Sunday, March 16, 2014

Hello Playa Del Carmen

Hello Playa Del Carmen! We’ve arrived amongst clouds, warm air, a full moon, and the sound of crashing waves. After we settled into our fancy little condo at El Faro Condominium and Beach Club, we immediately hit the sand. This trip Bill came with us (an old friend . . . he’s old and we’ve known a long time. Just kidding he’s only 50 something). He’s gone with us before to Club Med. Tahiti, Cancun, and Turks and Caicos. Great traveling buddy, though he does harass me a lot. He and Joe gang up on me. I could use some sympathy here?

I was looking for a condo down here and somehow I scored on a penthouse suite. We even have our own roof-top terrace. The view is fabulous. I have to tell you though Bill is still in shock over the news that he can’t flush his toilet paper. I told him and he just stood there and asked, “What do I do with the paper?” Ah, gringos . . . I explained you throw it in the garbage conveniently located next to the toilet. His response; “Gross!”
We found the little hole-in-the-wall taco place we fell in love with 3 years ago. I ordered the fish tacos. Caught that morning. One of the servers commented on Joe’s cowboy hat. It brought back memories of his childhood where he was raised on a ranch in Vera Cruz. He was so cute. Named Miguel.

Then we walked down Fifth Avenue. That’s its own experience. Bill had to come to grips with price-tag shock. It’s hard to believe the prices are the same as San Diego. We’ll get off the beaten path tomorrow where the prices are reasonable.
Now we sit on the balcony watching the reflection of the moon skitter across the ocean as it peeks around clouds. The breeze is muggy, but cool. Let’s see what tomorrow holds for us . . .
Saturday is here. Bill joined a gym and Joe and I played in the ocean. We were back at the condo by 9:00 and ready to go grocery shopping. We marched up to the Mega Mart, and then realized we couldn’t safely go grocery shopping because we were all starving. I spotted a Quesadillaria across the street. So off we went. I didn’t know what “Pollo Tinga” was, so I asked. I was afraid it was chicken feet or something stranger. The young lady said “it’s chicken.” “What part of the chicken?” I asked politely. She looked baffled, so I tried to clarify. I pointed to my body, and then at my feet. She laughed and shook her head, pointing to her chest. Anyway it was delicious.
All of our groceries fit into our backpacks and a couple of bags, and then we had to haul them back to the condo. 8 blocks away! The pay-off was chicken quesadillas of our own, and I found out that tinga means shredded.
We hit the beach again, right before a little tropical squall. We only had about half an hour to play and then we ran for cover. We spent the afternoon shopping on Fifth Avenue. I bought Joe a giant coffee cup because the cups here at the condo are dinky. He bought me a fossilized shark’s tooth necklace. It matches his, but is smaller. Like a girl shark maybe.
I opened a bottle of wine from home; Earthquake Petite Syrah. Then we sat around and watched Bottle Shock on a big screen TV.

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