Day 6 - A Journey Around the Island

Yesterday we woke up early, slammed some breakfast and hopped in the rental car for an excursion around the island. Our car was a tiny little Dodge Something-or-other, but it was sufficient. The day was again gorgeous. Occasional clouds played with the sun's rays all day, casting shadows and streams of light all around. We drove south, and instantly we became apparent of the island's size after having traversed half the island in under twenty minutes. Our first stop was a makeshift reggae bar, alone by a mile in each direction. Local ladies had tables of crafts and shells, necklaces by the hundreds. Inside the bar were hundreds of t-shirts of all sorts, crass, crude, funny, inspiring. Tourists in Jeep's buzzed around us in swarms, everyone looking for whatever anybody else had found that might be worth looking at. The beach was staggering. Long strips of white, littered with harsh rocks and pounded by an unrelenting coast. The waves were much larger here, though still not surpassing more than a couple feet in break.

A few miles farther down the road we stopped again to put our feet in the soft sand, and warmed our skin under the sun. Trish hunted for shells and we all silently tried to ingest the sights and sounds of a beach no one knew when we would see again. Young faced, camo-clad soldiers with brand new machine guns passed back and forth in oversized trucks, drinking cokes.

Our next stop was again a beach bar, this one had no theme, seeming to know that people don't drink beers because Bob Marley said they should. We enjoyed terrifically spicy pico de gallo on fresh fried chips, and washed them back with slightly cold Dos Equis and lime. Our only major target was the San Gervasio ruins in the center of the island, and after our cervesas headed that way.

The island just past the beach is a jungle so thick light does not pass through, and after rounding the southern most tip of the island, this same jungle guarded our view of the easterly side. We pulled into the entrance of the ruins where an older gentleman helped us park and explained prices to us. $6.50 a head got us in the door, and after bartering, we paid a handsome price for mosquito spray and ventured off.

I am very glad I had brought my camera, because words can't really describe the sights. They are not overpowering structures, most of them smaller than a two-story house. However, their significance was clearly apparent. Pathways over a thousand years old guided us between presumed temples to presumed houses. Beaten down over the ages by rain and wind, it is hard to picture anything man has made in the last century that could withstand the pressures of nature so steadfastly. We stopped and read that historians have deduced that at one time, this city was the heart of the island. Acting as both a spiritual and political center, roads going north-south and east-west were extremely active trade lines from coast to coast. Mayan women treated this spot as a spiritual pilgrimage of fertility, and it is thought that all Mayan women were expected to make the journey to the island at least once. Crossing back and forth between the structures, I tried as hard as my imagination would allow to picture that time. I tried to see the brimming city, with adults and children scampering about. Straining, I attempted to picture the millions of footsteps the same path I was walking had endured. It was a truly beautiful place, with butterflies, more beautiful than any artist could have conjured, dancing about. My brain felt like a soggy sponge. It was time to go.

Back in the car we headed north again back towards downtown, where we ate at the equivalent of a Mexican Denny's, and treated ourselves to the harassment of a hundred shop keepers. I picked up a Mexican soccer jersey for a friend, along with a few trinkets, and back we went to the hotel where I was physically and mentally drained more than I have been this entire week. At first I could not place why.. and then it came all at once.

It is the conundrum of luxury, the duplicity of our existence. We profess to love all man and yet we casually overlook the homeless man digging through the trash on our way to groomed sand and white beach chairs. I cannot and will not ever see indulgence for its face value. I know that are a great many people kept purposefully out of sight who's existence is based on our end trails, and who without we would have none of what we know. These are the heroes of the world, and nobody, not even they, know it. I sat on a scrubbed tile balcony, looking through a glass railing with polished stainless steel fixtures, and I felt horrible. I didn't deserve this any more than the man digging through the trash, yet here I was. I ached. And so I did the only thing I could do, I turned on the TV and tried as hard as I could to wash away the feelings. Trish and Kim found me unresponsive on their journey to a hot tub, and I sat alone, self-ostracizd, self-loathing. Sad. And I slept.

I woke later feeling better, my only solace being that I had indeed discovered the cause of my despair. But that was not enough. I needed a plan, an action. An agenda. I remembered why I fell in love with photography in the first place. To communicate what I saw, to bring my eyes to others. So I will. I hope that this blog will show that I am capable of telling a story. And as much as I enjoy snorkeling and pool-side rum, my true passion still lies with the forgotten man who strives everyday not for happiness but for existence. I do not profess that those who live in luxury are immoral, or that everyone who lives in a state that is not luxurious is looking to have their story told. But for those that are, or those who could benefit, I would love to help their cause. Because their cause is my cause.

Good night.

Day 5 - New Years Day

This shall be a short and easy entry. Today was a day of rest, as it should be after a night like last night. I woke up at 9, treated myself huge helpings of coffee and orange juice. Kim, Trish and I camped out on the beach for hours, casually exchanging stories, and reading our books of choice. Eventually we mustered up the energy to walk the 30 feet to have lunch and cervasas. I had wonderfully cooked salmon and scallops, though I'm fairly sure neither of which are local to the area. Meandering over to the lobby-side pool, we read and took a long siesta.

The sun seemed tired, too, and glad to be able to retire quickly behind the clouds. Tomorrow we are off to explore the island by car, for which I'm very excited, as I need to say more of this place than just what has been groomed for me to see. I want to see something real.

New Year's Eve - Day 4

New Year's Eve

We woke up to another beautiful morning. Breakfast was fast, for we had plans to go parasailing. A few quick bites and we ran down to the dock. Being early, Kim, Kim's sister Trish, and I had the boat to ourselves. Two very quiet and equally nice gentleman escorted us a few hundred yards out into the sea. I swear that not more than 20 words were spoken by these men, and Kim and I were strapped to a huge parachute. I have to say, that for the risk involved, the casual manner in which our guides handled it calmed my nerves instantly. They made it seem like we were going for a walk in the park, and just like that Kim and I were ten feet, thirty, sixty, a hundred feet in the air.


The only sound that high up was the sound of wind rustling around our ears. I kept looking up at the parachute nervously, but it held. Cozumel is a beautiful island, and I was very glad I was able to see it from the air as I did not get much of a glimpse from the plane. The coast line is dotted with resorts and hotels, but not a half a mile in the entire island is nothing but green. It looked like row and rows of broccoli. Beautiful. Smartly, we left Kim's camera on the boat -duh- however Trish brought her thinking cap and brought hers, so this picture is courtesy of Trish Shepherd. The water is staggeringly clear, from two hundred feet up we were spotting fish. Kim and I really didn't say much, as not much needed to be said. For just a few moments I thought I might know what it was like to be a bird. But I remembered that birds probably don't know what its like to be a bird, and the moment passed.

Back on shore, with the rental car idea out the window, we had no plans and killed hours nursing cocktails. Feeling restless, the three of us had seen a monstrously big inflatable rock climbing thingy, a good 15 feet high. I am childishly drawn to anything I can climb on. I was able to scale it only a couple times before the fun police on a kayak informed me that I was naive to assume anything was free, and we retreated.


All now was in place for New Year's Eve. The resort really put on a show for us. Bamboo shoots 20 feet long held paper lamps and long strips of tapestry. A dance floor was placed in the middle, and everyone was given handmade ceramic shot glasses for the bountiful tequila. The evening began slowly, with everyone waiting for somebody to do something, anything. Finally the ice on the dance floor was broken by a few brave souls and the night from there is a blur of tequila shots, dancing, and unbuttoned inhibitions. Sweaty, full of tequila, and hiccuping loud enough to wake the entire island, I dragged Kim into the ocean for a late night dip before retiring to sleep off the celebration. I could not have picked a better way to spend the christening of this new year.