Mexico Pics

A few minutes before the storm hit.
During the storm.
I feel I should point out here that Jessica is perfectly capable of holding her head up, but for some reason likes sleeping in that very uncomfortable-looking position.



I don't know what these are, but my mum kept trying to get me to pet them. She didn't pet one herself, however.

Anthony deciding what to wear for a night out. Um, my brother doesn't always look this sweaty and homeless, by the way. It was very humid.


Our hotel.

Home again home again, jiggety jig.

Tonight we had dinner at the Mexican restaurant at the resort. Yes, you would think they'd all be Mexican, but remember--MexiDisney? It was delicious, and Jessica stayed wide awake through most of it, which is unusual for her. I think she knew we were leaving. So we went for a walk in the grounds, and down to the beach, and listened to the waves (and the disco down the beach playing Lady Gaga and Neil Diamond), and watched the stars and a lightning storm, and thought deep thoughts.

When we arrived, I thought ten days of this would be too much. Now it’s flown by, and I’d be quite happy to spend a few more days doing nothing. My sis-in-law says that means I’m finally unwinding, but probably need another week or so to really do the trick. She might be right, but my plane ticket says otherwise.

Ocean Dive 3. Certification Day.

Whereupon Lena learns to love diving.

This was the day when diving officially became fabulous. It was a beautifully sunny day, and the sea was relatively calm, despite the red flags still on the beach. I’m starting to suspect they’ve lost all the other colours.

This time it was Ryan, a kid called Brandon, a Spaniard called Oscar, who was also certifying that day, and me. We headed down, and my ears were being a lot more cooperative. We did our “skills” on the ocean floor--fin pivots, regulator removal and replacement, mask flooding and clearing (I hate that one), and there was a decent current, which made it a little challenging.

Then we got to swim and have fun--and see a Moray eel, lots of little blue fish, more Lion fish (“very very poison” said one of the staff later), and a mermaid. Ha! I was just kidding about one of those.

It was just beautiful, and relaxing, and fun, and Ryan very kindly grabbed my foot and pulled it out of the way of more fire coral (where was he when my hand was getting ravaged the other day?). We did “out of air” testing on the way to the surface, and then we were done. I was the last to do my “out of air,” and it involved going down and up again, while the current made us drift, so we had to hang around in the water for a while afterwards for the boat.

It was glorious not to feel at all queasy, but just to float and enjoy the sun. So we got on the boat, and unhooked all our equipment, and Ryan made the announcement that both Oscar and I had certified today, and everyone clapped, and then they threw a bucket of sea water over each of us.

I decided to buy the video of the dive, and Tomas offered to edit in turtles and sharks as we didn’t get to see them today, but I told him I liked the original version. Although it was sort of tempting to see if he could CGI me onto the back of a dolphin or something. I'll see if I can upload it. It's rather soothing to watch.

Ocean Dive 2 (or, More Drama on the High Seas)

Whereupon Lena redeems herself a little on the whole seasickness front and survives to blog about it.

If this is starting to sound a bit Ryan-heavy to you, you are not alone. Today, Chris was my instructor, as it’s Ryan’s day off, and as he introduced himself he said, “oh, you’re the one everyone’s calling “Ryan’s scuba diver.” He was saying how Ryan had done all the work to get me up to speed, but wasn’t going to be able to certify me that day. As it happened, neither did he.

It’s been raining solidly for two days. Warm, tropical rain, but it feels a lot less warm and tropical when you’re heading out to sea in it. It then turns mean and stings you through your wetsuit, as you crash up and down in waves, hitting your tailbone every few minutes. I stared fixedly at the horizon, willing myself not to get sick. We got into the water, and I had to demonstrate a few skills at the surface, like switching from snorkel to regulator underwater. I did it relatively successfully, given how choppy the water was, and only accidentally pulled off the mouthpiece to my snorkel after I had finished. A couple of divers went down, but our line to the bottom had come loose, the water was really crazy, and our instructors decided it was safer to get us back to the boat. It ended up being fairly dramatic, as we had to get to the other side of the boat, with waves throwing us about and ropes dangling free. There was one bit where Chris was yelling “Lena!” and reaching his hand out to grab me as I let go of one rope to swim to the other, and I thought (apart from “he’s pronouncing my name wrong”) how movie-like it all seemed, and wondered vaguely if we were actually in any danger.

(I said to Ryan the next day that it probably was nothing compared to what they’re used to, but it seemed quite bad to me. And he said no, he’d heard it was pretty crazy out there.)

We got pulled back to the boat, and they hauled us in with only minor bruising after I got slammed into the ladder by a wave. Then there was more fixed staring at the horizon, as we hovered around looking for the other divers, got them on board, and then went back to shore, and I am SO very pleased to say I did not throw up.

This scuba thing is reminding me of a notecard a friend once gave me with a picture of a girl with her legs around her neck and the caption, “Yoga. Not as relaxing as I’d been led to believe.”

Drama on the High Seas

Ryan was talking to one of the instructors as we went out to sea.
“That’s the one who took the money out of my wallet.”
“Which one?”
“The one with the flashy new sunglasses.”
He says he can’t prove it, but he can guess from the sunglasses, plus the look in his eyes when he grabbed him by the neck, shoved him up against the wall, and waved his wallet in his face, saying “does this look familiar?”

Did I mention he’s Navy trained?
They said that, as there’s no proof, they can’t drown him. I said, “I guess you can’t accidentally bump into him and knock his glasses into the water, either,” whereupon they brightened up.
“No, we can do that.”

Loud Americans

It’s pretty peaceful here, but there are some loud Americans who drink all day at the swim up bar. Actually, it’s a little odd, the Loud Americans sound decidedly British, but we have decided that it must be a phenomenon of how sound travels over water, because of course they must be Americans. Americans are famous for being Loud.

Ocean Dive 1

Wherein Lena definitively proves that she suffers from seasickness and discovers why Fire Coral is so named.

Sometimes I think I should take up knitting, except I’d probably stab myself with the needles. That, and I’ve never seen a Lion Fish, two stingrays, Chromafish, or any other sea creatures while knitting.

I headed down to the beach bright and early for my first dive in the ocean. Ryan gave me a bunch of detailed info about what to expect, and why I shouldn’t be scared, but if I was scared, just to be honest about it and not pretend there’s a problem with my ear or something instead, because that would just “p!ss him off.” I assured him that I had not intention of faking or even being genuinely brave. He summed our plan up by saying, “Basically, we go down, we go for a swim, we come back up. It’s pretty simple.”

And it was, on the whole, and was pretty fabulous. He had me take my snorkel off, because they don’t wear them in the navy, and he pointed out how crap the other instructor’s entry was, and told me to do it properly, and off we went.

As it happened, I did have a slight problem with my ear--probably a little infection from swimming in warm, child-infested pools. It made it a little difficult to equalise, so I had to go down extra slowly and swallow a lot, which became relevant later.

Being under the sea is just like it looks in all the nature videos, except with surround vision, and sound, and being able to touch things--don’t worry, I only touched things Ryan showed me and touched first. The exception to that was the Fire Coral, which I accidentally brushed with the back of my hand, and was a good lesson in why you keep your hands close to your body while diving, as it immediately left me with burning pain that lasted for a day or two, and a welt that is still there. It’s sort of the undersea version of stinging nettle, as one of the instructors explained it to me, or a jellyfish, which is how a website explained it.

But it was so pretty down there. There are a lot of disturbances in the area (hurricanes), so the coral isn’t the loveliest ever seen, but there’s a lot in the way of fish and Creatures of the Deep.

It’s sort of interesting. I had this image of diving being very effortless and floaty, and it is in a way--the swimming isn’t strenuous at all, and the breathing is easy enough, but there’s definitely a bit of a trick to using your breath to keep you at the right level. I will say, though, that I was quite prepared to feel scared or claustrophobic, and I didn’t. There was even one bit where Ryan gave me the option of swimming through a sort of tunnel (a short one) or going over it, and I was quite happy to go through and see fabulous coral formations and pretty white fish.

Every so often Ryan would beckon or point to something, like a fish blowing down at the sand, which looked like something out of Disney, or a nothingness in the sand that gradually resolved itself into a stingray and swam off. Or some kind of sea anenome that folded shut when he snapped his fingers in front of it. Or big spongy, rubbery...things.

The dive was going well, and I had lots of air left (I am proud to say I am an efficient breather), which we established after a moment of confusion after I checked the wrong gauge. And then. I realised I was drifting up, away from Ryan, and I was getting closer to the surface, as I started to feel sunlight. I think there was a little current. And I realised I was also being rocked side to side. And realised I felt quite sick. Ryan came up and asked me if I was ok. I pointed thumbs up, for let’s go up, he wanted to know why, and that’s when sign language failed me, as I don’t know the sign for “I think I’m going to barf and I’d greatly prefer not to do so into my regulator.” So we headed up.

We got to the top, and I explained, and he had me float, and asked if I was “going to belly.” I said I thought I might, and so he swam to safe distance and told me not to fight it. And then...

And then I hauled myself into the boat. As it happens, some of the other guys had already come up, so we didn’t cut things too short. We did miss seeing a shark on the bottom by a few minutes, but apparently that’s not a big deal because they’re “boring.” Ryan said so. He said, “THAT’S more interesting to watch,” poking one of my fins with a deprecatory toe.

So Ryan says I won’t get sick next time, but I’m not sure that my faith in Ryan is as yet quite all-encompassing enough to take that as fact. He thinks it was butterflies, and swallowing a lot of air, and he poured some hydrogen peroxide and alcohol in my ear and told me not to eat breakfast next time.


In case you wanted to know what the effects of fire coral look like.

Fambly

My brother and sister-in-law, but most importantly, their baby, Jessica, have arrived! I freely admit to bias, but I think she really is an exceptional baby. She is very happy and curious, and sleeps a lot, and is pretty, and we are all pleased to see that she has her mother’s nose and didn’t get the D___ nose, which we are hoping to breed out.

She really is adorable, and Anthony and Becky say they’re considering “showing her,” which I had to point out isn’t necessarily a joke in the states. She smiles all the time, and her favourite thing to do (besides “reading” her dots and squiggles book) is to stick her tongue out at people and get a response. She was getting a little frustrated the other night as she was sticking her tongue out at the dog pictured on her pram lining, and he was completely failing to stick his out in response.

Scuba

So, one of my 101 goals for 1001 days is to scuba dive. And the Mayan Riviera has the world’s second largest barrier reef. And I’m here! It’s like a cosmic sign or something. So I tried it out in the pool at first (they offer free intro lessons), and it was kind of fun, although I found I have a pretty strong instinct against inhaling under water. It’s presumably related to the same instinct that makes me unwilling to get close to or step over the edges of cliffs, and which a friend recently pointed out is a pretty functional impulse, despite being a challenge in rock climbing.

There was almost an international incident the very first time I tried it. There was some waiting around for private lessons to be finished, and then another delay, and another, and a few people were getting a bit shirty about having to wait. I’m not especially patient myself, but my as only other plans that morning were to a) lie by the pool and drink a refreshing beverage, and b) read a book, I felt I could safely push those agenda items a little later without my holiday being ruined.

So then, finally, one pair, including Toby (one of the shirty persons mentioned earlier) got to go, and I was next. But then Ryan, the Australian instructor, said he had to take another pair who’d just showed up and were leaving for their plane in 20 mins. Well, Toby didn’t like that, and neither did the couple after me. They were all up in arms and harangued the instructors, who clearly deal with sunburned tourists all day long and weren’t remotely discomposed by this. Ryan just scowled a little and ignored us. Toby flatly refused to hand over the gear to the new couple and gave it to me instead, whereupon I thanked him and the others and agreed that it was indeed very annoying and rude but that I felt confident that my life would resume its happy course eventually, and dropped the flippers and mask in front of the new girl.

So we scuba’d, and it was fun enough that I signed up for certification classes at the water sports office, run by some fellow British ex-pats. I asked the first one how he ended up here. “A job. Well, actually, i meant to go to Glasgow, fell asleep on a plane, and then next thing I knew, I was here.” I may adopt that smart alecky answer for future use.

Signing up, I had to fill out a bunch of health questions, including one about sea sickness. I hesitated and confessed my secret shame (see Oregon Coast, Whale Watching). Paul explained that that was only for extreme cases. He said he sometimes gets people who want to scuba but say they can’t go on boats. At which point he suggests they MIGHT want to think about another hobby.
“Such as hiking.”
“Exactly. Or mountain biking.”
“Perhaps rock climbing.”

The next morning I reported for class, and Paul said a cheery hello and announced that my instructor for the morning would be Ryan the laconic Australian. Hm. I was a little worried that he’d try to drown me after the fracas yesterday, but we actually got on very nicely--we even arranged it so that he’d be my instructor for the whole course. It works out nicely for him as he only he’ll only have one student to worry about, and it is nice for me because he’s an excellent instructor. He spent six years diving for the Australian Navy, so he’s quite good (and isn’t shy about pointing out where other instructors may lack knowledge). He told me a few things that he thinks are pointless that the course teaches, and taught me one or two things that aren’t in the book, like how to kill people using only my thumbs. No, really, he didn’t teach me anything too crazy and different, but there’s something sort of fun about feeling that you’ve got special inside Navy knowledge. It’s a bit like how my friend Christy taught me to slice melons in college, and I will always remember it because she said she was taught by the Amish (she’s from PA). A bit like that.

Lena Takes a Real Vacation

I’ve got some catching up to do. This travel blog has been travelling, and though I couldn’t post while I was away, I had my trusty pen and paper to record all, for my trusty reader. I'm still waiting for some of my pics, so I'll have to update with those later.

Playa del Carmen

It’s all fountains and hibiscus and humidity and virgin piña coladas here. And there are hammocks on the beach. And coconut trees.

Being at the Iberostar in Mexico is, I think, rather like being in Disneyland in California. Disneyland is certainly geographically located in CA. It has CA’s wonderful climate. Many of the people who work there are from California, especially those who work on the cleaning and maintenance, while those with some of the more glam jobs are transplants. And yet, by visiting Disneyland, I do not feel that one gets a real sense of what it’s like to be a local and shop, work, and live in CA.

It’s similar here. And it was a little disconcerting for a day or two, and almost a little claustrophobic. Being in this magical Mexican kingdom with perfectly groomed lawns, and signs all in English, and not a single stray, scrawny dog in sight. But as soon as I started using the MexiDisney comparison, I felt a lot better about things. I could just enjoy the show and not think too hard.