Mexican Road Trip: Kukulcan and American Football
The sun is going down and there are families everywhere. There are number of beach restaurants with music blaring and people dancing. There are no Gringos or Germans. Everyone is Mexican and most of the men are carrying a plastic bag with beer…just as we saw in the morning. Several inebriated guys shout out at me and invite me to their table for beer…I remark to Angelica that I just have friends everywhere I go. She whacks me and we walk down the beach. We can see Isla Mujeres off the coast and the big hotels of the Zona Hotelera across the other side. Families are eating their roasted chicken and ordering fried fish from the restaurants. I still see no Gringos. It’s Sunday and most workers only get Sunday off, so they try to stretch it as far as they can. It’s almost dark when we leave and the fiesta still continues…I’m sorry I have to leave my amigos behind, ha!
We drive back into town and out on Avenida Kulkulcan to the Zona Hotelera. What is amazing is the strip runs maybe 20 kilometers long and almost all the hotels are luxury ones…some under construction, some shut for hurricane repairs but all upper end. I keep wondering what is the attraction…the beaches are okay but nothing really special, especially after Hurricane Wilma. There is no gambling and Avenida Tulum is obviously a tourist trap…but somebody is staying here and paying lots of pesos to do so. Most of the California Chic I know look down on Can Cun much the same as they do Las Vegas; maybe the turistas are just all those snowbird New Yorkers and Chicagoans. And maybe the airport and reality are just too far from Valladolid for them…
It’s after 9:00 and we want a pizza so we stop at a Pizza Hut. The pizza is hot and delicious as is anything after not having it for months…they have a dozen or so motorcycles for deliveries and I look at the local map on the wall. It’s filled with hundreds of fraccionamentos or blocks that form a massive grid. The delivery boys are constantly referring to the map for their deliveries. They have far more deliveries than in store sales…
We drive back to the outskirts and the projects. We see young men on the street corners talking and gesturing to the passersby just as they do in projects back in the States. They are wearing imitation rap outfits and it looks out of place but all culture is relative and who am I to say?
When we get back to the apartment Paco is still at work and Pancha is ready for bed. She puts up hammocks for us, turns on the overhead fan and wishes us good night. I have napped in a hammock but never slept an entire night. I fall asleep thinking this is just one more in a log string of new adventures…
Later we buy some cochinita pibil, pork meat cooked in mild sauce, and have breakfast with tortillas and onion habanera salsa. Delicioso! Then it’s back to the Zona Hotelera by day.
I look hard at the luxury hotels and all the construction; some of it new, other repairs from Hurricane Wilma. As opposed to New Orleans, the locals seem to be doing most of the clean up work. No one has complained here about there being no jobs and everyone we meet works, works, and works some more. Usually six days a week; ten hours a day. One of the huge spin-off industries is feeding all these workers; even the women don’t have time to cook. What I first took for poverty in Pancha’s refrigerator wasn’t poverty so much as not having the time to cook. And we noticed the families are smaller, usually only one or two kids. A number of folks here have told us how hard it is to make it economically and that is the number one reason, not so much I think, as those that don’t work and have nothing to do all day but make babies. Those that work also want better for their children. And just like in California, the wife has to work.
I finally see my fill of tourists here in Can Cun. They seemed stressed and are not smiling. Maybe it’s the room rates…ha! Maybe the Americans flock here because of stress and all they want to do is lie on the beach, sleep and be tended to. So that may not be an accurate assessment of my fellow countrymen…but the contrast is stark. The post hurricane tourists are coming back and the Can Cun engine is cranking up again.
As we drive along the main drag, Kulculkan, I notice there are no places to pull over or park. Most of the hotels have guarded gates. There are a few shopping center type spots with parking but there are no parks or rest areas. Everything is geared to keeping the dollar paying tourists in and everyone else out. Near the end of the zona, a good ten miles away, we find a spot where the public can go to the beach. No Americanos. The families are Mexican and they are laughing and playing in the surf. The beach is nice but not spectacular and down the beach we can see the monster hotels a la Vegas. We stayed here many years back but it wasn’t as built up as it is now…
We drive back out of the Zona Hotelera and past the dour faced tourists and back into town. I want to go back to the beach near the ferries going to Isla Mujeres; the Mexican beach. It’s Monday and the locals are back at work; those at the beach today are Mexican tourists.
And once again the difference is striking. Entire families are on vacation; laughing playing, drinking beer and eating fried fish from the restaurants. A backside Can Cun holiday…I take some pictures and we go for a swim.
It’s nighttime and we drive back to Pancha’s. Paco is still working and she says one of the waiters is sick and he is working double shifts. I don’t even want to try and calculate how many hours that is…
It’s late but the kids are still out in the street playing and laughing and doing the things I did when I was a kid. They all have TV’s and probably video games but prefer each other’s company as the night brings lower temperatures. I am entertained watching them play.
Pancha introduces us to her sister Elena and says we are going several blocks over to visit her sister’s house. Elena works as a hotel maid and her husband as a busboy at a restaurant at the airport. To our surprise Elena shows us how to lock the doors of her matchbox house and gives us the keys. We will be staying here tonight. Paco and Pancha felt embarrassed at us having to sleep in hammocks in their tiny living room; I protest but to no avail. This is my Mexico; folks we don’t even know are giving us the keys to their house.
It’s warm and humid and we have the fan on full blast. Angelica is asleep in the hammock but I can’t sleep so I’m writing this. Some would say Can Cun is an obscenity and others would say it’s an economic development zone. Without Can Cun I’m sure there would be another several hundred thousand Mexicans crossing the border illegally. The purists would say that paying service labor 600 pesos a week while tourists pay $600 US a night is exploitation and maybe they are right. But folks like Paco and Pancha and Elena have work and would disagree; work, be it ever so humble, provides dignity and raises one out of poverty. One may be underemployed but at least one is employed…
We have run out of land in My Mexico and it’s also time to get back. It’s barely light and the workers are beginning to scurry out of the projects and back to the tourist areas. I step outside and hear music several houses down; two men dressed as waiters are clutching beer cans and fast asleep in their car. The heat and the sun will wake them up…
I’m already sweating and Angelica is up and it’s time to head back to Pancha’s for breakfast. Our road is calling and today it will be the Maya Riviera and more turista sights… I can’t wait to get back into the interior.
Jack D. Deal
