Anyone watching my Instagram feed has been drooling with envy as I post gorgeous photo after gorgeous photo of luxurious hotel rooms or my feet posed with various beautiful settings in the distance, a cool drink sweating in the foreground... and rightly you all should, we are having an epic trip. But as with everything, there are the oddities, hassles and inconveniences that everyone encounters while traveling and while we have weathered them well (less stress has made us all less explosive), these disappointments are itching to be shared and I feel it is my job to complain about them to you. What???? You love me for my whining!
*Trigger warning: in the time of covid, if you can not read this with the humor intended or take the irritation I share with a grain of salt because I know I am, after all, on vacation and you are, in fact, stuck in your house, please do not continue. I swear I will post fun uplifting pieces soon.
My complaining takes us back to Oaxaca City. Hotels made from old Colonial Homes are charming, I fall for it every single time. And since it was the wealthy that owned those homes originally, they also have the best/ most prominent locations so you DO want to stay there, however, the rooms suck. No, no, I know how the house was built and the function of the rooms facing into the inner courtyard was done on purpose, but in modern times, if you are going to squish multiple beds into a room that can not accommodate them, some issues are bound to be had. In our room for example, the door opened into the first bed. "Ahhh the first thing you saw was a bed" you say to yourself. Nope, it opened INTO the bed as in smash, door can't fully open, the bed is there. Next, it's single file to get to the restroom, 3 people definitely was over max capacity for this room. And then, the shower door wouldn't close. Like a bad dream seeping slowly over your day, the door eased its way open until you stood fully exposed, naked and cold. "Michele, this is not that bad, you should have seen my hotel room (or apartment) in NYC" you say, well, I'm about to get pickier, so buckle in! When we first entered the room, I did not like the smell. Ok, yes I do have heighten olfactory senses and I have been known to find issues with spaces that others do not. But this room reeked of death and it was bad enough for Jesse to complain to the front desk. Luckily the staff was amazing and cleaned the entire room with bleach. I sat in the charming common space and tried to bite my tongue. Then the air conditioning didn't work and because this is a charming Colonial Home turned hotel, there are no windows so the only option in the explosive heat, was to have the room doors open to the common space... ya, you're welcome fellow guests for the naked show from the shower. The final, and perhaps biggest grievance was that they had no ice bucket available in order to cool down the white wine or beers for my much needed alcohol reprieve. I'm aware ice is a hot commodity in a warm climate, I was happy to buy it from the OXXO next door, but there was no way to use it, no plug for the whole in the sink, no bucket to be had, no bowl for my use... what were they trying to do, kill me?!? Needless to say, we had to move hotels. The next one had massive amounts of space, a mini fridge with a beautiful husky whisper every time you opened it, expelling a sensual breath into the room that said "drink my cold white wine".
After Oaxaca City, we sadly said goodbye to the incredible staff and pristine solitude of the luxury hotel (where I could shower without being the evening's show) and headed to the coast. We had no way of knowing what to expect, that is part of the fun when we travel, but also the reason things can blowup in your face.
The drive to the coast is slow going. The twists and turns are much like driving in Colombia and we reminisced about that trip and how much we missed the dazzling rainbow of monochromatic greens there... between pulling over so my daughter could puke. We finally pulled into the hot streets of the cute beach town of Puerto Escondido. It has the funky flavor of some of your favorite Mexico spots mixed with a charm that tells of the money that has been seeping in over many years. Trying to actually find our hotel was a journey down bad dirt roads and a maze of driveways that on a future night would actually result in us completely lost... only a few yards from the damn hotel. Oy Vey! Anyway, I already posted about how amazing the hotel was, so let me complain a bit. We decided that we needed to see the bioluminescent lagoon and why not take a tour! I have yet to share the tail of our amazing tours we took in Oaxaca City that lead up to the belief that tours are the BEST. This tour was scheissa.
Bioluminescence is essentially the incredible phenomenon of these bugs in the water glowing neon green in the dark of night when touched. That is clearly not the scientific description so please google it if interested. We contracted the tour guide to take us to this lagoon and out on a boat. Before we knew it, the private tour was now with another group, partiers from a nearby nude beach. The plan was to meet at a hut near the dock, we arrived and sat with the guide under a single light-bulb, swarmed by mosquitoes, drenched in sweat. I was miserable, but more than my annoyance was my concern for my daughter as we waited. My daughter suffers from sensory issues so the heat, bugs and oppressive humidity was teaming up to create a meltdown panic attack. This is why we make choices wisely for our family such as having a private tour. 40 minutes later the group finally arrived without an apology or excuse. They lost each other between the van and the water and created an obnoxious scene for the locals to chuckle about. Thankfully the guide assessed the situation, also annoyed by the behavior and lack of courtesy and separated us into our own boat, once again we had our private tour. Things seemed to be turning around as the boat created a welcomed breeze and we disappeared into the night. There was zero description of what we were to see, the boat simply stopped and the guide ordered Jesse to jump into the water. Yes, we started to wonder what kind of stupid decision we had made as well; somehow alone in a black lagoon, our wallets left on the boat, seems like a setup. But when the glow circled around Jess in the wildly alien way it does, my daughter and I jumped into the bathwater warm lagoon to join in the fun. The sparkles danced on our skin and it was magical. After 15 mins we got back in the boat, smelling of funky water, and were dropped back off at shore. In comparison to the level of education, duration and personal attention we received on our previous tours, for a fraction of the price, this was bogus. Littered with bites, we returned to our hotel to shower and bitch about the other group, after all the impact of the rude tourists was longer than our tour, I guess we got something for our money after all.
We finished out our time at the exquisite cliff side villa and ventured on to what sounded like a culturally rich immersion into the Isthmus. This would be stop one on our way to the ruins of Palenque and a much needed rest after a long day driving. We found wind, a cell block of a room with beds possibly made entirely of wood and a strange goo running down the wall. The hotel was huge and completely empty which lended itself to feeling like the movie The Shinning. Jess and I ran out for food and did find amazing dishes... really surprising considered the stretch of nothing that we had to choose from. We realized quickly that the 2 nights we booked here was a huge mistake and we exchanged looks of silent horror. To add to the theme of the hotel, a street adjacent to the property shuddered alive with the popping of gun shots. At first only a couple, enough to get our attention. It was followed by another 3 just to make sure as we questioned ourselves that we wouldn't have a doubt of what it was. As if anticipating our feelings, the lonely front desk person alerted us that she'd accidentally only charged us for one night and offered that we could leave. First thing in the morning we packed in a hurry and hit the road. It was as if Hotel California finally cracked open and we COULD leave. We might have left skid marks in the parking lot.
We felt like gypsies, heading to the next town, hopeful the hotel could take us in a night earlier than reserved. The mountains climbed up and the feeling of the land and its people shifted, a more indigenous quality and we carefully got excited about what was to come. Driving the tiny stone streets of San Cristobal de Las Casas to our hotel, our eyes were lavished with charm and stunning beauty. We started to look for our hotel's name in one of the nooks of the twisted streets, "its called Las Escaleras" I told Jesse, he said "babe that means The Stairs" and looked at me and then my arthritic knees then back at me. Damn, I should really learn Spanish.
The saga continues, many great memories are being made and some of them are actually due to surviving misfortune together. Maybe I should say here that I actually don't like to complain. Wait, no I love to complain, but I try not to. I am actually a pretty the-glass-is-half-full kind of gal, especially when traveling. Maybe it builds up and that's why I have to vomit it out to all of you. I know that I am beyond lucky to be able to take this long trip with my family. I know many of you are suffering far more than I am without a way to escape. I hope you are able to enjoy my tales of woe as an escape and know that I'm deeply appreciative of every second, even if those seconds are covered with millions of mosquitoes bites.
Stay safe everyone and no matter what, Wine First!
No comments:
Post a Comment