Little adventures

Today we went out with gifts we wanted to deliver to people who were especially nice to us last year. We tracked down our reservations agent at the Cancun Service Center, which provides reservation and telephone support to multiple unaffiliated hotels. It’s located in an old hacienda at the edge of a golf course, and the building still shows a lot of the charm of old Mexico.

Inside we found a little café, run by an employee of the service center. She built a little wooden stand on the edge of the lobby, serving mainly employees from within the building. She served us too, delicious mango-strawberry smoothies. She probably should have been back at her main job inside, but she stayed out at the stand to chat with us while her employee made our drinks. I really enjoy the friendly atmosphere we encounter throughout Cancun.

Our bigger adventure began after dinner tonight, when Alla noticed a Panamanian passport lying on the ground in the street. The passport was issued seven days ago to a 21-year-old guy, and we expect that he’ll miss it as soon as he thinks about going home to Panama. We tried to find him at the two hotels nearest to where we found the passport, but they didn’t know him. We did learn, however, that there’s a Panamanian Consulate in town, so we’ll call up tomorrow and let them know that we have it. We figure the passport’s owner will call the consulate as soon as he realizes he’s lost it.

Fashionista once again

Now I know all about that mysterious tent they set up in front of the resort next door. It was for a fashion show called Cancun Moda Nextel 2011. I even found their press release where they talked about a special Russian supermodel whom they would not name and music by Carlos Vives, from Colombia.

It took several days to set up all the staging, which included a temporary floor atop the sand, a huge array of those motorized spotlights which dance around and change colors, and a couple of truly huge jumbotron LED displays. Since all this went up at the hotel next door to us, I wandered by from time to time to get a look at all the fancy gear. Whenever I went by, I spoke to the workmen, or at least waved at them. Yesterday morning, I stopped to talk with a bunch of guys sitting around waiting for their duties to start. I asked about when the show would begin, and they told me 7:30 that evening. I knew from the press release that guests were asked to wear white and orange, so I dressed up in a white guayabera shirt and white pants and walked over. No guests had arrived yet, so I walked around and took pictures of the setup. On my way back home, I saw the same guys from this morning and came over to find out what 7:30 was all about.

It turns out that my guys were part of the security crew, and they referred me to their boss nearby. He asked me if I were a guest, which sounded about right so I said yes. Then he asked me if I were a VIP, and I assured him that I’m just a regular guy. Once we sorted my status, I asked him about when the music would start. He didn’t have a clear timeline for the evening, but told me that he didn’t think it could possibly start before ten o’clock. Meanwhile, feeling pretty exposed standing around I the empty space with nothing to do, I decided to go back to my hotel for a while.

By this time, all the security guys had spread out over the perimeter of the show area. Apparently that’s what happened at 7:30. So I went from the security boss to the security guy closest to my hotel and told him I was stepping out but that I’d be back in about 45 minutes.

The show started much later than that. I could see people assembling at the next-door resort, eating and chatting before they finally filed down to the beach. I thought it would be very un-cool to arrive from the beach while everybody else arrived on the hotel staircase, so I waited. Then the tent filled up almost to capacity and I got engrossed in writing a letter in Russian, which takes me a long time. I missed the whole fashion show, but when that ended folks spread out enough that I felt OK about walking in.

My security guard was still there, and he let me in, teasing me a little bit about my long 45 minutes. Everybody milled about, so I walked around a bit myself and got into line at the bar, where I ordered a mineral water. I was relieved to see that the bartender didn’t ask for money, because I had none.

Later, after the music started and everybody had eaten something, I went and tried out some of the leftover food. I liked the desserts best, and by the time I went home I’d had four of them. I was surprised when I got home to learn that it was 2 a.m. and the band had been playing without any real break since 11 p.m. In fact, I continued to listen to the band through the walls and windows in the room, and I think they didn’t stop playing until 5 a.m. I guess it was a heck of a party, and in any event I didn’t sleep much. Both at the party and in my bed, I really enjoyed the music. The band played various styles, all with a Latin flavor. I particularly enjoyed the Latino rock, and I had a great time watching the beautifully-dressed people who came to the show.

From 2011-11 Cancun

The sour cream bowl

[Today’s entry is a guest post by Alla’s daughter Nika]

Yesterday my mom and I headed out to La Fiesta Mexican Outlet about half a mile from our hotel. Neither of us really needed anything, and I didn’t even have any pesos in my wallet, for that matter, but I thought I’d keep her company, we’d have a nice walk, and it’d be fun to take another look at the ceramics, sarongs, and tourist knick-knacks we’ve both already seen. Leaving the hotel room, I asked, “So what are you shopping for, anyway?” and she said, “Nothing, I’m just coming to keep you company.” Funny, I thought I was going to keep her company.

We walked over to the Outlet, politely declining all the offers from solicitous vendors at the Mexican Flea Market on the way. We had a destination, and, what’s more, we had a coupon for the Outlet. Plus, the Outlet took US dollars! I had a twenty in my wallet and I was starting to think I might find something I “need” after all.

At the store, I methodically went up and down the aisles to see what they had – frosted glass margarita glasses, belts, ponchos, blankets, tooled leather of all quality and price ranges, rows of tequila and chocolate products, bathing suits, straw hats, traditional toys, Mexican-style cotton tops and dresses, and, most interesting to me, lots of square footage devoted to many types of colorful ceramics. I found two small lidded boxes with bird and fish motifs on bright backgrounds, glitzed up with a touch of sparkles under the glaze, put them in a shopping basket, and went to find my mother.

She was by one of the cheap souvenir stands, paying her respects on bended knee to a stack of ¼ pint bowls. She was holding a bright one with a picture of a toiling Mexican man in a verdant field, with an extravagant sunset behind him. “What do you think? I want something to take to Belarus to remind us of Mexico.” That was as good a pretext as any to launch into an intent debate on what functional or decorative purpose this tiny receptacle would serve in an apartment that I was pretty sure was already well-endowed with ceramics. I wasn’t sure about the Mexican, though – he was painted with very little detail, the place where his face would have been obscured in the picture by a load-carrying arm, presumably to keep the diagram simple, and the bowl an affordable $3. It seemed like too obvious a symbol of the faceless toilers by whom we’re surrounded here in Cancun, working tirelessly to make a living by making our stays comfortable.

I turned to the rack next to me, and picked up a slightly bigger bowl with a pretty pastel bird pattern on a chocolate background. “What about this one?” “No, that one is $5, and these are only $3.” Ah, so we were dealing with a classic case of “I want to buy something but I don’t need anything, so I should spend as little as possible.” I indulged my mother for a bit by discussing the relative merits of green, burgundy, and orange backgrounds and bird, fruit, or toiling Mexican motifs, and, seeing as the choice was overwhelming for the size of the task, helpfully suggested that perhaps one dish could be for serving sour cream and another might be placed in the bathroom to house rings when my mom takes them off to apply lotion. She liked the expanded shopping license and I waltzed off, thinking settling on two bowls ought to make it easier to decide. I did another turn or two around the outlet, and considered another souvenir for a friend. Fifteen minutes later, my mother was still at her post, the original selection widely expanded, no closer to a decision. “I really like this teal one with the fruit, what do you think? There are also these 3 other ones, with different fruit arrangements.” “If you already like one, why do you need to pull five others off the shelf to make it complicated? Just go with the one you want.” “Because it’s fun to look.” We went back and forth with this current selection, and at least I talked her out of having a faceless Mexican under her sour cream. I went for another lap, reminding her that we had a dinner reservation and should probably head back to the hotel soon.

Five minutes later, she was still crouching by the bowls. “Nika!,” she cried despondently when she saw me, “I have a crisis! I put the teal bowl back and went away for a second, and now it’s gone! Someone else has bought it!” “That’s God telling you not to buy it. But there is no one else shopping for these, I doubt someone else took it.” We looked for a minute among the myriad colors and painted papaya/banana/watermelon combinations for just that one. I was wondering why she had put it down if she had felt so strongly about it, or if she didn’t care that much, why we were still here. We found it after a few minutes, my mother rejoicing at the reunion and decisively heading to the cash register with me, finally. As my boxes were getting wrapped up, she held it up and asked, “Do I need this?” I was already invested in the deliberations and urged her to commit to her choice. The transaction finally complete and the darned bowl in my bag, we headed back to the hotel. “Save the receipt,”  she said as we walked out. “I might want to come back tomorrow and trade it for that pastel bird one.”

Isla Mujeres

Every time we’ve been in Cancun somebody has mentioned Isla Mujeres, always favorably. We always intended to go there, but somehow always got distracted by other activities until yesterday. Wow! Now I want to go back.

We took the 9 a.m. ferry and walked indirectly to the Hotel Avalon. We went there because the last person to recommend Isla Mujeres had worked at that hotel until recently and he told us that they have a nice beach beside a friendly bar, and if we order a drink or two they’ll let us hang out on their beach. And we walked indirectly because we got a little bit lost, but in a good way. We walked around the back side of the island and contrasted beautiful views of the craggy coral-encrusted coastline with the washed-out buildings not yet repaired after a hurricane from a few years ago.

At last we approached the bridge to Avalon by way of a beautiful strait dividing the tiny island of Avalon from Isla Mujeres. Once across the bridge, we found the hotel people just as friendly as promised. We bought some virgin piña coladas and settled in at their very quiet beach. After a while we got hungry, and went back to the hotel bar for lunch. They made us delicious fish tacos, and the waiter served us with food-delivery stunts and plenty of smiles.

After lunch, the waiter confided in us, suggesting that we should go through the hotel to a private tidal pool at the back, called the King’s Bath. He also gave us a few pieces of bread to feed the fish. The fish must have been hungry, because they swarmed us as we scattered crumbs on the water. We swam around in the pool and found a wider variety of fish and coral than we’d seen anywhere else in Cancun, all in microcosm.

We explored the villas near the pools, often remarking on the beautiful gardens and breathtaking views. Finally I went and asked at the front desk what it would cost to stay at this paradise. The villas, this season, sell for $110 (US) per night. Considering the view, the beauty of the place, and the delicious food, it sounds like an amazing bargain. I don’t know what the rooms look like inside, but I don’t care. I’m eager to add a couple of nights to our next trip and stay at the Hotel Avalon villas. And eat more fish tacos.

Mystery tent

Last night some members of our party noticed a bit of banging as workers drove giant stakes to support a huge tent. We walked by the tent this morning as we went to swim at a neighboring beach. Workers had apparently worked all night long, and were tightening down the last few guy wires as we walked by. Then they went away and left the tent empty. We saw huge tire tracks in the sand, but did not learn who might use the tent and for what purpose.

This evening another vehicle approached the tent. This time we saw a huge 18-wheeler creep ahead along the sand, assisted by a large crew of workers moving plywood sheets to create a track for the truck. Tomorrow, then, I expect at least to learn what was in the truck. Maybe I’ll even know what it’s for.

From 2011-11 Cancun

Alla wins the contest

At our resort’s welcome party last night, they sought out two men and two women for the last event on the program. As the master of ceremonies scanned the crowd looking for a female volunteer, I pointed at Alla, who cringed and tried to make herself too small to notice. This didn’t hide her, however, and since I wore a bright red shirt and unusually wild white hair, the guy called her to the stage. Then he explained the contest. While he described it as a dance contest, Alla observes that it was really more about seduction. They rounded up a male and female volunteer who sat in a chair, and then the dancers were supposed to dance across the room in an alluring way toward the seated target.

The male and female resort employees leading the show demonstrated first. Since they perform this act for a living, they’ve gotten quite good at it. The male dancer , for example, removed his belt and used it as a prop with lower-body movements borrowed from burlesque shows. Next they invited the guy in the Batman T-shirt to try out his version of the dance. He was great, and I thought he might win. A young female Latino guest danced second, attempting to copy the female performer’s sexy example. She danced hard, but without any particular success. The second man called himself Superman, and he out-did Batman, adding a few personal flourishes to the original choreography.

At last Alla danced. She ignored the choreography, cut the dance tempo in half, and approached her victim very slowly. As soon as the music started, she unclipped her hair, which fell in a lush curly mass. (Her hair gets lots of body in humid conditions.) She maintained hypnotic eye-contact with the poor guy, who was sweating profusely by the time she reached him. The professional and the first volunteer came and touched him. Alla didn’t think that would be appropriate for her, so she just came close and teased him with her hands near his face. Everybody loved Alla’s act, and the disk jockey wouldn’t turn off the music until she’d danced about twice as long as everybody else.

So, you can guess whom the audience chose as the winner. There never was a question. Alla took home a nice Mexican blanket as her prize.

No camera today

I didn’t take my camera with me today because I didn’t expect to see anything I hadn’t already photographed many times before. I guess I forgot that every day is different. I certainly could have taken some interesting photographs.

I don’t regret at all leaving the camera behind when we went out for our morning walk. We went to the northern end of our beach, where a man-made breakwater creates a pool of placid sea. We set our hats and sunglasses down on the sand and went out to float around in water Alla describes as being warm as fresh milk. Never having been that close to a cow, I’ll take her word for it. I don’t float well in fresh water, but I always enjoy floating around in a warm sea.

I did have a little trouble floating at one moment, which Alla found quite amusing. I had noticed a particularly alluring bathing suit. Or, to be more accurate, I noticed the owner of the bathing suit. Anyway, I was a little distracted until she got into the water.

On our way to lunch we met a guy who grew up around here and he gave us some useful advice about things to do. One of his suggestions related to a nearby restaurant, which we found soon after. It’s located beside a little public beach we’d never seen before because it’s on the other side of the breakwater. This beach attracted a different class of people than we see on the more private hotel beaches, and we enjoyed the colorful crowd.

We didn’t eat there, however, because I had in mind a less expensive restaurant our driver told me about on the way in from the airport. I’m not sure I found the place he told me about, but we liked it very well. It was a tiny place, without indoor seating. The owner and his cook took really good care of us, feeding us delicious Mexican food for not much money. I’m eager to go back.

We spent some time after our late lunch riding the bus downtown and buying groceries. Most tourists don’t go downtown, and it feels different there. I’m not sure I would have liked to take a lot of pictures, but we certainly enjoyed the vibrant and colorful atmosphere.