Mexico - May 8, 2010
Visiting the tropics has been a fantasy of mine for 10 years, ever since I first laid eyes on travel porn, displaying images of incredible warm white sand darted with long slim palm trees.
The sound of nature in a different part of the world is completely nostalgic for me. Birds sing a different song, a song that describes the mysterious unpredictable weather, uncertainty of a new culture candy coated with colours and a beauty different from my own country. The heat is a treat for me because I have one of those bodies that feel cold even in the warm summers of southern Canada. Real homemade corn chips are super simple and delicious, and the salsa is always fresh with little spicy surprises in it, like chunks of corn! I vow to ALWAYS make my own salsa, no more store bought!
Each morning my eyes opened wide between the hours of 5 – 6am. I could hear the tropical birds singing an exotic unfamiliar tune and the monkeys grunting and calling out. I was excited and awake, ready to get dressed and walk down to the beach. I would grab a coffee on the way, take off my flip flops and begin my silent worship of the rising sun, breathing in the humid ocean air and listening to the waves. It’s awesome.
Stepping off the resort was interesting too. The people were friendly in a different way, mainly because they were no longer there to serve us as employees, but they were the locals who worked for themselves, they were smart business folk-no bullshit. I am just a middle class white girl who can afford to travel to this poor, but intriguing place. I met some special people in the town of Cozumel, people I will never forget. It’s all so different but similar too.
While walking along the beach, I found an abandoned little resort which was really shocking to see at first. I had to put my top back on to check it out, in case I was surprised inside. Seeing the over sized hot tub half smashed, filled with rain water from the collapsed roof overhead, the walls covered in Mexican graffiti. It’s like the economic reality of Mexico meets the ‘first world’ intrusion of exploited labour in the travel and accommodation business. But nature also let itself in and beautiful vines covered different areas inside and outside the place blooming bright pink flowers. A tropical tree was growing from the bottom of the pool.
Everything I learned about the Maya Culture on TV was retold differently by the locals. Damn the media.
I must return.
The sound of nature in a different part of the world is completely nostalgic for me. Birds sing a different song, a song that describes the mysterious unpredictable weather, uncertainty of a new culture candy coated with colours and a beauty different from my own country. The heat is a treat for me because I have one of those bodies that feel cold even in the warm summers of southern Canada. Real homemade corn chips are super simple and delicious, and the salsa is always fresh with little spicy surprises in it, like chunks of corn! I vow to ALWAYS make my own salsa, no more store bought!
Each morning my eyes opened wide between the hours of 5 – 6am. I could hear the tropical birds singing an exotic unfamiliar tune and the monkeys grunting and calling out. I was excited and awake, ready to get dressed and walk down to the beach. I would grab a coffee on the way, take off my flip flops and begin my silent worship of the rising sun, breathing in the humid ocean air and listening to the waves. It’s awesome.
Stepping off the resort was interesting too. The people were friendly in a different way, mainly because they were no longer there to serve us as employees, but they were the locals who worked for themselves, they were smart business folk-no bullshit. I am just a middle class white girl who can afford to travel to this poor, but intriguing place. I met some special people in the town of Cozumel, people I will never forget. It’s all so different but similar too.
While walking along the beach, I found an abandoned little resort which was really shocking to see at first. I had to put my top back on to check it out, in case I was surprised inside. Seeing the over sized hot tub half smashed, filled with rain water from the collapsed roof overhead, the walls covered in Mexican graffiti. It’s like the economic reality of Mexico meets the ‘first world’ intrusion of exploited labour in the travel and accommodation business. But nature also let itself in and beautiful vines covered different areas inside and outside the place blooming bright pink flowers. A tropical tree was growing from the bottom of the pool.
Everything I learned about the Maya Culture on TV was retold differently by the locals. Damn the media.
I must return.
