Cancun, MX

Pieter Tolsma

I love the idea of jetting off somewhere with a carry-on (I will not be paying extra) full of dreams and big ideas (crammed into the overhead compartment). Those big ideas are probably based on too many Disney movies and often the reality is far different and less secure than a trip to see friends.

My adventure began innocently enough when we decided to use a Groupon for a trip to Cancun — the boyfriend and I love a bargain as much as he hates winter weather. Having never been to Mexico, I was quite excited, although somewhat concerned because Cabo San Lucas had just been blown off the map by a hurricane and the closest countries for assistance to our destination was Belize or Cuba, which was hardly comforting. Did I mention we were essentially buying our all-inclusive trip with a coupon book? An ONLINE coupon book in a country where my phone doesn’t have internet service. That little fact did not exactly soothe my rattled nerves.

Our plane was brimming with entitled, obnoxious newlyweds. We were actually asked twice if we would split up so that newly married couples could sit together. As a side note, those his and hers bedazzled “Just Married” jackets set off all sorts of TSA alarms. My advice? Leave them in the discount bin where you found them or use them in the field, as I imagine that gratuitous beading will work great with crows.

Mexican customs was a breeze. After retrieving our luggage, we wandered up to the agent and she had us each press a button. Button flashes green, you are good to go. It it flashes red, the agent opens your bag, glares into the depths of your soul whilst snapping her gum, and sends you on your way. The biggest trial is wading through the local bus-tour vendors just outside the frosted glass doors of customs. Pro-tip: Steering your flight attendant-style suitcase ahead of you like a steam roller helps clear the path.

Our hotel was beautifully manicured. It was far enough away not to be noisy, but not so far that we were too near the “adults only” hotel with its attempts at erotic Adam and Eve-themed modern art. The white sand beaches are an amazing palliative for the cold winter snow. Word to the wise, any nighttime swimming will get you a stern, mostly-Spanish warning that manta rays are very jealous … or perhaps are very dangerous … or perhaps the guard merely found me eating an ice cream cone while wading through the shallows in the dark a bit unnerving. (I really need to learn more Spanish for next time.)

If you’re going to leave your beach chair, you need to see the ruins. They’re nearly next door on hotel maps. In actuality, the bus ride is a Macro Polo-esque journey that takes hours upon hours, especially when the bus stops at nearly every roadside trinket shop along the way. I will say, though, that the multitude of stops showed me how much the population loves Spiderman and the Virgin Mary. I enjoy them both too, although quite differently.

Chichen Itza and the other monuments are beautiful and well worth the drive. If you take the tour, bring an umbrella for the searing sun or sudden rain because both are challenging. The vendors surrounding every forest clearing will drive you out into the field and into the oppressive sun, unless you actually want a Spiderman statue.

If there is one thing I took away from Mexico besides a sunburn, it’s admiration of the lax attitude the local people take towards copyright law. I think of it every time before I go to bed and gaze upon my statue of Virgin Spider Mary.