Who Prayed to the Rain God?

21 February 2013 in Memories, Traveling


Getting de-iced on the runway.It had become a tradition of ours to head to Mexico for Lindsay’s Birthday. Not a long standing tradition, but two years in a row with intentions of attributing longevity. Last year was abandoned because of budget and logistics, but San Francisco was a fine stand in.

This year—back in frigid Wisconsin—a warm weather break was an absolute necessity to ward off the seasonal depression and mass consumption of spirits that accompanies winters confined to the indoors. So after a highly stressful week of tying up loose ends and being pushed to the brink of canceling our return flights and looking for a new life south of the border we were finally on the plane and disconnected from the life-sucking vampire that is the internet and our laptop.

On our way to Isla MujeresThis time my Mom and stepdad Al would finally join us. After politely offering to serve as guides to anyone and everyone that would listen and at least feign interest in joining us on our yearly voyage to paradise we finally hooked a couple. The flight went well, customs was a hectic mess, but tolerable and our van to the ferry was right on time. With a quick stop at the quick stop we had beer in hand for the short ride to our favorite, tiny island – Isla Mujeres.

The Rainbow that led to more rainThe sun was shining, the water that perfect, calm blue and the gentlest breeze graced our pale, white skin. But as we approached the dock a menacing darkness emerged from faint clouds and stretched it’s wretched, bleeding arms to meet us. In seconds a steady rain—one you could smile and laugh off in the warm weather—turned into a cold down poor. Not exactly the greeting to the island I was hoping for, especially with our green horned guests.

We were all soaked to the bone, huddled under an open air shelter by the dock questioning when, if ever, we would be able to make a mad dash to our hotel. It was only a few, short blocks away. Too close to justify a taxi, but too long to sprint to with luggage in tow and on backs. After a short attempt to wait it out, we got impatient and went for it – jumping puddles and dodging traffic in the still steady rain.

Arriving drenched, but still in good spirits we walked into our hotel dripping as though we had swam across the bay from the main land. The young girl who lazily greeted us and spoke little English seemed confused and then distressed by our attempts to gain access to the rooms I had booked months ago and confirmed days ago. After a few short and difficult exchanges and several longer phone calls made on her part we were told our rooms were currently occupied and they had no other rooms available.

I fricken knew it! I hate trying to book these little hotels in advance. They have little or no web presence and seem to be annoyed when you attempt to schedule anything in advance. This one—unlike others—was nice and seemed to understand the dates, rooms, and gladly took payment for the first night to hold the room, but still here we stood, soaked, tired, in need of dry clothes and warm showers and we’re being told there’s nothing they can do.

Flooded Streets of Isla MujeresLuckily Lindsay and I had been to the island before otherwise at this point I don’t know what we’d have done. Recalling the last, small hotel we’d stayed at – we left my Mom and Al with our bags and ran through the now flooded streets to the place we had stayed two years ago – Hotel Marcianito. Here we were greeted by a gentleman who spoke decent English—certainly lightyears better than my Spanish—and were offered rooms and towels to dry our dripping selves as we made our arrangements. I could almost see a holy glow about him. He was certainly our patron saint for the week.

After escorting the rest of our merry band down the shin-high flooded streets and taking a little time to dry out we finally were able to start enjoying our vacation. The rain let up and we had a wonderful Mexican meal at Mamacita’s with margaritas.

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21 February 2013 Memories, Traveling

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