Mexico: Day 1: Arrival in Cancun

The Strip at Cancun

My good friends George and Kari, both early risers like me, are kind enough to face the iffy weather and rush hour traffic to drive me to the airport.  They’ve always been there for me.
       After de-icing - an appropriate metaphor for this trip - my plane zigzags the 1,475 miles (2,374 km) into blue skies and a whole other climate.

My first cultural surprise comes on paperwork before landing.  I see Estados-Unidos (United States), but not of America, rather of Mexico:  Estados-Unidos de México.  Mexico has 31 states, plus one federal entity (Mexico City being their equivalent of Washington, D.C.).  I guess I once knew that but forgot.  I will end up traveling through five of those states:  Yucatán, Quintana Roo, Campeche, Chiapas and Tabasco, plus the capital.
       Also on the paperwork we’ve all been given, something that makes me giggle.  The customs papers indicate that I have the right to bring into Mexico three pets:  “cats, dogs, canaries, hamsters, guinea pigs [which were lunch in Peru], Australian parakeet, cockatiel, ferret [!], turtles, small size birds (exc. birds of prey).”

The lagoon, complete with alligators

Things aren’t too auspicious upon arrival.  There’s no car from the hotel as I’d requested, no one holding up my name.  But there are taxis and shuttles outside, I discover.  Once at the hotel, I have to wait a fair moment behind other guests to check in.  And the concierge is only semi-helpful, although very cheerful.  She tells me the museum down the road, which was on my dance-card, is closed today... and admits she hasn’t seen it herself, which seems like something she should be familiar with as a concierge.  She does arrange for a place for me in the tour of Tulum tomorrow, although the tour to Tulum-plus-Coba is unfortunately full.  (Coba would have been an extra to my list.)  And there are problems making reservations for the flight I’ll need to take in a few days to get to the capital city.  All this has taken time, and the yellow flags that were flying on the beach have been changed to red, which means no swimming in the ocean for me tonight.  (No one swims in the lagoon, because of the
alligators.)

Tulum

       I decide to just roll with the punches and channel my Scarlett O’Hara (“tomorrow is another day”).  Somehow it’s already dinner time, especially if you slept poorly, got up early and traveled for hours, so I settle in on the hotel’s terrace for a piña colada and a tuna risotto with mushrooms, both delicious.
       As I take the elevator up to my room, my doggy bag in hand, a man - visibly American - gets on with a Domino’s Pizza box.  Must be the fatigue, but I blurt out, “You came all the way to Mexico to eat Domino’s pizza?!”  The woman next to him, probably his wife, responds, “That’s that I told him.”
       When I reach my room, the big problem of the day arises:  no water.  The faucets were working when I checked in, but evidently there have been developments while I was piña colada-ing.  And a note slipped under the door says there won’t be any water until tomorrow.  So no shower to wash away the miles... and no flushing.
       Time to close my eyes and dream of Things To Come.