Posted in Uncategorized on June 8, 2014
Two years ago we went to Mexico with the kids. It was a slight disaster in that it rained the entire time and we spent much of the vacation playing ping pong indoors. The kids however remember the trip quite fondly. Ivy was involved in an odd musical set to Bjork music and Hazel got familiar with the trapeze. But oh my God, the rain. When you tell people you had a rainy vacation in a warm climate, most say the same thing, “Oh I love tropical rain!” What I think people mean to say is “I like small bursts of rain that clear up in 20 minutes. ” This was not that kind of rain. Undeterred though, we thought we’d give Mexico another try. This time, Playa del Carmen, near Cancun. This is the Caribbean side of Mexico which means the water is Windex blue and the sand talcum soft. I’d done some research on the weather and plenty on the hotels in the area and eventually decided on a hotel called the Riu Tequila, deciding that anywhere with tequila in the name had to be good. Plus, there was no way we’d have the same luck twice.
The trip there was fairly smooth, and while it was raining upon arrival I told myself this was temporary, despite what Yahoo weather seemed to indicate day after day with their lightning bolt icon. Maybe this just meant we’d have a couple of showers and then back to sunshine. Plus, I was distracted by Ivy, who hadn’t been feeling well on the airplane and had complained of a headache. She’d had a virus the week prior but it hadn’t really morphed into anything else and the doctor had given us permission to fly. She seemed to get a little better once we arrived at the hotel, but sometime during the night, she stood up in the bed, reported she felt weird and then threw up all over her siblings. After I wiped down the bed as best I could, I took her out to the hotel patio for fresh air. There was a thunderstorm but she insisted on huddling in a blanket in the rain. Sometime later Hazel came stumbling out looking for us and stepped in a puddle of vomit. While she was trying to get it off her, Clyde came out and Hazel managed to flick some of it on him. Clyde, having the well developed gag reflex that he does, threw up too. So that was the first night.
It rained all the next day – heavily, horizontally, and no matter which weather report I checked, they all predicted a long week of staying indoors. Sometime during the afternoon, after a soggy all-inclusive meal of chicken nuggets and overripe pineapple, Arun and I looked at each other in despair. “We have to get out of here,” I said. There was the cost to consider. We had spent thousands on the vacation, the flights, the all inclusive food, drinks, the hotel room. But what difference did it make if we were miserable? Yes, I could have as many Pina Coladas as I could drink. But did it matter if all I did was cry into them?
After just 48 hours in Mexico, we flew to Santa Monica. There we mostly salvaged the trip. We went to Universal Studios, took a mostly not-suitable-for-children, star tour of LA including where all the stars overdosed or were shot and spent a day at the beach. We went to the Santa Monica pier and threw money at rides and carnival games and overpriced food. But I didn’t really care. At least I wasn’t still in rainy Mexico.