Hola Muchachos!

I went to a topless beach! OK...now that I have your attention I will tell you all about our latest trip. Well I have tried to refrain from boring all of you with some of our latest misadventures but after our latest one to Mexico for Diane's birthday; I can no longer contain myself. So sit back, relax and visualize that you are in our backseat.

We arrive at the Cancun Airport via Houston and proceed through Customs with our metric ton of luggage. Cancun Airport is about the size of a Greyhound Bus Terminal. We hump our carousel worth of luggage, will I never learn, through the paces of Mexican Customs and this entails them looking suspiciously at our passports then us having to press a button? Which they insist that we do even if every one of our appendages is full. Diane has not had a cigarette in five hours so she promptly ditches me, responsibility and any semblance of order to go smoke outside. I finally catch up and she is making small talk with the natives. I have had Mexican horror stories running through my head since she first told me that she was forcing me to go here so she could be warm for her birthday. It seems Phoenix is not warm enough. We will soon be residing in Hell...it might be warm enough there! Of course, it will have frozen over by then.

Our rental is a Mexican luxury car, a Chevy of course, and we are on our way! Cars are very expensive here and to rent the matchbox Monza with the much needed insurance is almost a hundred bucks a day! It is green, dirty and has power nothing but the A/C is cold and we are driving on the right side of the road, so I'm happy. A rare thing, according to Diane.

As we drive on Highway 307 to Playa Del Carmen on the Yucatan Peninsula we notice resorts being built about every five kilometers (1km=0.6 mile). The highway is in good condition, even by American standards. We salido (exit) into Playa Del Carmen, a bustling, up and coming resort town 50 kms south of Cancun. All laws of driving etiquette have just flown out the window. Pedestrians cross from all directions, mopeds pass you on both sides, stop signs are optional, loose dogs roam the roads, everyone has the right of way except the touristas, muffler tearing speed bumps, every street is one-way and my hair is standing on end! I'm on vacation and am more stressed out than I have been in months! I have just driven through a six-block city.

The hotel is in the heart of the beach and the city. The pedestrian walkway is full of restaurants, bars & shops on one side and a magnifico white sand beach with a pool bar with swings as stools on the other side. We move into a third floor apartment of our Spanish Colonial hotel. It is beautiful. A pedestaled bed with a commanding view of the Caribbean Sea, remote controlled A/C, bottled water and carved wood furniture. We can even see the twinkling lights of Cozumel Island on the horizon. They also have made swans out of our towels and toilet paper. I felt like I was ruining a Rodin sculpture just to clean myself. Diane feigned surprise but I'm sure this was planned, we had no telephone or television! How was I to find out if the Pirates won the opener!

Hastily we unpack and then hit the streets. Exchanging some dollars for pesos, we hit a recommended restaurant at the corner of our street, La Parilla. At this point I'm frightened to death of Montezuma's revenge and order the safest meal I can find, a T-Bone and Cerveza (beer). Of course, I'm counting on the fact that Foot & Mouth disease hasn't reached here. Diane throws herself to danger, quesadillas and coke with ice! The deadly ice of Mexican agua! But she's a spunky girl and likes to live on the edge. As long as she doesn't have to look down.

It's very nice and we are on the street side of the outdoor cafe. We get numerous children trying to hawk painted wood turtles. They all must have the same supplier. After a while the Mariachis arrive to serenade us with the top hits of Mexican folk music, "La Coocaracha," "Frito Bandito" and the "Copacabana." I tip them heavily in pesos because we all know pesos are play money.

We meander down the strip where they display the wares of the world, Cuban cigars, big, stupid looking sombreros, McDonald's hamburgers, and Iranian jewelry. All of which should be illegal...or are. The salesman are pushy, relentless and speaking another language. We say "no gracias" 1500 times before we find a bar that is not playing more Mexican folk music. They are playing Led Zeppelin! The Pez Vela Bar was to become our favorite hangout. A Mexican power trio playing the likes of Van Halen, AC/DC and the Black Crowes with amazing acuity. I'm blown away! Or drunk, so it's time to leave.

The next morning we decide to go see the Mayan ruins. We take the rental car and drive the 25 kms. to the ruins on the Caribbean coast, Tulum. A truly amazing place, it is a walled city consisting of about 25 different buildings with bas-relief carvings and an impressive overlook of the sea. Only the priests lived within the walls. The commoners lived along the countryside and were only allowed to enter during religious ceremonies.

Climbing about the mini-pyramids, I expend five rolls of film. Within its midst there is a beautiful white sand beach where I get my first eyeful of toplessness. As I'm looking out over the turquoise Caribbean, I look down below to the beach from the cliff. Lo' and behold their are two women sunning their casabas for the hundreds of tourists to see. Of course, by the end of the vacation this was to come to seem very au naturél. But being a red-blooded American who was raised to try and get glimpses via an armhole this was paradise! I threw on my dark sunglasses and slyly took photos from the hip. We moved to another part of the beach and there were more! There is one especially outstanding specimen that Diane took photos of for me so I wouldn't get pounded by her boyfriend, Wolfgang. She doesn't understand that I'm under obligation to my male co-workers to bring back souvenir nudie photos! If there is a serious demand, I may put them on my website. Lord knows I need the hits!

Leaving there, we're off to find the "Jungle of the Ruins." We drive another 40kms. inland through the abject poverty of the Mexican countryside. People living in straw huts, rubbish-strewn streets and naked children. But they seem to be happy people with brightly colored clothing. They have huge speed bumps set up so you will slow enough to see their beautiful serapés (blankets). We drive deeper and deeper into the jungle to Cobà. Spread through about seven miles is 43 buildings. Pyramids, castillos, ball courts, at one time this must have been a metropolis. I expend another three rolls of film before we head off to find the largest pyramid in Central America. We walk for three miles through the thickets of the jungle as it appears like the US Steel Building amongst the streets of Pittsburgh. My neck cranes trying to take it all in. 115 perilously steep steps to the top. It is 93° and humid. Diane looks at it and says, "Have at it!" She climbs the first 30 steps and in exhaustion, sits, and never gets back up. But this is why I'm here! I'm determined, have a story to write and am younger than Diane as today is her 40th birthday. Lifting one foot then another and counting...46...78...97...115! I made it! The view and the sense of accomplishment are worth every sweat bead, or even the puddle of sweat I leave on top of it. You can see nothing but jungle for miles and a lake way out in the distance. There is another pyramid protruding through the trees but it is a molehill from where I stand. All I need is a virgin to sacrifice!...and Diane will not do.

The tough part though is trying to get back down. Vertigo has set in and the steps begin to look like a huge slide. They were kind enough to put a 20-gauge wire to repel down but it is thin and not very secure. You throw snow on this thing and it might as well be K-2. But as this email attests, I made it.

After a nap back at the hacienda we get up the energy to go and celebrate Diane's birthday. We have dinner in a lovely red hotel, poolside and candlelit. Dueling mariachis come and serenade Diane with a lovely Spanish ballad. It's really quite lovely except that the humidity has wrecked her hair. I don't have the guts to tell her.

Meandering the streets again afterwards, where I say, "No gracias," another 1500 times. But this being Diane's birthday, I decide to do something special for her and buy her a Cuban cigar. It costs 100 pesos ($10.67) and you can't leave the country with it. Not even one! But she rejects my gift outright and I'm stuck smoking this fine, hand-rolled, aromatic stogie. It is the finest thing I have ever smoked. It should come with roach clips so I won't waste any. I bought another later in the week, but there is nothing like your first Habana.

We end up in our favorite bar listening to another rock band from Mexico City playing Santana and the same songs we heard the night before. Our waiter is a returnee from California. He tells us he crossed, as a "wetback," his word, not mine, and found it expensive and overrated, so he returned. We met another, later in the week that used to live in Minnesota and returned. He said he missed the snow?! But the service we received everywhere we went was outstanding. It was a real change from the gum popping Flo's of the U.S.

The next morning, after our free breakfast at the hotel, we hit the beach! It is everything they say. Nicest beach I've ever been on and I have seen alot of beaches. They are raking the seaweed of the beach! Giving a whole new meaning to "beachcomber." The water is turquoise, warm, clear but not very good for body surfing. But I can look past that, as it is topless! Diane is too modest and refuses to let those puppies fly. She's afraid she'll end up on my website. I get sunburned, write postcards and take a short dip. She decides to get a massage from some Senora hawking them as she walks around. The woman promptly rubs her the wrong way and just about leaves bruises while trying to "relax" her. The old men on the beach enjoy the show though.

Later in the day we take the ferry over to Cozumel Island. It's a 45-minute ride, but they have TV! Unfortunately, all they show is Mexican commercials :( We reach Cozumel, the scuba diving capital of the world with some of the finest duty-free shopping in all of South America and we decide to rent a moped and see a lighthouse? The island is 28 miles long and 11 miles wide and only 3% is inhabited. We get one moped and all I can think about is Gilligan is on a moped. Donning helmets and sunglasses we head off to high heaven with the swagger of Peter Fonda. Immediately while trying to negotiate the first turn I find that these things are goofy and I almost run into a parked taxi. Diane's confidence in me has now plummeted and she realizes that she is with more of a Heel Angel than a Hells Angel. I finally start to get the hang of it and we are on our way to a 65 km roundtrip odyssey to the vaunted lighthouse. We make it out of the city and we are flying (60km/hr=40mph). There's a magnificent beach that we stop and take pictures of and Diane takes a soon to be famous photo of me, the Geeky Rider. After arriving at the lighthouse, we find out it is closed and we cannot even see it from the gate. Alas, all for nada. Back on the road, it is getting dark. It begins to feel as if I'm water-skiing on land. Bugs are smacking us in the face and it is getting cold. After a few more tense moments we make it back. I vow to stay off even a lawn mower for the rest of my days. We eat at an outdoor cafe, where I finally eat my first Mexican dish, beef burrito...daring, huh? I buy some more phony money (pesos) and shop until I plop. We take the ferry back as we bid adieu to Cozumel.

The next morning after arising early we are on our way to the Mexican version of Disneyland! It is called Xcaret and no one knows what it means. It is eco-park on the coast, south of Playa Del Carmen (Carmen Beach). It has an aviary, aquarium, zoo, ruins, chapel, shops, arena, stages, and a scuba area. It would probably take three days to see it all. It costs $47.00 to get in. That's U.S. dollars! But its real claim to fame is the underground river. You snorkel through caves with various openings as fish swim below you. It is the only place in the world you can do this. After some arm twisting, I convince Diane to jump in this freezing cold water for this adventure. If you know Diane, you know what an achievement this is. The river just goes on and on and it is real blast, a real highlight in this week of highlights.

After this we head to the ball court to watch them play the ancient Mayan game of Pok-te-Pok. It is the bizarre game of using an eight-pound soccer size ball and using only your hips to put it through a concrete ring. The players are all dressed in Mayan garbs and it must be the most difficult thing I've ever seen in sports. Except Tiger's Grand Slam, of course. They used to sacrifice the losers. That is what sports needs today. Later on, they perform a bunch of pagan rituals under the shadow of the Christian chapel.

At night the place transforms into a carnival like festival of lights with luminaria dotting all the ruins and the caves. They herd you into an outdoor amphitheatre where they perform all of Mexico's ritual dances in a huge stage production. It ranges from the sublime to the bizarre and I am disappointed when no one does the Mexican Hat Dance.

Our last day in Mehico! We drive to Cancun to catch the tail end of Spring Break. Cancun is one massive hotel/resort. I can barely find the beach because of all the hotels. We take some pictures there and then stop to check out a mall. It is an outdoor mall and the nicest one I've ever seen. Gucci, Rolex, Bennetton all have stores here. They also have an aquarium there, where I pet a shark! I am now officially macho! The texture is very grainy and scary.

Later that night we have a fancy dinner at a restaurant on the lagoon. They sauté our meal right at the table. The waiter gives Diane a Mexican surprise, a tarantula! He grabs it before I have it for dessert (just making sure you are paying attention). He apologizes by making her a toilet paper rose. Didn't smell real nice though. We head next door and run into some seventeen-year-old spring breakers. Once again we have encountered the "Ugly Americans." They're obnoxious, loud and we are old, so we leave. We have to catch a 6:24 AM flight out of paradise.

As we bid adios to our southern neighbors I wish to share some of the lessons I learned here: 1.) Never, ever drive in Mexico. 2.) Don't drink the water. The guy in front of us on the plane home was near death and had to have an ambulance meet him. 3.) Don't eat the lettuce either. 4.) The Mexicans are very nice with a great sense of humor. 5.) Most of the Americans I met down there were an embarrassment. 6.) Mexican Radio is not all it is cracked up to be.

Look for photos soon to be published at:
www.steelcactus.com

Adios Amigos!
Danny Rapido