Tulum Trip, Uno

Let's start with the good part which by my account was everything in between arriving at Los Lirios in Tulum, Mexico and getting home to California. We'll leave the airline travel nightmare for another day.

Los Lirios is a slice of paradise if ever there was one. I grew up visiting the beaches of California and have lived by the magnificence of the Pacific for 11 years but never in my life have I felt sand that soft, water that warm, or been blinded by such beauty (ok, the whiteness of sand helped with the blinding). Upon arrival, all the PTSD symptoms from my life in Santa Cruz, from my job turmoil, from the horrors of traveling, from the entire year, really, seemed to melt away in the tropical sun. We were there less than an hour and we were on the beach, stretched out, poised to burn.

I took your recommendations to heart when it came to selecting my reading list for the trip. With three resounding votes, I selected and devoured The Time Traveler's Wife. I wept and laughed and didn't want to put the damn thing down. And when I was through, I was sad. So sad. Great books do that to me. I whipped through My Friend Leonard. I didn't think James Frey could top his first book but this one comes close. It tore my heart out. I finished it while crying behind my sunglasses as I sat at Gate 16 in Houston, Texas. In between, I read my conversational Spanish book and a book of tales from female travelers (thanks Dumpling).

Tangent: Houston is like a foreign country to me. The big hair! Am I wrong in believing that the state of Texas is responsible for hairspray still being in existence? I visited the bathroom facilities and was almost shellacked to death by an onslaught of AquaNet. Woah. Ease up on the spray there sister!

Vacation consisted of a lot of lounging. Lounging is Good (with a capital G). I am notorious for being a horrible relaxer. I am always trying to do two things at once, never sitting still for very long. I have ants in my pants, I guess. Really, I think I am just trying to outrun guilty feelings. Idle hands/mind somehow in my brain, long ago, was equated with laziness and being boring. I learned, after countless siestas, cervezas and romps in the sea, that down time isn't about being lazy or about being boring, it's about just BEing. Nothing to distract me but the lull of the waves, the waiter offering cold beers and the story in my book. I was surprised how quickly I took to being cellphone, computer and television free. I really do believe that I have returned a more mellow person. (Emotional outburst at the San Francisco Airport not withstanding.) Please, peanut gallery, don't cast your stones just yet. ;)

It felt like we were always eating. Laying in the sun, swimming and sweating can really give a girl an appetite. There was a restaurant just steps away from our room where we ate breakfast every day- granola and yogurt, fresh fruit, empanadas with chirizo or cheese or chicken, huevos fritos or reveultos con carne or sin carne, delicious juice, beans, etc., etc., etc. We made friends with our waiter, Victor, or as I like to call him, Dimples. He was my beer pusher. I'd say yes to one beer (not with breakfast, mind you) and then he wouldn't let up. I'd be barely halfway done and he'd be standing there with that dimpled grin asking, "Mas cerveza?" Ok, ok! Mas cerveza!

The weather was perfect up until Thursday when it turned more humid and the wind picked up. The ocean was churning. We'd already gotten our "tans" (ok, mine was definitely a burn and 100 more freckles) the first few days. Friday, our final day, was downright stormy. The trees whipped, the waves crashed and occassionally, fat rain drops fell. It was a good thing we'd gotten our excursions and sea & sand time in before the bad weather hit. With the humidity notched up, I was wilted. I become very Blanche DuBois from Streetcar Named Desire in the heat & humidity. I am such a wimp.

(More trip tales to come. . .)