A few shots of the resort and the swim up bar, above. Starting at 9am, these little huts around the resort served any alcoholic beverage you desired. The pool would be slowly filling up in the morning, everyone just waiting for the first person to request a margarita or beer that early. That brave soul opened the flood gates and started the party every morning. I believe J was the party starter the last morning. As he walked back from the bar with two pina coladas for us, the woman behind us yelled to her husband, "Bar's open!!"
I've never had so many pina coladas in one week. Ever. One evening I was just about over drinking anything alcoholic and ordered a water at the pool bar with J. The dark haired, dark skinned bartender looked at me with surprise. "Water?" he inquired. "Water here is TEQUILA!!!" J snorted a little and I just shook my head. I pleaded with him and he served me my first water by the poolside.
Of course at some point I wanted J to take me to the flea market for some great deals and Mexican finds.
That's just a lemonade. We had just spent thirty minutes walking through the flea market with dozens of shop owners badgering you to come in their shop. At this point I was really missing home and my always abundant supply of Diet Dr. Pepper. *sigh*
After an hour (or two) savanger hunt for J's regular smokes, and being hassled at the market, we crashed at the nearest bus stop. The buses run every five minutes in Cancun and the drivers manuver those buses in and out of traffic like its Mexican Nascar. If you avoid rollcoasters, I suggest you avoid the buses when you visit Cancun. However, at 65 cents or 6 pasos a person per ride, it was just another form of cheap entertainment for us.
I ended up with a beautiful turquoise pendant and another pendant of the Mayan calendar. J also got what he wanted: a Mayan wooden mask. He started this tradition on his trip to Hawaii years ago. Now he picks up masks at each tropical destination to represent his time and the culture there. I'll take a shot of it for another post. It looks perfect in our bathroom.
The sunsets in Cancun are breathtaking. We woke up twice at six in the morning to see these. The photos just don't do them justice. It was amazing waking up next to him every morning. Add these beauties in and it'll make a girl start to wonder what she did to deserve this.
A shot of one of the Mexican shows at the resort.
Yes, what you see below is octopus. No, that's NOT my plate.
We took advantage of the free shows at the resort. J's aunt and uncle have a timeshare at the GR Solaris, so when they offered us their week at their all inclusive resort, we jumped at the chance. You get discount rates and great perks. As "members" we enjoyed a free excursion, a gala night of wining and dining and free shows every other night of the week. The shows began with a nicer offering of Mexican style and some American dishes.
After lunches and dinners of sometimes mediocre and sometimes cold (but always free) buffets, we were gung ho for the chance at this food. When you live in Louisiana, food elsewhere just does not compare. I wish we would have taken my spice cabinet with me. Anyway, shrimp as large as my palm, assorted veggies and warm entrees, and... octopus. J said it was delicious, I just couldn't do it.
J and I received complimentary robes and slippers to wear all week. We wore those babies every chance we got. Now I'm on a mission to find us matching robes like those. The slippers were to keep but the robes, not so much. After our usual shower I hopped out to retrieve our robes.
"Babe!!" I holler to J after a thorough scan of the room and bathroom to find no robe in sight. "The robe ninjas stole our robes!!"
Apparently the day before you check out they sneak in your room and take the robes so no one leaves with them. Bastards.
Jason, below, happy because he finally found some cigars he liked.
And me below, beaming with a full belly because we took a night off from the resort to go downtown to find some food from home. Something familiar. Maybe even something spicy. We were just about tired of fajitas. We found a Hooters! The world's smallest Hooters, that is. Of course me and J had to purchase shirts there. Read mine. DO IT.
Below, a nice couple offered to take our photo in the resort bar.
"You guys are newlyweds, aren't you?" Yes, we say. She says she can tell. I wonder if it was all the flirting and J trying to take photos of my cleavage without me knowing that tipped her off?
I had hoped to get a shot of us on the beach and we were successful! Most of the beaches were filled with tourists and other couples didn't hesitate to walk up and offer to take our photo. We returned the favor many times as well.
The last night of our honeymoon we splurged on a couples massage. I'm so glad we did. For a full hour, me and my husband laid side by side as all our muscles were worked out. It was a wonderful ending to an amazing week.
Saturday check out was 11am. Our flight was at 3ish, so we had a couple hours to kill. Below is our pouty faces. The breeze, the gorgeous skies and beaches, the always generous and accomodating bar staff... a week of romantical lovery... we were sad about going home.
A lunch of cold nachos and cervesas and an hour by the pool fully dressed while others walked around in their swimsuits finally pushed us over the edge. We were ready to go home.
The airline had other plans for us. After the airline agent politely told us we were 7lbs over the limit and allowed us to open our luggage and stuff heavy shoes and jeans into our carry ons, she then announces that our flight is delayed.
"How delayed?" we ask her. Just enough that we would miss our connecting flight. Which meant we would be staying overnight in Houston.
But first, we would have to spend that extra time hanging out at the Cancun airport. Almost four hours. We spent a little time at Margaritaville and had some very disappointing salsa.
By the way, that is NOT salsa. Yuck. That is a bunch of tomatos chopped up hanging out in their own nasty juices mixed with some onions and cilantro. Where's the art in that??
Oh and J, he's a smoker. He tried so hard to convince me that we could go backwards through customs. "There's GOT to be a way out to smoke." I just kept shaking my head. I finally gave in and agreed to walk back to customs with him to find a way out if I could tell him I told you so if in fact there wasn't a way out. Let's just say, I got to say it. Smugly. But yeah, poor J. Four hours in the airport with a smoke?
And of course when its time to board the plane we are the last seats called to enter and low and behold, I'm the person that gets chosen for the random security check. I'm told to put my bags down while I'm scanned and my things are dug through while J, with his wife beater and tattoos practically skips through. It might have been my puffy white girlie sleeves that made me look suspicious.
Home seemed so far away at that point. Thankfully my dear friend Lola lives in Houston and came to the rescue. She dropped everything, picked us up at the airport, fed us our first homestyle dinner. We were almost there, we could taste it. At the crack of dawn we were up and being delivered to the airport.
I'll leave you with a happy photo of our last day. Before learning about our flight delay. We were tan, tired and floating on Cloud 9. A week of laying by the pool together drinking cocktails and getting used to Mexican beer, holding hands while snorkeling side by side, snuggles in a king size bed in an all inclusive resort in another country as husband and wife. Amazing.