Okay, I'm not supposed to be here. I'm really not. I'm supposed to be sipping a nice bottle of Sol con rocas y limon on the beach at Isla right outside Chi Chi Y Charlies'. When I have enough sun, I will go sit on the swings in the bar and make bead and wire necklaces and woven bracelets which I give to the bartenders and anyone else who seems to need one. I call it my arts and crafts therapy. (I tried drawing, but my aunt and Eunice were so much better at it than I that my stuff had no value.) It was funny to trade tips with the people selling their bracelets and necklaces on the beach. Pretty soon, they'd time their breaks to coincide with our bar and we had a few impromptu lessons back and forth.



Tonight I'm supposed to go out to eat at one of the street bistros and then go dancing at Jax's or Feyne's then hit the afterhours club La Penya until about five in the morning. Then I catch a few winks before getting up, heading out for breakfast and some light shopping, and the beach all over again.



That's pretty much the jist of it. I did get to tour the island, but never managed to do any diving or real adventurous things. Which was fine by me, I'd spent the last vacation rock climbing and river rafting in Colorado, and the one before that on a kayak camp trip on Lake Superior - I was ready for what I call a "chick vacation" - drinks, dancing, shopping and sand. Isla Mujeres is a very small island with a small town that it utterly safe to walk in at four or five in the morning - not that a twenty or thirty-something female with a modicum of attractiveness won't be able to find several people willing to escort her home. Discerning the cassanovas from the knights in armor is a skill best honed on the fly - always keep moving.



But even though it might seem monotonous, the people I met made it quite interesting. There was "John" the ex-agent who sailed the caribbean and was very adverse to having his picture taken. I take the ex-agent bit with a grain of salt - as with the mafia, the act of admitting membership generally proves the opposite. But regardless of what he did or didn't do, he was an intelligent guy and has great stories. Chris, the self-proclaimed redneck from Virginia who was down with his grandpappy, a spry old guy that had wandered around the islands for years and seemed to know everybody. Chucho, the "main man" at Chi Chi y Charlie's, along with Omar, Dylan, and Eunice who truly paint beautifully and has two boyfriends besides apparently running the endless paperwork trail produced by the bar. I have to wonder if the fill out a separate receipt for each lime wedge.



There was a girl, her name escapes me: I made a necklace for her birthday, and she had me try the beer she was drinking. It was so good, I tried to order another - then found out we'd drank all her birthday beer brought over specially from Cancun. The sheer friendliness of the people was incredible. There were the self-titled "Ya Yas" on their annual pilgrimage from Fox Run and other various points, enjoying the shopping and cocktails on the beach on a rotating basis.



Then there was "the entourage" as my aunt called them: The waiter at Feyne's who bought me a rose and showed up at the beach the next day to see me. Gabriel who kept following us down the street and asking to kiss us. The cuban dance instructor who really thought he was too cool to live. Too many others to list. They follow all the girls, fortunately I was only one duck in a target-rich environment.



Finally, Heath, Tess, Travis, Heather, and their parents, a beautiful family down to celebrate a wedding. I spent three days in their company, and had the best time in years. Congratulations Heather and Chas (I think that's how you spell it?). I'm still smiling, Heath.





A few pics to replace the generic postcards from last week:







The first is a cook at the restaurant we ate at when we first got on the island. It seemed so incongrous, his talking on a cell phone against that backdrop, that I couldn't resist. It's the only people picture, because I don't have permission to post the others and I wouldn't want to do it without.



The second is the street bordering Playa Norte, the main beach. I loved how the walls curved around the palm trees.



The third is a view down the main restaurant drag, featuring the tree across from Feyne's. I thought the horizontal branch looked like a lizard leaping into oblivion.



Forth and fifth are the obligatory beach chair and flower shots.



The last is the view of the beach snapped from the swings at Chi Chi y Charlies. I was done with sunning for the day and on to photography. By the way, if you go and are not familiar with Spanish, please note that "Chi Chi" means breasts. Poor Chris shortened the name of the bar when he came out looking for us one day, and he almost got himself slapped.



The vacation was to serve two purposes: relaxation away from a tremendous amount of personal stress I've been through in the past year, and a time to make major life decisions on where to go from here. I accomplished both.



And got a majorly cool tan.