If I want to make them laugh, I tell them my last name is Bacon (Tocino) and that always brings a smile. But you probably knew all that. This tale, unlike the Italy one, is not all brand new. You might have heard many of the stories already because they happened so many years ago, over such a long period of time. To that I say "Lo siento," and I hope you enjoy this rambling regardless.
I first went to Mexico in 1964 from Port Hueneme, California, where I attended Construction Electrician School through the United States Navy Sea Bee's. It was there that I believe I caught the running bug. We learned all phases of electricity, from telephones to generators to interior wiring and -- my favorite -- power pole construction.
On the pole closest to you is my power pole partner, Elmer Berky, from Washington State. That's me gaffed and belted in under him. After class we would turn out for physical training -- or simply P.T. Part of the P.T. was running in uniform and combat boots in formation around the palmed tree Navy/Marine Base.
"Here we go around again,
Won't stop, won't quit, never die.
Why?
Whiskey, women, P.T., Rumsey."
Rumsey was our D.I. I remember one day he asked the company who would volunteer to go fight in a place called Vietnam. Nearly everyone stepped forward. That was the very first time I had ever heard of that country. The last I heard of him, he was standing like General Patton, unloading his 45 pistol at a low flying Russian-made mig. His third tour did him in and he broke mentally.
It is funny what you remember right off the top of your head without thinking -- such as your social security number, or in the Navy, your serial number: 693-11-63, the last four being the month and year you joined. Or the combination lock for your locker. Mine is 24-28-32. It was issued to me in November 1963 in boot camp at Great Lakes in Chicago, right after President Kennedy was shot. It is in the top drawer of my desk and it still works. Remember in the movie "When Harry Met Sally," someone asks a young person, "Where were you when Kennedy was shot?" Her reply was, "Ted Kennedy was shot?"
Anyway, one of our Liberty towns was Tijuana, Mexico -- that's if you consider Tijuana the real Mexico. I cannot report anything that may or may not have happened there, other than to say I was only nineteen and my brain was still developing.
Here is a good place for a factoid and to change the subject. The Champs needed a guitar player for a song they were recording. The name of the guitar player that they choose was Glen Campbell. The tune became popular. It is called "Tequila." Perhaps you have heard it.
Ten years ago we went to see the Alamo. Bear with me, I said I was going to ramble. San Antonio is close enough to count as Mexico anyway, especially in this short story. When you grow up in a mill town, it is not expected that you will see much of the world unless you call the rice paddies in Vietnam the world. We flew to Texas (pronounced Tegsis by the locals) to meet up with Kathy & Charles of Albuquerque (by way of Ohio and Tegsis). We stayed downtown at the Menger Hotel. Robert E. Lee stayed there on his way back to take command the Army of the Confederate States of America at Richmond in Virginia. In the English-styled bar inside the hotel, there are still bullet holes in the walls to show how good a shot they were. Teddy himself met with applicants for his Rough Riders there when the United States decided that we needed to control the country of Cuba.
San Antonio has five missions placed two and one half miles apart, built by the Spanish missionaries hundreds of years ago so you could walk between two of them in one day. Their names were, and still are, San Jose, Concepcion, Espada, San Juan, and San Antonio de Valero, but you know it as The Alamo. Santa Anna, Colonel Travis, and Davy Crockett and Jim Bowie were all there. I remember the six-foot Texas Ranger telling a tourist at the Alamo, "to remove his hat because brave men died here." I specifically remember he left out "Please."
Charles was in the Seminary at Concepcion (pictured above) for five years before he decided to become a nurse in the heart ward of a San Antonio Hospital and eventually a member of Club Bacon. Kathy said Charles was a nurse for 30 years and his patients loved him. If you had to be in the hospital, you should at least be in Charles's ward. But that is a story I will tell mañana. So one evening, the four of us decided to explore the old La Villita section of the city. We came upon a fiesta, just off the cobblestone street.
"There's a party goin' on tonight,
Theres a party goin' on tonight,
Gonna hold my baby tight,
'Cause there's a party goin' on tonight"
A Lil' Anne and Hot Cayenne tune.
There were colored hanging lanterns and luminarias and Spanish guitar musica coming from behind a six foot wall that was guarded by a uniformed Federale. The music was infectious and so Sandy & I and Kathy & Charles started to dance in the street. A Mexican-American woman came out and invited us to join in the celebration of her daughter Manuala's fifteenth birthday party. Fifteen is big in Mexico instead of our sixteen.
We accepted the invitation and were escorted to our own table. One of the Padres came over and set down a case of cerveza next to us. As I remember, there were no young men, just mothers and fathers and abuelas and abuelos and the senoritas dressed in those full length taffeta dresses. Bright orange, yellow, red, green and azul. Their black hair was all braided and they all had on red, red lipstick and their cheeks were blushed up. Kathy said Sandy and I looked good out there dancing and that we just blended right in. Well it is exactly the same as the Cajun waltz, but you dance belly to belly and cheek to cheek. It is harder, I find, to dance so close.
Sometime later the Mexican Hat Dance was announced and the niñas and padres coupled up. The padres danced with their hands clasped behind their backs, with their sombreros on, each circling their daughter and tilting in just a little. The niñas with their heads held high and their backs rigid. Da Da dada da da da dadada . . . you know the song. It was one of those nights that we will always remember. This is one of the reasons why I have always been open to strangers joining in on our fiestas in Marshfield. I do not remember exactly how the evening ended.
We have been to the southernmost town of Mexico, Xcalac, and one of the westernmost towns, Puerto Villarta; one of the northern most towns, Nogales, and where the sun first hits Mexico, at Punta Sur at the southern tip of La Isla Mujeres. Don't get me wrong, we certainly have not been everywhere in Mexico -- but we are trying.
First one wave came in and knocked me over. I laughed, got up, and the second one knocked me over. I was by myself -- still funny. Probably would not have seemed so funny to someone whose brain was still functioning. It had been a wild time in the seaside town of Puerto Vallarta. Sandy and I were attending another fun-filled swimming pool convention. It was 1985. The first night we tumbled into bed really wasted by way too many potent welcoming tequila drinks. The next day was more tequila, and even a turn at para-sailing off the beach. We had heard that someone accidentally had landed on a hotel rooftop, but that did not seem to make any difference to us. So here I am by myself, not sober, when the third wave hits me. Suddenly it occurs to me that I have found the edge of a riptide and I am currently heading for either Guam or Hawaii. I was young, in really good shape from running, and somehow got myself back to the palapa. Sandy was dozing and had no idea of the trouble I had been in. Obviously, no one else realized what was going on either. I think that counted as a near death experience.
The next day we decided to go horseback riding up into the Blood of Christ Mountains, Sangre de Cristo. Good friends Randy and Donna Adams had told us of their adventure from Rancho Escandito, so we thought we would do it also. Lupita, our Mexican host/person in charge of events, knew nothing of that side trip, but we managed to find it by ourselves. The horses were really ponies. Our guide spoke no English. We climbed aboard and headed up the mountain. On the way, we forded a river a couple of times. There we saw the peasants washing their clothes on the rocks in the river, and further up, washing their pick up trucks. We called it the Rio Maytag. On the way down, the ponies broke into a trot -- then almost a gallop. They knew they were about to be fed. We did everything to slow them down, but the brakes weren't working and there didn't seem anyway to downshift. Did I mention that the saddles were made of wood? I'm serious. I did something to my coccix (tail bone), and for two years after had to sit on one of those blow-up pillows.
When we last saw Lupita as we boarded the bus for the aeropuerto, she admitted she did, in fact, know of Rancho Escandito. She hadn't suggested it to any touristas because, two weeks earlier on that same horseback riding trip, a rider had been bitten by a tarantula and had died.
"Night of the Iguana" was filmed here. Also there was a very good movie that was filmed here called "Casa de Los Babies," with Daryl Hannah, Mary Steenburgen and Rita Moreno. It is a story about American women coming to Mexico to adopt Mexican babies. It is beautifully filmed. I remember the scene where in the early morning, the villagers leave their casas and walk towards the main town to work for the next twelve hours. After you have seen "Lone Star," rent this one, por favor. Both are John Sayles movies. You never rent the movies that I recommend. How come ? I only lied to you that one time, and now you don't believe me anymore.
In 1987 Casa Romero was the best Mexican restuaurant in Boston. In 2008 it still is. Located down an alley off of Hereford Street, between Commonwealth Avenue and Boylston Street, it is hard to find the first time only. Hereford Street is the last 90 degree turn you make to get onto Boylston and to the Boston Marathon finish line -- if you happen to be running the Boston Marathon. Oscar Romero is the proprietor. Owner, president, boss, patron -- no. He is the PROPRIETOR. Word connoisseurs must love this word. He is from Mexico City and so is the style of the food he serves. Sixteen years ago one of his cooks left him and opened El Sarape in Weymouth Landing. Steve George once said, "Wait a minute. Let me get this straight. Your friends come in from California and New Mexico and you take them to a Mexican restaurant in Weymouth Landing?" I replied, "They insist!"
Where was I? Oh yah. So six of us are sitting at House of Romero when the Spanish-looking waitress comes to take our order. They would always start you off with a shot glass full of sangrita. I ask her where she is from and she says Mexico. Now that is not a dumb question because some of the waiters and waitresses are from other countries such as Peru or Bolivia or Miami Beach or Cuba or San Salvador.
I ask, "Where in Mexico?" and she says, "Bera Cruz." V's are B's in Español, remember? Veracruz is on the Gulf of Mexico.
I ask, "Where do Mexican people go on vacation?" and she answers without even thinking, "Laislamujeres" with all three words jammed together.
I ask again, "Where?"
She answers again, "Laislamujeres."
I ask her to please write it out, por favor, because I still don't understand. No comprende. She does. La Isla Mujeres. The island of women.
A few months later, during the winter of 1988, we arrive at Puerto Juarez. John & Barb Cerri and Lisa & Willie Cerrato. Eight miles across the Bay of Mujeres lies the island. Whose idea was this? Why are we here? When and where does the boat come in? Why are these people walking around with goats and pigs? Doesn't any one understand Ingles? Who invented liquid soap and why? Why did Janis, our travel agent, say "You want to go WHERE"? How can the North River be south of Boston? Why do bullets bounce off of Superman but then he ducks when the bad guy throws his empty pistol at him? Why did Michael Lynch's snow shoes melt?
We have reservations at El Presidente on the north end of the island. The boat arrives. Remember the boat from African Queen? I am almost positive that this is the same boat. I remember the fare. In dollars it was 40 cents.
Goats, babies, locals (not a blonde head on board), chickens. In the old days when the car ferry from Punta Sam wasn't running yet, they would bring over one car at a time on the Lenta (slow boat). How did they do that?
I ask the old man next to me, "What does he have in the burlap bag?" A turkey! When you think of turkeys, doesn't your mind's eye come up with the Pilgrims landing with muskets on Plymouth Rock? Yah, me too. Remember my story about our hike down to Phantom Ranch at the bottom of the Grand Canyon? There were turkeys there also. Why should I lie to you? In the photo with the two boats the one in the foreground is the Rapido, people's ferry, and the other is the car ferry from Punta Sam, which is north of Puerto Juarez.
I think it took us an hour to cross the bahia of Mujeres. It was dark by them.
We were polishing off 50-cent Tecates when the island lights started to appear. Someone was there to meet us with a bicycle with three wheels and a huge basket. It was Fidel, who we would employ for years until he got too old. Now he sells the local newspaper, Por Esto.
In the interior of Quintana Roo (the state), locals use these as taxi cabs. "Keen tahna row" -- that's how it is pronounced. To get to El Presidente, you walked. Even twenty years later you still walk. How quaint is that? If you are there for a week or two -- or a whole month -- you might rent a golf cart for one day, but never two.
There are no cars to rent. Hey, I don't know why -- that's the way it is. You walk -- in Tevas or barefoot -- I think it's the law or something.
The first white person to walk these beaches was Francisco Hernandez de Cordoba in 1517. He found female statues from the Maya people here and it was an island so he went "Hmmm . . . island, female statues . . . I will call it Isla Mujeres." I heard an Ohio tourista say, "Main land Mexicans come here to get pregnant." Maybe so. As Tom Egan, my story telling friend from Pennsylvania, says, "Don't let the truth get in the way of a good story."
There still is a small Mayan temple down at the south point at Punta Sur -- south point, oh I get it! Kezia wrote a wonderful story about this end of the island a few years ago. It was called "The Healing Rays of the Sun."
It says this temple was built to honor the Mayan goddess Ixchel. "Ish shell." Kezia says she was associated with the moon, water, health, sexuality, childbirth and death. John and Barb tried for eight years to have their first child. Sandy and I bought them a Mayan fertility statue here. A short time later I received a Phono-gram from John saying, "The plumbing works." They were pregnant. That statue was passed on to a daughter of one of their close friends, Paddy and Hugh, who was having trouble conceiving and Voila! Then they passed it on to the next couple and magic again. If you need it call me.
Willie didn't speak a word of Spanish and he loved this place instantly and wanted to get into it. There was an elevator at El Presidente. When it stopped and the door opened, Willie blurted out to the stunned lslander standing there, "Quesadilla," which means a tortilla with cheese.
On the way home, on the ferry back to Puerto Juarez, Willie and John wrote a song called "The Girl from Chichen Itza." Sung to the tune of "The Girl From Ipanema."
"Short and squat and dark and homely
The girl from Chichen Itza goes walking
And as she passes each one she passes goes
UGGGH."
We really think of the Mexican people as being beautiful. Especially the Mayan people. So many faces look just like the faces of the statues that I purchase.
Here's what we do on Isla every day. The heat, the birds, the rustling palm trees and the sun wake you up. Buenos dias! How did you sleep? I love you!
You go to breakfast. Then back to the room and load up for your day on the playa. Sombrero, towel, sun screen, room key, sunglasses, a book and some pesos.
Leave your Tevas -- you don't need them. It is so warm here that you never actually dry off with the towel.
David (Dabido) Puch Mex has saved chairs at Playa Norte, plus a bed, a sombrilla (rhymes with umbrella) and tables.
His wife's name is Minerva. He has two niñas, Christa and Andrea.
He makes $6.00 a day plus tips. But the beach waiters are making a killing. $10.00 per day plus tips, of course, which they split with the cooks the security guards and the bar tenders.
You can rent one of these beds at Buho's if you would prefer.
Mario Pech Pot is the head waiter
Most Mayans have nick names (opodos). Marios is "Payoso" -- clown.
He has a wide smile like a clown. He is everyone's favorite. Perdo's is "Burro," Victor's is "T.T.s," Bernardo's is "Barney" as in the one in the Flintstones. I grew up with Dexter, Hondo, Gumbo, Fleeso, Pepsi, Spider, Beaver, Shorty, Whitey and China. Did your friends have nick names and what were they?
It is Mario's birthday on Wednesday. This year I asked another waiter, Enrique, what is Mario's favorite drink? Tequila, mescal, Kahlua, Tecate, Sol, Pacifico, Negra Modelo, Dos Equis, Xtabentun, Superior? No, it's vodka -- or "bodka" in Mayan. Sandy and I go to Centro (the center of town) and buy a bottle of bodka. They have Mexican bodka but we buy the top shelf, three times the cost. Hey, it is for Mario. It is called Absolut. Good God, this is going to be a lengthy story. I have so much to share. Again really "Lo siento."
We have been inviting people to join us here forever. Steve and Sue George, old friends from 1980, joined us to celebrate my 60th. They figured to come all the way from California to talk to me for 15 minutes at the party wasn't a good idea, so they came to Isla. The invitation is open to you too, but maybe you should come here sooner than later. Do you think we will be coming here forever? Yah! So do I.
The pirate Fermin Mundaca lived here (see below, photo of small white house).
He was more a slave trader than a pirate. Henry Morgan and Jean Laffitte plied these waters and they were real pirates. Here is a terrific place for a factoid. Laffitte the pirate joined forces with future President of these United States, Andrew Jackson, to defeat the bloody British in a town called New Orleans in the war of 1812, but it was 1814 on the day of the actual battle. So now you know and you can tell your friends. For Christmas Tom Egan sent me a pirate book called "Empire of Blue Water. " Did you know that the island of Hispaniola is now the Dominican Republic and Haiti, and that the famous town of Portobello today is the modern city called Panama City? Me either or neither. Kezia will correct it.
Mundaca would pull into the harbor where the wealthy people moor their yachts today.
It is a really sheltered spot and it is across from the turtle farm near Villa Rolandi Posada, $500 - $1,000 per night. The mansion is still here up next to the zoo. We went there in 1988 on our first visit. It was hard to find then, with no markers, and you had to break a trail through the bushes and the trash to reach the casa. Big walls surround the property. He built it to impress a local women called La Triguena, the brunette or the fair haired one. But she married a local and had one child after another, which drove him crazy and caused him to move to Merida. He was so sure that he would live out his life here that he carved his own headstone for his grave. The marker is in the small cemetery near Playa Norte at the end of Juarez. But he isn't. You should visit the cemetery if you come to the island. It is quite beautiful.
It has tall white angel statues with fingers to their lips meaning, "Be quiet." They are above-ground cemetery monuments. On his head stone, he himself carved "As you are I was, As I am you will be." Some of my ashes will be sprinkled here, but please don't tell anyone. It is between just you and me, okay?
Here are images of a funeral on Isla Mujeres, and the Dia De Los Muertos, the Day of the Dead.
To the south of Isla Mujeres lies the larger, better-known Island of Cozumel. We went there with Tom & Jeanette Egan in 1985.
Wow, did we look young in the Cozumel photo album. Especially Jeanette, but then she was only 32. Do you remember 32? Yah . . . me neither. I understand that it is now a cruise ship stop and we cannot even imagine what that must be like. When we were there, it was very quiet. I remember San Francisco Beach, the only one as I remember, and Carlos and Charlies Restaurant Bar. I didn't catch the joke with the names till much later. We were there over New Year's and the day after, nothing was open. I do remember Sandy waking up one morning and saying, "I can't focus." Her sight stayed that way for awhile. We asked a tour guide what was up with that.
He said, "Has she been drinking much tequila?"
"Yes," I said.
He said "Don't drink any more tequila and it will go away." Have you ever heard the term "blind drunk?" Wow, I am writing a lot about drinking. Every time someone, especially our children or children of our friends, talks of our Mexican pool parties, the subject of tequila shots comes up. We don't do that any more. I hope everyone believes this.
The movie "Against All Odds" was filmed on Isla and on Cozumel. In 1984 it was released and made $25,000,000. Factoid, "Forrest Gump," Tom Hanks' biggest grossing film, made $330,000,000. "Against All Odds" stars Rachel Ward, James Woods, Swoozie Kurtz and Jeff Bridges. Other scenes were filmed at the Mayan ruins of Tulum and Chichen Itza.
The movie still holds up, even today. If you have been to any of these places or not, it is a good movie to see. I love the Mayan ruins. We have been to Tulum and Chichen Itza a few times.
Also Coba, Kinichna, San Gervasio, Dzibanche, Limones, Labna, Kohunlich, Kabah, Chacchoben, Ek Balam, and Lamonai in Belize. Ek Balam has very recently been cleared, so if you are going to Chichen Itza, by all means go to nearby Ek Balam.
The carved statues at the top of Ek Balam are incredible to see. Ek Balam is even higher than Chichen Itza.
Every year someone falls down the steps and dies, and they close it for a while. Michael Lynch was there for the Equinox. Please be careful.
Our absolute favorite is up near Merida. Pronounced "Mare -E dah." The ruin is called Uxmal, and it is way different than the others in that it is rounder and shaped totally unlike any of the others. X in Mayan is pronounced "sh." So Uxmal is "Oosh mahl."
Xcalak, the last town on the east coast before you reach Belize, is pronounced "Ish cull ak."
Majahual is pronounced "Ma Who Wahl," but don't go there. It is a phony tourist trap. In between those villages is where Tom & Eileen and Sandy & I saw the wild panteras (panthers). Palenque, possibly the most beautiful ruin, down on the Guatemala border in Chiapas, we haven't been to yet. Sandy says next time. Maybe 2009. As I write, plans are being formulated.
From the book "A Forest of Kings:"
"We were there quite by accident, for we had planned in that December of 1970 to follow the standard tourist pilgrimage to Yucatan to see the famous ruins of Uxmal, Chichen Itza and Kabah. Going to Palenque was a last minute side trip. Sanborns Travel Guide said it was worth at least a couple of hours of our time. We left 12 days later, the direction and passion of my life was changed forever."
You know those women with black rug-like skirts and Peruvian-type comisas that peddle on the Playa Norte beach?
That is where they are from -- Chiapas, the poorest state in Mexico. It is a 12-18 hour bus ride over the mountains for them to get home. 400,000 refugees come across that border, heading for Mexico and north, every single year. 150,000 make it into the United States. It is true -- I just read about it in "National Geographic." Mexicans who can read English love "National Geographic," which was first published in 1888. There will be a test tomorrow. Thanks for listening.
Even further south of Cancun lies Tulum, where the only Mayan ruins built on the ocean are. It is a day trip from Isla or Cancun, and you should do it. Bring your bathing suit, because it has a nice beach and you get a whole different perspective of the ruin from sea level. A little further south is the town of Tulum, and if you bear left just as you are about to enter the town, you can follow the signs to Punta Allen. Here is a photo of the Donovans and the Bacons at their favorite restaurant in the whole world.
It is run by Italians and it is called Posada Margherita. Always stop in first to make dinner reservations. You will be happy that you ate there. You can also stay there. It is a hotel. Oh, and have dinner or stay at Zamas, a couple of hotels away.
Back on Isla, the mercado, not the supermarket in Centro, is where the locals go daily to buy their produce and meats. Don Chepo's , e- as in eh, has the best chili rellenos (stuffed chili pepper) on the island, and I would bet that they go through this many in one day.
Also there is a very small tortilla factory that supplies the whole island.
You can also buy vegetables and fresh orange juice in the down town. It is pure orange juice from south of Tulum, so drink up.
Smoke 'em if you got 'em. Cuban cigars are sold here, but they cost $10-$30 for just one. You almost never see a Mexican smoking cigarettes -- probably because it simply costs too much. I did notice about four Americanos smoking pipes.
My grandfather, Frank Bacon, smoked a pipe. He was a sweet man and Allan Sylvester reminds me of him in so many ways. He smoked Granger and Prince Albert tobacco. As kids, we would call Carnazzola's store and in a deep voice say, "Do you have Prince Albert in a can?"
They would say, "Yes."
We would say, "Let him out."
Very funny, no?
No. I know.
My father's father's rocking chair in which he used to sit and smoke and rock in is in our great room. I bet he rocked me and my brother Mike. Grampa lived right door. Mike would have been 60 years old this year. You would have liked him. He was fun to be around. He only made it to 36.
Yah, there are birds. But not any small ones. There are pelicanos that dive bomb the water fishing, frigates coasting on the warm breezes, comorants, these black ones, pigeons, terns and sea gulls.
The black birds come to the breakfast table and steal the sugar packets.
They leave the blue, fake sugar ones alone. Wow! What a great factoid. NO, I am not lying -- jeez!
About 22 miles south of here, at Sian Ka'an, which is near the bay of Espiritu Santo -- loved how that sounds and it is true, I would never lie to you Me Amore -- are baltimore orioles feasting on the oranges in the orange trees.
Iguanas are on the warm rocks along the southern point, and they will eat french fries, even with ketchup. Yah! There's ketchup to go with the hamberguesas. Years ago, when you ordered one, that is what you got. A hamburg pattie with a piece of ham on it. Wasn't that what you ordered? Best hamburg on the island is the one at Zazil-Ha. It tastes like meat loaf.
Thats it! We want to live here. So one day we have a realtor take us all around the island. There were $350,000 ones and houses that looked like garage stalls for $10,000. We almost bought this one.
Here are some other ones.
One of the older casas we looked at, hanging off the east side, fell into the ocean during Wilma.
A white-bearded gentleman has stopped his walk down at Playa Norte to talk to someone, anyone. Tall, shirtless, not fat, very tan, some kind of medallion hanging off his neck, no sombrero, barefoot. I listen in on his conversation. A year or two ago he lived here for a year. Now he has returned. Guadalajara, he lived there for 7 years. He has lived all over Mexico for 31 years. He loves this island. He says the people here are very sweet and simple and kind. Never has he seen a fist fight or a really rough argument. Hmmm . . . neither have I. I make a note to talk to him the next time I see him and learn more about him and this heavenly place. But I never see him again. Maybe mañana? Or el ano que vienne.
You know! You can do this. Just get on a plane and go there. Why are you waiting?
Well, come to think of it, one time there was a minor altercation. Kathy & Charles spent their honeymoon here. He called from Albuquerque in 1999 and said, "What are you doing in January?"
We had not figured out a winter vacation yet, so I said we would love to see you, but it is cold in New Mexico in January.
He said, "Would you come for a wedding?"
I said, "When should we be there?"
(Charles trades his Sharps rifle and buffalo one pony for Kathy. he got a deal).
He said after the wedding is usually the honeymoon, and we think we would like to spend it with you and Sandy on that island you are always talking about, at Na Balam.
This is not unusual. We spent some time with my Sea Bee friend John Waltner and his bride, Charlie (Charlotte) on their honeymoon in Hoboken. It's in New Jersey. Frank Sinatra and John were both born there.
The very first morning on Isla, we bumped into Charles wandering around, and invited him to yoga. Na Balam is a yoga center on Isla.
He said, "That would be great."
Rita was the instructor and she was from Milano. That's in Italy. If you couldn't get into a posture she would say "Eeeats Eempossible?"
Now think back. It is their honeymoon and Kathy wakes up, puts her arm across the bed, and no Carlos! She was not happy, to say the least, and was she ever right about that. Sorry Katalina! Charles, you shouldn't have listened to us.
I guess when you hit your 60s, you want to speak your mind, or leave your mark, or let the people or grandchildren following you know what your life was like. I have taken to writing and so has Charles. Tom Egan has become a storyteller. Only he didn't know he had it in him. Everyone else did. Charles started commuting by bus to work at the hospital years ago in Albuquerque, and he has a blog with some awesome tales. Check him out at http://bus-stories.blogspot.com. Oh, the marriage is fine; they are on year ocho already and doing great.
At the end of the honeymoon, Kathy & Charles went home to Albuquerque, and Sandy & I continued on to the interior of Mexico, to Merida. How you Say? "Mare EE dah" -- yup, you remembered. Merida is the capital of the Yucatan. It was founded in 1542. That is 78 years before Plymouth in Massachusetts. Many Isla shop workers actually come from there and only go home maybe once a month. And you thought you had a long commute! It is 200 miles west of Cancun and 75 miles north of Chichen Itza. In the town hall are many beautiful frescos.
Right next door is the oldest cathedral in the Americas, San Ildefonso. It was built over a Mayan temple. "It's not yours it's Mayan." There -- I got it out of my system. As luck would have it, I ran into Victor Torres, who was doing a stamped concrete job near the vocala.
Stop it. I am telling the truth here. That was the trip where we visited the beautiful Ushmal and Celestun where all the flamingos winter. Barb Cerri loves flamingos. She should visit there. I found a flock of plastico ones at the Marshfield dump and decorated their yard in Braintree one year. It looked very nice when I was done.
We were very close to the Bay of Campeche.
"And the shrimpers and their ladies
Are out in the beer joints
Drinkin' 'em down
For they sail with the dawn.
They're bound for Mexican
Bay of Campeche
And the deck hands are singing
"Adios, jolie blonde"
Remember the Bob's World CD where the song mentioned that bay? Pay attention. I love the word play. I only lied to you that one time, and now you never believe me.
When the fisherman left New Orleans for the Gulf they said, "Adios, jolie blonde." Combining Mexican and Cajun. Up until that tune, I had never heard of Campeche. "Cam-peach-aye."
On the way home, we flew back to Cancun, then to Miami, and on to Boston. Well, that is Sandy and I and four of our five bags did. One bag continued on to Cuba.
Janis said, "You will never see that bag again." So did the lost baggage guy at Miami.
On the way to Miami, Sandy kept saying, "And you know what else was in that bag?" Sandy always carries the valuables on her person, but not this time. All of our turquoise jewelry, my black Buffalo Bill Cody Mexican leather fringed jacket that I purchased with Tom Egan at Lookout Mountain in Colorado that Sue George wore so well at Kezia and Chris's wedding.
"And you know what else was in that bag? " Our camera, undeveloped film, prescription sun glasses. Well we did get it back. Tom Donovan picked it up for us at Logan -- he works in Chelsea.
Thank you again, Tom. I purchased two of those luggage straps that hold everything together. One has "Isla Mujeres" stitched into it. The other says "Cuba." Fellow tourists say, "Oh, you have been to Cuba?" and I say, "No, but this bag has."
You can fly to Cuba cheaply from Cancun. The authorities there won't stamp your passport so you will not get in trouble with the United States. I have been very tempted to go there. Lil' Anne is going to play there -- I just know it.
Cuba is about 90 miles from Isla. For a couple of years, a hot tub sat on the coral reef on the east side of Isla. Four Cubans had used it as a boat to get there. Mexico will send you back regardless. If you make it ashore in the United States, we will let you stay. Cuba is the largest of the Caribbean Islands. I have read a lot about it. Americanos are called Yumas. It is because one of their favorite movies is "3:10 to Yuma." Not the 2007 one, the fifties one with Glenn Ford. Boy, if you remember that, you are an old fart. No, I did not make that up. Truth-fiction thing again.
I must admit here that I actually found a fiction book that I loved. "Water For Elephants." BUT, many of the stories are based on true stories, such as the missing lemonade part. Read it then call me or e-mail me.
One year a gent walked by us wearing a Humarock, Massachusetts t-shirt down in Centro. We stopped and talked. Hey, we were in Centro and that's what you do. His son-in-law's family is from Cuba. Maureen & Carlos are from Marshfield, and today they bring a birthday cake and dos mariachis to Playa Norte. Well it is Mario's birthday. All the other waiters gather around as Mario cuts the cake and passes it out to everyone on the playa.
What a sweet moment in time. Two couples supplying the cake and the "bodka" and both are from Marshfield.
I pass my piece onto the palapa next to us. They are from Denmark. This island is so international. On our last day here, Sandy and I pass our floats onto other families. The whole beach population has turned over since our friends left.
I ask Jose, "Where are those families under the two palapas from?"
He says, "France and Italy."
I deliver the rafts. "Are you from Italy?" I ask.
"No, they are from Argentina." A nine hour flight to get here.
Next the French palapa. They are not from France -- they are from Switzerland.
Three young women move in next door to us at Hotel Cabanas. They are from Israel.
Bonnie, a Canadian who came here on vacation 21 years ago and married Ariel Barandica from Vera Cruz, says the last four years there have been many Israelis visiting. Bonnie and Ariel own SeaHawk Divers and also four rental hotel units at Playa Norte -- plus Bonnie owns a dress store in Centro and another two story apartment building. They are doing quite well, thank you. Last year Bonnie was invited to join the Mexican women during Carnival. Bonnie said, "It only took twenty years for her to be accepted here to dance with them in costume."
A total stranger stops us in the street and tells us he has just met a 70 year old skate boarder from Bulgaria and then he just walks away. The average conversation starts with some expression of love for this place, followed by how long they have been coming here, and finally where they are from, and have you eaten at so and so restaurant yet. They never really ask about you. They just need to express themselves. Hasta mañana.
We are responsible for at least 45 and a half people coming to this special place. Kezia was pregnant with Abel Arcturus Bernstein. He owns a rocket ship. I don't know if you knew that.
One of Kezia's "joga" students came here with her husband and loved it so much they came back the next year also. The following year they brought their two sons, Cole and Aidan. They asked Mario who they should use as a fishing guide, and Mario said his friend would be glad to do it. Well, Cole caught a barracuda. The parents asked what they should do with it. Eat it? The boat captain said, "No they don't eat barracuda." Next day on the playa, they saw Mario and told him of their wonderful adventure, and how Cole had caught a barracuda. Mario's response was, "Yes, I know, I ate it last night for dinner."
Have I mentioned that in 20 years it has rained a total of maybe 5 days, and that the beach sand is white, cool and rock free? Yah, it is warm, but not if you sit under the palm trees.
It is okay that you do not care to join us here right now. Hell, we must have another 20 years left.
Randy and Donna Adams, New York and Boston Marathon friends, came along one year. Here is a photo of them from the third floor of Cabanas.
Check out the tee shirt that Randy has on in this photo with me. Only Randy and Allan can still fit in their party tee shirts from 24 years ago.
Oh, you don't feel that you can eat Mexican food everyday all week!
You don't have to. The Italians that come here taught the Mexican cooks to make spaghetti and pizza.
Lunches at Zazil-Ha are awesome.
They have a number of fruit drinks with names such as Holbox, Tulum, Oasis and Tikal, which I think is made with chai and beet juice. Then a French restaurant opened.
Then a German place. Remember The Red Eye?
That refers to the late flight that Gus and Anna, the German couple, arrived on. Remember his red punch buggy with the big black dots? The traditional food is terrific, especially the fish. Buccaneros, Don Chepos and Poc Chuc are three local favorites. Kezia and Chris's favorite breakfast place is Buccaneros.
Well, Isla Mujeres is a fishing village! Two years ago some young people from Israel started a Tapas restaurant, which is still going strong.
Big fresh Greek salads and that cream cheese with the pine nuts, Oh boy.
The Austrian lady is gone but in her breakfast place is Mañana, which is wonderful.
You can sit in the window seats, no screens, and watch the world go by. Screens are not needed here. There are no bugs and no mosquitos. You could join us. Never mind.
Figuring the bill when there are 10 or 14 people is not easy. It is very easy if Tom or Kim are there and they do it.
I ordered an iced coffee at Elements and it came with no ice. They had lost power during the night. The waitress just shrugged her shoulders and said, "It's Mexico."
This year there were two new Italian gelato shops. There is a small McDonald's at the pier at Puerto Juarez, and a huge one in Cancun, but as of now, none on the island. Salsa and chips come with nearly ever local meal, but Americans brought that here, as well as the incredible papas fritas,YES french fries. French fries and pico de gallo with a ice cold Sol cervesa for lunch . . . mm- m good. Jalapeños or serano hot peppers on request only. Allan's favorite breakfast is the heuvos motelenos eggs with a taco and refried beans and green peas and ham. One of our favorites is chicken tacos.
PLEASE PROCEED TO PART 2.
