Where the Wild Things Are (in Mexico)—Part 1Part of: Travel
[Breakfast: a shrimp omelette]
For the last half of our holiday, DK and I moved to an even smaller boutique hotel that was part of a wildlife refuge. At dinner, the waiters gave us an incredulous look when we bypassed the weekly seafood buffet for the regular menu. There was hardly any seafood left and we’d just gorged ourselves on Pacific lobster (way better than Maine) the previous night. I was smart to order a salad, because DK’s Arrachera steak turned out well done instead of medium and was disgusting. We noted that buffet night in Mexico was code for the-main-chef’s-night off, akin to frequenting a restaurant in LA on a Monday night. Luckily, I distracted DK from the taste by pointing out an ugly woman with huge breast implants. There were also two children in the vicinity—one of who had tried spying on us earlier that day.
The hotel was posh and rustic at the same time, and it was possible to spy on people when they were hanging out in their patios. BTW, the brochure for the hotel explained that it wasn’t recommended to bring children, as there weren’t activities for them. Obviously they needed to be more blunt: Enough wild animals here already, please leave your children at home. There were mostly couples at the hotel because it was a romantic hideaway where many honeymooners (la luna de miel) frequented. An older English woman confused me who was with a much younger man. I had assumed that they were mother and son because of the maternal way that the woman had been acting toward the man when he had been swimming earlier. "Well done, " the woman had exclaimed after the man had swum a lap. Also, she was wearing one of the most matronly swimsuits that I’ve ever seen to try to keep her fat contained. DK explained that English women don’t age very well, but thought that the guy with her seemed gay. So they were obviously a couple, and the woman was the wealthy one.
Back at our room, DK and I were lounging on our outside couch when three raccoons startled us. They were three feet away. I jumped up on the couch while DK lunged for his camera. After the photo op, we tried to shoo them away. They would only scatter for a minute and then come back. Just when we were going to give up and head in, there was a wild piercing shriek. The raccoons ran back to their homes while the peeping Tom child raced after them. I finally knew what hyperactive children were good for.