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Mystical Tulum

On Wednesday, my last day on this wonderful trip, I went into the little town of Tulum to meet a friend of a friend (one of my favorite things to do while traveling). Laura is a yoga teacher in her 30s who started visiting Tulum about a decade ago and then just chucked it all to move down there. She took jobs at the resorts in exchange for a place to live and eventually got a range in the jungle with monkeys in the yard and a studio where she can read tarot and crystals.

We met at a cafe that would be at home in Brooklyn, only it was better than any in Brooklyn, and she told me her story and about Tulum. Then she pulled out her crystals. She emptied a bag of thirty or so stones on the table and told me to pick the ones that spoke to me. I picked 5 and she placed them in order. Of the 5 stones I picked three were creativity focused and she mused that that was an area I needed to focus on. Even the stone that represented grounding was for me swirled with orange indicating I wouldn’t be grounded unless I created more. Then she pulled bout the tarot cards. The read similarly with a strong focus on needing to turn inward to do work. As I lay the cards on the table initially, she asked me to pick the one I wanted to focus on first. I picked The World featuring a woman, arms open, rising up to the sun. “You like to skip to the end, don’t you” she said. “If you do the work” she gestured to the other cards, “you get this.” I feel very understood. Laura is also a trained psychologist who uses tarot to get her clients talking. It definitely worked on me.

A little wonder about town and I headed for the collectivo, the public bus. It left me at the large  wooded gates of the resort. The guards looked shocked when I knocked on the doors. Not many of their visitors come by foot, and there were several walkie-talkie exchanges before I was cleared to come on the grounds.

As the afternoon wore on, I debated the temazcal I’d signed up for, but in the end, I figured, why not. I donned a bathing suit and headed to the igloo like structure by the beach. I was ushered in with four mexicans and a swedish woman. Hot volanic rocks were piled in the middle of the room and the door was pulled shut behind us. The shaman started to chant loudly and the swedish woman said “Nope – let me out”. I lasted longer than she did so I figured that was a start. More rocks and more chanting and I was sweating more than I ever had. Ever. But it wasn’t uncomfortable. I was worried I’d feel faint and end up in the fire, but I did’t. There are four doors that he is chanting about, four parts to the ceremony.” the translator explained. As the door opened, I said, how many parts was that thinking we were about halfway through the hour. “That was all” he replied. “You did it.” I felt so good. Especially after a glass of water.

After the temazcal I got a massage. A fish pedicure was included, so I went for it. I’ve toyed with doing them in many cities, but the sanitation as well as animal cruelty issues kept me from it. This luxury setting seemed as good a time as any to have it done. It was interesting and now I’ve done it. No need to ever do it again. The little suckers can bite. Mostly it tickles, but every once in a while, the hurt. And they eat the bits of you they want, not the really dry part I wanted them to eat away.

All in all, my final day proved one thing – I love tulum. Love it. Like LOVE IT. I have never left a vacation more relaxed and energized. I can’t wait to go back.


Three perfect days (and a tarantula)

Sunday was an off day for me, excursion-wise. Which meant I had to try to be, just be, in the luxury. Not a natural state for me.

No yoga on Sundays, but there was 10am stretching class with Victor, one of the very enthusiastic entertainment crew. The class, which was mostly conducted in Spanish, since I was the only English speaker there, was great. I felt pulled in all the right ways and my back felt better than it had in weeks until – pop. I felt it go. Something happened in my left hip flexor that I’d never felt before. It’s better now, 5 days hence, but I still can’t lift my knee higher than my waist (something I could do a week ago). I don’t think it was anything Victor instructed us to do, I think it just happened and I need to deal with it. I finally made an appointment with my doctor to figure out what’s happening to me, but I hear you universe – I need to stretch more.

An hour break to try to figure out what had happened, and I was in the water aerobics class. Old lady exercise felt right, and was a blast as Victor was joined by Anna, one long beautiful muscle, and Ricky a turbaned sunglassed ball of flamboyant energy. at check out we were asked to name our favorite staffer and I can’t imagine anyone didn’t name Ricky. It was a blast.

I spent the rest of the day writing on the beach. It was what I had come to do and there I was doing it. I was starting to believe in the magic of Tulum.

On Monday I was picked up after breakfast to visit a fabled cenote. Cenotes only exist in the Yucatan and are underground freshwater pools connected by an underground series of rivers. They  are generally found when someone steps into a sinkhole. There is a Cenote Segrada at Chichen Itza (the final resting place of many Mayans as well as, spoiler alert, Sully in Against All Odds, a film I have loved since the 80s). Chino, our guide was a shaggy haired millennial hippy who would have fit in as a guide for fishing in Alaska or canoeing in Colorado or just about any other water sport anywhere. He was energetic and happy and his energy was infectious. We first went to a fish filled lagoon to snorkel. Chino was frustrated by the many tour groups disturbing the water with flippers – he has a strict no flipper rule – but eagerly told us about the many varieties of native fish. Then he sent us into a dark corner saying “I won’t spoil it for you,” as we swam over a giant eel which wriggled behind some rocks.

Next up, the cenote. There are hundreds in this area and the one we visited was on private property on land next to, we were told, properties owned by Laura Bush and Nicholas Cage (side note – where doesn’t Nicolas Cage own land?) We drove deeply into the jungle til we came upon a clearing with a ladder reaching down into the ground. We climbed down the mineshaft like opening and waited as our eyes adjusted to the dark. Chino told us about the stalactites and stalagmites that grew tows each other over millennia. “Do not touch them,” he insisted. “You will kill them with your touch.” and we jumped in the chilly water. Chilly for Mexicans anyway. For New Englanders it was rather temperate. The caves were dark and silent, with stunning rock formations, one of which I’m pretty sure I killed as I turned too quickly and had to steady myself on the most stable thing I could find.  I was advised to swim in any cenote I could find and I would echo that advice to anyone headed to the area. It was magical.

Back to the hotel for lunch and beach time and by mid-afternoon, I decided it was time to try the temazcal, the Mayan sweat lodge, which had a shaman come in to lead ceremonies every other day. Turns out, you can’t just wander over and be welcomed in. You need to reserve in advance and be accepted in. Not a great lover of saunas or middle aged men in loin clothes and feathers, as the shaman was, I figured temazcals weren’t for me. Still I signed up for the one on Wednesday, thinking it would be 50/50 if I showed up. And with that zumba with Ricky and Victor it was. I’m very uncoordinate, but good golly zumba is fun.

If it’s Tuesday, this must be Coba. Coba is a Mayan ruin deep in the jungle. There is a little town of Coba, and then you get to the site, which requires a long walk through the jungle to a row of pedi-cab, “Mayan limousines” our guide told us. We rode a couple kilometers and then had to walk through the jungle to get to the temple. “STOP” someone said as we made our way over roots and rocks. I froze and followed his finger and just to the right of my right foot was a tarantula, the SAME SIZE as my foot. The gigantic spider was making its way through the jungle and showed little interest in us, so we walked around it (way around it) and kept going. The pyramid at coda is 120 uneven stone steps high. It was important to the Mayans to rise above the tree line. I took a deep breath and, a little concerned that I couldn’t take large steps with my left leg, started up the staircase. It was grueling, but only took about 10 minutes to get to the top. From their the view was both amazing and kind of dull. It was tree tops as far as the eye could see. There was a dog in a little cage up top. No idea how that happened, but we all took pictures. I held tightly on to the guide rope on the way down and did some of it on my bottom. Down is always scarier then up, but especially in this case, when you could see the long fall ahead if you missed a step.  I love an ancient temple and I’ve seen a lot of them – Machu Picchu, Ankor Wat, Taj Mahal, the Vatican – but I’m thrilled to add the Mayan temples to the list. One of these days I’ll get to Egypt.

That night, I ate at the hibachi table in the restaurant. It was just three of us, two women from the Mexican town of Merida, and aunt and her niece, and me. We delighted as the chef put on a full show tossing shrimps, onion volcanos and all. The niece told me that she was the mom of a 10 year old with autism and her aunt had offered to take her on a much needed break. It was the first time in 10 years she’d been away from her son. She cried as she told me the story and it was clear how much she both loved him and needed this break. Her aunt was about my age and unmarried, which, according to Esperanza, the niece, was the shame of the family, but Patty, the aunt, said not in this life would she marry. I loved them.

Tulum is magic.

We’re going to need a bigger boat

At 5:45 am I joined father and son Ronald and Freddie, and family James, Sarah, Gracie and little Oliver, in a van back towards Cancun.  About 20 minutes before we arrived, and after a quick stop at 7/11 for coffee – oh how I love 7/11 – Pablo, our guide explained what would happen next.

“I don’t want to give you anxiety” he led with. And then he said a lot of things that gave us anxiety. So much so that Gracie, near tears decided she would not participate.

We go on a small the eight of us got on a small boat manned by a captain and our designated swimmer and headed out towards open water to swim with whale sharks, the largest fish in the sea.

The last time I headed out to open water, to swim with manta rays in the Maldives, it did not go well, but todays weather was clear and the sea was calm. We reached a small gathering of boats and within seconds dorsal fins surfaced and large spotted backs breached the water. We were each give two chances to jump in with the massive creatures, two at a time and with the swimmer who pushed us towards them and occasionally pulled us back.

It went so quickly. We sat on the side of the boat as the captain got us into position and suddenly JUMP JUMP JUMP they’d yell. We jumped in practically on top of the sharks as they’d swim towards and then past us. The first jump felt frenzied and chaotic, but by jump two, we were all able to swim alongside the fish for a minute or two (only one for me) before they’d glide out of reach.

Exhausted, we headed to Isle Mujeres, the Island of Women, for lunch and a glorious swim in the crystal water. We toasted our bravery with beer and relaxed on the bow of the boat as we headed home. The ride back to the hotel was as snoozy as the ride to the hotel. We were very proud of ourselves.

Tonight is a nearly full moon and I’m writing this on a lounge chair on the beach.




Hola, Mexico

I should be starting up at giant stone presidents right now. I don’t remember when I first decided I wanted to see Mount Rushmore, but i suspect it was when I realized how close it was to the Corn Palace. I remember exactly when I knew I had to see that architectural miracle. In the early 90s I was working as a researcher for the children’s television quiz show Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego, when I first encountered the building constructed entirely of ears of corn in a guide book we used for fact checking. Before I’d ever heard he term “bucket list” this became the first item on mine.

And with two weeks off and a car at my disposal, this was the time to do it. But my family curse, sciatica, visited me for the first, but I fear not the last, time and 10 long days in a car was out of the question. I thought about flying there, but if I flew there, I figured, I could fly anywhere. And  with that, the world became my oyster.

For a while I was thinking about Zurich and the Matterhorn, but I figured I might get bored after a couple days and try to climb the thing, and that would probably be a bad idea (I would like to see it though); Santorini was in the running, but holy cow it’s expensive; there’s this place in northern Norway, above the arctic circle,  that my friend Jami told me about, but if I ever do go there, I want to go with her; and then Tulum moved into the lead. It’s a hippie town, always a plus for me, with lots of yoga and some ruins. With a little good googling I got a great deal on hotel and flight and with six days to spare, I was booked.

I landed in Cancun to the news that they’d found 8 bodies in town that morning, two cut in pieces and shoved in a trunk, and no reservation for my transfer to Tulum, 2 hours away. Forty-five minutes of Spanglish negotiation and I was on my way in an unmarked car. I haven’t been so certain a driver would kill me since Patagonia, but in this case, like that one, I arrived safe and sound and sorry for misjudging them. A welcome cocktail later and I was all settled in.

Yesterday morning, day one for me, I scouted the grounds, took two yoga classes, water aerobics, drank several passion fruit magaritas, and took a salsa class. I’m very bad at salsa. I also did the 90 minute time share presentation and hard sell in exchange for $500 worth of resort case, which I immediately turned into to some ground excursions and a massage.

All in all, we’re off to a good start.

In India it’s my birthday already!

I’m hoping the waking up at 5am thing lasts when I’m back in the states, but I’m skeptical.  I’m watching the Mumbai wake and contemplating the day.  I’d made plans, but as I learned, no plans made back home actually come to fruition here.  I know coffee with a friend here will begin the day and a nice dinner will end it.  We’ll see what happens in between.

Happy Birthday to me!

I <3 Jaipur

My driver to Jaipur was quick to ask me about Trump.  They all are.  But then he asked me if I liked Mrs. Clinton.  Very much, I said.  Oh, he replied, she is my very good friend.  Then he pulled a photo of her visit to India with Chelsea while she was first lady, and there he was beaming next to her.  If he was a good enough driver for Hilary, he’s good enough for me! (no including the frequent opening his door at 80klm/hour to spit tobacco and his desire to stop every hour extending the drive significantly.).

Jaipur, the Pink City.  Everyone I spoke to who had been to this part of the world raved about Jaipur – how charming it was, how sweet.  I don’t know what I was expecting, but probably Savannah or Charleston or something.  Jaipur is like every city in India – crowded and dirty with street vendors and crazy traffic and animals roaming the streets.  And it is SO charming and sweet!

When we pulled up to a crumbling boarded up building, and Ram, my driver said, your hotel, my heart sunk a bit.  But next door was a small building with an imposing door, and I was bouyed again.

After a quick rest stop, I headed out to the market by tuk tuk.  It was loud and chaotic and every thing I love and fear.  I will not buy anything I repeated in my head.  Of course I wouldn’t. I’d done a little research and learned that a supplier for ABC Carpet was very near my hotel and I’d been saving my holiday spurge for them.   They did not disappoint.

That night I went to the rooftop restaurant in my hotel and was quickly approached by a Texan, already quite drunk who asked to join me.  He was in town for his niece’s wedding to an Indian man and had decided to see a bit of the country.  He proceeded to share a litany of complaints about the food and people and then asked me to give him 500 rupees.  I took my dinner in my room.

The next day I met Sandeep, my guide for Jaipur and he took me to the stunning Amber Fort, where I opted out of the elephant ride and hiked up to the gate instead.  Sandeep gave me lots of time to wonder on my own and around one corner, I waited behind a group of Germans to enter a small  corridor.  A guard watching me waved me his way and headed down a far path beyond a velvet rope.  I followed at first thinking he was bringing me to the same place the germans were headed and then realizing as we started up a tight stairway that I was on my own with him.  We climbed a couple floors and came out to a balcony empty of people and with a stunning view of the city.  I didn’t have any money with which to tip him – it was now clear that’s what we were doing – and I quickly headed down thanking him and telling I had to get back to my group.  I passed a group of japanese tourists and said “go with him – it’s amazing” Hopefully they tipped him well.

The Water Palace is floating in the middle of a man made lake and can only be accessed by boat (but is closed to the public) but the walk along the lake was lovely.  We stopped to watch some men feed the fish.  Sandeep explained it was good karma to feed the fish or cows so often people would do that.  I said it would be better karma to feed all the hungry people on the street.  He looked at me confused and smiled like I hadn’t been snarky at all.

City Palace, where the royal family of Rajasthan live to this day, was opulent and functional.  I saw several folks with whom I’d watched the sunset over the Taj Mahal several days earlier and asked Sandeep to take me away from the tourist area.  First stop shopping, despite my saying I didn’t want to.  He gave me an attitude adjustment by saying that of course they try to sell, that is their job, don’t be angry at them for it.  Very wise.

I looked at the elaborate gemstone jewelry, lovely saris, intricate leatherware and made it out without spending any money.

Lunch was a spice aloo gobhi (my favorite in any New York Indian restaurant and especially at the Bombay Bar and Grill in the Berkshires – the best restaurant in the Berkshires).

I spent the afternoon walking the streets alone and feeling particularly chuffed every time I successfully crossed one.

In the morning, I went for a quick walk before my flight to Mumbai and straight into a wedding procession.  Women with vessels on their heads and yellow robes sang and danced down the street, smiling and waving to me as they went by.  Men followed a bit behind, never looking m way.

An Über to the airport and seat companions from Milton Ma, confirmed the world really is flat.  Now to Mumbai.


More Musisings

Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.  Mostly because it is free with the room, but also because you never know when you might eat again.  Breakfasts at Indian hotels are not the cold cereal and pancakes on tap fare of US hotels (I love pancakes on tap), but giant spreads of spicy veggies and a western option or two.  So yummy.  I’m about to fill up for seeing all of Jaipur in a day.

Also – I lie when I travel.  A lot it turns out.  I have had my pretend husband for a long time.  In Morocco, I had a pretend baby as well.  It helps make people comfortable.  The first question every single driver I had as asked “So, how many babies you have?”  followed quickly by “how old are you?”  So I tell them what they want to hear.  But I lie to fellow travelers as well.  When asked what I do for a living, I have been a music teacher, a writer, a social worker, and a Hilary campaign worker (that was with the horrible Texan who wore a Make America Great Again t-shirt to the Taj Mahal.)  Its fun to try out different jobs and see how people react.  They like it when I’m a teacher, not so much when I’m a boss.  But I like it.



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