I have entered a wrinkle in time, where one day looks like
the other, so my muse is gone. Faced with an endless supply of food and drink
my survival instincts have gone dormant, and so have the sources of inspiration
for this blog.
After a morning that I cannot remember I got ready to go to
town, where I was going to visit with my cousin Paty. Town is 65 kilometers
from the resort, so it took me nearly an hour to get there. I was looking for
the coffee house La Parroquia de Veracruz,
named after the famous place in the port of Veracruz where, after the sun has
set and the temperature has refreshed, the locals go to drink a lechero (very dark coffee with lots and
lots of hot milk), eat a good piece of sweet bread, and chat with family and
friends until 2 am. My cousin was born in Veracruz, so it is not surprising she
chose this particular coffee house.
I knew that it was in Avenida Tulum, but was not quite sure
where exactly. Silly me, I was looking for the white arches of the original La Parroquia and didn’t see them
anywhere. So I pulled to the side and asked a lady, who looked at me with
amusement and pointing right behind her told me “This is it!” I guess my good
luck has not completely abandoned me.
Five minutes later Paty, her husband Pirri, and their
25-year old daughter Inés, arrived. I had not seen Paty in maybe 30 years, but
we were favorite cousins and in no time whatsoever were enjoying one of those
warm family conversations, reviewing the ups and downs of every family member
we could remember. Paty works as a real estate agent, her husband owns a small
cafeteria in one of the top gyms in Cancún, and Inés is an office manager. They
are all doing well, and send greetings to all in the family.
Afterward I went to the Cancún airport, where I had to pick
up our friend Christie and her daughter Marley. I had the recollection that the
airport had a single terminal, so imagine my confusion when I found out that
there were three different terminals! Now what? I did not have the terminal
number, and didn’t know what airline they were flying, so I had to do some
detective work. First I went to Terminal 4 and ascertained that all the 7 pm
flights came from Mexico City. I didn’t think they would have transferred in
Mexico City, so I went to Terminal 3, and found that there was a Volaris flight
coming from Los Angeles, and two Delta flights coming in from Los Angeles and
Phoenix. I eliminated the Mexican airline Volaris, and the Phoenix flight, and
concluded that the only reasonable option was the Delta flight from LA. I was
right.
Mind you, the arrivals gate in Terminal 3 is taken by taxi
and shuttle services, and friends and family are not allowed to be anywhere
close to the place where the passengers come out. I believe this is because the
very powerful taxis union is trying to make sure that Uber or Lyft do not steal
their passengers. “So how is my American friend going to know I am waiting for her
here, half a kilometer from the arrivals gate”, I asked with a frustrated voice
to the officious agent guarding the gate. “Oh, someone will direct them here”,
he assured me. Lo and behold, clever Christie navigated her way through the
gauntlet like a pro, and shortly before 8 pm we were on our way, and by 9 pm
they had been reunited with husband Jarred and son Kaleb. The Slates are now a
complete unit!
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