Maybe I Don’t Speak Spanish After All
So, I managed to make my way into Mexico without much issue. The main things you’ll like to hear about are the following:
- My beard is gone, and I still have a face
- I had to wake up before my alarm to put my laundry in the dryer
- My alarm was set for 5:15am
- I got to the airport with one hour before departure, a little nerve racking
One instance I would like to elaborate on is my arrival in Mexico and my attempt to arranging a ride to my Cancun hostel. First off, I arrived in the Cancun International Airport (CUN) and proceeded to customs. The woman asked me if I spoke Spanish, in English mind you, and I responded with “Un poco.” The first word to come out of her mouth was “Cigaros?” Reading this word now, what she meant seems completely obvious but apparently my ear is not tuned into Spanish as much as I thought. I thought she was saying some weird conjugation of seguir, which means to continue or to follow. I gave her a look of confusion and she said “Cigars? Do you have any cigars?” Wow, que gringo soy. We continued in English to say the least.
Then I took out some pesos and hopped into a taxi with some other travelers for $150. That went fine, I gave the driver a small tip, noting that speaking a bit of Spanish with him gave me a measurable amount of respect. Then I was shown my less than stellar room, which is a two bed private room for $180. I think I’m getting what I pay for in that this place was very last minute and I’m occupying a room meant for two people at $90 each.
One quick note, I’m going to be meeting a friends of Tyler’s friend (Eva) tomorrow and staying with them until Eva shows up on Friday. The catch, I didn’t realize they were in Cozumel, an hour’s drive from Cancun. So what I should have done was get a hostel in Playa del Carmen to shorten my travels. Oh well, tomorrow the plan will be to get my ass to Playa, hop a ferry to Cozumel, meet people, and perhaps grab a SIM card for my phone. If not, I’ll probably let the friends control my activities for the rest of my time in this part of Mexico.
Photo proof, beard is gone, face remains.
