I wake up in my bed at the Playa Maya in Playa del Carmen on Wednesday morning. I guess I should explain why I’m in PDC and NOT on Isla. I had this bright idea (once again) in the planning stages of our trip that we might get bored spending more than a week on Isla. (I seem to have not learned this lesson the last time when we wasted our first three nights in Cancun.) And we both want to see Tulum and maybe Coba. So we decide to spend the first three nights in Playa del Carmen. Getting down here was easy. We caught the Riviera Maya bus from the airport on Sunday afternoon direct to the Playa bus station on 5th Avenue. Then rolled the bags about five blocks to our hotel on the beach – Playa Maya.

I’ll make this part of the trip report fast because I know the board doesn’t want a long rendition on Playa del Carmen. I can sum up most of my Playa experience with three words – bad shrimp tacos. Ohhhhh – they tasted so good on Monday at noon as I washed them down with my Coca Light. But Monday at midnight – well – that wasn’t so good. Let me see. After guzzling down Sprite for most of Tuesday in the room, I make the executive decision that I AM going to see Tulum so this part of the trip won’t be a complete waste. We decide to take a bus since that is the closest cheap transportation mode to the hotel. After literally dragging to the bus station, we’re told the first class buses to the ruins only run in the morning. So we begin walking inland to catch a collectivo. We find them and sure enough – the price is 20 pesos apiece to Tulum. This HAS be the way to go. It’s a nice new air-conditioned van. The vans leave every 15 minutes. It’s a pleasant trip down and the driver drops us on the highway by the road to the ruins. I look down the road and can’t really see anything. Oh no. We begin walking down the long hot road and I don’t feel so good. But I’m still determined to see Tulum. We pay the fee at the entrance. I put my head down and slog on down the path. I truly feel like I may not be able to make the loop and get back out of here. My husband’s looking more than a little worried because he can’t carry me if I end up in the dirt. I raise my head a few times to snap pictures and we are out of there in what has to be record-breaking time. Luck is with us and there are still a few seats left on the tram to take us back down the road to the parking lot. That’s a relief. We hop off the tram in the lot. I put my head down because I AM going to make it back to that collectivo van I can see parked about a block away. A taxi driver yells at me, “Lady, you look tired.” No sh__!!!!!! The collectivo’s motor is running and the air is on high. I feel better because I’m on my way back to the bed in the hotel room.

Wednesday morning, I wake up feeling pretty good because I know I’m on my way to Isla – FINALLY!!! Craig goes down to the beach restaurant to score me some dry toast and bacon. That culinary delight tastes pretty damn good. I feel better, but I realize I’m too weak to drag my big duffle on wheels all the way to the Playa bus station over the bumpy dirt streets. I suggest we see if the front desk can arrange a private car to the ferry dock in Cancun. I dress and we both go downstairs to see what we can do. I plop into a chair and the woman at the front desk takes on the mission. The first company she calls wants $90. She frowns and pulls out another card. $75 this time. She decides to try one more company. She smiles and writes down $35 U.S. on the card and hands it to us. I’m thinking this price is per person and I’m willing to pay up to $100 to be put out of my misery at this point. We agree and she says the driver will meet us in the lobby at 11:30 a.m.

The driver arrives on time with a friend and they hoist our bags up on their shoulders for the long walk up the beach. When we get to the street, I realize the road is totally blocked off for construction (Playa del Carmen is repaving Fifth Avenue) and the cab is another two long blocks away from Fifth. The ride to Cancun is quick! The driver and friend chatter all the way. The driver keeps saying Puerto Juarez to me and I keep saying Gran Puerto back to him. He acts a little puzzled and I wonder if we’re going to end up on the old ferry. At least he’s headed in the right direction and the old ferry WILL get us there! He suddenly gets a big smile on his face and points – Gran Puerto! Craig and I are still a little unsure as to what the price is going to be. The driver turns and says $35 U.S. Now THAT’S a pleasant surprise! Craig gives him a generous tip and we’re on our way.

We both comment on how relaxed the new ferry terminal is. A man approaches the car trunk in uniform and ASKS if we need help. “No gracias.” We buy our tickets and take a seat outdoors in the area in front of the McDonald’s. Soon, the ferry approaches and we file into line. We grab seats on the upper deck. It’s a beautiful day and I feel downright invigorated! The ferry skims over the brilliant shades of blue water. A large group of youngsters (30’s – tee hee) from Texas are all enjoying their beer. Craig buys Sol and swills it down in four long gulps. As the ferry slows to pull into the Isla dock, I hop up and start snapping pictures. I’m feeling absolutely fantastic! Who needs a cab?!! I think I can roll that bag all the way out to the airport strip. Tee hee. We finally grab a taxi and roll off to Casa del Sol al Sol to meet the rental agent.

It’s a miracle. I’m cured!!!!! Ahhhhhhhhhhh.

We finally score a cab after about five minutes and head out to Casa del Sol al Sol. As we pull up, I notice a red scooter sitting in front. The house is a gorgeous terra cotta painted dwelling with a cool palapa roof and porch upstairs and beautiful cedar paned front door with a sun over it. I look around and don’t see anyone. We’ve booked the upstairs south studio, so Craig heads up to knock on that door. The front door to the house swings open and a beautiful smiling woman greets us. I yell for Craig and step in. Wow! The view through the glass sliding doors to the pool and Caribbean beyond bowls me over. Marcella, with Isla Beckons, explains we have a couple of choices. I immediately think “Oh no!” All the overbooking problems I’ve heard about run through my head. Marcella is concerned about the construction next door on the south side of the house. The south studio we’ve booked will be getting noise because the construction is in high gear. She says that the owner has decided to offer us the main house since it isn’t booked for the week. She says they both want us to be happy. She offers to show me the room upstairs if I would prefer that. I look around :lol: and make a quick executive decision that the house will do. Marcella gives us an orientation with numbers to call for problems, where to rent the best bikes, recommended restaurants, etc… and then we say goodbye.

WOO HOOOOOO! Am I feeling lucky or what? My life has taken a sudden turn from bad shrimp tacos in PDC to my own little private villa on the Caribe. I immediately jump into the swimsuit to try out the pool. Craig and I settle into the loungers by the pool relaxing to the sounds of the surf hitting the rocky beach below. A short while later, Ricardo, the property manager, drops by to see if we need anything and to check and make sure the phones are working. Extremely nice guy! We spend the rest of the afternoon by the pool.

About 4:00 p.m., we realize we haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. My diet has consisted of sugared crackers, a few Pringles, and Sprite since the ‘episode.’ I’m suddenly starving, but I can’t decide what to eat. We clean up and head into town on foot. We take the new walkway on the Caribe that veers off from the road just south of the Navy base. Ahhh. Cool breeze. We walk up and down Hidalgo trying to decide on dinner. I don’t want anything expensive or fishy at this point because I question how much I’ll enjoy my food. Pizza sounds good. We look at Rolandi’s menu and nothing sounds good. I see a crusty looking man nearby who looks like he’s been on the island for awhile. I ask him who has the best pizza. He tells us Pizza by the Slice hands down. I remember the location from our last trip, so we head over there. We each choose a $1.50 slice and sit on the little barstools there at the counter. I’m an extremely cheap date at this point – tee hee. That pizza slice hits the spot! We both realize how tired we are and wander back down Hidalgo so we can hit the supermercado to stock up and catch a taxi home.

At the corner opposite Gomar’s, we almost fall down in convulsions. A local canine is draining his lizard for the longest time on the sarong stand. He peed and he peed and he peed on all those lovely sarongs (you’ll have to excuse me, but I can’t remember the local word for them that starts with a “p”)! Craig points out that the only reason he’s peeing there is because every dog on the island has probably marked that spot. I’m thankful I already have a sarong that was purchased in Cancun at a flea market on my last trip. So Lesson Number One Ladies – purchase those from a HIGH shelf – NOT the street stand!

On to the supermercado. We buy all our favorites. Bakery goods, limon potato chips, a selection of beer, Be Light lime flavored water, and Nestles ice cream. Oh my!!!! Nestles’ Carlos V is this wonderful deep chocolate liqueur flavor that is to die for! We grab a cab and I try to explain where Casa Sol al Sol is. Aeropuerto Road. Numero nueve. How am I doing so far? Not good. He’s on the Airport Road and I end up belting out “Alto, por favor” after he’s passed it. But we’re home. We put the groceries away and sink into a lounger out by the pool.

Ahhhhhh. Do I feel lucky or what?!!!!

We wake up early to watch the sunrise and snarf our goodies from the supermercado bakery. I'm making up for lost time in the food department. We decide to walk into town early to eat a more substantial breakfast before we move on to our main mission of the day -- renting bikes. We’re psyched to try M&J’s because we’ve heard so much about it. We walk along the Caribbean all the way to M & J's. Rats! All the tables with umbrellas outdoors are filled up. The regatta is still in town. We head towards Hidalgo and stop at Gomar’s. I can't remember if I've read anything about it on the board, but it’s shady and lots of people are seated. I order toast and a fruit plate and Craig orders an omelet. We wait quite awhile for the food and it finally arrives. It’s fairly good, but nothing to write home about.

The rental agent has recommended a bike shop across the street from the Pemex station on Rueda Medina – David’s. We get there around 9:00 a.m. and wait for the shop to open. He starts off showing us the bikes he rents for $8 a day, but if we want them for a week, it’ll be $6. They look pretty rusty and beat up. I’m trying to find one that looks decent and explaining to him that I have a bad knee. The seats aren’t the easily adjusted type, so he’s frustrating himself trying to lower and raise seats for me with a wrench. He finally disappears into the next room and brings out a fancy geared bike. The thing has big mud fenders on it – he calls it a “professional” bike – and looks like it’s ready for a mountain bike rally. I adjust the seat and hop on. For us, the price will be $8 a day even though he says they rent for $12. Sounds good. Craig grabs the red one and David finds a yellow one for me. Craig tells him we’ll try them for one day to see if my knee cooperates. He pays one day up front and a $100 peso deposit. David gives him a locking chain and key. We head towards Playa Norte on our bikes. They seem to work great, so we decide to ride back to the house and gather up our stuff before we head out on an adventure. As we pull into Casa Sol al Sol, the workers next door all stare at the crazy old gringos riding the bright red and yellow bikes.

Craig has been dying for tik n chix, so off we go to Playa Lancheros. I almost buy the farm pulling out onto the airport road in front of the house. The workmen next door are using a cement mixer and it obscures the oncoming traffic. I pull out and freeze like a deer caught in the headlights of a speedy red scooter. Jeez! Close call. We finally get going and take the Caribbean route until we meet the Road Closed sign. Then we wind through the colonias following the Garrafon signs. There are some pretty good hills in this area. Thank God we went for the $8 bikes! Playa Lancheros is crowded today with some tour groups from Cancun. They’re all drinking the beer, but no one seems to be eating. They must feed them somewhere else. A woman from New Jersey comes marching up and asks us if they sell water here. She’s tired of all the beer. Craig directs her over to the stand. She comes back and sits down. They’re with a tour group from Cancun touring the island on golf carts. She’s shocked to discover we’re actually staying on this little island. “What is there to do?” Oh yes, it’s a dirty scorpion trash infested corner of the earth, but it’s our hellish lot in life – tee hee. About then the fish arrives and she really gets a skeptical look on her face. I guess Playa Lancheros probably looks like a pretty risky lunch venue to the uneducated gringo eye. But the fish is big and beautiful and Craig and I dive in. After filling up, I wander out onto the dock to watch the tour groups pet the nurse shark while Craig sips another cerveza. It reminds me of those “Pet the Baby Rattlesnakes” signs on I-70 in western Kansas. We’re pooped and hot from our bike ride, so we decide to return to the hacienda and cool breeze on the Caribe side for the afternoon.

Later that afternoon, Craig rides back into town to let David know we’ll be keeping the bikes for the rest of our trip. The price suddenly jumps back up to $12 a day for the remainder of the time. Craig tells him that won’t do and he’ll be returning with the other bike. After much haggling, the price comes back to the agreed upon $8 a day. Tee hee. Golly. The hoops you have to jump through!

We head into town on foot for dinner. We decide to try the Caribbean Café. I order the filet mignon, baked potato and veggies and Craig gets the grouper in tequila sauce. Craig gets a real chuckle out of my choice since I basically gave up beef in December when they found mad cow in our state. I really haven’t eaten much beef in years, so it wasn’t exactly a stretch. But after the bad shrimp, beef sounds mighty tasty. And it is! Mexico must still be grazing those cattle to fatten them up! We eat in that cute little sand courtyard under the soulful brown eyes of two yellow labs both eyeing my steak. Craig cuts up pieces of the remains and places it on their paws so they won’t have to eat from the sand. Somehow – I don’t think it would bother them. The two dogs are extremely laid back. They definitely have that Isla mojo!

Once again we wander to the grocery store for our nightly bakery fix. Craig picks his line at the grocery store so he can tip the youngest kids. I remind him that the older ones probably need the tips more, but they are a little blasé about expressing their thanks so it’s not as fulfilling. We decide to walk home tonight. In the neighborhood to the south, locals are gathered outside on the sidewalks talking and greet us as we pass. A little girl yells something at us in a strident tone and her mother quickly reprimands her and greets us with a buenas noches. Tee hee. Wish my Spanish was better! By the time we reach the south end of the Navy base, we’re the only people on foot. I’m tempted to greet the guard at the airfield tower with a big hola and wave, but his gun intimidates me. We pass the lavender-colored lavanderia and we’re almost there. Ahhhhh. Home again.

Day Three starts REALLY early. I heard the regatta partiers from upstairs wander in very late, or very early. I keep waking up to a very loud conversation that sounds like it’s in our room. I will myself to ignore it and go back to sleep. But my sleep is full of dreams of a lizard tapping at the door. My husband, who could sleep through a fire alarm (and has!), wakes me up about 3 a.m. concerned about someone beating on our door. I hear it too. I keep thinking again about a board member’s story of the lizard tapping at the door. We finally decide it may be a big lizard from New Orleans – perhaps a friend of the regatta people upstairs knocking on our bano door by mistake. Shortly after sunrise, I peek out the front door to check things out. There’s a golf cart out front with a pair of black high-heeled sandals laying beside it in the gravel, along with a couple of articles of clothing hanging on to the cart for dear life. Tee hee. Must have been a hard night!

We snarf down some baked goods and decide on an early morning bike ride before the day heats up. The construction crew next door has already started work shortly after 6 a.m. I’m glad we’re NOT in that south studio! Bags of cement are being mixed in the small mixer at the street as a brigade of 5 workers pass the buckets of cement from man to man up to the second story. Yikes. I guess there’s no cement plant on Isla, so they can’t just send a truck out! The work isn’t terribly noisy because it’s done mostly by hand without the noisy machinery we have at home. We mount the bikes and head out, meandering through the colonias witnessing the morning routine. Girls in plaid skirt uniforms are headed to school on the backs of scooters. The ice cream men are readying the carts for their long push into town. Locals are exercising on a pathway along one of the lagoons. We get some pretty wild looks in return. It’s the red and yellow “professional” bikes. They're a little obvious. I think I should probably change my board name to Yellow Bike. We turn back as Craig has plans for Isla Contoy today and needs to be at the boat by 8:30 a.m.

When we arrive back at the house, we notice the little black sandals have walked away from the golf cart. We wonder if they’ve run off with Craig’s size 13 reef shoes that disappeared from the back door yesterday? What a pair they’d make strolling down Hidalgo together -- Beauty and the Beast!

Saturday, we wake up early because we have big plans to beat the rush and get a table with an umbrella at M&J’s. We’re dying to try the food! We decide to ride our bikes into town, eat, and go on to Playa Norte for the morning.

Ouch ouch ouch. Did I forget to mention yesterday that my ### is killing me? I always use a gel seat on my bike at home – and that’s over a huge padded seat. What’s that song from City Slickers? “Rollin rollin rollin/ Gee my arse is swollen . . .”

We ride past the Navy base towards town. In the street ahead, we see a police blockade. I stop on my bike and wonder if they’re checking passports or something? Yikes. Than I realize there’s been an accident. Fortunately, I see it’s our turn and we pump our bikes (okay, we shift our gears) and climb up the short hill to M&J’s. We’re ahead of the morning rush – tee hee! Actually, I think the regatta is winding down. We take a seat. I try to explain to Craig what I think a cazuela is. I’m a little worried about my consumption of lime potato chips and Carlos V the last few days, so I order the fruit plate, toast, and banana pineapple juice. (I’m obviously not on Atkins.) Craig orders a cazuela. The juice arrives and it’s out of this world. Oh my. Kind of like a virgin drink. Here comes the fruit plate and it’s also very impressive – big pieces of papaya, watermelon, pineapple, banana etc . . . Craig’s cazuela is wonderful. I barter some of my fruit for a few bites. We polish off everything. Craig’s learned a new trick. “La cuenta, por favor.” This is an accomplishment for a boy originally from western Kansas whose mother can’t even pronounce taco (she says tack-o, rhymes with tobacco).

We pay up and head to Playa Norte on our bikes. I plow into the heavy sand by Buho’s and almost pitch over Yellow Bike’s handlebars. The damn thing tried to buck me off – tee hee! Some breakfasters get a real laugh out of that! We drag those bikes with us out onto the beach in front of Buho’s trying to find just the right place to plop down. There’s an area that’s kind of ugly with seaweed, so we decide to avoid that. I’m mesmerized by the pelicans fishing in the shallow water. I start to set up camp and suddenly discover we’ve forgotten our towels. Oops. I panic a bit before Craig decides to ride back to the house and retrieve them. I wade around in the water snapping pictures of the pelicans. After about 15 minutes, Craig is back with the towels. We take turns wading out into the water to cool off. We’re both spoiled by the cool breeze on the Caribbean side and decide it’s too hot to linger. Besides, Saturday seems like a great day to take the bikes out for a long ride, so we head back to the house to use the facilities and slap on more sunscreen.

It’s also never too early to plan lunch. I’m dying to try El Pueblito, so we head through the colonias towards the Garrafon area. We’re too early for lunch, so we take a detour through the Sac Bajo area because we’ve never been down that road. We admire the hotels and beach clubs before we finally decide to turn around. Yikes. There really ARE some hills between Playa Lancheros and Garrafon. Yellow Bike refuses to cooperate and downshift. But I finally make it. We stop at Garrafon Park to admire the view. Now I know where all the taxis on the island hang out. We push on toward Punta Sur because it’s still too early to eat. I look through the one shop that’s open in the little village. The silver shop and gallery seem to be out of business. Craig really thinks we can eat now, so we turn around and head back to El Pueblito.

Okay – I’m having a little chuckle. If I hadn’t read so much about El Pueblito on the board, I’d really be a little bit afraid to eat here. Especially since my immune system is compromised from the Playa del Carmen episode. But I’m in Isla mode, so we take seats at an umbrella table. Two or three Garrafon Park employees wait at the hut door for carryout orders. I guess we’ve come to the right place. Soon, an older woman emerges from the hut and brings us menus. Craig orders a beer and I stick to my Coca Lite. We decide on two orders of chicken enchiladas verde. Craig worries that he should order something else since the enchiladas are listed as sides and only $30 pesos apiece. I tell him to wait and see. The orders arrive promptly and I’m in shock. There are four bigger than normal enchiladas on each plate decorated with a green sauce and neatly applied crema. Wow! This is way too much food. And it’s the best chicken enchiladas I’ve ever had. I wolf down the entire plate. Meanwhile, a couple pulls up on a golf cart. They take a seat and we strike up a conversation. They’re from the Mobile, Alabama area. We ask them if they’re here for a wedding. Yes. They’re with the party we saw last night on Playa Norte. Craig asks them if they have a good recipe for margaritas. He’s been obsessed since we arrived trying to call a woman he works with in Wisconsin to get a margarita recipe. They tell Craig they make the best margaritas – in fact, they have a jug on the back of their golf cart – tee hee. The conversation continues until we’re all ready to leave. As we’re moving out on our bikes, they call us over and pour us a drink in a cup to go. We mention that we’re headed back to the pool at the house. She wants to check it out, so we tell them to come on over, but give us an hour to pedal home on the bikes.

We round Punta Sur, cruise down a long hill, and end up biking home in less than 30 minutes. That includes a stop for beer at our favorite mini-mart in the colonias. Our new friends arrive and we spend the afternoon sharing margaritas, beers, and stories by the pool. The men spend a lot of time looking at the building site next door and the women talk about shopping, kids, parents, medical procedures, etc… We realize now that the house had been really lonely with just the two of us.

We head into town on foot for dinner. It’s time to see another sunset, so we decide on the Sunset Grill. Craig orders a Tex-Mex dish, and I have the Caribbean fish filet in lime-coriander sauce. Very good, and the sunset is too! We see the same crescent moon again tonight with Venus shining brightly. Wandering back down Hidalgo, we run into our new friends and their Alabama group. Southern hospitality is amazing! Their friends tell us if we get down their way to be sure and let them know so they can show us a good time. We hug and part ways. Then a couple of gents we had talked to earlier in the day at the Garrafon overlook also wander by and stop to chat. Walking back towards home, Craig and I marvel over the friendliness of Isla. We’ve only been on the island three whole days and we can’t walk down Hidalgo without running into people we know!

I’ve always enjoyed Sunday on Isla because for the locals, it’s a family day. Families gather on the street outside their homes talking and playing or head to the beach together. There’s a real sense of belonging and community that we don't see where we live.

We decide to spend the morning on Playa Norte again. On the way to the beach, we take advantage of the morning light and snap some pictures of the colorful buildings in town. Playa Norte is pretty quiet. After an hour or so in the water, we stop by the supermercado to pick up some groceries. Leaving the store, we ride the bikes toward the seawall. An old woman has set up shop there with her conchs and starfish. I could use another conch shell. She wants 30 pesos for the conchs. Craig only has a 50 peso note and a few small coins, so I ask her if she has change. “No change!” I ask her if I can have two conchs for 50 pesos. “No – 30 pesos each.” She pushes a starfish at me and says 20 pesos. (How convenient – tee hee!) Craig says the starfish are too smelly and not sufficiently cleaned and dried to take home in our bags. I suddenly notice SHE has our 50 peso note in her hand. Hmmm. When did that happen? She’s hanging onto that bill for dear life. We’re pinned to the mat, and all we can do is cry uncle. So Craig digs into his pocket and comes up with 10 more pesos. I guess she’s got a deal. I pick out a second conch and we try to figure out how to get the beach bag, groceries, and two conch shells home with the bikes. We’re doing okay until we get to a spot where they’re building a home out over the walkway. At that point, we have to get off the bikes and drag them and the bags up over the steps and back down.

Back home, we lounge around the pool for an hour. Boredom sets in. We wander up onto the palapa porch on the front of the house and I try out the hammock. Yikes. I have a hard time getting into it. The construction guys in the house next door are pretty amused. I doze for awhile, but I’m itching to head back out to the Punta Sur area to check out the vendors that I missed on Saturday. I decide to tempt Craig into the ride by suggesting that we stop by El Pueblito for an afternoon snack. He perks right up!

After smearing on more sunscreen, we head down the Caribbean side on the yellow and red bikes. Before we get to the first colonia, I see a flattened iguana on the road. Ick. Isla Roadkill. It reminds me of all the flattened frogs on the road in Kauai. As we pass Villa Las Brisas, I’m tempted to stop and check out the bar and beach, but we forge on. Local families pass us on their golf carts headed to beaches on the east side. A dog comes running out from the transfer station. Uh oh. I’m a little nervous, but he’s just running after a truck that’s pulling out. He’s got his Isla Mojo too! The dogs on the island have been totally oblivious to our bikes. We pass a beach where people are in the water body surfing. I stop to take a picture of the shell house and admire the new homes that have been built on the south end since our last trip.

At Punta Sur, I buy a couple of puka style necklaces for our son. A man tries to sell us a huge conch shell. Sorry buddy – we’re pretty much fixed for conchs! Craig is ravenous by this time for his afternoon snack, so we speed over to El Pueblito. This time we order the guacamole and chips with our beer and Coca Lite. We can hear the older woman slicing, dicing, and mashing in the hut. She quickly appears with a huge plate. Very fresh and very tasty.

We head back home on the bikes and, you guessed it, once again stop at our favorite mini-mart in the colonias. The lady at the cash register greets us and tells Craig that they have his Modelo in the other case. He also picks out a couple of bottles of Montejo. The lady is intent on the television. I look up and she’s watching NASCAR – tee hee. For some reason, that strikes me funny. I throw in some cookies and we’re back on the road.

In the evening, we walk into town for dinner. A group of neighborhood boys and men are playing street soccer by the Navy base. A lot of the people in lawn chairs smile as we pass now. (There go the crazy gringos who can’t afford a golf cart! Where are their silly bikes?) We’re headed to the Sunset Grill again tonight because I’m hungry for the same fish dish I had last night. We walk Hidalgo all the way to Playa Norte. On the road by the cemetery wall, two little girls have a small table set up selling old cards and little homemade bracelets. An Isla lemonade stand! The cards are 5 for 10 pesos, so Craig buys 5. Further down the street, a brother and sister are dueling with sticks. An old woman comes over and admonishes them. Craig and I laugh because we’re sure she probably just said, "You’ll poke your eye out with that stick!"

Dinner at the Sunset Grill is wonderful once again. Craig orders the coconut shrimp and I have my favorite fish in lime sauce. The staff is intent on setting up some kind of lights attached to a floating dock in the water. We’ve been watching their progress for the past 3 or 4 nights. Someone will have to let us know how it turns out.

We walk all the way home tonight because we don’t see any available taxis. The guard isn't even at the airport tower tonight. I wonder if he gets Sunday night off? We’re both a little sad because we realize we only have two full days left on Isla. Enough is NEVER enough! At home, we throw the doors to the pool open and listen to the sounds of the surf. Only two more days left to enjoy all of this.

Oh no. It’s Day 6. My husband and I are such creatures of habit -- these daily reports are starting to bore me. So I’ll go over the details really fast and leave you with some of my trivial ramblings. We spend Monday morning soaking on Playa Norte. I meet a couple of wonderful ladies from Virginia out there in the water who give me some advice on buying silver. We stop by the Silver Factory where I finally buy some earrings and a couple of nice bracelets. We ride the bikes home, then saddle up again and head to Playa Lancheros for lunch. Craig and I share the tik n chix once again. We’re fascinated watching how many Cancun tourists they can actually cram onto that catamaran and still keep it afloat! We ride on to Garrafon Hotel for snorkeling and snapping pictures. The price of admission has gone up to $30 pesos. That’s inflation for you! Tee hee. With the exception of Playa Norte, I think the dock at Garrafon Hotel has to be the most scenic spot on the island. Today, I get pictures of a pelican sitting there with the vivid shades of blue water and old dock in the background. He must be glued to the dock. He never moves, even when I approach. We dry off up on the grass while a big iguana relaxes in the shade on the concrete under the white tables. He must be glued too because I can’t get him to move into the sun for my picture. That evening, we walk all over the place looking for dinner. We try Zazil Ha – once again, no one appears to be home. (Me and my blonde roots. I find out on the ferry leaving Isla that the restaurant has moved from the upstairs down to the beach.) The upstairs at Jax is also closed. Bamboo is closed. I guess lots of places take Monday off. My knee is killing me at this point and I have to sit down, so we settle on Amigo’s and both have the filet mignon with blue cheese sauce. There’s way too much sauce for our taste, but after scraping most of it to the side, it turns out to be the BEST filet of the week! Love that Mexican beef! On to the supermercado. (Yes -- we DO have a serious snacking problem, but I’m going to work on that when I get home!) We take a taxi home and, guess what, -- sit and listen to the ocean.

Now for the juicy part -- my flotsam and jetsam!

1. I need to express my sincerest gratitude to the short construction worker with the red hat working next door to Casa Sol al Sol. He appeared to be in his late 20’s (but once I passed 40, I totally lost the ability to distinguish 25 from 35). Okay, at first I was really creeped out when he spent all his time hiding behind that concrete block post staring at me in my two-piece at the pool. I wanted to yell “Yo! I’m your mama in a two-piece! Get over it!” But no hablo Espanol. But hey, I soon realized it had been years and quite a few pounds since anyone had bothered to look at me like that. And there is that big stucco wall between him and me. So I thank him. He boosted my 50-year old ego! But he really needs to get out a little bit while he’s on the island. Maybe his amigos could take him over to Playa Norte where he can stare at some really hot mama’s and their bare chi-chi’s!
2. Isla is much kinder and gentler than Playa del Carmen. I kid you not, one of the common calls from the shopkeepers down there was “Come in here lady. We screw you good.” EXCUSE ME! My husband also liked “Hey rich guy. Big spender. Come on over. We rip you off good!” But the award goes to the timeshare salesman down by the Playa ferry dock who uses the guilt approach. “Hey lady. Why you hate Mexicans? We don’t hate you? Come over here. Talk to me.” I’m sure their mama’s told them, but they’ve just forgotten. You can attract more ants with sugar!
3. I really enjoyed watching Casa Sol’s pet iguana on the rocks below the pool. He’d sit down there and just stare at me on the lounger all afternoon doing that twitchy bobbing thing with his head. I thought he was SO cute. Then my husband told me that head-bobbing was a mating thing. Eeeeeks! Try hitting on someone from your OWN species buddy!
4. Isla is just such a happy place. Last time we were there on the Day of the Nino’s (April 30) and they handed out candy to the children in the grocery store and played kids music over the loudspeakers. This time, we were sitting at M & J’s having breakfast when this big industrial truck comes rolling down the street playing music over the loudspeakers like the ice cream truck at home. We both thought – what the heck?!! It’s the propane truck. Evidently, they play happy music just like the ice cream man so residents will know that the truck’s coming in case they’re in need of a propane refill. Hank Hill would LOVE that!
5. Hey Mr. Avalon Man! I fooled you this time. I was sooo dark when I got to Isla that you never gave me a second look! Tee hee. On the last night we were there, a salesman on the corner of Hidalgo asked us if we lived on the island. Tee hee. “No, but no gracias. We’re leaving in the morning.”
6. Be sure and look for the taxi with the nodding Dalmation on the front dash. He picked us up on the way into town that last morning and only charged us the posted rate – 9 pesos! He was the first driver who didn’t charge us 20 pesos. He’s a funny guy. He has the dog attached to the dashboard with a string of cranberry glass beads. He says that keeps the dog from being bad and running off. But he also joked that he lets the dog off the leash when people don’t tip him -- tee hee!
7. To all those people at Playa Lancheros with the Cancun tour groups who had to ask what there is to DO on Isla -- I’m afraid Isla isn’t your venue. Tee hee.
8. Last but not least, a special thanks to that loco perro on Day 1 who drained his lizard on the stand of sarongs. He gave us the biggest laugh of the week

When we take a vacation, we’re always eager to get home by trip’s end, but this doesn’t apply on Isla. We always want for more.

We spend our last day repeating our Best of Isla. We ride our bikes into town early to have breakfast at M & J’s. Craig sticks with his cazuela and I order an omelet. Wonderful! The omelet even comes with great potatoes on the side. After tasting mine, Craig wishes he had one more day so he could order his own omelet! We strike up a conversation with a gent at the table next to us. He’s retired from Houston and staying on the beach a few houses down from us. After a short conversation, we wish each other the best and part ways.

We point the bikes toward Playa Norte, setting up camp down by the lifeguard palapa stand. I’m determined to strike a deal with the purse ladies for one of those embroidered eyeglass holders. I’ve finally overcome my aversion to haggling. I manage to acquire two small purses for a decent price (which amounts to all the pesos we have left at the moment). Another vendor comes by and seems very reluctant to move on down the beach. I discover the magic words -- “no dinero.” She practically takes off down the beach at a gallop!

After soaking and sunning on Playa Norte for about an hour, we decide to spend the afternoon at the house pool where we can graze on all the remaining snacks and finish all the cerveza from the frig. I settle into my favorite lounger with the remaining limon potato chips. The construction on the house next door hasn’t been all that noisy during our stay, but, you would know, this is the day they send one of the workers to the back with a hammer and chisel to try and knock a hole the size of a small plastic pipe through the concrete pool foundation wall. He hammers forever with no progress. I cringe thinking about how his hammer hand and wrist must feel! I finally give up waiting for him to be done, put on the headphones, and turn up the volume. Craig tires of the sun and goes inside to take a nap. My peeper, the little guy in the red hat, appears almost immediately and takes up his position behind a beam -- tee hee. I decide to take a beach walk and look for some of that sea glass I’ve heard about on the board. Sure enough! That area of beach is a treasure trove. I pick up a lot of clear and pale green pieces. Craig comes out to join in the search. I try to explain to him that those brown beer bottle necks with the sharp edges aren’t exactly what I’m looking for -- tee hee!

The bikes have to be returned by 5:00 p.m., so we head into town early to do some shopping and get some more pesos. I pick up a couple of watercolor prints of Isla at a shop on a side street off of Medina. We also go into the silver/pottery shop by the super mercado. His silver sells for $1.00 a kg, but his scale is an old manual one like a doctor’s office scale. I wonder if it also weighs heavy -- ha? I buy a silver charm. We try bargaining at several shops for one of those hanging lamps made from the carved coconuts, but finally give up because the prices are just too high. I really wish I’d purchased that in Playa del Carmen where they were more common.

We decide to eat at Bamboo again since that’s our favorite. I’m ready to get back on the horse and get past my shrimp aversion (but it’ll be a cold day in hell before I eat shrimp tacos again), so I order the surf and turf kebabs. Craig has the filet mignon with mashed potatoes. Once again, the food is wonderful, and I feed my white kitty friend with the soft paws one last time. Our waiter seems very subdued tonight. I ask him if it’s love trouble. He smiles a little and says it’s just a slow night. We settle the check and leave him an extra generous tip hoping it’ll cheer him up.

We skip the supermercado tonight and walk home. As we pass the Navy base, we look at all the improvements since our trip in 2002. There’s a new white wall around the compound along with some new paving projects. They actually hacked sections out of the barracks red tile roofs so they could fit the wall. We used to sit on the sea wall by the water and watch the morning drills, but now that routine is hidden behind the wall. We’ve fortunately memorized the sidewalk idiosyncrasies and don’t trip over the big hook in the sidewalk that I fell over the first night. The sidewalks on Isla are an obstacle course. I guess that’s why most people walk in the streets.

Back at Casa Sol, I resign myself to tomorrow’s fate and start packing all my Ariel scented clothing into the duffle. (I forgot to mention, the house had a wash machine and dryer with a bottle of Ariel detergent.) That was a BIG perk. We spend the rest of the evening in the living room on the sofas listening to the surf one last time.

Wednesday, we wake early. I head to the beach for another sea glass hunt. The man we met at M & J’s comes down from his patio and joins in the search. The talk turns to politics. Even though he’s from Texas (a long way from the Northwest), our views are very simpatico! (I’ll leave you to guess on that one!) We finish packing our bags and grab a taxi into town to finish our shopping and get something to eat. Craig buys the Isla hat he had been eyeing. We take a taxi back to the house to pick up our bags and bring us to the ferry dock. When we arrive at the house, the housekeeper is cleaning. She has a smile like liquid sunshine. After wishing us a good trip home, she follows us to the door and waves. At the Gran Puerto dock after we buy our ferry tickets, a man in a Na Balam shirt approaches offering us airport transportation on the Cancun side for $20. It sounds good, so we buy the tickets. That’s something I would be highly suspicious of on the Cancun side, but I vaguely remember hearing the Los Angeles van service mentioned on the board. Since it’s Isla, I trust him!

The ferry arrives and offloads -- lots of happy people excited about their visit to Isla. We load. It’s 11:30 a.m., so we’re 2 of 4 people on the upper deck returning to Cancun. We take our last pictures as we’re pulling out. Before we know it, we’re back to Gran Puerto and the Los Angeles van service man is waiting on the dock to help us with our bags. The van is nice, new, and clean with the A/C pumped up. I don’t time the van ride, but it all seems to be moving too fast. At the airport, the lines are fairly long at the American counter. They’re going through the routine of searching every bag on tables in front of the ticketing counter. We approach an official who informs us to proceed directly to counter 7. WHAT??? NO SEARCH??? I tell Craig that’s the advantage of looking middle-aged and boring. He informs me that they sized me up and decided my lingerie was probably going to be way too dull! Now you know the aggravation I deal with on a day to day basis -- tee hee! Once again, we score exit row seats all the way back to Seattle. At least we get a consolation prize even if we are on our way home.

We board the plane in group one and take our seats. I notice major “tude” coming from many of the passengers in the aisles waiting to take their seats . There’s a lot of eye-rolling and huffing while they wait for an elderly man to finish in the overhead and take his seat. It’s easy to see they vacationed in Cancun because they certainly don’t have any of that Isla Mojo! I pledge to maintain MY Isla Mojo at home without the use of heavy narcotics.

In the Dallas airport after the long walk down the hall to immigration, I decide to buy some internet time to amuse myself in the two-hour layover. $5 for 20 minutes?!!!! I liked it a lot better on Isla at $1.50 an hour! My husband calls our son to check on the hardwood floors that were refinished while we were in Mexico. My son says they're pink. WHAT? My Isla Mojo is melting, but I try to calm myself. We arrive back in Seattle at 11:30 p.m. and the van picks us up for the ride to the Shuttle Park lot. It drops us off and we begin to load the bags. As I walk around my husband’s Pilot, I notice a huge black gouge on the back driver’s side fender. OH MY ###! Another assault on my Isla Mojo.

I’m already missing the carefree sunlit happy days on Isla, and we haven’t even pulled into the driveway. There’s only one remedy and you ALL know what THAT is! I need to start the old search engines and get busy on the Isla return trip -- tee hee.

Oh, by the way, the floors were not pink. That kid has always known how to push MY buttons and age hasn’t diminished his skills. And the silver Pilot. After a two day trip to the body shop, all is well. And I continue to work on maintaining my Isla Mojo and planning my next trip home to Isla!