My two besties, Mary and Scott, have been talking about planning a vacation for months now.  We have almost everything pinned down- time off from work has been secured and budgets are fairly well figured out.  However, there is one tiny little issue still remaining- where to go.

The original plan was Iceland, but I think we’ve all decided that we need something a little…  warmer.  We had decided on Argentina at one point, but then Scott had the nerve to get an assignment at work that kept him committed to stay in New York through March, and airfare went up by $400 or so in the meantime.  Total fail.  However, the world is a big wonderful place and we still have lots of options.  Here’s what we’re looking at right now-

• Peru- Definitely intriguing, but we are worried that we may not be able to do the Inca trail this year thanks to recent mudslides.  Lima would definitely offer some actual city life, which could be a good thing in between hiking and exploring.
• Costa Rica- I feel like everybody I know has been to Costa Rica lately, but they all seem to dig it.  Pros: We could gets lots of suggestions of what to do and where to go; also, it’s supposed to be ridiculously beautiful, it has the cheapest airfare on our list (at least for me).  Cons: Possibly too touristy, more expensive to get around.
• Panama- Mary found this awesome article that describes Panama as a “more rustic” Costa Rica.  I would love to see the Canal and do some island-hopping, but I know absolutely nothing about Panama otherwise- not that that is necessarily a bad thing.

So those are the main contenders- does anybody have any experiences or opinions?  Weigh in!  Make decisions for me!

On our last day in Mexico, we decided to set out for a little adventure.  Just me, Mike, our Dodge Accent and the open road.

Well, “road” may be overstating it.  We decided to attempt the drive to Punta Allen, a tiny (even tinier than Tulum) fishing village about 45 kilometers south of Tulum.  I say “attempt” because every guide book or travel article I had read said you needed a 4 wheel drive vehicle, preferably a Jeep, to make it.  The only route to Punta Allen involves driving down a dirt road through the Sian Kaan Biosphere, a World Heritage Site famous for it’s gigantic lagoon and jungle.  Considering we were driving a teensy Dodge Accent that wasn’t exactly outfitted for extreme conditions, we knew there was a good chance that we might be getting into some trouble.

Thankfully, guide books are full of crap and mostly designed to trick you into paying for unnecessary tours.  We were golden.  And we only got stopped by the Federalis once!

We stopped at the Sian Kaan visitors center.  It was too windy that day to see any real sea life (the lagoon is populated by dolphins and manatees!), but the view from the top was amazing.

I tried to find out if there was ANY chance of seeing manatees without actually going on a boat.  There wasn’t.

So we took a picture on the dock, skipped the boat tour (which saved us $100 and mike vomiting over the side of the dingy.)

And we took off on our adventure.

It was a perilous journey.  But our brave little Dodge Accent made it through the dirt road.

We drove and drove and drove.

We braved the threat of dangerous creatures.

And we only ran into the Federalis twice!

And then we got hungry.  At the Sian Kaan visitor’s center, the guide told us about a little fishing bungalow called Sol Caribe on the way to Punta Allen that had really good food- so we stopped.

There was nobody there.

So we started to walk back to the car.  Then a short American guy shouted at us from the beach and asked us what we were doing.  We told him that somebody had told us to eat there but that the place must not be open so we were leaving, but he shook his head and told us that he was the owner and they were open, but nobody else was there.  Then he asked us what we wanted to eat.

We were a little sketched out to say the least, but Mike asked for a menu anyway.  The guy laughed and said there was no menu- just tell him what we wanted to eat.  I asked what they had on hand and he told me they had gotten some really good shrimp that morning.  I was still confused, but he seemed so excited to see people that we decided to split a plate of shrimp.  What the hell, right?  It was pretty.  So we wandered around the empty beach while he made us food.

Mike found a quality walking stick.

When we got back, the owner offered me a margarita and I decided that he was good people.

Um, if you can’t tell by the look on my face, the margarita was really, really strong.  Like, I got nervous hearing him make it. It was delicious though.)

Later that day I realized that we had basically set ourselves up to be killed in some horror movie universe- we wandered into an abandoned beach shack, some strange guy offered to feed us and then tried to get me drunk.  Really, the day should have ended with our bodies being thrown off a boat out in the Atlantic Ocean somewhere.

Thankfully though, that didn’t happen.  Instead of killing us, he brought us some awesome food:

Alive and full, we set off to Punta Allen.  It was indeed a VERY small town.  But great for wandering and photo-taking.

hehe.

After some wanderings, we headed back.  We stopped at some tide pools, looked at crabs, I peed on the side of the road (thank you mr. margarita) and we stopped on another beach to take a 2 hour nap.  And then we saw THE GREATEST AD IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD:

I have nothing more to say about that, other than it was the perfect end to a fabulous day.

I know I’ve been going on and on about our vacation, but you’ll have to endure one or two more post before I finally shut up about it.  Only two more- I promise.  Then I’ll get back to chronicling our slightly more monotonous and definitely colder day to day non-adventures in Seattle.

When you think Mexican food, you generally think of the typical stuff- tacos, burritos and anything with salsa and guac.  Maybe throw in some ceviche for a bit of good measure and you’re set.  Well, we definitely ate all of that, but we also had some of the best Italian food either of us have ever had.

I know, I know- you’re sitting there thinking “Italian food?”  And you’re probably silently judging us for being the stupid tourists who go to another country and don’t take advantage of local eating options.  (Well, you’re probably judging ME and thinking that you’re still rather impressed that Mike made it through the entire trip without finding a Weinerschnitzel.)  Well, before you totally judge (or just laugh at my habit of projecting my insecurity on anonymous readers), let me preface it by telling you that we had set out to go eat some ceviche on the beach, but our original destination was closed for a wedding so we decided to check out the place next door, Posada Margherita .  Mostly because there was a flower on the sign, and it was close.  We were hungry.

We wandered into a tiny patio in the middle of some beachfront cottages- so far, so good.  There were about 10 tables and we were told to just sit down wherever we wanted, so we did.  A waiter came by a few minutes later, and instead of giving us a menu, he sat down at the empty chair and listed about 5 options.  Once he said “fresh tagliatelle” for the third time, I realized that we had wandered into an Italian joint.  I was a bit confused.  (His heavy Italian accent probably should have tipped me off as well).

At this point I woke from my low-blood-sugar-induced stupor and looked around.  I realized that we were sitting next to a gorgeous wine cellar and were surrounded by older couples who were all dressed with at least a hint of Eurotrash- heavy on the ascots and flowing silk scarves.  I suddenly suspected that we had sat down to a meal that was going to cost more than what we had intended.

So I did the dumbest, most embarrassing, Ugly-American thing I’d done in a while- I interrupted our waiter and asked how much the meals he had listed actually cost (no prices had been mentioned).  He paused, gave us the prices in pesos, and said he’d come back to take our orders in a minute.  Meanwhile, I did some math and realized we were talking about $30 a plate- not something I’d bat an eye at for a nice meal in Seattle or LA, but in the land of $3 ceviche, it suddenly seemed REALLY expensive.

While we debated whether or not we wanted to really complete the embarrassment and leave, the table next to us got our food.  Mike took one look at the feast in front of them and told me to stay in my seat, order whatever I wanted and get some wine for good measure.  I was confused.  And then I remembered- my husband is a whore for lobster.

So here is what the most expensive meal in Tulum looks like:

the complementary meze platter. love at first sight.

my grilled prawns. heaven.

the lobster that stole mike's heart. magic amazing seafood bliss.

Seriously, if you are ever in Tulum and you want an amazing meal, go to Posada Margherita.  Eat pasta in Mexico without shame.  Yum.

After spending $70 on dinner on Saturday, we ate for $8 on Sunday.  And it was super good too, if not a tad more authentic.

if this face doesn't say happy (or homicidal maniac) i don't know what does

This post encompasses everything that is good about vacation food.

Ok, I have one more post to share about our vacation, and then it’s back to pictures of gray skies.  I promise.

Well, we weren’t actually on an island, and the beaches weren’t technically deserted (except once), but that’s how we felt most of the time on the beach last week.  See for yourself:

Ugh.  I want to go back.  Now.

The beaches in Tulum are GORGEOUS.  White sands, dramatic skies, clear water…  and this October, they were practically empty.

Looking at some of these pictures, I almost can’t believe we were actually there.  But we were.  I have proof.

I almost look tan!

this is how mike found relief from his 10,000 mosquito bites

See the bikes?  That’s how we got to the beach.  Note that my bike has a completely flat front tire.  I didn’t notice this until we had already rode half a mile, when I almost broke down in tears because it was SO hard to ride the freaking bike and I assumed that the only explanation was that I suddenly in the worst possible shape ever.  Mike switched bikes with me, immediately realized that the tire was busted, and then rode the broken bike back to get one with a functional tire.  (It was super chivalrous, but don’t worry, he still made fun of the me the rest of the way).

That particular beach trip must have been cursed though, because on the way back, Mike’s chain broke and we had to walk the bikes back.  It was dark and there were about 284,283,573 mosquitoes out and they all bit Mike.  I even got a few bites, and I am the person who brags about being “immune” to mosquitoes.  Dumb.

Thank god there is one foolproof cure for mosquito bites.

And all was right with the world.

After the cenote, we were both starving, and since we were heading towards Akumel, our guide’s home town, we asked him to take us somewhere where HE wanted to eat.

Victor chose well.

the best guacamole EVER.

mike's carnitas and victor's chicken fajitas. the restaurant was out of beef.

my ceviche- shrimp, octopus, fish and MORE avocado. mmmmm...

i LOVED this sign.

So after you eat a gigantic lunch, what’s better than showing off your bloated belly in a swimsuit?  Thankfully, the turtles we swam with didn’t seem to be too judgey.

Turtles weren’t the only thing we saw…

Stingrays are way to pretty to be so dangerous.  We didn’t know that they would be around, and as soon as I saw one, I had flashbacks to Vietnam and swam straight over to Mike to make sure he wasn’t having any post-traumatic-stress-disorder attacks.  (Addendum: Mike got bitten by a mystery sea creature on our honeymoon, which resulted in a 3 day stay in a rural hospital and his near death.  We don’t actually know what bit/stung/attacked him, but we both harbor some anxiety in the face of any poisonous aquatic creatures.)  (Stupid second addendum: Mike also has extra hatred for sting rays because he is still sad about the Crocodile Hunter dying.)

At this point, I wanted to see more sea life, so Victor took us to a lagoon where the fresh cenote water meets the salty ocean water.  It was possibly the most peaceful place I’ve ever been.

Victor said he was taking us somewhere where there were a lot of fish.  This was a VERY accurate description.

I spent most of the afternoon in the water.

Mike was tired, so he made friends with the nice 84-year-old British woman we met.  While I bonded with fish, he bonded with her- evidently she was on vacation with her son and daughter and law, who were snorkeling.  She lives in northern England and went to Egypt in January.  I think that now they’re penpals or something.

After I was completely raisin-ifed, we piled back in the car and left the lagoon.  We dropped Victor off at his house, which he had just finished building (I’m still pissed I didn’t take a good picture of us with him) and waved at his kids. Then we finally headed back to the hotel.

Next up: margaritas, broken bicycles, and LOTS of mosquitoes.

Thursday we woke up bright and early for our day of activity.  Tulum (and most of the Yucutan peninsula) is known for being ripe with all kinds of adventure friendly action- you can go snorkeling in sea caves called cenotes, see all kinds of awesome jungle and sea creatures, check out the canopy via zipline and explore Mayan ruins.  Rather than joining up with a group tour, we took advantage of the low season and found a flexible company called Edventure Tours, who set us up with a guide named Victor and an underwater camera.  Here are some of the best pictures from our liquid adventures:

First, we went ziplining.  This wasn’t exactly UNDER the sea, but rather, OVER a lagoon.  So water was involved.  and there is a picture of me hanging upside down.

This lagoon, like most of the places we went that day, were small pieces of land still owned and run by local Mayan tribes.  There are several other large cenotes and activity centers that are privately owned (the tribes sold off the land way too cheaply before the Yucutan became a big tourist mecca).  The big ones probably have more decorations and fancier accessories, but I liked the fact that our money went somewhere less gross than a big Disney-esque company.  I grew up in Orange County and own a house in Anaheim- Disney already has enough of my lifetime income.  Plus, it was pretty awesome to be able to get to talk to everybody one-on-one like this.

Suiting up.

Victor preps the ziplines.

You love the “brake” right?  Super high tech.

Mike looks more confident.

I think it’s obvious who does all the work in our relationship.

Return transportation.

After the high-flyin’ adventure we went for a quick swim with Victor.

Next, we headed to Cenote Dos Ojos, a nearby sea cavern.  There really are no words for how cool it was.

Dopeness

Next: turtles, sting rays, guacamole and the elderly.

We got back from Mexico Monday night.  Needless to say, as soon as the plane landed and we felt that first rush of cold air, we were both ready to hop on another plane and go back.  Mexico was awesome- thanks to the crap economy and swine flu paranoia, we spent four days frolicking on deserted beaches, hanging out with turtles, sting rays, barracudas and 80-year-old British women, and  consuming ridiculously fresh seafood and margaritas at ridiculously awesome prices.

So what are the basic ingredients for a successful vacation in Tulum?  Well, first of all, as soon as you land, you search out the car rental companies and find yourself a really sweet ride.

Then you immediately start making friends with the locals and force them to take stupid pictures with you.

Once you are settled in your transportation, you can start with the stupid self-portriats.

Tulum is about a 2 hour drive from the airport in Cancun.  While basking in the sunny weather and the pretty coastal drive, you find yourself already adjusting to the slower pace of life and even considering alternate career options.  After several hectic weeks of work, Mike was especially excited by this prospect:

Motorcycles AND all the crappy pizza you can eat?  What could be better?

Once we passed the madness of Cancun and the sprawl in Playa del Carmen, we noticed the pueblos we passed were getting smaller and smaller.  We knew we were getting close, and by 2:00 we found ourselves pulling up to what would be our home base for the next four nights- the Teetotum Hotel.  And no, I didn’t just pick it because of all the orange.  But that was a big selling point.

Teetotum is exactly what we were looking for- tiny (they only have 4 rooms), run by a super friendly, very casual group of ex-pats who are always willing to join you for a drink or tell you where to find the best local grub, and equpiped with comfy hammocks and mattresses that help you get some truly spectacular napping in.  And napping was the first thing we did that day- after a red eye flight, a 2 hour time difference and a long drive, we were both exhausted when we arrived and immediately settled in for one of those fantastic, incredibly deep mid-afternoon naps where you wake up not knowing what day it is, let alone what time it is, but since you’re on vacation, you don’t really care anyway.

It was a good start to a great trip.

Hi kids.

I made it back alive (and only slightly bruised, but that’s another story).  Last week I joined my two best friends, Mary and Scott; Mary’s sister, Deborah (who departed for her ridiculously awesome-sounding Semester at Sea on Friday); and a new friend, Jenny, for a fabulous stay in the Bahamas.  I’ll try and summarize with minimal long-windedness :

This is Deborah.  She called the comforter ahead of time to make sure that they matched:

This is my best friend Mary.  We also like to match:

This is my other favorite person ever, Scott:

This is Scott’s friend Jenny.  Jenny is AWESOME:

Highlights of the trip included…

dirty coconut cocktails and shark tunnels:

floating in the lazy river and sitting in the giant chair:

manta rays and self-portraits:

gangsta’ signs and rum runners:

the complete destruction of a 5 pound Hogfish at a restaurant called “The Poopdeck“:

and this little piece of evidence that we found at a trashy tourist bar called Senor Frog’s:

Evidently our favorite ingénue has a secret past that none of us ever knew about!