So how many times have you been to the Yucatan? – I ask Ed, whose travels in the past appeared to have favored anything south and preferably reachable by a sailboat.
Oh, maybe four. There was a fifth, but I hardly remember that one. I flew in. Weird to fly to the Yucatan, when a sailboat or a motorbike can easily get you there.
Well, we’re flying in this time. I have plenty of reasons to avoid sailing or motorbiking to the eastern tip of Mexico this winter. Besides, we’re flying Air Tran – the airline of choice for the frugally inclined. Ed should not mind.
My own visits to Mexico date back to a distant past. (Border crossings from Arizona do not really count.) I vividly remember the presence of parents as we bused from Mexico City to Taxco and then on to the western coast. I ate wildly, came home with a parasite and never traveled with my parents again. The memories are that good.
Still, I’ve wanted to go back, preferably with a companion who speaks Spanish (I, unfortunately, do not; and no, it’s not so close to Italian that one can pretend). Ed assures me that he can ask pretty much any question, so long as we can get by without understanding the answer.
We’re set to go. In the middle of the night we’ll be driving to the nearest Air Tran hub and then, in a roundabout way, we’ll fly south, to the Yucatan Peninsula.
We have some tight connections and no promise of WiFi when we get to our first night’s destination – Isla Mujeres. Wish us luck.