our flight to the Riviera Maya on Tuesday morning. Sandy is all excited, and I have to say that after all that "work" during the past month I'm ready for some serious R&R myself. 😂

Jürgen