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At around 11 in the morning the day before we left for Cozumel, my grandmother called to inquire about her computer I was working on. During this call she asked if I was done packing for my trip yet. Little did she know! While my laptop was nearly packed (my music collection, disc images of SimCity 4, my DVD screener of The Two Towers, and a download of Adaptation I was working on), I had yet to start on lesser-essentials such as clothes. After all, this was a trip to a warmer climate, away from bitter cold Iowa (with our Januarys in the, well, ok 60 degrees at points this year, but still!) to tropical Cozumel. All of those clothes would be clean and easy to pack, while the laptop, now THAT was of real importance. I mean, no Internet, work or cell phone for over a week! And how long could packing REALLY take?
So by 12:30 am I was done packing. And our flight was scheduled out of bustling Des Moines International at 5:45 am, meaning I had to be up by 3:30 am. This brought the inevitable question of whether it would be better to just stay up the rest of the night or get a little bit of sleep – and being a known sleepaholic I opted for the latter, as at least three hours was about two exact sleep cycles and thus less likely to be so tired upon waking.
So at 3:30 my alarm went off, signaling the start of the Cozumel trip. At 3:39 it went off again in response to my hitting the snooze bar. And again at 3:48. 3:57 did it though, as fifteen minutes was plenty of time to get dressed, shave and do the tooth brushing thing.
There is one major positive to flying from a smaller airport like Des Moines – it doesn’t take that long to go through airport security. Since the new federal inspectors have gone in I have always managed to set off the metal detector, despite going to such lengths as not even wearing a belt this time. Before the stricter guidelines, I swear I’d walk through with a watch and a fistful of coins and nothing would happen. Now my zipper seems to make it beep. So a mild search later I was on my way.
Flying with me on ATA was Mom and Shawn; Misty, Keith and the kids took a Northwest flight using Keith’s surplus of frequent flier miles from his traveling consultant days. They left at 8:30 in the morning and beat us into Cancun by about a half-hour. Flying ATA meant taking an ATA Connection flight to their hub at Chicago Midway, which was a turboprop airplane with one row of one seat and another of two. Mom, who has an aversion to flying, though technically to crashing, was not amused by our miniature plane.
We had four hours to kill at Midway, so we ate breakfast, looked at some shops, and then I snuck up to a seat next to a gate with a nearby power outlet so I could charge up the laptop batteries while Shawn and I watched some of The Two Towers to pass the time. In the time we were at Midway, the Misty, Keith and the kids boarded their flight in Des Moines, flew to Minneapolis, and were already on their way to Cancun before our flight took off. Lucky devils. Lucky better-rested devils.
Prior to landing in Cancun, we were given Immigration and Customs forms to fill out a little before landing. Was I bringing over $10,000 in cash into the country? It’s not illegal, but not telling them is. I had $250 and my Wells Fargo Check Card on me, so negative. Did I have any fire arms and/or cartridges? Not that I was aware of. Any live animals, fish, food products of animal or vegetable origin, plants, flowers, fruits; forest, wild products, chemical, pharmaceutical or biological, products of agricultural use; materials, substances or dangerous residuals? I wondered if my bag of Lemonheads would qualify as “product of animal or vegetable origin” but I decided that was unlikely.
We landed in Cancun around 2:45 that afternoon and found Misty, Keith and the kids shortly after. The Cancun airport is very small and is teeming with the most widely seen Mexican pest, the timeshare sales person. “Hey, how are you doeeng? Come over heere!” “Let me show you sometheeng!” “Welcome to Cancun, need some information?” Our flight attendant had warned us that the people posing as information booths were actually timeshares, so we walked by untracked though not unbothered.
Every time I pass through customs, part of me worries that I’ll be caught with something, even though I have nothing questionable on me. It’s that same way as when I go through the security checkpoint. Rationally, I know that I have nothing to worry about – I don’t have a bomb, a gun, or even a nail file with me – but that irrational voice that each of us has in the back our heads still wonders if somehow, someway, an incendiary device or maybe a kilo of cocaine has made its way into my backpack. Walking up to the customs line, I handed my declaration form to the official who gave it a half-glance and asked me to push the button on a sign with both a red and a green light. The green light lit up, allowing me to slip into Mexico unsearched, my fictional illegal items unfound…this time.
From Cancun we took a van to Playa Del Carmen (translation: Beach of Carmen) and then a ferry to Cozumel (translation: Cousin Mel’s – the cousin of the Mayan goddess X’chel who talked her into visiting a local timeshare presentation for the free drinks and believe me, those timeshare salespeople don’t take no for an answer! They pester, cajole, pressure, guilt-trip, yell, finally taking friends and family hostage until you SHUT UP AND BUY THE TIMESHARE – THEY TOOK 10 MINUTES OF THEIR TIME AND GAVE YOU FREE GIFTS AFTER ALL, IT'S THE LEAST YOU CAN DO!!! Sorry…got a bit caught up there). By the time we arrived on the island 12 miles off shore, it was dark (it may be 80 degrees but some parts of winter are universal), but Pedro, a representative from the management company of our villa, was waiting for us.
We stayed at Casa Marcos, a house about 6 long blocks from the waterfront/main street that is owned by a family and ran by a management company while they are gone. While certainly not luxury accommodations, the place was clean (by Mexican vacation standards), spacious, and decorated with many hanging parrots and monkeys made of ceramic, wood and painted metal. Somewhere there is a shop owner who loves the owners of Casa Marcos, as they must have bought their entire inventory, with three parrots minimum to every room.
Pedro had recommended we go to La Casa Mission for dinner as we were in the mood for some good Mexican food (and yes, having Mexican food in Mexico is *not* to be taken for granted in a tourist spot where foods ranging from Italian to Sushi are easy to find). The food at La Casa Mission was a good start to our trip, with freshly made chips, guacamole and hot fajitas.
After dinner we walked home and went to bed soon after, some 20 hours after getting up that morning.
Cozumel Con Queso Table of Contents:
Introduction
Day 1: The Journey to Our Mysterious Southern Neighbor
Day 2: The Ocean: Our Big, Wet and Salty Friend
Day 3: Under the Sea, or On Top of It Anyway
Day 4: To the Briny Deep
Day 5: Break On Through to the Other Side
Day 6: Ancient Cultures on the Mainland
Day 7: The Sun Beach
Day 8: The Return of the Wearied Travelers
Tons of Photos |
