Still on detox from an overly ambitious meals in downtown Cancun, I ate a granola bar, OJ and one of those Dannin Activia drinks in my room rather than putting my body through another morning of fried food and processed fruit at the buffet. Satisfied by the bounty of the local 7-11 equivalent, I headed out to Isla Mujeres.
I got thoroughly snookered by the tour operators into taking this excursion for $60 on their boat versus jumping on the $8 public ferry as I'd originally planned. Despite the cost, there were some positive outcomes. On the pleasure boat ride over, I met two guys my age from LA. Though they never got my real name and spent most of the day under the impression that I had come to Cancun with friends who were back at the hotel pool, they became great traveling companions. We quickly decided our docking site and its attractions were too family-oriented and too hot, so we eventually got a taxi into town and rented mopeds.
All my readers who know me personally can attest to my klutziness and incapacity to grasp anything too technical (ironically, I AM coordinated enough to African dance). Therefore, it should come as no surprise that early into my moped excursion, I jumped a curb and fell off the bike, seriously bruising my legs below the knee and getting a nasty cut. This, just as my shins had finally recovered from December's infamous escalator incedent!
Despite this initial setback, I got the hang of things and had a great time cruising around the five-mile island, stopping to take pictures with my new friends, visit one last set of Mayan ruins and feel the island breeze.
Friday evening, I magically timed my dinner in the hotel buffet to coincide with many of the people I've met so far. I pulled up a chair to eat with one couple and then traipsed around the dining room to chat with other friends as they chomped down copious amounts of shrimp and plasticine-tasting cake.
After dinner, we cruised up to the outdoor bar and I finally slugged back enough watered-down Corona served in plastic cups to get a mild buzz. Rounds of stories about work, dating, high school football, bad movies and differences between British and American slang (a few guys were from England) followed, much to my conversationally-deprived delight. Though not the prototypical Cancun evening, I headed back to my room feeling for the first time on this vacation like I'd had a great night. This day and night were finally representative of the kind of vacation I'd anticipated.