And naps come to you whether you want one or not.
Which is okay, because nothing moves very quickly there. It's just not possible to be in a hurry in the Yucatan. Perhaps other parts of Mexico move in a more frantic Yanqui fashion, but not there.
So, of course, I fit right in.
~~~
And I have brought back
The Word
from on high,
and the word is:
FISH TACOS!
Okay, that is two words - but my gawd man do you know what I'm talking about?!
They sound, upon description, unexciting. And I have had them before, on a road trip to Ensenada back in my California daze, and enjoyed them. But these were an entirely different matter.
Take a couple strips of whitefish - marlin, grouper, whatever - roll them in a a tempura-like beer batter, fry 'em, throw 'em in a handmade corn tortilla with some pico de gallo (chopped tomato, cilantro, onion - jalapeno is optional), and, salud!
See, it sounds like nothing, right?
And that's where you're so horribly wrong I can't even stand to look at you right now.
Because these things are monstrously addictive. I ate three a day for lunch every day I was there. That's 22 fish tacos (one day I ate 4) in a week. Needless to say, I was full of love upon my return.
One more thing about the fish taco place (which is called El Oasis, in the lovely burg of Playa del Carmen): they have a chilled salsa they bring out to you in a squirt bottle. Another deceptively simple thing, it consists of pureed habanero peppers, garlic, and vinegar, and it is a living miracle, my friends. Make no mistake, it's hot. The kind of hot that takes your tongue out of your mouth and hands it back to you, as if to say, what a pretty thing you have here, your tongue.
I could put it on my cornflakes.
~~~
Scuba diving is a completely strange & foreign thing to do, and I doff my panama to those Cousteau people who 1st tried it. I have probably 40 to 50 dives under my weight belt but I still freaked out the first few seconds of my first dive in 5 years. It's that whole breathing-through-a-tube thing that gets you. Your first reaction is, as any sane persons would be, "What the hell am I doing down here? All the air is up there!" But you get a grip and you move on, much like life above water. And then you're in the middle of a Nature Channel special, and you rock.
The ocean, for me, has always had a "hey! welcome back!" quality to it. It's really the only place I can say that about. Throw in a few thousand fish you only get to see in world class aquariums and a dozen sea turtles, and that dive could last all day. But it doesn't, of course. That damn air again. So you go up and motor off in your little launch to the next spot and squeeze in another dive before lunch, this one with a sunken ship and barracuda about, and you rock again, and then it's back to town for lunch.
FISH TACOS!
Then it's a nap, whether you want one or not, and then up for a cocktail with the great new tequila you found at the tequileria (yes, Virginia there is a Santa Claus), and then dinner and perhaps more cocktails on the outdoor bed at the patio bar that shows black and white Mexican wrestler movies from the 1950's on the wall of the hotel, or perhaps to the beachfront joint with hammocks for stools, your feet in the sand and a full moon coming up over the island of Cozumel a few miles offshore.
And then it's time for bed, whether you want to or not, because that sun -- that sun has made your bones warm all day long & there's not a damn thing you can do about it.
Not that you'd want to.
- jswwiles
