Seniors Gone Mild
Roughly 20 years ago, my wife and I began longing for sunshine, warmth and water to break the long winter months.
Roughly 20 years ago my Australian-born wife, Yvonne, began longing for sunshine, warmth and water to break the long winter months.
So we rented a place on the Atlantic coast of Florida, first at Cocoa Beach and then at Indialantic at Melbourne, where dogs were tolerated, if not exactly welcomed.
When Murphy, my Jack Russell terrier, died in 2009 (and not a day goes by that I don’t miss her) we had more maneuverability. Our Florida landlord kept raising the rent, and the weather was more erratic – I call it “global cooling,” even though that hoaxer, Al Gore, assures us that the cold weather this year is the fault of global warming. You figure it out.
So this year, we ventured to Cancun. It interested me, because I thought with 30,000 Mexicans annually killed in drug violence, and with all the illegal immigration and such, there’d be lots to write about.
Yes, I know the nasty stuff is on the Arizona border, but surely there’d be a bit of overflow in the Yucatan peninsula? If so, it’s muted.
Cancun is hopping these days. Yvonne and I were here in the early 1970s (a day visit from Cozumel) and there was nothing. Now there are huge hotels, condos, and a robust nightlife. There’s a Hooters restaurant, one called Bubba Gump, and a place whose name in lights is “Mucking Fuch,” which I haven’t visited but I’m sure is as elegant as the name implies.
We rented a condo at the quiet end of the beach, which has swarms of security guards in black pants, white shirts with badges -- some with black braid and microphones at the shoulder. And black baseball caps.
These guys don’t seem to do much, but there are lots of ‘em.
Maybe just as well, because in the lively end of town a Canadian woman claimed she was raped by cops on New Year’s, and at nearby Playa del Carmen, five Canadians were killed when a hotel collapsed.
Where we are, a 51-year-old Australian surfer was caught in an undertow and drowned or had a heart attack. Opinions vary. Take your pick. So you can see, this is a place where things can happen.
Although we were advised not to, we rented a car for the month. Insurance cost more than the car rental. And for good reason. Mexican motorists don’t waste time being overly concerned about other cars. Nor do pedestrians. But so far, no problems. Just frayed nerves.
For what it’s worth, our 2-bedroom condo here costs half what it did in Florida, and that includes the airfare. The only decent supermarket here is a Wal-Mart, which is a 30 minute drive away, and hidden behind a hospital.
Talk to local Mexicans, and they tell you that there’s a shortage of American visitors this year, and a surplus of Canadians -- many of whom are from Quebec. The reason given for this is the sagging economy in the U.S. which has Americans fearful, and a more boisterous economy in Canada that has Canadians picking up the slack in Cancun.
I tend to view “holidays” as not something to relax and enjoy, but as something to write about. Our 4th floor penthouse condo has a great view over the ocean from one bedroom, and an equally nice view of the lagoon on the other side.
When we settled in, we found the ceiling fan in the bedroom wouldn’t work, and it took a day to get that going. Then the wind slammed shut a bedroom door leading to a second bathroom that I use, and we had to wait 24 hours before someone found a key to open it.
Then the TV kind of exploded. Well, not exploded, but uttered sharp cracks, like pistol shots, and smoke poured out. We pulled the plug, but the crackling and smoke continued.
The next day the TV was replaced, but it still spoke mostly Spanish.
Then one night the lights in the bathrooms and bedroom went out. The fuse box was no help. Again, in 24 hours all was normal again.
Anyway, this is Mexico, and these things happen.
We’ll likely come back next year – unless we get another dog.
img class="size-large wp-image-71720" title="peter bea" src="/files/wxrimport/2011-02/peter-bea-1024x768.jpg" alt=""><The author and his granddaughter in Isla Mujeres, Mexico
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