I only had this last morning to look for shells, as we were leaving in the afternoon.  So I grabbed my bucket and shovel and dashed out at first light, leaving my sweet little family still sleeping.  This time I decided to wander as far as I could down one side of the beach to where there was an alcove.  Careful to heed the warning signs about swimming there, I was walking knee-deep in water when the smooth sand suddenly shifted and gave way to hard rock, cutting deep into my feet.  But then the tide receded and I noticed what looked to be the perfectly spiraled top of a conch shell peeking up out of the midst of the white rocks.  I had never seen a conch shell in the water before so I was not entirely sure.  It was as if the ocean had lifted her mysterious veil for a moment, allowing me a glance at some of her secrets.  As I knelt to investigate, a harsh wave of salty sea knocked me over.  Emerging sputtering and fumbling around through stinging eyes, I realized with complete shock that the “rocks” were actually deeply embedded conchs!!!  But the sea was not going to simply relinquish her treasures that easily.  Learning her dance, I worked for hours in time with the rhythmic waves, digging when I could with part of a sharp piece of shell.  Laboriously I freed big, fully intact conchs from their hiding place beneath the sand and sea.  My husband had awakened at some point and came to inform me we would be leaving for the airport in just two hours.  “OK,” I said, not even looking up.  I paused in my quest long enough to go up to the closest beach bar and ask for a “grand bolsa,” hoping they’d gotten my meaning.  Grinning broadly, a man produced an enormous clear, strong bag that would be perfect for hauling back my treasures.  By now I had drawn a small crowd and everyone was digging around in my spot!  Inwardly grinding my teeth and sighing, I tried to remind myself I held no claim over the ocean.  And the sea was gracious enough to reveal her some of her gifts to me after a week of searching.  I figured I was destined to find the ones I did and to just be thankful.  Knowing I had to go anyway, I had been guarding my big trash sack full of conchs like a wolf hovering over a pile of bones.  Hating to leave, I went to lift them but they would not budge — AT ALL.  I saw a strong looking man passing several feet above me and hollered, “Señor?  Señor?  Por favor?” praying he would stop.  He saw what I was trying to do and very gallantly went to lift my bag.  Like a woman whose dress had just been stepped on from behind, he started to walk and was literally halted midstep.  I saw his eyes widen and feared he might relinquish his silent agreement to help.  Instead he tucked his head down and resolutely dragged the huge sack up the cliff.  Once we were on top of level beach again I gave him my best smile mixed with a hopeful, pleading look and pointed at the slightly far off distance to our hotel.  The wonderful Mexican man lugged the incredibly heavy bag all the way back to where the beach boys all stood together staring.  Trailing along beside him, I just kept saying, “GRACIOUS!” over and over, hoping he knew how grateful I was.  As fate would have it, Burk appeared (no doubt to remind me of the time) and the exhausted man slung the sack at my husband’s feet, giving him a look I interpreted to mean, “good luck.”  Looking down at the giant bag in horror, my beloved proclaimed, “Baby Doll you can’t bring all this back and we have to go.”  Realizing I probably looked crazed, I informed him I was NOT leaving without them.  I had seaweed in my hair and smelled sort of fishy.  The hubs tactfully suggested perhaps I should shower before we left.  I sensed he was about to chime the time to me again so I sweetly asked him to just please carefully bring my seashells into our room and I would start the shower.  Then I pulled one out of Mama’s playbook:  I sent my husband on an “errand” to get him out.  One by one I removed my precious treasure and, with a hint of melancholy, rinsed all the sand away that had bound them to the sea.  This is a picture of most of them drying on the shower bench.  Scaring the wits out of me, the hubs reappeared and hollered the time at me through the bathroom door like a deranged cuckoo clock.  Half-heartedly picking the more obvious strands of seaweed out of my straggly, ocean scented hair, I threw my clothes in with my husband’s.  That freed my luggage for packing my priceless pieces from the sea.  The Canadian author and speaker Tom Wujec said:

“The word ‘question’ originates from the Latin root, quaestio, which means ‘to seek.’  Inside the word ‘question’ is the word ‘quest,’ suggesting that within every question is an adventure, a pursuit which can lead us to hidden treasure.”

This trip began with a question when I sought to see if they had any shells on the beach.  Despite assurances to the contrary, I pursued my quest and was lucky enough to have an adventure that would uncover the best hidden treasure of seashells I had ever encountered.  I had hit the mother lode.

My husband’s skin tone had returned to normal and on this day we all ventured out to tour the ancient ruins of Tulum.  It was very hot but less humid than Coba’s jungle.  Situated on almost 40 foot tall cliffs overlooking the sea, there was at least some ocean breeze to provide a little relief.  At one time it may have been referred to as the “City of Dawn” because it faces east and the rising sun.  Tulum was one of the last sites inhabited by the Maya and was at its height between the 13th and 15th centuries.  It managed to survive about 70 years after the Spanish began their “conquest” of Mexico.  Old World diseases brought by the Spanish seem to have created high fatalities, disrupting their society to the point that the city became abandoned.  A colorful little train took us out to the site, which had wide, white paths out in the open sun; very different from the shaded jungle of Coba.  The views were breathtaking.  My then 88 year old grandmother-in-law was incredible walking around with us while the baby had the luxury of her stroller.  But her little face became so red and her soft baby head was covered in sweat.  What I remember most was the stark contrast of everything in vivid colors against the whiteness of the ruins and the blue of the sea.  Coconuts waited to be opened to drink in the center of brightly colored tables surrounded by chairs each having their own cheery color.  There were handmade hammocks for sale in every shade under grass thatched roofs.  Even the bowls for feeding the stray cats were in bold colors of yellow and red.  As you can see, my little one made a friend.  She was leaning in to kiss him as I snapped this picture.  He was a sexy thing.  After a long day of sightseeing, we all headed back for a little siesta.  That night the three of us enjoyed a lovely dinner on the beach.  The sea and sky blended into one seamless, infinite darkness and we had the lighted, wrapped palm trees to illumine our table while our feet were tucked into the sand.  The French poet and novelist Victor Hugo once said:

“There is one spectacle grander than the sea, that is the sky; there is one spectacle grander than the sky, that is the interior of the soul.”

This was a day full of exploration — from ancient ruins to ancient cultures; from sun, sky, sand, and sea to kissing a lizard.  We enjoyed it all touring Tulum.

The next morning I left my still sick sleeping husband and my little baby snuggled together as I decided to head out the few short steps down to the beach.  I figured if I was within hollering distance they’d be OK.  Feeling slightly guilty, I tried to let go and just relax.  I took this picture of my delicious smoothie being delivered beachside and then decided to peek in on my babies.  My little one was sucking her thumb asleep next to her daddy.  He was still sleeping but looking the exact same greenish hue as the drink I was going back to enjoy.  I crept back out, reclined under my umbrella, and just breathed.  Now it felt like a vacation!  I was free!!!  I didn’t have to worry and I could simply enjoy!  This is how I always thought a Mexican beach vacation was supposed to be!  Solicitous and with (as previously mentioned in another travel blog of mine) the requisite cute beach “boy” factor.  Ahhhh…  No life guard duty; no sunscreen application on hostile persons … just ME actually RELAXING — for no reason!!  It was heaven!  I eventually switched my drink to a pineapple one with some type of liquor and I decided to go on a quest for seashells.  I searched and searched and was able to find some although they were small.  I noticed a giant Buddha statue with special shells around him and thought it would be horribly wrong if I took those offerings.  The Vietnamese Buddhist monk and peace activist Thich Nhat Hanh said:

“Each of us is like the waves and also like the water.  Sometimes we’re excited, noisy, and agitated like the waves.  Sometimes we’re tranquil like still water.  When water is calm, it reflects the blue sky, the clouds, and the trees.  Sometimes, whether we’re at home, work, or school, we become tired, agitated, or unhappy and we need to transform into calm water.  We already have calmness in us; we just need to know how to make it manifest.”

I was not sure I had any calmness already in me, but the lull of the ocean waves and the caress of the sun enabled me to actually let go and relax.

The French artist Paul Gauguin said, “Civilization is what makes you sick.”  Montezuma II was Emperor of Mexico from 1502 to 1520 and in power when the Spanish began their “conquest” of the Aztec Empire.  “Montezuma’s Revenge” (traveler’s diarrhea) is a sickness that is usually caused by drinking the local water or eating foods to which visitors are unaccustomed.  The illness is bacterial and can occasionally be serious; mostly it is caused by E. coli.  On this day we set out for Coba, an ancient Mayan city on the Yucatan Peninsula.  The site is the nexus of the largest network of stone causeways in the ancient Mayan world.  Pictured here is another pyramid on the site only this one had steps that were still intact.  As I understood it, Coba had been covered by jungle and not rediscovered until much later.  The main pyramid is still open for the public to climb and to my surprise I learned it is 40 feet taller than the one I had always heard about in Chichen Itza.  As our guide took us into the dense, humid jungle we passed lizards sunbathing and saw a monkey dozing in a tree.  At last we’d made our way to the pyramid and Burk and I decided we would climb it.  I must confess to having a fear of heights and/or at least vertigo.  There was a single rope running down half of the pyramid, tethered by metal rings that had been drilled into the stone.  If someone wished to use it they must bend over double, as the rope could barely be lifted above the stairs.  Those wanting to climb or descend without any aid were left to pick their way over well worn steps that were nerve-wracking at best.  I found the ascent to be OK.  Burk and I had our picture taken on the very top but it is difficult to tell just how high up it really was.  I am so glad I did it and I had a feeling of elation.  Normally, I would say I am always way cooler than my husband.  But in this instance I have to admit he had me beat.  I watched him walk casually down that pyramid like he was descending steps at the mall.  I, on the other hand, was slightly petrified by the perilously steep steps smoothed by time, traverse, and weather.  Many were going down on their rumps, and I could see why.  After our journey we ate at the local restaurant.  It was no hardship drinking Mexican beer and we had quesadillas with guacamole.  Of course the baby had a bottled water.  Later that evening around midnight I was awakened by my husband hollering, “I’M SICK!”  Immediately popping out of bed, I asked what I could do.  I barely got him to the bathroom before he projectile vomited like a spewing volcano absolutely everywhere.  He was so ill he was lying on the marble floor in a pool of his own vomit, too weak to even get up.  I was terrified and a doctor came first thing the next morning.  He said my husband had gotten so dehydrated that he really should be hospitalized.  However, he gave him several injections and proclaimed we should not eat anything outside our hotel “not cooked by the fire.”  With horror I realized it had to have been the guacamole from the day before.  I’m sure the tomatoes had been washed locally.  The irony is no one else in our family got sick — and we all had eaten the EXACT same thing.  I was so incredibly grateful the baby was OK!  She has a cast iron stomach like her Mama.  Maybe Montezuma also knew we have Choctaw blood and so we escaped his wrath.  My poor husband … he had to stay in bed for the next couple of days and mostly slept.  He had fallen victim to Montezuma’s Revenge.

This day would be our first full day and we started it off at the water’s edge.  Seeing all the boats docked reminded me of a telenovela I got hooked on when the baby was first born.  They would cut from a big ranch to a little beach side town filled with small, colored fishing boats like the ones here bobbing gently against their moorings.  I searched and searched for shells but was only able to turn up a handful of tiny ones.  Around noon we ventured out over the little bridge of our hotel’s koi pond to hit the city’s famous Quinta avenida (Fifth avenue.)  We saw people sitting in spas with their feet in neon lit water while little fish came to eat the dead skin off them.  (Yick!)  I saw hundreds of drying tobacco leaves hanging from an outdoor store’s ceiling like bats from a cave and I went over to watch as a man sat outside methodically hand rolling cigars.  Of course I could not resist buying a few.  I love getting pictures of Burk in silly hats or next to different “people.”  It’s a fun tradition we started on our first trip together.  As we walked along the bricked street lined with shops on either side we found a bench with a life-size bronze statue of Pancho Villa sitting on it.  He was wearing crisscrossed strands of bullets around his neck and above him was a sign that read “Viva Mexico!”  As Burk sat next to him and put his arm around him I found myself thinking the live Pancho Villa would probably not have been too pleased.  That night we ate at a really cool outdoor restaurant called La Cueva del Chango.  They had toy monkeys hanging from the trees and the whole thing was set in an enchanting, soothing little grove.  Their food was delicious, as was the Mexican wine.  But the atmosphere really made it.  Old growth vegetation and huge trees mingled with art work for sale, saints next to candles, and turtles in a little “creek” that ran through the restaurant.  It was my favorite place that we would eat on this trip.  We capped off the evening by visiting a high end jewelry store where we got my little one a beautiful tiny sterling silver cuff bracelet with a delicate blue and white floral inlay.  Seeing her wear it brings this trip back to me.  We knew we’d been out a long time when even the gatos were making their way home, disappearing through wrought iron bars into various courtyards.  Our whole family held up, from our three year old to her 88 year old great grandmother.  Maria Grazia Cucinotta, the Italian actress and “Cigar Girl” in the James Bond film “The World Is Not Enough,” said, “I am curious.  I love making discoveries, traveling, speaking with people, go(ing) shopping.”  I am the same way and I got to enjoy all of those things on this day, strolling along Fifth Avenue.

This would be my first time on the Caribbean Sea; my other beach trips were always on the gulf side.  I had wanted to go to Mexico ever since I was a kid and watched “The Love Boat” on TV each week with my folks.  Playa del Carmen is a coastal resort town located within the Mayan Rivera, which runs south of Cancun to Tulum and the Sian Ka’an biosphere preserve.  We would be staying at a beautiful oceanfront hotel which had condominiums right on the beach.  We arrived toward late afternoon and decided to take it easy and enjoy getting settled in.  The hotel had spacious rooms and suites and my husband, baby, and I were on the first floor just steps away from the ocean.  My mother-in-law and step-father-in-law, who took us, were staying with my grandmother-in-law on the third floor, which was the highest view one could have from one of their two top luxury condos.  This picture is part of the panoramic view we got to enjoy from their two story suite’s rounded balcony.  We all stayed in together the first night and had room service bring us dinner.  I drank in the tranquility of the waves lapping rhythmically at the shore.  Our view below revealed what I always thought Mexico would have … a bar lit with lively lanterns swaying delicately in the breeze and palm trees wrapped cheerfully with strands of white lights.  There were also cool multicolored orbs in the sand that lent their alfresco dining a glowing touch.  I could not WAIT to get out to the ocean (I think I was the only one) to look for shells!  It was the first thing about which I inquired upon our arrival, but I was told there were really none to be found.  I was still thrilled to be exploring some ruins, venturing out to eat, and doing a little shopping.  Something with which I particularly agree after having gotten to spend a little time at the beach is this quote by the English actress Cherie Lunghi:

“I enjoy art, architecture, museums, churches and temples; anything that gives me insight into the history and soul of the place I’m in.  I can also be a beach bum – I like to laze in the shade of a palm tree with a good book or float in a warm sea at sundown.”

I was hoping to get to do some of all of those things during our time in Playa del Carmen.