Four days, three nights. Day three.
After a day of toying with jokes about the guy in the orange hat, "Derrick", we luckily found that he was not a part of our day three activities. We had been a little concerned that he would be on the boat with us, but he wasn't.
Early breakfast.
Wait for the bus to take us away.
We went to ixtapa island. On the way, we passed more beautiful countryside, trees on the mountains, not a cloud in the sky. We passed Vicente Fox's home or one of his homes. Awesome mountainside place.
We get to the place where the boat will take us to the island and we (in three trips) get shuttled over on a tiny boat to Ixtapa island. Everything was beautiful. We walked along the beach to our "base". Which was a long picnic table in a sea of long picnic tables in front of a bar/restaurant in a sea of bar/restaurants. Our tourguide Erika gave us the rundown of our day. We all ordered our lunches. Drank some coronas. Rented our snorkle gear and headed over to the snorkle beach.
We had underwater cameras and emptied the 27 shot chambers quickly underwater. We all debated whether or not to use the life jackets but we all ultimately decided for the life jackets which was a good call. Had we been without, my wife would have drowned and possibly so would've the rest of us. The ocean floor drops off quick. Coral, coral, coral, fish, fish, dropoff! It goes from from being about six feet deep to being about 30 feet deep instantly. It was so beautiful. I will now make a point of going to the Shedd Aquarium here in Chicago just to tell people, "They're better in person...in their natural homes. These fish here? They're all jerks. Ixtapa clownfish are PIMPS!"
After snorkling, we rested and talked to a couple from Belmont and Broadway and a group from Winona, Minnesota. As we rested, drinking more Coronas, we became initiated into the selling of jewelry and handcrafts by the locals on the beaches. It's a unique sales technique. Everything is layed out in front of you without you requesting the show. Everything becomes "special price" for you. Can't pay now? Pay me later. And at the moment when you say your ultimate, definitive, final "no, gracias." They stare at you. Softly. Sadly. A soft pressure of air departs from between their lips and through their vocal chords with creates the most pitiful, and seemingly unintentional, "oh...". Then again with the sad eyes. Then they lower their sad eyes and back away, submissively. Were we her last shot at selling seashells on strings before they took away her "Vendor of Seashells on Strings" liscense?
Excursion over. Boat back to shore. Made friends with Minnesotans, Chicagoans, Oreganians and a Mexican couple from the north of Mexico who were the only ones on the excursion who did not speak English.
Got back. Napped. Avoided the Oscars. Met with Abrahamsens for dinner.
We went back across the street to the market area and found a great seafood place. Our waiter said the first round of drinks was on him. This restaurant had a Canadian family of various sizes playing various sized marimbas. This father must've been a defective. "Hey, honey. I have an idea. Let's pull the kids out of school and play traditional Mexican music to Mexicans. I'll bet that'd be a great life. We'll sleep on the beach. Never shower. We'll sell CD's and eventually, if all else fails, the ten year old is getting pretty sexy. We could whore her out. What do you say, honey?" "Anything for my marimaba man!"
It was uncomfortable.
Then we watched a guy at a bar across the way, pass out. Everyone gathered around him. He woke up. Then he sat right back at the bar and continued drinking.
Food was good. Spectacles seen.
Good night.
Early breakfast.
Wait for the bus to take us away.
We went to ixtapa island. On the way, we passed more beautiful countryside, trees on the mountains, not a cloud in the sky. We passed Vicente Fox's home or one of his homes. Awesome mountainside place.
We get to the place where the boat will take us to the island and we (in three trips) get shuttled over on a tiny boat to Ixtapa island. Everything was beautiful. We walked along the beach to our "base". Which was a long picnic table in a sea of long picnic tables in front of a bar/restaurant in a sea of bar/restaurants. Our tourguide Erika gave us the rundown of our day. We all ordered our lunches. Drank some coronas. Rented our snorkle gear and headed over to the snorkle beach.
We had underwater cameras and emptied the 27 shot chambers quickly underwater. We all debated whether or not to use the life jackets but we all ultimately decided for the life jackets which was a good call. Had we been without, my wife would have drowned and possibly so would've the rest of us. The ocean floor drops off quick. Coral, coral, coral, fish, fish, dropoff! It goes from from being about six feet deep to being about 30 feet deep instantly. It was so beautiful. I will now make a point of going to the Shedd Aquarium here in Chicago just to tell people, "They're better in person...in their natural homes. These fish here? They're all jerks. Ixtapa clownfish are PIMPS!"
After snorkling, we rested and talked to a couple from Belmont and Broadway and a group from Winona, Minnesota. As we rested, drinking more Coronas, we became initiated into the selling of jewelry and handcrafts by the locals on the beaches. It's a unique sales technique. Everything is layed out in front of you without you requesting the show. Everything becomes "special price" for you. Can't pay now? Pay me later. And at the moment when you say your ultimate, definitive, final "no, gracias." They stare at you. Softly. Sadly. A soft pressure of air departs from between their lips and through their vocal chords with creates the most pitiful, and seemingly unintentional, "oh...". Then again with the sad eyes. Then they lower their sad eyes and back away, submissively. Were we her last shot at selling seashells on strings before they took away her "Vendor of Seashells on Strings" liscense?
Excursion over. Boat back to shore. Made friends with Minnesotans, Chicagoans, Oreganians and a Mexican couple from the north of Mexico who were the only ones on the excursion who did not speak English.
Got back. Napped. Avoided the Oscars. Met with Abrahamsens for dinner.
We went back across the street to the market area and found a great seafood place. Our waiter said the first round of drinks was on him. This restaurant had a Canadian family of various sizes playing various sized marimbas. This father must've been a defective. "Hey, honey. I have an idea. Let's pull the kids out of school and play traditional Mexican music to Mexicans. I'll bet that'd be a great life. We'll sleep on the beach. Never shower. We'll sell CD's and eventually, if all else fails, the ten year old is getting pretty sexy. We could whore her out. What do you say, honey?" "Anything for my marimaba man!"
It was uncomfortable.
Then we watched a guy at a bar across the way, pass out. Everyone gathered around him. He woke up. Then he sat right back at the bar and continued drinking.
Food was good. Spectacles seen.
Good night.
posted by Churchill at 9:16 AM
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