All posts by Eugene Glover

They Crashed Into My House – Conclusion?

On June 26, 2016 at about 11 PM I was working in my dining room and I heard what could only be described as an explosion. It came from my office and upon checking it, I discovered an automobile sticking into my home. Outside the car sat with two people in it: a driver and a passenger. From my vantage point of the passenger was the person I could see best.

I called 911 and reported the accident. They had me check something about the car and when I did the two people were just getting out of the car.  One was on each side of the car; again the passenger was the person I could see best.

As they were up and about I told them that I had already called 911.  One of them, I’m not sure which one, responded by saying, “you did?” in a voice that wouldn’t of been out of place as a stoner in the 1980s John Hughes movie.

I returned to the 911 call and as I was ending the call with them, they gave me an ETA of just about three minutes for the first responders to arrive. I went back outside and I told the car occupants that emergency services would be here in just a few minutes. In this case the person identified as the passenger turns to the person who was the driver and said, “you’ve got to get the fuck out of here.”

At this point the first responders arrived and I notified them that it sounded like they were contemplating doing a runner.

I had no further contact with the driver or the passenger of the car. I stayed out of the way, although I did observe them talking at some length with the police.  I also witnessed the police finding and removing drugs as evidence from the car.

Sometime later the police told me that it was a DUI situation and that the passenger, not the driver, was the owner of the car. Both were significantly impaired.

I noticed that the car occupants were scantily clad. The passenger was wearing a very short dress that, with the slightest movement, lifted up exposing her ass cheeks. The driver was in some sort of an outfit that look like her bra and panties.  I never got any closer than 10 feet to either of them and it was dark, but that was my impression of what the driver was wearing.

Eventually, the car was towed away and everyone left – leaving my family and me to spend the months it took to get our home and lives back to normal.

From this point forward, everyone I spoke to from the insurance company to the police indicated that this was an absolutely open and shut case. Imagine my surprise when, over a year after the incident, I was subpoenaed to appear in court, as the defendant was contesting the charges.

The ability to communicate with the city prosecutor’s office was problematic, and it wasn’t until I was driving after work on Friday (the court date was the following Monday, August 21, 2017) that I spoke with the prosecutor.  I told her I had time to talk, but that I was driving to pick up my daughter.  In response she just said, “I don’t want to distract you.  I’ll talk to you Monday morning before court.”

And so it was that I went into court completely clueless as to how the defendant was trying to contest the charges against her.  She was taken, blitzed out of her mind, from the scene of the crime, where the car she was driving was buried in a house.  What possible grounds could exist?  I was mystified.

I dutifully appeared in court at 8:00AM.  Miffed that this was likely to cause me to miss the eclipse that morning.  (Maximum eclipse time: 10:33AM)

When I arrived at court there were five police officers who’d been there that night, three uniformed and two detectives, there to present evidence.  The prosecutor was very pleased to see them and me.  It seemed that the prosecutor didn’t actually know on what grounds the defendant was contesting the charges – or perhaps she was holding out on me as a surprise.

Upon my arrival the prosecutor showed me two pictures of the two women in the car and asked me to identify them. I identified them as the two women in the car and specifically told her that it was easier for me to identify the passenger.  The passenger being on the side nearest the front door of my house, so that each time I came out to look at the car, the passenger was closest to me, with either her or the car obscuring my view of the driver.

The prosecutor seemed satisfied and told me that when she told that to the defense counsel, his client would almost certainly plead “no contest.”

The defense attorney showed up, but the defendant did not.  We spent a fair amount of time discussing what that would mean if she failed to arrive. Either a warrant could be put out for her arrest and the trial would be rescheduled, or they could ask for a verdict in abstentia. However if they did the latter and she had a valid reason for not being here, there could be complications.

The defendant eventually did arrive and spoke with her counsel.  Afterwards, she still insisted for a jury trial.  The prosecutor asked the defender how she was going to contest the charges. The defense counsel said, “she wasn’t driving the car.  Her claim is that she was helping the other woman get out of the car.”

The prosecutor asked if I would be willing to speak with the defense counsel and I agreed. We went back to the room.  Again, she brought the pictures he asked me what I saw. I told him how I saw two women in the car and identified the woman in the passenger position.  I also explained how I “sort of” saw them getting out of the car. When I came out to look at the car a second time, the doors were already open on the car and both women were out, the passenger just completing that last bit of pulling her trailing leg out of the car.  They were standing, in the doors of the car, on opposite sides of the car.

That was good enough for the defense counsel, and he went back to have another consultation with his client to convince her to plead no contest.

She refused.  She wanted a jury trial.

Next, the counselors had a talk to the judge.

They told me that the judge was told some info about the case – apparently what people were here to testify, what types of evidence was to be presented, and some general info about the nature of the case.  They said, when the judge heard the car had sloughed into a house, his eyebrows raised up on his forehead.  He also suggested that the defense counsel go back and talk with his client some more. Which he did.

She continued to demand a jury trial.

It should be noted that she is very young; 22 years old.  She had just turned 21 when she ran into my house. Her mother and father were there, and her mother was the one that kept insisting that she go for a jury trial. According to people who actually talked with her, the defendant was taking bad legal advice from her mom instead of from the attorney they were paying for advice.

Meanwhile, I’m sitting with the police officers from the case. They were reviewing their case notes and discussing the case files.  They were incredulous that the woman was trying to fight the charges.  Or that she was trying to say she wasn’t driving.

Her blood alcohol level was 0.27, which I subsequently looked up and that is in a range that could lead to death. There were drugs found in the car. (Actually I’d witnessed that on the night because I saw the cops going over the car collecting evidence and I saw one of the officers pull out a bag and say, “…and I found a bag of weed.”)

They also confirmed I wasn’t mistaken in that the driver was standing there in her bra.  She had admitted that she was driving at the time and some of her clothing was found stuck (ripped) to the driver’s side door.

The defendant have been very belligerent to the police that night, which according to the prosecutor, if that came out during a jury trial would just make her sentencing worse.

At the scene, that admitted they left a bar together with the owner of the car driving, but as she was the one that was more impaired, they stopped and let the defendant drive.  That was, of course, before she hit my house.

What was the car owner’s take on this story:  Nobody knows because she wasn’t in court.

The prosecutor asked the defender, “Where’s her girlfriend today?”

Defender just has a silly grin on his face and shrugs exaggeratedly and says, “I don’t know, didn’t you subpoena her?”

The prosecutor replies, “Yes, we did, but we got no response of any kind.”

What would she have said if she’d been there?  Was she avoiding testifying to help her friend or had she just disappeared?  Was the defendant aware that she wouldn’t be available and trying to throw her under the bus?

Now here comes a sentence you never thought you’d hear me say: here’s the point where Donald Trump saves the day.

Because the defendant had been late and because they were other cases that had to be assigned to a jury on the day, we didn’t get to be first for jury selection. A certain number of people called in each day for jury duty – and only a certain percentage of those turn up.  Those that show get selected based on how the court cases are assigned.  People who get rejected from one jury to get put back in the pool for potential selection on another.

We’d already been there two hours and it was going to be at least another hour before they could start jury selection, which takes about an hour or more. That was assuming that they could even had enough jurors. Apparently a lot of people didn’t want to come down to be jurors on eclipse day. It was a dead certainty that the trial would run over for another day if it went to jury.

On the next day, Donald Trump was scheduled to come to Phoenix for one of his Nürnberg rallies. Apparently absolutely no one wanted to be downtown that day. This includes potential jurors who had been called for duty for that day.  Apparently, some days have higher “no-show” rates than others and Trump day was expected to have a lower than average turnout.  (Kind of just like his inauguration.)

The fact was, it was becoming a very real possibility but the whole trial would be postponed until a later date.

Now here’s where it gets good: when you are arrested for drunk driving and if your blood alcohol level is over a certain point — and hers was way over that point — they don’t do drug testing even if drugs are suspected. This is because the alcohol level is high enough to secure a conviction and it costs more money to do the drug testing.  That’s why, even though drugs were found in the car, and their behavior was consistent with more than just drunkenness, no drug charges had been filed against the defendant.

The prosecutor made it known to the defense that if the trial was delayed, they were going to ask that the blood samples — still in evidence — be tested for drugs. And if they found that she had drugs in her system, they would file all new, more serious charges against her in addition to the five they already had.

That, finally, was enough to convince her and her mother that it would be a bad idea to push for a jury trial.

And so the police and I were dismissed and I was able to get outside with six minutes to spare before the maximum eclipse here in Phoenix — which was obscured by a cloud.


Friends and long-time acquaintances will know that I’ve clocked up more hours camping than most can hope to in a lifetime, and I’ve done so in most every conceivable configuration: From sleeping with nothing but a sleeping bag under the stars or even a primitive lean-to to staying in a self-contained truck camper with everything except a toilet. (OK, I’ve never actually gone camping in one of those fully-equipped motor homes, but I would if the opportunity presented itself.)

My camping “credentials” are not in question.

I present that information as a preface so I can rant about something that bugs the shit out of me.

Camping is about being out and away from the city (and in our case, the accursed heat of summer) in a more outdoors environment.  It is not defined by your willingness to shit over a log or into a shallow grave you’ve just dug with a trenching shovel for your poo.

I often hear the Slippery Slope argument that says once you start shitting in a toilet, you might as well bring the motorhome, the satellite TV, showers and portable sauna; however, the Slippery Slope argument is a Logical Fallacy.

It’s not just the Slippery Slope logical fallacy either, there’s also the more honest, “I’m just a elitist jackass argument,” AKA The No True Scotsman argument – or, as it’s more correctly known, the No true Scotsman Logical Fallacy.

This one is more pure.  Instead of making up ridiculous (and irrelevant) consequences that will destroy the once noble pastime of camping, they’re actually disparaging people who don’t think like they do.

“No true camper would do any less than shit in a shallow poo grave.” Thereby attempting to give themselves some perceived moral high ground.

The hypocrisy of both those arguments irritates me no end, for I know of no one that makes those types of arguments that walks, without any equipment, barefoot and naked from their homes to their chosen place of camping.

“No True Camper would ever wear clothes into the woods and if they did, they might as well bring a generator and Japanese toilet seat to gently clean their asses after shitting.”

Yes, it irritates me.

We all have our idea of what “real camping” is and we all have our own definition of what’s too primitive and what’s too citified.

My definition of what’s too primitive usually involves the difficulty in shitting.  I can barely manage using squat toilets in Asia – I will go a long way to avoid using squat toilets.

I feel much the same way about shitting in the woods.  Digging a hole and squating over it is… well, it’s basically exactly the same as Asian squat toilets – except that the forest floor isn’t usually awash in piss.  (Here’s something I thought I’d never say, “Score one point for crapping in a hole in the woods.”)

At the opposite end of the spectrum, I typically think that if you’ve brought a generator to the woods, you’ve probably gone too far.  Not because I have anything against electricity or even electric conveniences, but generators tend to be noisy and that’s a bit inconsiderate of others that might be in the area.

So those are my personal preferences that I’ve formed throughout my life – acceptable camping,  for me as exists between the availability of toilets and lack of generators.

Food, warmth and a rain-proof roof over my head are also virtual necessities.

That said, I’ve discovered a terrible truth about life. What works for a 20 year old does not necessarily work for an almost 50 year old.

The inescapable truth is that I can no longer sleep on the ground.  If I lie on my back, the arms and shoulders go numb; on my stomach, my ribs ache like they’re breaking; on my side, my neck and lower back lock into a painful pretzel.  I’m old and I can’t do what I used to do.  Some form of mattress is now part of the minimum essentials for camping.

But it’s still camping!


Cancún – Day Six – Tolum

It's a Tilley.
It’s a Tilley.

Today was effectively our last day in Mexico.  Tomorrow we’re up before 5:00AM to catch the shuttle for our flight home.

This morning’s trip to Tolum wasn’t particularly early, so we had the opportunity to grab breakfast before we left.  It’s a pity they don’t serve the spaghetti with meat sauce for breakfast. Our plan meant we’d miss lunch at the hotel and we had dinner reservations at the steakhouse.  The time for spaghetti had passed.

Tolum was about 2 hours away by bus.  This tour promised to be sans the multiple hard-sell tourism stops.  We bus up, 1 hour guided tour, 1 hour free time, we bus back:  That’s how I like it.

The weather so far, apart from the rainy day, has been quite nice. It’s warm, but, I’m used to that, and there’s a constant sea breeze cooling things down here in the hotel zone.  As we departed on the bus, the tour guide let us know it was 98ºF at Tolum today.  That surprised me because, unlike Chichén Itzá, Tolum is on the coast.  98º is tolerable, assuming it isn’t humid, which, of course, it is.

As we approached Tolum, the sales pitch began:  “We’ll be stopping outside the park, where there will be some vendors.  Normally using the bathrooms cost money, but I will give you a ticket, so your first trip is free.  As long as you have your bus sticker, they’ll let you back in later without paying.  We will also stop so you can try some local tequila, absolutely free.  It is made here in the region.  Also, while everyone is using the bathrooms and tasting the tequila, you might wish to buy some souvenirs to take home with you.  If you do, please consider purchasing souvenirs made here in the Yucatan, by the local Mayan people…” and it went on describing exactly the same things we’d been encouraged to buy on the Chichén Itzá tour.

There’s a brand of hat, known as a Tilley Endurable.  It’s a hat famed (at least in their own marketing campaigns) as being virtually indestructible.  I remember quite vividly from my childhood seeing their ads in my dad’s camping magazines and camp directories. The ad retold the story of a man whose Tilley was plucked off his head and eaten by an elephant.  Next day, he retrieved it from the dung pile, washed it and still had the hat many years later.  Apparently, that happened more than once.

I bought my Tilley in California, immediately after my disastrous battle with the Gorn (read: heat exhaustion) at the Vasquez Rocks.  I felt I had reached an age where a floppy, sun-protecting hat was in order as I never wanted to experience that again and you never know when you might need to distract a hungry elephant.

Tilley’s more modern ad campaigns focus on the community of Tilley people meeting around the world and knowing that, “that person must be alright, he/she’s wearing a Tilley.”

It was with that in mind that I happened to spy an elderly gentleman in the front of the bus wearing a Tilley.  I had a brief laugh to myself about perhaps introducing myself, but then quickly reminded myself that I’m basically anti-social and will never approach or talk to a stranger without extreme provocation.

We arrived at the Tolum drop off point, which is essentially a market for souvenirs. (I’m shocked!)  As we queued for the bathroom, someone came up to me from behind and said, “I see you have a Tilley.  Are you from Canada?”  (Tilleys are made in Canada, hence the confusion.)

Yes, it was the old man from the bus.  Apparently he reads the ad copy, too.  Now I too can say that, thousands of miles from home in a far and foreign land, I have experienced the camaraderie and fellowship of world-travelling Tilley wearers.  How odd!

IMG_4099Chichén Itzá is impressive and, particularly around the military parade grounds, the overgrowth of trees in what was once an empty field, has made a beautiful space, but Tolum is on a different order altogether.  It was a walled city, surrounded on three sides with a stone wall and the fourth sits on a cliff facing the sea.  Although the buildings are not as large or elaborate as Chichén Itzá, it is a much more elegant and beautiful location.

The one hour guided tour became a 45 minute stand in one spot and listen, and while we stood there listening, something unpleasant happened.  I started to pass out from the heat and humidity (despite wearing my Tilley!)  At first, I had to crouch down in the shade to make it through the talk, and when it was over, I tried to stand – very unsuccessfully.  I had to find a place in the shade and lie down for a half an hour, drinking almost all the family’s water supply while I recovered.  An embarrassing development, to be sure.

IMG_4050Finally it passed and I was able to get up and gingerly continue our tour of the city, but I wasn’t unhappy when we finally got back to the shops and I bought a Dr Pepper (despite the fact that it was in a can and i’d been warned not to drink from cans unless using a straw) and then got back on the bus to sleep most of the return trip.

We got back to the hotel with just enough time to spend one last afternoon on the beach before we had to get ready for dinner at the hotel steakhouse.  Before dinner, I took James to the buffet so he could get one last plate of spaghetti with meat sauce.  (I had one, too.)

The steak dinner wasn’t bad and for entertainment, they had a mechanical bull from which we periodically got to see people thrown off.

The trip is done.  Tomorrow will be entirely traveling away from Mexico returning home in the early afternoon.

IMG_4065I shall miss this place, but I’m glad most days we got to go out and do things because sitting around the resort all day would have driven me crazy.

One last thought as I go to bed – no one had any tummy trouble this whole trip – until now.  I think I shouldn’t have drank from the Dr. Pepper can without a straw.

Cancún – Day Five – All Inclusive

BeachWe had some decisions to make for Days Five and Six, and we really needed to make them before it got late on Day Four, which we didn’t, so we were stuck with the results of our procrastination.

I wanted to go see both Tolum and Coba.  Tulum being the beautiful Mayan city by the sea. Coba being a less developed site, having not only the tallest remaining pyramid, but also one of the very last you can still climb.

Coba had to be disqualified because it’s almost as long a trip as Chichén Itzá.  Tolum is much closer.

The decision at hand was, what would we do on Days Five and Six, with the knowledge that we had to catch the shuttle to our plan at 5:00AM on Day Seven.  That meant that an exhausting Day Six could be problematic and we decided a day of rest at the hotel enjoying the “all inclusive” amenities might be best.  At the same time, we felt we must go to Tolum before we left and it was too late to schedule it for Day Five.

We opted for the rest on Day Five and Tolum on Day Six.

Our first order of business this morning was to arrange the Tolum trip – hopefully one that wasn’t an all-day dog and pony show like the Chichén Itzá trip was.  We were in luck, the travel agent in the resort had an “express” tour to Tolum that drove directly to Tolum, spent two hours on site – one hour as a guided tour, the other as free time to roam around.  No meals, no stops, no high pressure souvenir sales and back no later than 3:00PM – perfect.

Amazingly, James ran into a friend from school at breakfast.  The friend was going to be in the Kids Club all day and wanted James to join him.  On reflection, perhaps we should have put the kids in the club all day, but instead we held off until after lunch.  Later, dragging them out was difficult, even though the club was closing down.

Instead we waited until after lunch to send them to the club and in the interim we did what anybody would do on a beautiful sunny day at a resort with a beautiful white sand beach on the Caribbean – we sat in our room reading books.  That we might be the most boring people on earth is not without some substantiating evidence.

After lunch and with kids safely in the kids club, Chuwan and I decided to head to the nearby shopping mall.  With the layout of the hotel zone of Cancún, (there is only the one road) it’s almost impossible to get lost, as long as you know north and south, so bus travel is an easy and efficient means of transport.  I packed up my computer and we caught the bus.

Starbucks for wifiSoon, we had found the nearest (only) Starbucks and having ordered some tea I was now in possession of the magic wifi password.  The reason it was important to have wifi is that I wanted to backup all the pictures I had taken on the trip so far.

I spent 45 minutes fighting with a wifi connection so ghastly slow that it couldn’t finish loading the page that you needed to logon to.  Eventually, we gave up.

We were running low on pesos, so we decided to exchange more US currency at proper exchange rates rather than suffer the criminal exchange rates at the stores.  It turns out you have to be carrying your US passports to exchange money, which, of course, were safely locked away in the hotel safe.  It was a lesson learned, but it was too late to go back to the hotel and return to exchange the money.  Similarly, we could have withdrawn money from a bank ATM using our debit cards and gotten the official exchange rate, but Chuwan refused to pay the off-bank service fee, so we went without much money.

We did stop at an OXXO market and grabbed some snacks for tomorrow’s trip to Tolum.

At the beachWe grabbed the kids at afternoon closing time at the kids club and took them to the beach to play in the waves.  I discovered that the water at the beach was so shallow, I would walk out, on sand, over 40 meters and still only be chest high in the water.  Even Michelle could go out that far and keep her feet on the ground and head above water. We played in the water until the life guards ran everyone out at dusk.

Tonight’s fine dining experience was at the French restaurant, which does not allow children.  There was a kids club for the evening, but tonight’s activity was karaoke, and Michelle refused to go just in case they played music by One Direction.

I took the kids for an early dinner and grabbed a plate of spaghetti and meat sauce for myself (I’m getting rather fond of their spaghetti and meat sauce.) just in case I wasn’t impressed with the French food on offer tonight.  After dinner, the kids stayed in the room reading their kindles while Chuwan and I had our date.  The food was fine and the company of my lovely wife was, as always, the highlight of my day.

Surprisingly long update for a day on which we did nothing.

Cancún – Day Four – The Day of the Dolphin

Wifi access here is awful!

The hotel charges outrageous rates for it, and, although AT&T includes free wifi access at AT&T hotspots around the world when one has international data roaming on their phone (which I do, or I’d be completely cut off) there are no such hotspots anywhere to be found in the hotel zone of Cancún.  Also, I have an app called Wifinder, which has a user-populated database of free and pay wifi access points around the world, but that also reveals no free wifi in the area.  There is a Starbucks a few kilometers down the road, perhaps later we can get there, buy an iced tea and use theirs.

That said, today was not about wifi, it was about dolphins.

James had his ninth birthday last week and, since he was very, very little, he has been obsessed with sea life, and particularly dolphins.  Some nights, out of the blue it seems, he’ll ask me, “Can we go swimming with dolphins?”  That’s a tough ask when you live in the desert.

We didn’t originally plan this vacation around dolphins, we planned it around a series of coincidences that made this the moment to go:  Chuwan and the kids both had Spring Break on the same week, which rarely happens and Costco had a deal on an all-inclusive resort that covers children under 12 free.  Michelle turns 12 in June, it was now or never.

When I learned that there were several dolphin encounter places in and around Cancún, the idea that this could be James’ (admittedly expensive) birthday present seemed too perfect to pass up.  After looking at several of the (confusing) web pages for the various dolphin places, we opted for Dolphin Discovery on La Isla Mujeres, a small island off Cancún.

You are ferried onto the island at 9:30AM, have an appointed dolphin encounter time during the day, and then return by ferry at either 3:30 or 5:30PM.  In the interim, they have a food buffet, lockers and use of the facilities, including the pools and beach, plus you can go explore the island on foot or by taxi.

We choose at 10:30 time for the dolphins and opted for one of the lesser packages.  Each package contains certain dolphin activities.  All include a hug and a kiss from a dolphin, but there are other things like belly rides, fin tugs and foot pushes included.  We didn’t pick the top package because I was concerned that, at nine years old, it might not be safe for James to have dolphins come up under his feet and push him out of the water.

At least this morning we had time for breakfast before heading out to the dock.  This time, we took the city bus and that worked fairly well.  Not only do most of the people in Cancún speak passable English, but my several years of Spanish study was beginning to come back to me.

I decided, since we were going to be stuck on an island all day, going in and out of the water, that there was no point in bringing my iPhone with me and only brought my GoPro, even though using your own camera with the dolphins is strictly prohibited.  That decision would come back to mock me later in the day.

When we checked in, they try hard to up-sell you to a different package than the one you already have. The information on their signs in the office is also a lot more concise than their website.  It was much more obvious that the Royal Swim package would be longer, and have more actual human with dolphin interaction. With that package it included the foot push.  So we asked if that was appropriate for a 9-year old.  Of course it was, said they!  (I wonder if it really was?  They’d have said anything for the upsale.) so we decided to upgrade.

What we didn’t count on was that our dolphin time got pushed back to 1:30PM.  Instead of an hour to get situated, changed and ready, we had 4 hours to kill.

On the ferry over to the island, we encountered some prodigious drinkers – four young men, two from Belgium, one from France and one from Australia. They set up a table on the ferry and were competing by downing beers as fast as they could.  I saw them drink at least four each on the 30 minute ride (at 9:30 in the morning.)

When we got in we discovered that, apart from drinking and hanging out at the pool, there wasn’t much to do at Dolphin Discovery while we waited, except use the free wifi! (!!!!!!!!!)  They provided us ample locker space so I could have easily brought my phone and done some picture uploads, but instead we just hung out at the pool.

The kids loved this, and for the first hour, I napped on a deck chair in the shade.  Later I tried the net hammocks.  That was a disaster!  I didn’t fall out (Chuwan did, though) but I can’t see how people can sleep in hammocks and after 45 uncomfortable minutes trying to figure out if there actually was a comfortable position, I gave up and went back to the lawn chairs waiting for the lunch buffet to open at noon.

During this entire time, those four young men had also parked themselves by the pool and were now conducting their drinking game on serious terms, having upped their game to using two hands, one beer in each.  I counted that they each drank at least another 10 beers, before one of them said, “Let’s hold up a bit, I don’t want to be too drunk when we do the dolphins.”

Now, these were somewhere between 8 and 16 ounce plastic cups and quite possible watered-down, but it seemed an impressive amount to me.  I could only imagine that the dolphins would get drunk just breathing in their breath when they kissed them.

The lunch buffet finally opened and we had something to do to kill time.  Yes, it’s official.  I cannot just sit and relax.

James and a Dolphin

Finally, dolphin time arrived and rather than be super excited, James was scared, but he bravely soldiered on.

You’re put into a small group.  In our case, it was just the four of us and two guys from Birmingham (UK)

The dolphin encounter is conducted in a large, fenced off area of the ocean, surrounded by a pier.  You walk down off the pier onto an underwater catwalk attached to the pier.  It was about 3 feet below sea level.  James was mostly submerged walking on it, I was mostly not.

The trainer would, in turn for each person, give us instructions on what the dolphins, America and Athena, would expect from us and how they would react.

Chuwan and a Dolphin

We started with simple activities, where we remained on the catwalk, such as petting, hugging and hissing the dolphins.  At each step of the way, we were instructed to look at the camera that was snapping photos.  Although I was enjoying myself, the photographer had an uncanny ability to catch my facial expression looking unhappy.

After the easy activities,  we began the ones that required a bit of swimming.  Despite a life jacket, the current was strong and you had to fight to stay on-station.

Michelle surfs on DolphinsEveryone enjoyed it, especially James, but I couldn’t help feeling it was a little too assembly-line, running us mechanically from one photo op to the next.

And then there were the dolphins…  I couldn’t help wondering if, when the sun rose each morning, they though to themselves, “Here we go, another day whoring ourselves with the exact same routine for an endless, faceless line of people.”  Much like, I imagine everyone in the tourist industry in Cancún says to themselves each morning.

Eugene and the Dolphins

After the dolphin encounter, it’s pretty much obligatory that you go look at the pictures they took.  You have basically two options: Buy individual pictures for $38USD each (and they took at least eight photos of each person, one or more for each activity) or you can buy all the photos of each person for $58USD each.

There really wasn’t much choice, we bought them all for all four of us.

With the time in the water, getting changed and then purchasing the photos, we missed the 3:30 ferry and had to kill two more hours on the island.  What I wouldn’t have given to have brought my phone!

We grabbed a bit more food at the buffet, which closed at 4:00, and hung out at the pool again, which closed at 5:00 and finally caught the last boat out.

The trip over in the morning takes about 25-30 minutes.  The trip back took over an hour, partially because we had to go to the other side of the island and pick up people there, too.

Sunset on the Day of the DolphinJames cried all the way back.  He wants to go back and do the dolphins again tomorrow.

By the time we were back, the sun had set and there was nothing for us to do but catch the (overpacked) bus back to the resort.

This evening’s fine dining experience was the resort’s Mexican restaurant.  The food was remarkably unremarkable.

Surprisingly tired after a long day mostly spent lying next to the pool.

I’m tired of having to brush my teeth using bottled water!

They provide drinking cups next to the sink, surely that means the water is safe to drink, right?

Cancún – Day Three – Chichén Itzá

Me, in 1978, on some forlorn and forgotten shore of the Gulf of California
Me, in 1978, on some forlorn and forgotten shore of the Gulf of California

In 1978, my father and I took a road/camping excursion down the Baja Peninsula in Mexico. Apart from an earlier border excursion, this was my only trip into Mexico.

In those days, Cabo San Lucas as a tourist destination was still just a gleam in the eye of the Mexican Federal Government, and the whole peninsula was sparsely populated and untouched by much foreign influence. Because we drove down “the back road” by mistake, we went days without seeing another human being. We travelled over roads far too rough for our 4-wheel drive truck. At times, my dad made me get out of the truck and walk behind, just in case the truck tipped over a cliff.

Afterwards, he admitted the trip was a foolhardy adventure and that, had we broken down or had an accident things could have been very bad for us.

I mention it because, when we did encounter people, despite limited understanding (my father’s Spanish was better than mine) the people, as a whole, were kind, helpful and, while not living in the lap of luxury, seemed to be living full, contented lives.

Fast forward now to 2014.

Our tour, which I was increasingly afraid was going to be a miserable failure, was scheduled to pick us up at 7:00AM – the same time breakfast starts – which meant we could either have breakfast, or take the tour. There had been mention of a “continental breakfast” on the tour and, while a continental breakfast should not legally be allowed to be called “breakfast” we felt, with snacks, that it might hold us until lunch near Chichén Itzá, which was a buffet and included in the tour cost.

Tour companies came and went, calling out names and eventually thinning the ever-growing crowd of tourists waiting to be picked up for their tours of the various sights in the area, but ours steadfastly refused to arrive, and as time wore on, I began to check out more reviews, some of which involved people never being picked up (and then fighting futilely to get their money back) or people being put on the wrong bus and getting the wrong tour.

By the time I was done reading I was convinced they were never coming and when they did finally come, 30 minutes late, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go with them!

As with everything here, there seemed to be a lot of faffing about to get things done.  In this case we drove to the north end of the Cancun “7” to disembark, stand in line to check in, to then be put back on a different (nearly identical) bus and head back south.

As we headed southwest, it was evident there was to be no continental breakfast.

The Yucatan peninsula is the result of the dinosaur-killing asteroid strike. What was once ocean floor was lifted up out of the water to become dry land. Geographically, it’s flat and featureless limestone, covered in jungle vegetation. It isn’t what you’d call “scenic.”

It’s hard to say exactly how long the drive is to Chichén Itzá because we certainly didn’t take a direct route. We saw other “sights” along the way to make it interesting.

The first stop was at the border between the states of Quintana Roo and Yucatan. This utterly featureless distinction between the states is marked by a gate, a toilet, a three-sided cement building with several men selling tours and police armed with AK-47s. I’m not sure if it was this later thing that was most remarkable or the strange group of men selling tours somewhere right between nowhere and nowhere.

On the trip, our tour guide gave us a lot of information about the Mayan people and the area we were traveling through, he also talked about complete bullshit, such as the obsidian energy stones the Mayan people use for massages. He talked about the Mayan calendar and their “alphabet” – which, if one didn’t think very critically about – could be forgiven for thinking was a one-to-one, letter-to-letter analog to the English alphabet.

The theme for the day was becoming evident: “You will meet many people selling things, but if you want real authentic souvenirs, buy something made by the Mayan people – a calendar, your name in Mayan letters on a silver necklace or these local energy stones.”

Rest Area
The strange little gift shop rest area we were imprisoned in for an hour.

Our second stop was a… I don’t know what to call it… rest area? store? prison? The tour bus was brought into the courtyard and the gate was closed behind us. The passengers were disembarked, then the bus was taken away, leaving us for “40-45 minutes” to look around at local crafts – not surprisingly, these were exactly the sort of thing that had been described to us on the bus as the “correct” type of souvenirs to take home.

We stood around (as there were no chairs) while 45 minutes stretched to almost an hour as they tried to extract every possible bit of cash from the passengers. In the end, it felt like an unsatisfying exchange for both sides. The bus passengers felt we’d wasted a lot of our time and it seemed the local Mayan artisans felt we didn’t buy enough.

And so we went on to Chichén Itzá!

No, no we didn’t.

Next we went to lunch, which was included, except for drinks. Our drinks (3 sodas and bottle of water) were 235 pesos – thats $17!

There’s a game they like to play here, where they try to make you think the price is effectively 100-1, so the unsuspecting tourist might think they’re paying $1.30 USD for a bag of nacho Cheese Doritos when the posted price in pesos is 130. That’s totally wrong, but their pricing of items encourages that misconception.

Many places, however, will take US Dollars without having to exchange them, but most places outside the hotels exchange at rate of 10-1 because it’s “easier” and they do have some expense getting the money changed.  Tourists do find this easier because a 13-1 exchange rate is harder to do on the fly in your head.  If those Doritos are marked in both pesos and dollars, it will usually be like this $130/$13US.  Of course, you should pay in pesos because that’s really only about $9.83US

The rate is really about 13-1, and if you exchange money at a proper money exchanger, or use your credit card, you’ll get the fair daily exchange rate.

It’s still an outrageous price, but you can be prepared by knowing what to expect and by developing a strategy in your head to convert prices.  I found 13-1 to be difficult to do when discussing prices, so I worked out a simple two-step process that approximated the price closely enough that I could grasp the price quickly.  Take any peso price, crop the decimal, then knock a quick 25% off that figure.  That is 100 peso => $10US => $7.50US (Today’s exchange rate says it’s exactly $7.56US)  Remember that rates change and they may not be the same when you’re reading this.

The Ku'ku'ul-ka'an Restaurant
The Ku’ku’ul-ka’an Restaurant, a sad sort of place, waiting desperately for tourists

Lunch was a sad experience. It’s not that the food wasn’t good – it was, especially a local pork dish called cochinita pibil, but the problem was the hollow, soulless desperation that permeated the air. The restaurant was large – bg enough to handle perhaps 200 people, but it was completely empty, waiting for the tour busses.

When we pulled in, they sprang into action, preparing the buffet and cooking the tortillas. We were served by waiters who reminded us, directly, that tips were how they were paid and then we were entertained by some of the saddest, most bored looking dancers ever. Their sole purpose was just to dance with beer bottles on their heads for tips when the busses arrive.

Like most restrooms in Mexico, the toilets also had an attendant. Tipping is expected – a holdover from the ancient times when men’s room attendants handed out clean towels to the guests. Now, they just stand next to the air driers or paper towel dispensers and expect a tip.

Perhaps they understood that the times and technology had passed them by.  The attendant made sure I knew I was to tip him by working the paper towel dispenser while I was washing my hands and then brought me the paper, weighing it down with the tip plate, just to make sure I knew.

The whole little town that the restaurant was in just looked crushingly poor.  This was the face of real life in Mexico away from the resorts.  It was nothing like the small fishing communities I had seen in 1978.

Jumping Girl
I don’t know who this youg lady is, but she happened to be jumping up and down having her picture taken, so I thought, “What the hell, welcome to the Internet!”

Finally on to Chichén Itzá.

In 2007, Chichén Itzá was voted as part of the New7Wonders of the World and it’s a deserving of it’s place on the list. Built somewhere around 750 BCE, this large, ornate city is all sorts of awesome. Alternatively majestic, advanced, unfair and brutal, the mystery of the abandonment of this and some 8,000 other Mayan cities by the 16th century is compounded by the outrageous destruction of all the written Mayan books by the Catholics. The language and culture remain largely lost to us.

El Castillo
The main pyramid known as El Castillo

The Mayan people existed in a class system that divided the rulers from the working people, who were not educated, while the royals, the priests and the astronomers were well-educated. The descendants of the workers still exist as the Mayan people today, but the other classes disappeared with their knowledge.

At least the tour guide didn’t suggest that aliens had taken them back to the stars.

He did spin some mighty tenuous connections with other things, though. Our guide had a tendency to place two or more ideas back to back, such as “This lunar cycle is 10 26 day periods long. 10*26=260.” “In Mayan culture, there are 2 cycles, the sun and the moon.” “There are two types of people, men and women.” “You know what else is 260 days long? That’s the length of a human pregnancy.”

He’d then finish that with, “Do you follow me?”

Yes, I follow you.  You’re horseshitting us.

Head thingI have no doubt that the guide was knowledgeable on the subject, but by using this rhetorical technique to make things more “amazing” than reality warranted, it diminished the experience for me. Perhaps I was the only one that there that really cared about the scholarship. It did make for a great story and since you pay the tour guide in tips afterwards, he has plenty of reason to embellish to entertain the masses.

The snake head
This is the head of the equinox snake. The shadow, which you can see in the lower right undulates up the pyramid on the equinox completing the snake.

There were hundreds of people at the site, but we planned our trip to be today because it wasn’t Thursday. Thursday is the Spring Equinox and the Mayan astronomers and engineers apparently (it’s not documented, just observed) built the pyramid known as El Castillo in such a way that, on the equinoxes, the sun and shadows form the body of a snake slithering down the pyramid. We missed that, of course, by coming today instead of Thursday (or is it Friday?) when we’d get to enjoy that experience with an estimated 35,000 other people there for moment. I can pass on that.

(I say Thursday or Friday because, astronomically, the equinox is on Thursday, but apparently the shadow event happens on Friday. Could it be the Mayan engineers goofed?)

My dad’s and my trip into Mexico in 1978 was a test run for his desire to get down to see the Mayan ruins the next year. That second trip never happened because of how slow and difficult our first trip was, but after I’d moved away from home, sometime in the 1990s, my dad managed to take a driving trip to see Chichén Itzá and the other major sites such as Tolum. Back then, he got the opportunity to climb El Castillo.

In 2004, the Mexican government blocked access to the buildings because people were climbing up to the top, marking graffiti on the walls and shitting in the temple.

What the FUCK people?!

It’s really, really hard for me to have a positive attitude towards humans. I try, I really do, but things like this bugger belief.

After 2-3 hours, we left Chichén Itzá to return to Cancún. Along the way, we stopped at a cenote.

As I mentioned, the Yucatan Peninsula is all flat and monotonous limestone, covered in jungle. Limestone is easily dissolved by water and forms caves, these caves riddle the peninsula and as the roofs collapse in (think sinkhole) they formed what the locals call cenotes. These cenotes are the key to Mayan civilization, for they were filled with fresh water. Like a desert oasis, the cities formed near the cenotes.

The Mayans used them for many things, water, religion and even human sacrifice. Now, tour groups visit them and go swimming in them, which was kind of cool.

We finally got back after 8:30PM, too late for our dinner reservation at the Mexican restaurant, but with enough time to get some dinner at the buffet.  The buffet is limited, but occasionally has good grilled beef or pork and they always seem to have fresh spaghetti in meat sauce.  I’m liking the spaghetti in meat sauce.

Tomorrow we go to swim with the dolphins. I fully expect James to practically poo his pants in excitement but, honestly, I’m not really all that jazzed on the idea. Perhaps as a native desert-dweller I shall never really appreciate water activities.

Still no wifi.  I can’t post these daily blog entries nor upload any substantial pictures from the cameras (other than my iPhone.)

Cancún – Day Two

I need wonder no more, the day played out in… unsatisfactory terms.

I did some research (too little, too late) about the timeshare that we got roped into viewing – having said that, it was too late to back out, but now I knew it was going to be the highest pressure type sales pitch.

Many years ago, Chuwan and I did a timeshare presentation and, although I hated the experience, and didn’t want to spend money on a timeshare, we got some vacation stuff at good prices – you just have to endure the high pressure sales and consider that part of the price.

I rather swore I’d never do it again, but, here we were hurtling down the Mayan Riveria in a taxi that consistently ran 120kph in a 70kph zone. With the jungle on all sides, high humidity smell in the air and the rundown cement dwellings with roller-front facades, you could be completely forgiven for thinking you were in the south of Taiwan. Just to cement that Taiwan feeling, the taxi tried to pass a double-long gas truck that had been clearly signaling that we has moving left and we came within an inch of being run off the road or crushed under the truck. By way of apology, the driver spoke, with an embarrassed laugh, what I’d guess were the only words of English he spoke: “Big truck.”

An iguana running wile at the El Cid resortAt the El Cid, the disappointments began. The first was breakfast. We got picked up before our hotel started serving breakfast. We’d been promised what sounded like we’d be eating at the same buffet as the El Cid’s all-inclusive guests were eating, but we were not. We put in a room with a very limited buffet and got to enjoy breakfast with our salesman eating at the table with us. He made small talk and tried to extract info he could use later from us. He was actually comically bad at it, because by the end of the day he was trying to use that info as part of the pitch and he kept getting it completely wrong. Things like thinking Chuwan was from Korea, or that I sold insurance for a living, for example.

I won’t bore you with the high pressure techniques, but they were exactly like the last timeshare presentation we attended, right down to putting the chair against the table to signal when we’d finished discussing things privately, and the top killer salesman coming out after we’d declined and asking a couple “survey” questions, before attempting to sell us a one-time vacation. After more like 2 hours, we were free to enjoy our perks.

The two perks were purchased at significantly reduced prices were:

  1. What I wanted – the tour to Chichén Itzá
  2. what the kids wanted (only after they heard about it) – spending the day as an all-inclusive guest at the El Cid, which includes the eating, the spa, the kids pool and a trip snorkeling in the shallower reef areas south of Cancún.

I’m not keen on snorkeling, but if I’m going to do it – life vest or not – it’s damn well going to be in shallow water.

The first disappointment, the storm coming in had whiped the ocean into “no swimming” anywhere, and the snorkeling had to be cancelled and we did get our refund, but that also eliminated any use of the El Cid facilities – no food, no pool, no spa – nothing. We got shuttled back to our hotel having had little or no breakfast, no lunch, no swimming, snorkeling or relaxing in the spa – and as we arrived back at the hotel, the storm hit. Chuwan took the kids to the play area where you can check your kids in and abandon them for the day, while I decided to sleep the rainy afternoon away.

A massive clap of thunder outside the window brought me starkly awake. Outside, not a soul could be seen.

Crown Paradise ClubChuwan returned with the kids and we spent the rest of the afternoon and evening watching TV and finally heading to the Italian restaurant for our late supper reservation. It was OK.

The “all-inclusive” resort means that your meals are included as part of the price. There’s a snack bar open from 10PM to 6:00AM, breakfast buffet from 7:30-10:30AM, Lunch buffet from 12:30-4:00PM and dinner buffet open from 7:30PM to 10:00PM, in the interim times there are various places that will make you hamburgers and hot dogs. They also have “fancier” restaurants that are included in the price, but you have to make reservations, at the start of your vacation, to get slots for those.

The Italian option at the Crown Paradise ClubIt was an oddly formal affair, rather like eating in a restaurant 40 years ago, with the curious ceremonies of swapping out the silverware several times during the meal and having various plate swaps during the course of the meal. It very much reminded me of my trip to Mexico back in 1978, where even the most humble of restaurants made a formal production out of the meal.

Into the oddly formal situation, add a table full of drunk college students sitting behind us.

So far, apart from the college kids on the plane, we’ve not really had much encounter with drunken students. There are a few at the resort, but most are apparently elsewhere, and they haven’t been too drunkenly obnoxious. (Really the most obnoxious thing about them so far is that many of them seem to be pushing the boundaries of being pretentious wankers by smoking cigars all around the place. Why hasn’t this disgusting habit died out yet?)

However, this evening was a bit different. About halfway through our meal, about 10 kids were seated at the table behind us. Some of them were a few sheets to the wind. One of them, a young lady, made some comment about some behavior they were doing (I didn’t catch what it was) and they started to call her, “mom” jokingly – mostly. When she walked away to the salad bar, one of them started shouting across the restaurant at her, “Shit! What the fuck, mom! I mean, “What. The. Fuck!”

At least a couple of the other kids at the table tried to shut the asshole up, with a “Shut up! There are little kids at the next table! Are you trying to get us kicked out?”

The way that was phrased, I couldn’t quite tell if they were concerned for the purity of my children’s ears or just worried their own sorry asses might be put outside.

Tuseday, we head to Chichún Itzá – probably. By now I am getting worried. The “tickets” we’ve been given from El Cid, didn’t even have the tour company name on them and a check online revealed more unsatisfied and nasty reviews than nice for El Cid’s choice of tour providers. (Running 6 to 1 against.) I haven’t sleep well worrying that my one chance to get to Chichén Itzá was similarly going to get screwed up.