Ramblins - Mexico

Ok, no real structure to this one, just random thoughts and snippets of stories as they come to me. It`s time I started living up to my blog name...



I went back to Isla Mujeres last week. I think I got a mild case of food poisoning from the club sandwiches at the hostel, but it was still soooo good. I'd do it again.



Almost killed myself the other day. Coming back from Cozumel, I checked myself into a hotel (not ready to get back to the real world after all) and, coming back from a late dinner, found I had left my key in my room. It was past 11pm and the office was closed. There was no guard on duty. So I decided to break in.

Easier said then done. With bars on the hallway windows, and a good lock that broke both my Miami library and expired international student cards, I was having a tough time. But then I remembered I had left the balcony door open. I took the stairs to the roof and found that if I climbed down the side of a drainpipe I could reach the balcony. Not my balcony, but the one next to mine. From there I could jump to mine. But don´t worry, I wasn`t crazy enough to free climb down the side of a four story building, oh no, I knew I just needed something to hold onto while I descended. I found a length of rope in a storage closet, tied it to a roof pillar, and lowered one end over the balcony and I tied the other end around my waist as a fool-proof safe-guard and lowered myself over the side.

Then I looked down... 100 feet to the hard concrete street below and I realized I was crazy and scrambled to pull myself back over the top of the roof before I lost my grip, slipped through my safety net and made a wet spot on the pavement below. I returned to the office, eventually found the owner, and he unlocked my door for me.




Why do people park in driveways and drive on parkways?




Leaving the beaches I decided to visit a more remote inland town, supposed to have more Mayan culture. The town was over run with french people. It`s funny 'cause the rest of the Yucatan has very little, if any 'french pressure.' I realized it was because the travel guide, ¨Lets Go,¨ adored by the French, lists this town as one of Mexico`s highlights, so they all go there. It's amazing how much people rely on guide books for traveling these days. Here we are pretending to be independent travelers and all we do is follow the same lists, written by the same people, in the same books. It's lazy and I hate it. But I stayed for a few days 'cause the Lonely Planet said I should.




Did you know that you can personally reduce your annual carbon dioxide emissions by 500 lbs. just by using warm water instead of hot water in the washer, therefore helping to curb global warming? (www.climatecrisis). Did ya?




I broke my toe playing volleyball the other day. How wimpy is that! I've already come up with a much better story though. It involves cliff diving, a bull shark, and a Ginzu knife. Maybe I'll write a blog about it.




Do you know which animal is responsible for the most human deaths worldwide? The mosquito.



I am tired of everyone complaining about how they don't know what they want to do in life. Who says we're supposed to know to begin with. Isn't it much more fun not knowing, waking up every day with endless possibilities? Imagine waking up knowing, knowing that you were going to have to go to the same boring job day after day for the next thirty years. It'd be like waking up in the 1950s. That is something worth complaining about, dealing with Eisenhower and flat top haircuts. But, at least they had social security when they retired, and they'd had the The Lone Ranger, everyone one loves The Lone Ranger.

But seriously, those days are over, and today the average American has three careers, that's right, three! And that doesn't include your post college past times like waiting tables or stripping. Nope, those are bone-a-fide jobs. So stop worrying about finding the perfect job that you can spend the rest of your life growing to hate, and start doing what everyone is supposed to do in life... enjoy it. Go traveling, tell her/him you love her/him, write a children's book, eat a bucket of Ben and Jerry's ¨Phish Food.¨ Otherwise, it will all be over before you know it, and all you'll have is carpal tunnel and I-O-U social security check.




Ok, that's enough ramblin for one afternoon. I'll be back to true form on the next blog, it's about a shark, cliff diving, and a Ginzu knife.

Tulum to Cozumel- Mexico

Birthday Beach Parties and Solo Celibrations

Team Isla was comfortably situated in beachfront cabanas along Tulum's sweeping white sand concave shore. A great location, we were only a two-minute walk from the ruins, with its cathedral pyramid, atop a overhanging limestone cliff, visible from our front door. And whatsmore, we were literally a stones throw from the water's edge. It was quite and the long streching beach line aforded us our own little slice of heaven all to ourselves. The best part about it was that it was realatively cheap, we were only paying $7.50 a night for our beachfront accomodations, so what if our walls consisted of lose sticks and our bed were more sand than mattress.

Our time together was coming to an end. In a few days half the group would be pushing on into Belize, the teachers would be heading back to work, and a handful of us didn't know where we were going next (I'm sure you could guess which group I was in). But, we all wanted one last bash before we split up and my 26th birthday, only a few days away, would play the catalyst.

Anne and Hanna took the reins and began planning the whole thing, saying that we would have a birthday dinner on the beach and then party with a bonfire. Girls are so good at planning parties. They left in the early afternoon, taking a cab into town to go shopping, and did not returned until after dark. I wasn't allowed to take part in the set up, but was finally summonsed from by cabana just before 8pm and was lead down to the spot they had set up along the beach.

They had gone all out,. There were balloons tied to palm trees, birthday presents, and even a cake! For dinner they had gotten 5 boxes of pizza and we had a little birthday feast after which we had the cake. But the real desert was the 7 bottles of rum they had bought along and we took them and moved to a more secluded spot down the beach and built our bonfire.

The rest of the night consisted of us partying around the campfire, our group growing bigger as other curious travelers were attracted to the blaze. It was a good time and lasted late into the night, no one wanting to let it end. It didn't even stop when the Mexican police rolled up and made us put the fire out, we still raged on. It was one of the best birthday parties I had had in recent memory and I sat back happily drinking rum out of my birthday coconut, watching the others enjoy the evening. I was going to miss these guys, who, after only two weeks, had become good friends and had go out of their way to give me a great birthday party. I was going to miss the card games, the hours we spent playing Mafia, and most of all the always lively conversations.

So it was with heavy hearts that we parted ways a day later and I struck out on my own again. I decided to head up to Playa del Carmen, only an hours drive up the coast, but with a very different vibe than sleepy Tulum town. It was basically a mix of Cancun's over-extravagance and Isla Mujeres' cuteness. Like Isla, it had a quaint promenade, Fifth Ave., lined with hotels and fancy international food fairs. But, just like Cancun's hotel zone, it stretched on for miles, quickly oversaturated your sences, and lost all its charm. The unending line of cute little restaurants, the countless cozy hotel facades all seemed too planned out, too artificial to pallet and it left you feeling like you were stranded in the world biggest strip mall. I wasn't buying it and left the next day for the nearby island of Cozumel.

It was my birthday and I decided to treat myself. I would have no $30 budget, Today. I wouldn't hold back, I would do as any other tourist would do. If I wanted a steak sandwich that coast $13 dollars, I would have a steak sandwich that coast $13. If I wanted a cup of coffee, to hell with it, I'd have two. If I wanted A/C and TV in my hotel room, by golly it was going to happen. I did all of those things, and threw in a two-tank dive trip out to the world famous reefs just off shore for good messure. It was expensive, but worth it, and what did I care, I was just a vacationing tourist on holiday with no budget and no worries. I had a big diner at a nice restaurant and then took in a movie, The 300, after which, I strolled back to my hotel along the waterfront and fell into a long restful sleep. So, this is what it feels like to be old and have money.

But it was only a fleeting moment, a glimmer lost in time, and, awakening the following morning, I knew it was time to get back to the the real world. A world where I couldn't have three meals a day, couldn't have a second cup of coffee, and couldn't afford a hotel room, with or without A/C. Oh well, I am use to it by now, and maybe prefer it in some strange way. At least everyday is a challenge! So, packing up my bags, stowing my nice polo shirt and shoes, I put my jersey and flip flops back on and returned to the mainland, and reality.

Team Isla - Mexico

Team Isla

Still feeling a bit down after my family left, I moved into Pac Na, the only youth hostel on Isla Mujeres and a social hub for backpakers. It was here that I met a friendly collection of travelers-most of whom were also flying solo-and immediately felt whole again. They were all fun, outgoing and warm; the type of people you would meet once and instantly feel like you are good friends. We seemed to form an instant bond and became a tight nit group of 10 people from all over the world.

After a week on the island, with a friendship forged with copious amounts of alcohol, this crack squad of international miscreants decided not to split up, solidifying their unity by leaving Isla together-which is no easy feat when you are staying at Pac Na, arguably the best hostel in Central America with cheap beds, a beach bar, volleyball tournaments, and hands down the best club sandwich ever (it has a Facebook Fan club). But we pulled oursleves away and spent the better part of a week traveling down the Yucatan, and becoming what will forever be know as Team Isla. Lets meet the members shall we :

First up we´ll meet Josh (pictured left but not spiddy), aka Big Smoke, a 23 year-old Californian who lives in Pachuca, Mexico and works as a teacher in a local school. Although he seems like he´d make a great teacher, he hates his job and is seriously considering quitting-to move to Isla Mujeres and work at Pac Na, where they give free club sandwiches to their staff. He´s funny as hell, his humor mainly based on candor, and he´s always coming up with jokes on the spot. Jokes like:¨If all you have in life is a VHS copy of Martin Lawrence´s Nothing to Loose, then you truly have, nothing to loose.¨

Then there is his partner in crime, Ryan (right), aka Cloud Sequence, aka Cloud Strings. Equally as funny as his buddy Big Smoke, but in a more slapstick kinda way, Ryan, a Canuck from Edmonton, also lives and teaches in Pachuca. Yet, unlike his counterpart, I can´t understand how anyone could see fit to let him within 100 yards of children let alone let alone give him authority over them. He´s basically one himslef, except on an adult scale. Think of Jim Carey as Fire Mashall Bill and you start to get an idea of what he´s like. He reminds me of a frat house, if you´re looking for a party, day or night, all you have to do is show up at his front door and you´ll find what you´re looking for.

Moving countries now, we come to Anne, aka Giggles from Germany, which is funny enough in own right since Germans are notorious for their lack of humor. But the name was forever immortalized when Ryan told the joke: ¨what are the three shortest books in the world, (beat), books on French hygiene, Italian war heroes, and German humor,¨ at which point Anne got offended saying, ¨that´s not true, that´s not true, we do have a sense of humor!¨ Ah, you can taste the irony. But she was a good sport, always staying up and partying, drinking, and playing card games with the boys.

Next up is the priceless Ivar, aka The Iron Curtain. He´s actually Dutch not Russian and just got the nickname because he collected a huge wall of chips when we all played poker one evening. But since he´s not a soviet, nor in anyway shape or form does he resemble anything about rigid, cold war communism, the name stuck like glue. He is actually one of the sweetest, honest, and amiable people I´ve ever met and he´d like nothing more in life than to sit around a beach bonfire playing his guitar and singing Counting Crows or Breakfast at Tiffany´s. We gave him the ¨Most Amazing Person in the World¨ award, which he excepted with a humble ¨yes, yes it´s true,¨ and then sang a song about it: ¨IIIIII am the most ammmmazing person innnnn the world, yes it´s trrrrrrue...¨

Now then there is Tom, aka Tommy Two Chins, an ex-surfer from the beaches in England (he swears they do exist) who is traveling with his girlfriend through Central America. A bit of a paradox Tom is, he´s very proper in the English sense of the word, saying things like, ¨I am feeling a bit peckish,¨ and ¨I think I´d quite fancy a cup of tea,¨ but doesn´t hesitate to call his girlfriend a ¨stupid bitch¨ when they fuss (joking of course, but still). Moreover, he´s well read, usually skimming through three or four books at a time, and can argue for hours about politics, but, in the same day he´ll play the Lion King´s I Just Can´t Wait to be King over and over on his IPod singing and dancing to every note. He´s the kinda guy that can get on well with anyone. Provided you´re not a drunk Canadian whore who can´t answer a straight question (sorry, inside joke).

Then there is Tom´s girlfriend and fellow Englander Hanna, aka Skanky Bitch. Yeah, I know what you´re thinking, ´pretty rough on the old girl,´ and I might be inclined to agree but, I´ll relay this small tid bit of a conversation and let you decide. Josh and Tom are talking in a bar when Hanna walks up and grabs Josh:
Josh - ¨Uh, Tom, your girlfriend is licking my neck.¨
Tom - Unphased, ¨uh yeah, she does that.¨
She is one of the funnest drunks I know, solely because when she gets drunk she says things like, ¨oh my god, I´m so drunk,¨ and proceeds to pour herself another double rum and coke and take it down like Takeru Kobayashi takes down a ballpark frank.

From Sweden we have Mikael, aka Mikael, Mikael, Motorcycle. Motorcycle is also a bit of a paradox in that he´s probably the most intimidating person you´ll ever see but the friendliest person you´ll ever meet. He is a well built skin head with a permanently affixed menacing scowl and a white supremacist/serial killer style tattoo of a snake running down his back that reminds you of Ed Norton in American History X or Ralph Fines in Red Dragon. But then he smiles at you, the warmest, most welcoming smile you´ll ever see, and you instantly realize that his just a big teddy bear. I still think he´s probably killed four or five people, but all he´d have to do is flash his pearly whites to a jury and he´d be off with community service.

Then, starting our final lap, we come to Jim, aka Jimbereeno. Also a redcoat, I´m convinced he´s either a superhero or a crack fiend because he´s always disappearing for extended periods of time without explanation. He would party with us all night, then disappear before morning, not to be seen for the better part of the day, and then return in the afternoon for lunch or dinner, then disappear again, either to burn a spoon or fly off and save some old lady in a tree or help a cat cross the street. It´s a coin flip for me, either way it´d be cool to say I hung out with a caped avenger or a smack addict.

Finally we have Joel, aka Young Blood. Even though he is only 19 and the youngest in our group, he is definitely the smartest. He´s currently studying biochemistry at Cambridge, and you can tell he´s going to be the type of guy who works with blue lasers or NASA. With a sideshow bob haircut and quiet spoken demeanor you wonder why this teenager is even allowed out of his house let alone set free to roam Central America alone. Then you have a few drinks with him, and he opens up like a tulip in April telling you his extended history with buying, taking, mixing, and, gulp, making, as many drugs as you care to list and then you realize you´re the rookie and not the other way around.

Then there is me, but, I´m not going to do a write up on my behalf because, if you´re still reading this, you must either be a good friend or my mother and there is no need. I´ll only say that my nickname was Scottie Do and Scottie Ne´Pa, both of which I can´t really give you reason for, but I´ve been called wose and it was just nice to have a nickname all the same.

And although words can never do it justice nor fully encapsulate what they truly are, that is a brief summery of our group, who they are, and what they represent. So sleep easy and know where ever there is beer, where ever club sandwiches are to be had, where ever there is a stretch of beach big enough for a fire and 8 bottles of rum, you´ll find, Team Isla.