#TBT 1990 something
#TBT 1990 something
I say that with a smile.
The adventure was certainly enjoyable. It was entertaining and enlightening… and what’s another word that starts with e?
Yeah! Well, that’s all screwed up. Can you say Mal de debarquement syndrome ? MDDS is a type of vertigo that [rarely] occurs after stepping off a cruise ship
Whew! It is hard to type while hanging onto (or on to) the arm of a chair — it feels like a fun-house up in here!
So as the world turns I have summed up my trip with a poem and pictures.
I love water…
and leisurely trips.
And I love being on land
more than living on ships.
A couple of weeks ago (see Crazy Conversations) I mentioned going to Mexico with my daughter. I failed to mention my daughter’s friend was accompanying us, but I am so glad she did. She is a cute little thing and full of surprises. You should have seen the baggage handler’s face when she jumped out of the suitcase.
Sadly, she had to pay for the return flight.
Unrestricted buffet, endless alcoholic beverages and cup after cup [after cup] of elot’e made it impossible for her to fit back into the luggage. I am not even going to mention the ice-cream! I suppose all of those extra
pounds calories put her over the edge.
That’s the only rationale I have to explain her picking a fight with a mild-mannered radio host at KISS FM, Big Al. It was a terrible sight! Her screaming and punching and cursing at him– she called him everything but Al!
All of that drama just because he sat down beside her.
She is usually so sweet and passive.
As I said, she is full of surprises.
I could only watch in shock.
Thank goodness, the airline had not seated us together.
I glanced across the aisle at my daughter with one of those inquisitive mother looks. You mom’s know what I mean.
She responded by denying that she knew the poor girl and told the stranger sitting beside her, “she should be locked away.” When the polite stranger agreed, she went on to say,
“I had to have my mother put away.”
Of course, that piqued the stranger’s curiosity and she went on to ask why.
“She just lost her mind. Waking up at all hours of the night, clinking cups and banging doors, talking to herself… making up stories and laughing for no apparent reason… I couldn’t get a moments rest.”
Hmm. See why I love this kid?!
Almost as much as I love the people of Puerto Vallarta.
Life is crazy, people are crazier and my family… well they get the crazy award if there is one.
Me: Something has come up and I have to go to Mexico.
Husband: What happened? Who do we know in Mexico?
Me: Our youngest daughter.
Husband: She is not in Mexico.
Me: But she will be.
Husband: Why is she going to Mexico?
Me: She has a week off and she needs to stamp her passport.
Husband: Well that makes all kinds of sense. Why didn’t you just say you are going on another vacation?
Me: I didn’t want to sound too frivolous.
Husband: You just got back from vacation, how’s that for frivolous.
Me: That was a road trip, it didn’t require a passport.
Husband: My lord old woman! How much is this going to set me back?
Me: A grand or two. Depends on whether you want a souvenir or not.
Husband: How much is a souvenir?
Me: I don’t know. That’s another reason I have got to get there – to find out.
Husband: Hmm. What part of Mexico are we talking about?
Me: Puerto Vallarta.
Husband: Why not Cozumel or Cabo?
Me: They are too Americanized.
Husband: And Puerto Vallarta isn’t?
Me: Not as much, I hear. If you insist, I could go to Cabo and Cozumel but I would need more time and money.
Husband: If you’re going to stay on the Pacific, I like Huatulco. I bet it has changed a lot since we took the kids – that was what, twenty years ago?
Me: Twenty-one I believe.
Husband: The Cancun beaches were nice… wasn’t there a hotel at Chitchen Itza? She hasn’t seen the Mayan ruins there, has she? I wonder how far they’ve come with the reconstruction.
Me: Goodness man! If you want me to go to Cancun, Chitchen Itza, Huatulco, Cabo, Cozumel and Puerto Vallarta I will be gone for a month or more – Her vacation is only one week. I would have to go alone and I would miss you terribly, wouldn’t you miss me?
Husband: Of course I would. Yeah, you should come on home when baby girl’s vacation is over. I guess you’ll need a manicure, a pedicure, new clothes and a hair coloring?
Me: Nope. I’m going au’ naturel and wearing my every-day clothes.
Husband: You’re not going to cover up all that gray hair? What about those garden toes—you know the last pedicure you got they made fun of your beat up old feet.
Me: Oh, shut up and mix your drink.
Husband: Ahh, that was funny, “you have a garden, yes?” I can’t believe you plopped those mud stained number nines in front of that poor fella. With all of your calluses and cracks — no wonder it took him an hour. You couldn’t pay me to do his job. Who are you calling? Are you calling the beauty shop?
Me: No, I am calling my travel agent.
Husband: Oh, come on. I was just picking at you. Are you going to cancel your trip?
Me: Au contraire monsieur, I am going to extend my itinerary to include all of the places you suggested.
Husband: Salt water and sand do work miracles. You better keep those feet in the water as much as you can.
I wish I hadn’t drank all of those margaritas on the beach the night before…. I wish I hadn’t downed so many Dos Equis on the bus ride but OMG it took like ninety hours to get there and a margarita hangover leaves a person very thirsty.
December 21st of 2012. I don’t recall that date being mentioned in 1995 when we toured the ancient grounds of Chichen Itza. I suppose it was irrelevant with Y2K looming in the not so distant future. Maybe the guide did make mention and I missed it because I was
passed out resting half way up the pyramid. That of course would not have happened if he’d sent the Sherpa I requested.
I don’t think the tour guide liked me despite my best efforts to build a rapport.
“Parlez-vous français?” I had asked. “Oui- petit.” He responded. That exhausted my french so I gave him a slap on the back and said, “Well jolly good for you old chap.” He snarled and started his rehearsed dialogue for the small crowd.
Everyone listened in awe as he pointed at the cracked engravings and bits of broken symbols, skirting over the fissures and holes filled with smooth stones. I am not a hieroglyphics expert but I could see large gaps of information were missing from the story. Laying my linguistic talents aside and in my most authentic voice I gently interrupted, “Sir? Pardon me? With so much of the picture missing how can you be sure of that interpretation?” but like a well-trained telemarketer he pressed forward with the history lesson he’d been taught.
“Escuzzie moi señor? Ooday ooyay hablas ingles?” I asked. Initially he ignored me but after repeating the inquiry eight times I got his undivided attention and readied my next question as he turned to face me. “Are there any little Mayan peoples left? Perhaps you have an oral history -”
“NO!” he snapped before slowly raising the corner of his mouth to reveal sharp decaying teeth. I have to admit it was a bit creepy staring down the rusty tines of this human tiller so I spat, “Fine! I’ll just look at the rocks and make up my own story.”
After silent hours of
wandering aimlessly research (silent unless you count the noise of the Quetzal) the only conclusion I came away with was this: We are not an advanced generation; not in 1995 and not now. We assume way too much and despite all of our technical gadgets, we are idiots.
So December 21st is only days away and I sit staring at 17 year old photographs wondering, Where is my fanny pack and that intelligent archeological tourist hat that hubby was wearing? Where on earth did I get those outrageous shorts and what will I get the children for Christmas? All the while one line from a song I can’t remember loops in my frontal lobe. ‘It’s the end of the world as we know & it and I feel fine.’ I think that’s REM. They may have been ahead of their time and we may be out of it. Any naysayers, doomsdayer’s or opinions on the subject? Personally – if I can pinch my own flesh I’m not falling for it.