At Terminal A there was still no sign of The Doctor, but after waiting for another 10 minutes or so he finally appeared. Turns out he had been there the whole time, but had been sitting in a chair hidden from view behind a giant Dunkin' Donuts cup. He was quite tired. Around the time I had been getting into bed, he had been at a concert in the park, and after that did some work in his office and finished getting ready for the trip. He ended up only laying down for 20 minutes or so before he had to get up to head for the airport.
When we went to check in we discovered that there was an earlier flight through Newark NJ that would be leaving at 6:32 with an hour layover in Newark NJ, getting us into Cancun at around 1:00. The flight we had booked wasn't scheduled to leave until 7:00, with a six hour layover in Houston TX (at the George Bush Airport, of all places!), and not arriving in Cancun until 6:07. Obviously we found getting into Cancun six hours earlier very appealing, so we switched flights.
Our flight was fairly uneventful, though the leg from Newark to Cancun had some noisy kids, including the one directly in front of The Doctor who kept clicking his seat belt buckle over and over again. Somehow, The Doctor managed to sleep for a good deal of the flight, but usually when I would try to dose off, some child would cry or scream or click, waking me up again.
We thought we were quite lucky to get the earlier flight, and even more so when, as we approached the Cancun airport, the pilot announced we were arriving 25 minutes ahead of schedule. We went through immigration where we got our passports stamped, and then through customs, where I was pulled aside to have my bag inspected. The agent looked through it, and was quite suspicious about a large bag filled with smaller Ziploc bags containing a powdery substance. I pictured myself being immediately hauled off to a Mexican prison, but I explained it was a protein drink, and he seem satisfied, and let me pass without any further detainment.
The shuttle came and took us to the Budget lot, and here we had to wait for quite awhile in a small, crowded, fairly warm building to get our reservation processed. We decided I should be listed as a second driver, which ended up adding $7.50 per day onto the rate, on top of the additional $25.00 per day for insurance which also put a $600.00 deposit hold on The Doctor's credit card. When we were done inside we had to wait outside while our car was cleaned. When it was finally brought to us we got in and were ready to take off when The Doctor discovered it was a standard or stick shift. I do not know how to drive standard, and we both agreed the streets of Mexico was not the best place for me to learn. So we went back inside and got my name taking off the rental agreement, and got the $7.50 per day refunded to The Doctor's credit card.
Finally we were on our way. We had seen a Walmart on the map given to us by the Budget girl and decided that would be a good place to stock up on bottled water. Also, I needed to buy a pair of sunglasses. I have had bad luck traveling with sunglasses. When we went to Peru, I sat on the pair I brought with me, and bought a new pair in Cusco. That pair I lost in Bermuda after setting them down to get my picture taken in a set of stocks. I bought a new pair in Bermuda which I later lost in a movie theater. I had bought a pair especially for this trip . . . and left them sitting by the door when I left home this morning.
The Doctor had brought his GPS, but even with that it took us awhile and many, many wrong turns before getting to Walmart. At one point we turned on to a side street that had a guard station and several uniformed, official looking men on duty. It looked quite like a prison, and we didn't want to get any closer, but the street was a one way, so we had no choice but to go on. The Doctor told one of the guards we just needed to turn around, and he cheerfully let us through. As it turned out, I think it was just a gated community, but it seemed pretty heavily guarded.
At one busy intersection we noticed a group of young people in the street. When the light would turn red they would run into the street, raise one of the guys up onto their shoulders and flip him high into the air in a dramatic show of acrobatics. Then they would run around the cars collecting tips.
Finally we found Walmart.
It was a little different from Walmarts in the U.S., but not terribly. A lot of different brands than what I am used to seeing (as well as many familiar ones), and of course all the signage was in Spanish. The Doctor immediately zeroed in on the produce section, especially a display of fresh tropical fruits, cut up and sitting out in open containers. He seemed intent on purchasing some, but with the concern of traveler's diarrhea in my mind I advised him against it. He didn't share my worry, and began spooning the fruit into a plastic container. He asked me just exactly what I thought I WAS going to be eating, and I told him it certainly wasn't going to be chopped up fruit left out in the open in a Mexican Walmart with flies swarming around. OK, there weren't swarms of flies, but there were a couple and that was enough for me. In any case he ignored my warnings, and all I can do is hope for the best . . . and tell him "I told you so" at the appropriate time.
We loaded two 12 packs of bottled water into the shopping cart, and then went in search of my sunglasses. I finally found a rather meager selection, and while I was picking out a pair The Doctor went off to look for something else. While I was waiting for his return, I happened to notice a man in the shoe section looking over the sandals. In disbelief I watched him pick up a pair of thongs, rip off the price tag, take off the pair of flip-flops he was wearing, put the new pair on his feet and the old pair on the shelf, and then walk off. He was quite brazen about the whole thing, and made not attempts at subtlety whatsoever. I contemplated doing the same with my sunglasses, but only briefly . . .
The Doctor picked up a few other things, including a cute little pair of undies. He had purchase some in Peru too. I think he is trying to put together an international collection. The only other thing I bought was a CARLOS V candy bar, something made by Nestle, but I had never seen in the U.S. It was nothing terribly interesting. Once we were back in the car I pulled out my guide book and - promising this would be the last I would say on the matter - read him the warnings against eating fresh fruit. He seemed a little more open minded then, I suppose because it was coming from an actual book as opposed to what I imagined he believed to be the overly cautious worrywart.
After leaving Walmart The Doctor set his GPS for Hostel Quetzal, where we would be spending the night. The GPS was of little help, and after getting lost numerous times I pulled out my cell phone and turned on its GPS. Having both of them on at the same time was even more confusing, as they frequently disagreed as to where we were or which direction to turn. Mine did seem to be slightly more accurate and after a good hour or so we finally found Quetzal (which was only supposed to be a 20 minute drive from the airport.
Quetzal is on a little side street with a park across from it, and an outer wall covered with colorful graffiti art.
(I'm not exactly sure what the dude with the ball is doing, but yes, the other gentleman is holding a human heart in his hand . . .)
The hostel itself is a three story building, the former home of an "international recording artist". We were greeted by a very friendly young lady who spoke with a European accent. She gave us a quick tour, including one outdoor courtyard where she pointed out the beer cooler, telling us just to write down our name when we took a beer and it would be charged to our account later. Neither of us drink, but I was impressed with the rather relaxed honor system they had in place. There were a lot of young people around, mostly college age, and I dare say The Doctor and I are by far the oldest ones in the place.
She took us up a very narrow spiral stairway to our room on the third floor. The second floor landing opened immediately into a doorless dorm style room with several bunk beds, and a few young guys laying around in their shorts. It was quite warm and there didn't appear to be air conditioning in most of the building, so I was quite happy when she opened our room on the third floor and promptly turned on an air conditioning unit. I believe when I made the reservation it said our room had been the nursery when the house was the private home of the recording artist. It is simple but charming, with two single beds, a private bathroom, and our own private balcony complete with a little patio table and chairs.
(Like most of the places we stayed at in Peru, there is a little sign in the bathroom asking us to not to flush toilet paper, but to deposit it instead into the waste bin.)
As long as he's happy, I'm happy . . .
No comments:
Post a Comment