Mexico

Once I hit 50, my wanderlust bucket list kicked in big time. Item #597: swim with whale sharks. Last summer, I decided it was time. There are a few places where you can swim with whale sharks, but most of them were either highly touristy or just too far. I settled on the tiny little island of Isla Holbox, off of the northern Yucatan Peninsula of Mexico. Holbox is unique because even though it's only a couple of hours from mega-tourist Cancun, it's a world away in terms of Mexican culture. The island consists of one tiny town, miles of pretty beaches and not much else. The streets are lined with sand, the people are relaxed and friendly, and the vibe is relahado...laid back, relaxed.

To get to Holbox, you fly into the aforementioned godforsaken Cancun airport, then arrange for a car or bus to take you to Chiquila, a tiny port about 50 miles northwest. A car will set you back about a hundred bucks while the bus is only 80 pesos, but the bus ride means 4 hours, dozens of stops, no bathroom and a couple of live chickens. We decided on the car.

A scenic drive it is not...just miles and miles of scrubby, dense dry Yucatan jungle. The August heat was oppressive, even with the air conditioner struggling along. Finally, we arrived in Chiquila and snagged a couple of ferry tickets to take us to Holbox. We boarded and got ready to begin our vacation. As we backed out of the tiny harbor, a little Mexican gentleman grabbed a microphone, turned on a ferry version of a karaoke machine, and started singing love songs in Espanol . Muy excellente!

(By the way since I am highly skilled and super slick blog writer now, I finally figured out that I can include video clips and links...that's what the underlined parts are. Click on them and you'll find cool stuff like a guy singing love songs in Spanish! I know, right?)

One of the beautiful things about Holbox is the lack of cars. Because the town is so tiny, and the streets are sand, most everyone gets around by golf cart. Since we weren't sure where our hotel was in relation to the ferry dock, we flagged down a golf cart taxi to take us to our home for the week, Casa Las Tortugas. We loaded up the luggage, and were off, crisscrossing sandy streets. A whopping 2 minutes later, our driver dropped us off. 50 pesos to go 6 blocks. I was in love..

You know how travel sites call places 'hidden gems'? Well Casa las Tortugas oh so surely was. Casa las Tortugas was quite possibly the most beautiful little hotel I have ever stayed in. This place oozes charm, style and design from every corner. From the rooms to the oceanfront restaurant to the immaculate beachfront, it was spectacular. I was going to be hap-hap-happy here.

They have beachfront beds. And tequila. Uh oh.

They even had a friend for PK. Her name was Gabriella Esperanza.

Ha ha, expected a different picture, didn't you? :1)

The beachfront restaurant and rooftop cocktail terrace were most excellent.

The only thing the beach was missing was Johnny Depp.

This is me trying out the new effects on my camera. Or tequila. Not sure. Oops.

Breakfast was included and it was muy delicioso, especially when you consider the setting.

Holbox in summer is quiet, dry and HOT. Did I mention it was HOT? As a result, we walked into town in the early mornings, to avoid the blazing sun. The town itself is postcard pretty, with tiny storefronts, restaurants and pensiones. There are no big hotels and no chain restaurants. Surprisingly, the largest community of expats is Italian, so there are a number of great Italian restaurants in this one horse town.

Is that a rabbit in the road, or am I experiencing signs of heatstroke?

Got eggs?

Because it is actually located in the Gulf of Mexico and not the Caribbean, Isla Holbox has beautiful, blinding white beaches and milky green water. The lack of clarity of the water is one of the reasons the whale sharks love it, since it is filled with nutrient laden plankton. Hundreds of brightly colored flamingos also call Holbox home, due to the rich supply of food. There are miles of shallow sand flats filled with birds and bonefish just waiting for a fly line. When the tide is out, much of the shallow water disappears, leaving miles of white sand to walk on.

Holbox, apparently, is also a haven for rich celebrity Yorkshire terriers who want to avoid the paparazzi...

And me, channeling Darryl Hannah in my version of middle-age-Mermaid.

At night, Holbox comes alive in its sleepy little way. Families gather at the zocalo, tiny food trucks cook up an array of tasty treats, and kids play futbol in the center of town. Musicians play on the sidewalks, people wander about and you can't help but think that this is the Mexico that most tourists are missing. No crime, no swim up pool bars, wrist bands, all night clubbing, giant tequila drinks and all-you-can-eat buffets. Just a simple little town with people who still make their living from the sea. A place where extended families live together and the community fights mega-development with everything they've got. Nine years ago the owners of Coca-Cola in Mexico bought up 800 acres of the island with ambitious plans for development. Condos, hotels, restaurants...and less than 1,000 people who live on Holbox have managed to keep it from happening. So far.

One of the things I have also wanted to knock off my bucket list is stand up paddle boarding, apparently also known as 'SUP' to those hipsters who know that sort of thing. One morning on Holbox, PK and I decided to go for it, and rented ourselves a super cool, most excellent paddle board. "How hard can this be?" I thought to myself. "Looks like a lazy person sport to me. Just stand up and gently paddle around, right?" NO. Make no mistake, stand up paddle boarding was invented for tiny 20-something kids to show off their abs, not for 50-something Midwesterners who have no sense of balance. Take my word on this one. We have the bruised knees, sore wrists and one genuine broken finger to show for it.

OK so sometimes in my bucket listing frenzy I am misguided.

Warning: do not EVER stand up paddle board in 6 inches of water. The sand is a lot harder to land in when you fall. A dozen times. Idiots.

This looks like me gazing into the sun. It's not. It's me saying "There is no f**king way I am standing up on this thing again!"

Look at PK, all cool and Rico-Suave-like. Note that this was taken exactly one second before he ended up in the drink. Remember I mentioned the broken finger? Yeah.

My sense of balance is right up there with uh, let's say, a drunken sailor. On a trampoline.

"What do you mean, I have to turn it around?"

Ah, Holbox. We needed a margarita after that adventure. Tomorrow, swimming with whale sharks...