So we’ve been back from Mexico for about a week now. We’re back to cooking our own food and picking up after ourselves, theoretically. (It’s going to be hard to not have someone else pick up my empty water glass as soon as I put it down on the table, at least until I have Todd trained.) Anyway, I figure it’s about time to give the people what they want.*
Sunday morning we met our new BFF, Frieda, at Cabo Adventures. Despite the fact that she weighs 400 pounds and subsists on raw fish, which we all know I now have an aversion to, we were fast friends. She kissed us, “danced” with us, and dragged us around the pool with us on her belly. It really was a lot of fun and I’d recommend the experience, but only if you get the two-for-one deal we got since we were travelling with Rovia. Otherwise, the price is a little steep.
After doing our best to rinse off the slimy fish smell Frieda left on us, we proceeded to the photo processing center where Cabo Adventures continues its fleecing of American tourists. One picture cost $25! We were so offended! But Frieda looked so cute, so you can see our $25 picture below.
We had a sad realization on our way to meet Frieda. You see, on the way to the resort from the airport, all we saw of Cabo looked eerily American, with landscaped medians and double-decker strip malls filled with Subways and Blockbusters. Seeing this, we decided we didn’t need to worry about any excursions into town because we’ve been to suburban Dallas and we’ve seen all that before. But on our way to the marina we saw the real Cabo, with windy little streets and open air restaurants and signs written in Spanish. By the time we saw this, though, we were down to our last $12 in cash, on our last full day in Mexico, and had already bought souvenirs from the vendors who set up shop in the hotel’s courtyard the day before. So we went to Mexico without seeing “Mexico,” which is slightly disappointing.
The rest of Sunday was spent laying by the pool and watching the most spectacular of all the shows the RIU Santa Fe had to offer, their Traditional International Dance show. Actually, the show was an abomination. The “traditional” dances included a Las Vegas showgirl routine (complete with g-strings), a Broadway show (similar to those seen two nights earlier in the resort’s “Broadway” show), a Can-Can dance (complete with lots of booty flashing), a tango (which was actually really impressive), and a finale that I can’t adequately describe in words. The women were in some kind of faux animal skin get ups, with lots of dangling strips of fabric. They kind of looked like slutty Eskimos. The men wore white pants and an assortment of white tops, including one see-through mesh top and one top that had sleeves but no front or back. The sleeves-but-no-shirt guy also had on a white cowboy hat. We struggled to determine which country they were “honoring” with this dance, and at first Todd thought it was possibly an homage to gay German night clubs. We finally thought that maybe it was supposed to be some kind of Brazilian Carnivale** dance, but we’re still not sure. Below is our attempt to document the spectacle.
The next morning we got up early and ate a quick breakfast so we could have a couple more hours by the pool. Of course, the universe conspired to make our last day there the one with the best pool temperature and the least amount of people, meaning we left it with the best possible experience fresh in our mind. The universe can be cruel.
By noon we were safely on the bus Rovia put us on, on the way to the airport. I was looking forward to Kansas and its buildings in conformance with the Americans with Disabilities Act (elevators!) and coated Ibuprofen, but not much else.
Upon landing in Houston we remarked on how nice it was to be in the States again, with air-conditioned terminals and such well-organized customs processes. “Americans are awesome!” we said. “We have tons of customs lines open, and a dude who tells you which line to go to so they all move at about the same pace! So much better than that cattle call ‘process’ in Mexico!”
But after getting through the first customs desk we found we still had about five more security checkpoints to go through before we could get on the plane to Wichita. “D’oh!” we said. “Mexico’s customs process seemed more hectic, but it was actually faster because there was only one step!” We were moderately shamed.
We made it back home around midnight and learned the weather here had been over 110 degrees with 95% humidity for five days straight. Mexico, in August, had highs in the 90’s with no humidity and a cool breeze. Also, no bugs. I’ll let you guess how we felt about this.
Thanks to our friend and house sitter Cliff, our house was still standing and our cats were still alive. They were pretty mad at us, but they were alive.
And thus ended our magical Mexican vacation. Tomorrow I’ll post some pictures, and then I’ll never speak of it again, promise.***
*If you’re not sure, “what they want” is details of our last few days in Mexico.
** No offense to Brazil, or Carnivale,
***Probably.
