Note No. 3
January 26, 2008
Saturday. I suppose even the worst week embroiled in the most hermetically sealed bureaucracy that you can imagine is not that bad when at the end of it all, you have pure white sand to walk to and a clear, blue sea to swim in. We are finally learning to get out and enjoy our surroundings a little. That’s what happens when you hear waves pounding shores all day; your wound-up, uptight senses are finally eroded like rocks and you find yourself saying “mañana” with the rest of them.
And so, yesterday, after we rented a golf cart to be able to go down to the nursery and get some landscaping plants for the entryway, we knocked off for the rest of the day (other than our 3:30pm responsibility to be here to let housekeeping in and our pre-4pm deadline to pick up our resident passes that will let us take the ferry to Cancun for 20 pesos, or $1.84, less) and took a joyride around the island.
It was pure relaxation — well, other than the few times Hillary either forgot to warn me in the back seat or totally didn’t see one of the thousand speed bumps around the island, sending my bones flying into metal. We got to try a little shack of a restaurant that we had been eyeing since our first trips here and we made it down to the beach to take a sunset dip.
Then we got showered up and called our friend, Sam, who was up for a nighttime joyride, which was equally pleasurable in an entirely different way, and after cruising through the little suburbs that are scattered outside the main downtown center where we’re located, we had a truly local (except for the all gringos who seemed to be the only people on the island either not downtown watching the opening Carnival festivities, or not sitting at the outdoor cinema in the boondocks watching some old black & white musical) dinner at the ballpark taco stand. Then we drove back to the city and joined the crowds at the stage, which was set up a block from our hotel, and watched the most amazing costumes on these little girls who were dancing the most unamazing routines.
An hour or so later, earplugs in to drown out the pumping techno and salsa, we slept like little babies, awakening with the sunlight to find yet another gorgeous day. After we get our cushions delivered for the lounge chairs in the rooms, we’ll probably make it down to the beach yet again and swim yet again, letting the salty water wash away all the stress of this interminable task of setting up the business.
Tomorrow. Day after tomorrow. Day after day after day after tomorrow. Who knows? One day, I’ll have my visa and then we’ll have the licenses and then the hotel’ll have its official sign and no amount of hissy fitting is going to bring those things to us any faster, so I might as well unclench my gut now.
Remind me of that Monday; OK?