Letter To Dad, 2

Dear Dad,

    Just back from Mexico for Nadia's senior trip. Cancun has left a number of different impressions. First of all, the sea. A line of blue that is bluer than Turquoise. Closer, a line of green that is faded lime but not the dry white color tone of fading but flowing, alive and opaque.

     Curls of white wave starting and smoothing at least every second blazed to shiny by a sun glowing from humidity.  This sea landing on a sand surface hard enough to feel like cement walking but soft enough to go barefoot. Loud. Water with power; water landing on water, on sand, pushing people down or aside, slapping them in the face  with salt. The bossy power of water.

    I took some walks on the beach, alone and with friends. People watching the couples holding hands, college age groups of men and women, giggling, walking and smiling. Old nut brown people whose faces looked like they were enjoying their paradise.

    The jungle and zip lining. Not like a jungle more like thick brush. Lethal looking green from just slightly above. My heart never settled down for an hour. Not like flying more like suspension with the whirring sound of metal calipers against rope. Your granddaughter loved it.

    Ray and I went sailing in a lagoon. Deep green water warm enough to bathe in but not feel clean.  A freshening wind gusting at times. and with the quiet of sailing, a feeling of peace.

    Swimming in a sinkhole. Another deep green with carved limestone sides. Cold fresh water softened. Smooth pond surface. Taking turns jumping or zip lining in.

    And the Mexican people. I know you have said travel should be about the people. But, rightly and sadly so, the Mexican people I met were distant, friendly and on professional behavior. My guess is there are so many of us moving through. There is little point in establishing more than friendliness. It's odd to feel like part of a herd; animals being moved from place to place or cared for. But that was what it felt like. The downside of an all inclusive resort, I suppose.

    I didn't have/make time for forays into the Mexican culture, except for Chichinitza. We spent four hours or so there getting a sense of the fanatical sacredness and genius level mathematical precision of the temples while ignoring literal hordes of people trying to sell us noisy toys, blankets, jewelry etc. The whole experience some twisted combination of two elements; ancient fanaticism and the sacred, mathematically set stones and human sacrifice, people trying to sell junk and people living in the jungle outskirts, in extreme poverty. Guilt and resentment. Awe and dismay.

    The rest of the trip watching your granddaughter be happy; with her friends, with us, with the beach, the sea, with all the things we did. Watching happiness and being happy is good.

Margot