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From: anya@rocketmail.com
:
http://www.geocities.com/Athens/Academy/5206/dream.htm
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my toaster
(just out of spite and mean character) decided to burn the
bagel which was the only breakfast/lunch/dinner for that day.
Then, the wonderful aroma of burnt bagel has been spreading
around the hall, until it reached one of my "lovely" neighbors,
who decided to share this interesting fact with dorm's securi
ty. After hearing the knock on my door, I opened the window,
almost threw the treacherous toaster out on the street (from
the fifth floor, that is), and sprayed as much parfume as I
could to cover up the accident (the room smelled like Poeme for
the next two weeks. no comments). "The innocent girl"-act
worked with security, so they never found out that I AM the bad
bad person who doesn't know how to use electrical appliances
(technology, what can I do? I'm out of fashion), and then I was
able to grab my bags and run to the airport.
Newark airport is pretty nice,
- - .
(Lord, or whoever else is up there, I humbly thank you
for stupidity and ignorance of US immigration authorities who
let me out and then let me into this country with invalid
Ukrainian passport. Lord, grant those people some more igno
rance and kindness towards our poor immigrant souls. Amen.)
The plane was small, like really small - which was a bit alarm
ing. Even though we were supposed to leave at 8:30 p.m., we ac
tually left an hour later because the pilot was in the mood to
practice his skills - like K-turns, U-turns, and all other
turns - probably not considering that some of us actually want
ed to get to Cancun.
Well, after 4 more hours, we landed in the country of palm
trees, beautiful sea, large sombreros, and tequila (the stereo
types are working alright, can't you tell?) Another hour - we
got a stamp, allowing our admission to the country (the immi
gration people were really surprised to see "Ukraine" in the
"citizenship" line, have they ever heard of my motherland?),
pushed a button to prove that we aren't bringing anything ille
gal (God, it's so ridiculous! The customs person tells you "if
you swear that you don't have anything prohibited, push the red
button" - of course, you push the button, then the green light
lights up - and you are free to enter Mexico. Circus.), got our
luggage - and finally got out into some fresh night air. God,
it was around 25 degrees Celcius (a nice change from cold and
grey New York!). After paying 18 bucks for a great pleasure of
being stuffed in a little van with a bunch of other travellers,
we were off to discover Cancun.
Yes, I admit, I am one of those people who work for liv
ing, and I don't have a lot of extra money either (sponsors and
donations are always welcome) - so, obviously, I didn't stay in
Sheraton or Hyatt. Nope, it was much simpler - youth hostel,
but before I will go on to description of our youth hostel to
scare you a bit, I'd rather think of our first glance at Cancun
in the darkness of the night.
Actually, Cancun consists of two parts: hotel zone and
downtown. Hotel zone: lots of hotels (duh?), lots of tourists,
lots of American college kids who form one body with a bottle
of beer in one hand, and tequila shot - in another (and I am
not judgmental, not at all?!), and beaches, beaches, beaches.
Downtown: market ( , ),
more authentic hotels, some stores, restaurants, and the real
Mexican people (isn't it what you come to Mexico for?).
Hotel zone ,
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strangers sharing this luxury with us. The front desk person -
Rodrigo-Miguel-Fernando ( ) was always
nice and smiling, although God knows what he was thinking of
two "American" girls who were trying to explain something in a
mixture of English, Spanish and French. The staff of the "ho
tel", consisting of two middle-aged guys who liked to stare at
tourists, usually just hung out in the cool lobby watching car
toons on TV.
The first two days we just walked along the shore, unable
to believe that it IS summer all around us. But our Spartan at
titude soon expired, and we went Downtown to find ourselves a
"decent" hotel. , - ,
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. And then, when two "American" girls
are walking on the street, the drivers probably think of us as
of two poor little brainless females who just cannot walk a
couple of feet all on their own (now, that's a compli
ment!) and every two minutes you hear nice and suggestive:
"Senorita! Taxi!" ,
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but let's admit it: when people are constantly smiling to you,
offering you dinner at a restaurant (for the price twice as
high, of course), or inviting you to night clubs - it's pleas
ant, naturally. Tourism is the only way for the town to make
some money - so, somebody's gotta pay that money. Well, sorry
to disappoint them, that "somebody" wasn't us.
Our first night out, we got caught by a promise of "real
Mexican cuisine". Well, first, the restaurant was full of white
American tourists , the dinner was tiny
but, I guess, the high price was supposed to compensate for the
lack of food. And "only for two beautiful senoritas", we got
two really bad margaritas. Well, Lord, thank you for that warn
ing - we got smarter afterwards. The next evening we went to
the Mexican part of the town - narrow, dark streets, bars, men
drinking outside and passing comments (drinking, huh? is
this some kind of subconscious pull to our "native Russian"
culture, stereotypically thinking?) So, we stopped at this
little restaurant - "El Quelito" on Avenida Uxmal. A little
place, with tables on the street, and pictures of some nice
vegetable family: Dad - Potato, in sombrero, of course, Mom -
tomato, etc. (po-vidimomu, posledovateli Chippolino) But
it's not important. The bomb was the great food and Roger, the
one and only waiter. The food . . . well, it was the first time
we had authentic Mexican food - and it was awesome! Now, you
just can go back to Taco Bell, no way. Well, once again, "the
two beautiful senoritas" got a free shot of tequila with Sprite
- was it really free or was Roger too hospitable and trying
to get us drunk? Who knows, but that was rather interest
ing.
By the way, I've never been called "beautiful" that many
times in my entire life. Of course, nice attitude sells, and,
perhaps, it's just part of the business - but God, it works!
After a couple of days we already believed that we are truly
unique and beautiful (just like any other white girl vaca
tioning in Cancun). , ,
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Roger. Just like any other waiter in Cancun, he invited us to
have dinner at his restaurant. The first time we had dinner
there - it was just a small talk: US blah blah blah, Cancun
blah blah blah, Americans blah blah blah etc. Roger lived in
the US for awhile, so we had a lot to talk about. Well, the
second time we went there for dinner, the topic of conversation
gradually switched to young people, relationships, then smooth
ly to drugs, and then, to criminal justice system in the United
States. It appeared that our good friend Roger was a crack ad
dict who spent three years in Florida prison for murder.
Whether he really killed that person, we don't know.
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drug free life.. I guess, that was the person that we won't
forget easily after coming back to New York.
Our life was absolutely beauitful. Why? Because we were
doing NOTHING! Usually, we got up early in the morning, went to
the supermarket to get rolls, fruit and yogurt and took a bus
to the beach. Rolls - the bread there actually HAS TASTE! (un
like its American version) and it's really cheap. Even if we
were really poor, we could have survived only on bread.
Fruit - well, there goes the story: the tap water in Mexi
co is bad, which means you have to wash fruit with spring water
(and it can appear rather costly after a while). So, the whole
time we had only bananas and kiwi. And I'd say it was pretty
good.
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- Senorita, buy this nice little necklace for your
boyfriend!
(Well, that "little necklace" somehow really reminded a
thick collar - my boyfriend is not a dog!
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- Senorita, buy a bracelet! (
5 , "No, gracias")
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- What?!! Senorita, you spent all of OUR mon
ey?! ( .
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- Senorita, give me just 5 Mexican minutes!!
You thought that one minute anywhere in the world has 60
seconds? You were wrong! In Mexico time goes on slowly,
nobody's rushing to make money - this is not America. "Five
Mexican minutes" could last for a couple of hours.
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Well, Thank God, or thank my friend Bella - but in an hour
we got a good room in a pretty nice hotel in the center of
downtown Cancun. For those who know (does this sound impor
tant, or what?), we stayed in Hotel Colonial (conveniently
located across from Pizza Hut, vending machine with Fanta and a
bunch of restaurants where "amigos" in large sombreros sand
some serenades and tear-jerking songs for American tourists ev
ery evening. - A week ago I think I saw the same "amigos"
singing in New York subway. They looked a bit more worn and
tired, and their sombreros lost all color and golden decora
tions. Or maybe it was only my imagination....)
We even had a fridge with a bottle of wine left by previ
ous tenants and a TV. It had only 4-5 channels (not that we
could understand anything!), but with our luck they only thing
on TV for that couple of days was some kind of outdated Van
Damme marathon. Go figure. The rest was either American sitcoms
and shows or old movies, or one of the many Mexican soap operas
( " " " " ...)
One of the most beautiful things about Cancun was La Isla
Mujeres (ostrov zhenschin). Of course, there were organized
trips there, with unlimited drinks and food on the boat, and
other perks. , , ,
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count on life experience of a person, who saw only Odessa, New
Jersey, and New York beaches. Not an expert.)
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. . . Call it whatever you want, but it
was absolutely beautiful. We spent there two days - out last
days in Cancun. And now when we think of the Caribbean, we al
ways remeber the beauty of Island Mujeres.
At the end of the second day on the island, there was
this terrible rain. We, and a bunch of people were standing on
the pier, waiting for the ferry to return to Cancun. It came,
played a little bit of music, and after a brief announcement to
the public that it's broken, the ferry turned around and went
to Cancun. Empty. The crowd of waiting people remained standing
on the pier under the cold rain. Then there came another tour
boat for the "chosen" ones, who where "to enjoy the sightsee
ing" in this "beautiful" weather. So, that was a rather ironic
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This represents only the Author's opinion of Cancun, and
is not meant to be offensive towards anybody.
Last-modified: Mon, 14 Feb 2000 17:21:14 GMT