Heather in Paradise

Last Friday, I left Playa del Carmen at about 4 pm to catch the ADO bus to Cancun to make my way to the Latin American Blogger’s Meet on Isla Mujeres. Things seemed to start well: I caught the bus 1.5 blocks from my house with minutes to spare and was able to store my suitcase in the bus’s luggage compartment (Yes, it was only two days. And yes, I had a suitcase. Stop interfering in things that don’t concern you.).

All the way to Cancun (about an hour, with the stops in Puerto Morelos y trafico), I listened to my new Ipod, only the greatest gift any person has ever been given (thank you again, you people know who you are). Mostly I listened to The National, but I did allow some Wilco and Yeah Yeah Yeahs to creep in. Since my hair needed a wash, I was wearing my cool Metro military-styled cap that Martina and Adam had brought me back in January. Although I have an abnormally large head, this cap features an adjustable Velcro strip on the back, so it fits me just fine (the bolding, that was foreshadowing, so pay attention).

When the bus pulled into the terminal in Cancun, I got up to shuffle down the aisle and off the bus. While shuffling, I passed this cool-looking, tattooed, skinny Italian chick who was waiting to join her friends to get off the bus (and lest you think I’m begin stereotypical, she was speaking Italian). When I passed her, she snickered and laughed at me. After I checked my nose for errant boogers, I was pissed, and thought, “What a bitch! What, I’m not chic enough for her because I’m not dressed cool enough?!” I thought to myself, Hmmph, and Americans always get such a bad rap for being rude travelers.

After passing approximately 50 more people, I went around to the side of the bus to retrieve my suitcase. When I bent over to pull my suitcase out, I felt a scratchy feeling on the back of my neck, and reached up to find that the white “felt-like” headrest seat cover had gotten attached to the Velcro on my hat and had been hanging down my back as I passed the Italian chick and the rest of the ADO bus-riding world. I hurriedly ripped it away and hurled it with disgust deep into the bowels of the bus.

I just want to say this: THAT BITCH!! I would TOTALLY have laughed at me, but then I would have tapped myself on the shoulder to tell myself that I had that thing hanging down. How long would she have let me wear that disgusting thing that had probably touched the overly-gelled heads of at least 100 people on that day alone?!

*shudder*

I shook that indignity off fairly easily and headed to Puerto Juarez to catch the ferry to Isla Mujeres. I’d been on the ferry to Isla a handful of times, but this was the first time I’d ever had the pleasure of being serenaded during the trip. When I first took my seat on the ferry’s upper deck, I noticed a pair of legs under a covering taking a rest next to a musician’s portable amp. As soon as the ferry got moving, a woman came up to tap the sleeping man on the leg. He got up, wiped his eyes, and then they both began to entertain us with what they called “Latin Music.”

They sang three songs. I tipped them 20 pesos at the end of the ride. Sometimes it’s just easier to give up the dough rather than argue, right?

After an interesting triciclo “taxi” ride through Isla Mujeres’s narrow, cobbled streets (I am still not walking all that well, with the ankle/foot injury I’m trying to shake), I checked into the Hotel Carmelina (which Gringo in Paradise Wayne had arranged) and unpacked just enough to make myself comfortable.

A few years ago, charmed by Isla Mujeres, I was pretty convinced I’d someday want to live there or on another Caribbean island. A quick trip to Isla’s cramped and ill-stocked grocery store made me realize just how spoiled I have become by Playa’s huge new grocery stores and how I could probably never live without Wal-Mart ever again. Plus, everything costs just a bit more on an island; my brand of red wine is 11 pesos more per bottle on Isla Mujeres, that alone would represent an increase in spending of about 90 or 100 pesos a week (or more if I’d had a bad week). Before you know it, my relaxed island life would become all about working just to keep myself in wine, and you’ve seen the after-school specials, you know where that leads.

At about 7.30 pm, I headed over to Fayne’s bar/restaurant, where Wayne had arranged a lovely meeting spot on their top floor. The staff was friendly and efficient, and had decorated the space beautifully.

Wayne and Life’s a Beach Michele. This is obviously before Wayne gave me the little tutorial on how to change settings on my camera so that all my night photos don’t suck.

Jonna and Mimi of Blah Blah Blah Ginger and Arturo, Rivergirl Kim’s husband

Living the Lisa Loca and Mexico Way Elizabeth, hottest chicks on the entire peninsula

Here is a picture of how well Lisa, Elizabeth, and I got on.

Mimi, Elizabeth, and What do I do all day Teresa

Michele’s husband Rob, Tacoboy Paul and Tacogirl Laurie all the way from Belize

Laurie knew I was taking her photo. So she turned her head. So mean.

Fireboy gave us an excellent performance, inside the restaurant

After dinner, we moved right next door and had a few more cocktails. Mimi broke the world record for consumption of tequila shots and Lisa told a story so funny that it made me mimic humping a tree.

Just like the Sistine Chapel, right? We were howling at the scale/proportions of some of these figures. It will be hard to tell from this photo, since I was laughing so hard when I took it, but check out the left hand of the angel playing the harp. Now check out that claw of a right hand.

After a long day of work, public transportation, food, and a few glasses of wine, I was ready for bed and turned in, to Rob’s vehement protests.

I wanted to be fresh as a daisy for the golf cart island tour scheduled for 10 am the next day.