January 15, 2009
When I landed in Miami yesterday, I asked myself if I was already in Latin America. I heard Spanish in surround sound. In the bathroom, two airport employees chatted about how they need to find novios who wouldn't get with "todas las putas en el barrio". I hear you, hermanas.
When I landed in Cancún, however, it was a different story. In between being jostled by pointy, overly-dieted women in juicy couture with thick Staten Island accents and pink manicured claws, and small children darting around a tangle of adult legs alternately shrieking the "mooooom!!" and "daaaaaaaad", I wondered if in fact I was back in America again. This place is not for those wishing to escape, though that was one of my strongest desires as I exited the plane into a hallway crammed to the max with people. Several flights had arrived at once. The flight from New York would explain the Staten Island moms. Finally, I pushed through the bottleneck, caused by people filling out immigration and customs forms, and into the actual passport control line which I flew through.
After waiting among the sniveling children and their parents and euro-fancy bachelors, I retrieved my big yellow hiking backpack, equipped myself with it, and headed through customs into México!
I took a shared van to my hotel last night, and sat next to an American girl who had graduated from Lehigh University last year and is working in finance. She said that she and her best friend take one big trip every year during the meager two weeks of vacation time that they get. Last year it was China! She seemed pretty jaded by travel... I wasn't sure what to make of her. She's spending this weekend in Cancun because one of her friends owns a condo here. She gave me her card and told me to email her if I wanted to hang out, which she really didn't have to do. Perhaps I made a good impression even if she didn't seem at all engaged in what I was saying. Maybe that's her style. I think, back in the day, she must have been too cool for school.
Looking out the window of the van was watching one giant blur of hotels crammed next to each other. The way the Hotel Zone is constructed it that there is a thin strip of land running parallel to mainland Mexico, with water on either side. On one side of this strip of land are beaches and hotels, on the other side are malls, restaurants, and clubs. The "downtown" hotel zone looks like mini Las Vegas, with lots of lights and tourist traps (open bar: $15 usd!). It seems like a giant tourist Alkatraz, like the Mexicans want to isolate all the tourists in one place on this strip of land from which there is no easy escape. I guess that's understandable. If I were Mexican, I would want to keep all the drunken gringos out of my pueblo and on their own damn island.
During the long drive from the airport to my hotel, I did, however, see a few things that reminded me that I was in Mexico after all: Oxxo, Sanborns, and several belly-bearing waitresses dancing to reggaeton on bar counters. Oh yeah, and hair gel! Soooo much hair gel :)
Last night I arrived at the hotel after dinner was served, so I just decided to check out the bar. I struck up a conversation with a Mexican guy sitting there downing free beers, apparently seeking momentary refuge from his wife and kids. He was very surprised to meet a Polish girl (I've decided not to admit to my gringa roots for the next month) who spoke Spanish. We talked about my travels a little bit and about my studies. One of the fun things about being a film major is that everyone I meet has something to say about it. This guy shared my negative sentiments about Hollywood cinema... although I must admit I went up to my room and watched Ocean's Eleven while sorting out my personal effects. I also read a little in my guidebook on Cuba. There are three currencies or something, it seems super confusing. Also, having a personal internet connection is illegal. It seems that I might have trouble connecting once I get there, though at the film school I'm told there is an internet café.
Most things in my hotel room are crumbling; the sliding glass door to the balcony doesn't close and the paint on everything is chipped. The hotel itself, however, is amazing for the price. I think I paid $58 per night, not even realizing that it was "all-inclusive." Apparently all my meals are included, and all my beverages too! And it's on right on the beach. The only drawback is that internet is $5 for half an hour. I'm writing this on my laptop while trying (and failing) to steal internet from a nearby Holiday Inn.
Despite the commercial, money-sucking atmosphere of Cancun at large, I love that my gaze can still get lost in the sea. I just finished breakfast in the hotel restaurant which is in a a large wooden structure built right on top of the water. I can see the ocean through the cracks in the floorboards and hear it lap against the shore. It's a bit overcast and really windy, but refreshing. Not quite tanning and swimming weather, but I might take a dip later anyway, even if I'm the only one. I only wish they'd stop blasting grunge/metal and go back to the danceable, tropical, slightly-offensive-to-women beats of reggaeton. Haha, a song just came on in which the chorus goes "We're all living in Americaaaah, Coca-Cola and Wonder Braaa." How apropos.
Today and tomorrow will be devoted to getting a plane ticket. There have been some hiccups in that plan, but hopefully they will be resolved shortly.... I'm feeling anxious.
