Lifestyles
Travelogue: Playa del Carmen, the Subtle Seduction of Mexico
She fell in love with Mexico on a trip to take a Spanish immersion class for two weeks. She spent the time in Playa Del Carmen (PDC). Long story short, I got tired of hearing how great it was and we decided to take a trip. I have been a lot of places but Latin America is not one of the places in which I have spent much time. Besides, there are things to be had there that can't be easily obtained in some other places. They don't suffer from the importation distance either. We picked up some cheap buy one-get one airline tickets, picked out a place to stay and off we went. Another point about us is we have a motto "sleep cheap and eat dear." We figure we are not there for the room. We are there for the experience.
Enough of that, you get the idea I think. If you are still with me at this point I hope you enjoy the ride, we certainly did.
The first day started early. Procrastinators that we are, we spent a lot of time thinking about what to take, but little time putting it together. It was a late night and an even earlier morning but we got there. I've missed a few flights due to increased security but I didn't want to miss this one. We went through the drill, flew east to catch a flight west, and waved to our humble abode as we passed it yet again on our way out over the Gulf of Mexico.
We filled out our paperwork on the plane and got the briefing about what to do and what not to do before landing in Cancun. I disembarked the aircraft with some trepidation. I have arrived and departed many countries by ship while in the employ of our favorite Uncle, but customs clears the ship as a whole in that case. This day I would be looked at individually. Last time that happened I was at Heathrow and I got myself pulled by customs just by looking around and trying to figure out what to do. I looked suspicious I guess. This time I was determined to follow the herd. Lots of experienced travelers it appeared. Hell, the wife had done it once on her own f'gosh sakes. "Make no eye contact, show no fear," I think to myself.
No hay problema, welcome to Mexico Señor, enjoy your stay. How refreshing is that? Must be nice to not worry about things I've become accustomed to worrying about. I (on an indescribable level) started to decompress. The seduction had begun.
"¡Bantilde;os!" I think, as we clear immigration and customs, then to the bus ticket purveyor. Your dinero is good at the airport it appears. Dollars work as well as Pesos, and the exchange rate is readily available in the merchants' head. Just don't do too much of it at the airport. Eight bucks US per ticket and we're out the door - not to the bus exactly, but out the door. Looking for where the bus might be located. Not to worry, we are quickly relieved of our baggage by a porter of the bus company whose photo ID overwhelmed our protestations. We follow hurriedly. We were savvy enough to pack survival stuff in our carry-on baggage but why risk it? Not to worry again it seems. He leads us directly to our bus and loads our baggage. I come to realize that his motivation to move us along was about how many folks he could help and how many tips he could get. We certainly were not the only passengers he could help. Thankfully the express bus from the Cancun airport to PDC appears to be more like a tour charter bus than what serves as US city transport. I decompress a little more. The seduction continues.
We are on the platform, the bus is right there, engine running. Our bags are loaded on the bus which is filled with delicious air conditioning, but we are not allowed on. It isn't unbearably hot, but sitting in air conditioning would be better than standing on the platform. I make the attempt. I rap on the door of the bus. The non-plussed driver just points to the sign showing where he is going (PDC) and when he departs, in roughly 30 minutes. He sits content in his nice cool cab. "When in Rome" I think, but still I relax a little more. After all, we're in Mexico, and we're on the way. About 25 minutes later we board the bus for an on time departure, but we joke to each other that eight bucks only buys you so much air conditioning.
The bus was actually quite comfortable. It had cabin style seats with air vents above like a plane. A Hallmark-channel type movie in English with Spanish subtitles was provided to keep the natives from getting restless during the drive. I was too busy taking in the scenery to wonder what happened to the plucky young heroine but I know that the movie had not finished before we arrived at the PDC station. I guess eight bucks only buys you so much movie too.
We arrived in PDC at the bus station conveniently located on 5th Ave (main tourist drag) and Benito Juarez Street (where the ferry to and from Cozumel docks). "Whoooeee! This is quite the zona de tourista," I think. SU is all about showing me the way so I wisely let her do so. We have an arrangement, she does the in town stuff and I handle navigation on the water and in the woods. It works for us.
We head up 5th Ave towards 2nd St North where our domicile for the next two weeks is located, hustled all the way by the shop owners. I take note of important landmarks. All night drugstore (never know when Imodium might come in handy or for that matter when it might be needed), liquor store (same applies). . .
We turn down 2nd North toward the beach looking for our place. We stumble in through some gates and lo and behold, it's our hotel. Passing through the gate reveals a nice courtyard, not uncommon here. It's nondescript from the street but spacious beyond. It actually is sprawling with two cenotes in the courtyard, nice lush grass, and palms. All for $40 US a night.
We are less than a block up from the beach, and " a block off of 5th Ave. with a wireless café across the street. What could be better? Actually it might be better if we could flush toilet paper down the commode, drink the water from the tap, and have a little air conditioning but who's complaining? Oh yeah, the bed it turns out was rescued from a Mayan ruin and is made of stone. No hay problema, we'll adjust. The metastasis of seduction has begun. . .
We unpack the essentials. Me in about thirty seconds, SU takes somewhat longer, and discuss what to do with the rest of the day. Food is a priority, getting the lay of the land, for me, is a priority. SU recommends we take it easy, go up to Yaxche for a little lunch then check out some of the supermercados. For many this may seem strange but as I alluded, we're in it for food and culture as much as anything else.
At Yaxche I sit down to my first meal in Mexico. It's obvious that this is a place that is still in the tourist area, used to gabachos as it were. I try to find something on the menu that is exotic or new to me. I order the Pibxcatic and SU orders the Boxito. For beverage I order the only thing that I've not seen before, a chayanade.
Chaya is a shrub that grows in southern climes and the leaves are used in a number of applications. Didn't realize I was taking my life in my hands with a veritable vegital fugu until I read this though. Our drinks arrive and mine is, well, green. Honestly that's the only way to put it. It looks green, smells green, tastes green. I didn't know that green had so many dimensions. It's not bad. Sweet, refreshing, filled with green detritus that one has to strain through ones teeth but I asked for it didn't I? I just kept thinking that if such a drink were made by McDonalds it might well be called "Glass O'grass". As in "What would you like with that filet O'fish sir?" "Oh I dunno, how about a nice glass O'grass."
Our food arrived in due course, damned by mediocrity. Too close to the beaten path we observe. Too dumbed down, too vanilla, too everyman. We promise ourselves that we will make the effort to eat like the locals whenever possible. Get away from the tourist spots.
We finish our meal and head off in search of the real Mexico. Where better to get the flavor of local life than at the new Super Wally world? Super Wally world was quite the experience. A mixture of the familiar (Siempre Precios Bajos) and unfamiliar but a great way to get a feel for food, culture, and style in a non-threatening semi-comfortable surrounding. I like to do this sort of thing first, it eases me in and provides an idea what to expect and what to look for. We hit produce right away. "Holy smokies!" I think. It's huge. A number of unfamiliar produce items plus all the old stand bys. The bakery is awesome. Freshly made breads and pastries on trays where you just go through with tongs and bag up what you want. The bakery must be at least 40x50 feet. Double sided rows and rows along the perimeter. Meats are the same. It's friggin' foodie heaven I think, both thankful and remorseful that our humble abode does not have a kitchenette. With all this wonderful stuff we'd probably be cooking at the domicile rather than eating out. Particularly when our normal conversation upon encountering unknown food stuff goes something like this: "What's that?"
"No clue."
"Should we buy some and try to figure out what to do with it?"
"Is a frogs ass watertight?"
"Dunno, but their legs sure are tasty."
We are about to leave when I remember an important item to check for...rum. A quick perusal of the liquor section reveals plenty of "Casa fundido in Cuba" and "Hecho in México" But alas, no "Hecho in Cuba".
Then I see it. Like a beacon it calls to me. Could it be? Yes! It's a walk-in humidor at Wally World. I can barely contain my excitement. I enter, relishing that familiar smell. The area is about 12x12. The Habanos selection includes: Cohibas, LGC, Partys, Punch, Sancho Panza and Fonseca. My mouth waters as I know that I will not be able to get to La Casa del Habano (LCdH) today. But I've been cautioned by many to only buy at LCdH. This is painful I think to myself. They certainly look authentic, seals look good packaging looks authentic, no glass tops anywhere. This is Wally World, they wouldn't...would they? I concede that I am but a novice and have been warned by experts. I depart without a purchase albeit sorely conflicted.
We decide to hoof it back to the ranch, grab a siesta, shower, and discuss dinner options.
Jeff Nichols (Jester) is a retired US Naval Officer with a Merchant Marine academy education. He only recently (about a year ago) developed a more than passing interest in cigars but is widely traveled and possesses a deep affection for food, drink, nature, culture and the occasional twist of a word or phrase. Most of these interests are equally pursued by his Spousal Unit (SU), Beatrice.