After Progreso, I was good. I had heard about the Mexican-esque USA tourismo Cozumel and was a bit apprehensive in setting sail there. I heard that the beach was “much better” there and that it was more pricey. All three of these things were oh-so-true-extra-super-mega-to-the-extreme.
My family and I got a late start. We all woke by about 9:17ish and were out the door by around 10:30ish (there are few clocks on the boat, hence the “-ish”). Mom wanted some food so we got the mass-produced buffet upstairs and set our eyes on the ocean. An absolutely INCREDIBLE blue—like oh-so-true-extra-super-mega-to-the-extreme-blue. Dark in some places, turquoise in others. White-capped sometimes washing up on the rocky coast. Just fabulous. We cross the really long pier between two other cruise lines into Plaza Maya—the tourismo-capital of Cozumel. It was a gated area of touristy stuff with tourists from 3 cruise lines excited about beer, diamonds, duty-free t-shirts, and more beer. You were trapped into this pueblo and steered away from real Cozumel until you had at least spent 1/2 your life savings and IRAs. I eluded the temptation and headed out to the regular city.
Outside the city, they had taxis ready to take you to the other touristy plaza. I asked the driver to take us to where the Mexicans shop and he did, but not without trying to convince us to take his personal tour of the city and a Mayan ruin—“Only $50—great price!” I kindly said no and guided my family through the semi-Mexico. We walked the streets and introduced Mom to Mexico. Now for the highlights:
#1: We walked about 7 long blocks and at a really quiet corner was an art studio with a well-traveled native who had a passion for turning live scenes into still masterpieces. His work covered every inch of wall space and would have been bought out if I had a way of magically transforming my 10’x12’ dorm into a 1200 sq. ft. condo in Dupont Circle in Washington D.C. But alas, pictures will have to do for now. His use of colors were so convincing and almost musical. My favorite was one where he sketched out at a painter/jazz evening. Musicians would play while painters drew. He took greens, yellows, and a few of accent colors to create a mirage/waterfall effect. Then upon looking closer, he lightly penciled each of the musicians with their instruments in each of the corners. Man I need a condo!!!
#2: After Mom found her “authentic and unique pieces of Mexican pottery” and John his two pieces of artwork from the pintura, it was time for lunch! I spotted this open-air restaurant and thought it might be a nice, more classic home-diner restaurant than yesterday’s eats and a good warm-up restaurant for my mom who had more cautious tastes. Our waiter was quite patient and helped us order our lunches. She brought our aguas de frutas or fruit waters—I ordered a cantaloupe one, and Mom got a papaya/lemon one. Can’t get no mo better! I ordered Fish—Veracruz style. I didn’t know what Veracruz (a city in Mexico) had to do with making fish, but she said it was really tasty. I also thought it to be a good idea to have a fish dish knowing the ocean was 5 blocks away. For our appetizer, we had fresh-out-the-grease corn tortilla chips and chunky guacamole. The guacamole has temporarily turned my long and short intestines into a fast-paced Laundromat pinball machine and is scoring points as it knocks into my internal organs. I have no idea what type of fish she served, but it was brilliantly cooked with fresh tomatoes, onions, peppers, and olives and served with beans and white rice. A religious experience--although I picked out the olives.
#3: I think I mentioned somewhere in Blog 1, 2, or 3 that I left part of my heart in Mexico the last time I was here in Summer 2008. I only stayed for 5 weeks, but I really lived in the culture, with the language, and of the people. When I came home, I struggled with living in America, and felt I needed to validate myself by “finding” my heart again in Mexico. Something did not set well with me and hasn’t for over 18 months. Well, I can truly say, that my longings are no more, I have found my “Missing Piece” as Shel Silverstein quipped in one of his books, and I can continue my life without thinking about Mexico every 2.5 seconds. I desperately missed walking the streets, watching people inhale and exhale, ebbing and flowing with the smell of empanadas and fresh corn tortillas…but I’m good now. I don’t know what it was, but I felt complete—like I could treasure Mexico without idolizing or downing American culture as it compares to that of south of the border. I’m America bound!!!
To be continued…
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