This is so hard.
I miss him.
I mean, knew I would but I didn't think it would be like this.
But it is.
It makes me feel like a fucking girl, damn it!
Damn you, Abernethy!
Damn you and your blue eyes!
And your pretty eye lashes!
And that balding head of yours that I've become so terribly fond of!
Fucker!
Le sigh.
I've only missed two other people like this in my life.
12 weeks to go.
Jesus Christ on a rubber crutch! I'll probably be making hair dolls of him by then.
Saturday, May 28, 2005
How did I get to this place again? This state of fear? This fear of loss? Here's goood ol' Desire bringing Despair in tow behind her once again to dance all over my heart.
Once upon a time I believed in the goodness of people. I believed that people were, for the most part, honest and considerate. I labeled myself as "good", someone who would never hurt another and who would never be dishonest. I believed in true love. I believed that things were "meant to be". I was optimistic and the world was beautiful and full of opportunity.
Then human nature reared it's ugly head and I became aware of the fallible nature of humanity. I became deceitful and hurtful to someone and he became deceitful and hurtful to me. We went round and round like this for a number of years. Finally, at the end, we were both left tired and damaged. I carried away with me an underlying mistrust of humankind. A lack of faith in the individual's ability to be honest and faithful. My faith, my hope, and my optimism were poisoned. Tainted with cynicism, mistrust, and fear. It hurt so much and I was so empty.
I never wanted to risk hurting like that again. So up until this past December I'd been dating or "seeing" people with whom I knew that I would never have a long term, stable relationship. Men that weren't available to that type of committment. That way, I couldn't hurt them and they couldn't hurt me.
But in December, I met Colin. I talked to him via email and AOL for a couple a' weeks before we met for dinner. And I stressed over and over that I was done "dating" and that I was just looking for a friend. At dinner that night, as we were conversing and I was looking across the table into his beautiful blue eyes, I felt things clicking. And later, after dinner, when he opened and closed my car door for me, it was there again. But I panicked. I wasn't ready for the click. I feared too much. And so I latched onto the fact that he is a bit shorter than I as an excuse for not dating him.
We remained friends, seeing each other about once a week. But we became friends who, one night after drinks, had a sexual encounter. And then friends who occassionally cuddled. On Valentine's Day, we hung out watching movies, since neither one of us had a Special Someone. It was late when the movies were done and so I crashed at his place. I stressed that I didn't want to have sex. That I knew that sex, in the past, had been my opiate...a way of feeling better about myself and things for a moment. I refused to use him and to allow myself to continue this behavior. And he honored my request, never pressuring me, always respecting me. He just asked to hold me. And so we slept that night side by side in his bed, arms around each other, feeling safe and cared for.
The next morning he told me I was beautiful and that he loved waking up next to me. The sincerity in his eyes and in his voice made me pause in wonder. He then asked me to go to brunch with him...to spend the afternoon with him. I said I couldn't possibly because I needed to brush my teeth and shower and needed to go home to do that. He made me stay in bed and he went down the street to Family Dollar and bought me a toothbrush, my own towel, and shampoo. And it hit me, "Wow. This guy really likes me. He's sincere. He's a good man. He's honest. He's hardworking. He appears to care for me. Why am I not dating him?"
I was slowly chewing on this idea throughout the week and that Friday his ex-girlfriend asked him if she could crash at his place on her way to New York. They had remained friends, so of course, he said yes and then called me to let me know. I told him, "Why are you telling me? It's your house!" He invited me over to meet her and so I went. Long story short, I found myself extremely jealous and very confused. "Why am I feeling so jealous? It's my friend, Colin. My friend, nothing more." Yeah, well...there was something more.
And so it's May and I've been officially boyfriend/girlfriend with Colin since February 19th. And it's been wonderful. I've never been looked after and taken care of the way he cares for me. It's amazing. He's amazing.
If you remember, I began this post with questions of how I came to a place of fear once more. A couple of years after my painful breakup and here I am in a new relationship with a very considerate, caring, compassionate, responsible, loving, passionate, and beautiful soul. Shouldn't everything be all right with the world? Shouldn't I have complete and unfettered trust and faith in this new person who obviously loves me very much? Shouldn't nymphs, faeries, satyrs, and woodland creatures be running around throwing flower petals at us as we dance in the forest holding hands? One would think so if one had been raised on Disney cartoons and feel-good 80's movies. :)
Well, Colin has just accepted a new job as executive sous chef for a restaurant outside of DC. He's been sent to Cincinnati to train for three months. Yup. That's right. He'll be living there for three months. And I am afraid. I'm afraid of losing him. Because I love him very, very much.
Tonight he went out after work with his co-workers for a drink. I was worried because he hadn't called me or text messaged me as he normally does at all all day long. After about 11PM, horrible thoughts started pouring through my head. That he was hurt or sick. And then that he was out getting drunk and screwing some girl. That he would meet someone and forget about me.
The thing is that Colin has never done anything to mislead or deceive me. He's been nothing but beautifully direct and sincere the entire course of our friendship and romantic relationship.
The unsightly reality is this: I have lost my faith in the inherent goodness of people. I mistrust the motives of everyone. And the deceitful, treacherous, and hurtful things I endured and the ones I inflicted are currently tainting and limiting my trust for Colin.
And I'm furious! Why should he have to pay for a crime I committed? It's so hurtful for him for me to doubt him! Why should I have to continue to pay for crimes committed long ago?
I need to center...refocus. I need to remember that one day, inevitably, he will no longer be in my life. Either the relationship will go sour due to something he does or something I do, or we'll stay together until one of us dies. Either way one day we'll part. Everything is temporary. Impermanent. Fleeting. I need to remember to trust him until he gives me reason to do so no longer. I need to remember that pain is inevitable. Loss is inevitable. And nothing I do, no preparation I make, and no amount of fear harbored in my heart will prevent me from experiencing the pain of loss.
Once upon a time I believed in the goodness of people. I believed that people were, for the most part, honest and considerate. I labeled myself as "good", someone who would never hurt another and who would never be dishonest. I believed in true love. I believed that things were "meant to be". I was optimistic and the world was beautiful and full of opportunity.
Then human nature reared it's ugly head and I became aware of the fallible nature of humanity. I became deceitful and hurtful to someone and he became deceitful and hurtful to me. We went round and round like this for a number of years. Finally, at the end, we were both left tired and damaged. I carried away with me an underlying mistrust of humankind. A lack of faith in the individual's ability to be honest and faithful. My faith, my hope, and my optimism were poisoned. Tainted with cynicism, mistrust, and fear. It hurt so much and I was so empty.
I never wanted to risk hurting like that again. So up until this past December I'd been dating or "seeing" people with whom I knew that I would never have a long term, stable relationship. Men that weren't available to that type of committment. That way, I couldn't hurt them and they couldn't hurt me.
But in December, I met Colin. I talked to him via email and AOL for a couple a' weeks before we met for dinner. And I stressed over and over that I was done "dating" and that I was just looking for a friend. At dinner that night, as we were conversing and I was looking across the table into his beautiful blue eyes, I felt things clicking. And later, after dinner, when he opened and closed my car door for me, it was there again. But I panicked. I wasn't ready for the click. I feared too much. And so I latched onto the fact that he is a bit shorter than I as an excuse for not dating him.
We remained friends, seeing each other about once a week. But we became friends who, one night after drinks, had a sexual encounter. And then friends who occassionally cuddled. On Valentine's Day, we hung out watching movies, since neither one of us had a Special Someone. It was late when the movies were done and so I crashed at his place. I stressed that I didn't want to have sex. That I knew that sex, in the past, had been my opiate...a way of feeling better about myself and things for a moment. I refused to use him and to allow myself to continue this behavior. And he honored my request, never pressuring me, always respecting me. He just asked to hold me. And so we slept that night side by side in his bed, arms around each other, feeling safe and cared for.
The next morning he told me I was beautiful and that he loved waking up next to me. The sincerity in his eyes and in his voice made me pause in wonder. He then asked me to go to brunch with him...to spend the afternoon with him. I said I couldn't possibly because I needed to brush my teeth and shower and needed to go home to do that. He made me stay in bed and he went down the street to Family Dollar and bought me a toothbrush, my own towel, and shampoo. And it hit me, "Wow. This guy really likes me. He's sincere. He's a good man. He's honest. He's hardworking. He appears to care for me. Why am I not dating him?"
I was slowly chewing on this idea throughout the week and that Friday his ex-girlfriend asked him if she could crash at his place on her way to New York. They had remained friends, so of course, he said yes and then called me to let me know. I told him, "Why are you telling me? It's your house!" He invited me over to meet her and so I went. Long story short, I found myself extremely jealous and very confused. "Why am I feeling so jealous? It's my friend, Colin. My friend, nothing more." Yeah, well...there was something more.
And so it's May and I've been officially boyfriend/girlfriend with Colin since February 19th. And it's been wonderful. I've never been looked after and taken care of the way he cares for me. It's amazing. He's amazing.
If you remember, I began this post with questions of how I came to a place of fear once more. A couple of years after my painful breakup and here I am in a new relationship with a very considerate, caring, compassionate, responsible, loving, passionate, and beautiful soul. Shouldn't everything be all right with the world? Shouldn't I have complete and unfettered trust and faith in this new person who obviously loves me very much? Shouldn't nymphs, faeries, satyrs, and woodland creatures be running around throwing flower petals at us as we dance in the forest holding hands? One would think so if one had been raised on Disney cartoons and feel-good 80's movies. :)
Well, Colin has just accepted a new job as executive sous chef for a restaurant outside of DC. He's been sent to Cincinnati to train for three months. Yup. That's right. He'll be living there for three months. And I am afraid. I'm afraid of losing him. Because I love him very, very much.
Tonight he went out after work with his co-workers for a drink. I was worried because he hadn't called me or text messaged me as he normally does at all all day long. After about 11PM, horrible thoughts started pouring through my head. That he was hurt or sick. And then that he was out getting drunk and screwing some girl. That he would meet someone and forget about me.
The thing is that Colin has never done anything to mislead or deceive me. He's been nothing but beautifully direct and sincere the entire course of our friendship and romantic relationship.
The unsightly reality is this: I have lost my faith in the inherent goodness of people. I mistrust the motives of everyone. And the deceitful, treacherous, and hurtful things I endured and the ones I inflicted are currently tainting and limiting my trust for Colin.
And I'm furious! Why should he have to pay for a crime I committed? It's so hurtful for him for me to doubt him! Why should I have to continue to pay for crimes committed long ago?
I need to center...refocus. I need to remember that one day, inevitably, he will no longer be in my life. Either the relationship will go sour due to something he does or something I do, or we'll stay together until one of us dies. Either way one day we'll part. Everything is temporary. Impermanent. Fleeting. I need to remember to trust him until he gives me reason to do so no longer. I need to remember that pain is inevitable. Loss is inevitable. And nothing I do, no preparation I make, and no amount of fear harbored in my heart will prevent me from experiencing the pain of loss.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
In response to the question posed in the comment on the last post,
Shinedown is a band that's "making it". They're the guys who wrote the song .45 and who do the new cover of Simple Man by Lynyrd Skynyrd. If that still doesn't ring any bells go to the website and check out the media section.
Shinedown is a band that's "making it". They're the guys who wrote the song .45 and who do the new cover of Simple Man by Lynyrd Skynyrd. If that still doesn't ring any bells go to the website and check out the media section.
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
I saw Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy last night and it was great! I'll be so excited to see the rest of the films as they come out! I thought casting for Zaphon Beeblebrox and for Slartibartfast was perfect! And Mos Def really shines as Ford Prefect.
My favorite part, for those of you who've read the books, involves two missiles that become, after Arthur engages the Improbability Drive, a pot of petunias and a sperm whale. The poor little whale had a short time to come to terms with it's existance while falling through space toward the ground. "What's this stuff whooshing past me? I think I'll call it wind! And what's that big round thing getting closer and closer? Big...round....ound...I think I'll call it Ground! I wonder if it'll be friends with me. Hello, Ground! Would you be my friend?" SPLAT!!!!
Everybody go see it, if you've read it or not. Our kind of people really like this kind of movie.
My favorite part, for those of you who've read the books, involves two missiles that become, after Arthur engages the Improbability Drive, a pot of petunias and a sperm whale. The poor little whale had a short time to come to terms with it's existance while falling through space toward the ground. "What's this stuff whooshing past me? I think I'll call it wind! And what's that big round thing getting closer and closer? Big...round....ound...I think I'll call it Ground! I wonder if it'll be friends with me. Hello, Ground! Would you be my friend?" SPLAT!!!!
Everybody go see it, if you've read it or not. Our kind of people really like this kind of movie.
Friday, May 06, 2005
The Sand! The Sun! The Water! My panties!!!!
On February 2, 2005, we arrived at Grand Cayman, largest isle of the Cayman Islands. We took a little boat from our cruise ship into shore, flagged down a big yellow taxi van, and went to Seven Mile Beach, the largest beach on the island. The taxi driver was dark skinned and spoke with the accent of the islands. He kept up friendly conversation, pointing out interesting shops and dining locations, calling our attention to the hurricane damage, all the while driving on the left side of the road. (Damn British.)
He left us at the beach and agreed to return in two hours. It was about 10:00 am and I was sitting with my family in the whitest, finest sand I've ever laid eyes or foot on. Instead of a mass of sea shells near the water line, there was bleached white dead coral pieces. (I brought a couple small pieces home. It's illegal, but what the fuck. It's not like I killed the fucking coral myself.) A few minutes later, I was swimming in the warm and incredibly clear waters of the Carribean Sea. In water up to my chin, I could still clearly see my toes. There were not waves to speak of really. Just a slight roll to the sheet of glassy water every now and then. It was amazing and so beautiful. I just wanted to stay there forever. I'd quit my job and start driving a taxi or something.
A bit later, I tried to coax Meg into letting me take her in the ocean. When she got off of the lounge chair, she started saying, "The sand!" and lifting her feet to shake the sand off of her little swimming shoes. She then looked up at the sun and screamed, "The sun!" and shielded her face from the sun against my leg. Once we made it to the water and the first mini wave hopped up and got her legs and bottom wet she screamed, "The water! My panties!" and started grouching. I decided it was best to take her back to her mother. She's such a priss and has no idea that it's okay to get dirty every once and awhile. As Wayne says, "She's such a little girl!"
We enjoyed the beach for a couple of hours then caught our cab back to the dock, where we boarded a glass bottom boat. We drove past a couple of ship wrecks and saw some amazingly colored fish, including a Parrot Fish. We learned that the beaches are made up of 70% Parrot Fish poop which is why they're so soft and powdery. :) So I was playing in poop earlier. Cool.
After our tour we looked in some of the shops. We learned about Big Black Dick who was an infamous pirate that made his home on Grand Cayman way back when. I bought a shot glass, t-shirt, and three bottles of Tortuga Rum and then it was time to go back to the boat.
Does she want a Mexican?
On February 3 we arrived in Cozumel, Mexico. The first thing that stuck me as I walked out on deck was the perfect turquoise blue of the ocean. It was electric blue and gleaming with millions of diamonds of sunlight reflecting from it's surface. I was still for a moment...just watching. Just enjoying the view, the beauty of which I knew would be impossible to capture, with words or photograph. So I just soaked it into my mind.
The ship was docked at Puerta Maya so we just walked off the boat, down the pier, and onto shore. Puerta Maya was very touristy. It felt more like Florida than another country. You could drink the bottled water here and eat the food with no worries. We walked past a few shops, and my brother stated that things were more "expensive" here and suggested that we go farther in, to the shopping district. So we hopped a cab and communicated in broken Spanish where we wanted to go. About five minutes later we were in the heart of Cozumel in the shopping district.
Once I stepped foot out of the cab, I knew for sure that I was in another country. Everyone we saw was Mexican. We were the only gringos in evidence. Everyone was dark-skinned, with dark hair, dark eyes, and on average, about 5 feet and 5 inches tall. At first being surrounded by people speaking Spanish was...odd and uncomfortable. About an hour into the day, I didn't really even notice anymore. And I was starting to remember words from my high school Spanish class. Oh if only we hadn't tortured Senora Stevenson so much, perhaps I could hold a conversation with some sexy young Mexican in his native tongue!!!
Anyway, shopping in the US is typically a laid back experience. You enter a store and browse a bit. You may or may not be approached by someone offering to help you find what you're looking for. If you are approached and you don't need their help, you turn them away and that's that. They leave you alone. All of the prices are listed on each and every item. There's no guessing or negotiation. Nope. It's simple and straightforward. Shopping in Mexico is no like this.
The moment we started walking toward the main street of shops, shop owners and workers were popping their heads out of their doors and saying things like, "Senorita! Senorita! I got what shu need here! Come see!" "Looking is free, senorita!" "Hey! Bonita! Come see! Looking is free!" "Senorita! I got nice silver here! Look pretty on you!" "Cuban cigar for your man friends in US, no? Come see!"
They would call out to us, they would yell out their wares, sometimes in Spanish, sometimes in English. If uninterested we would just smile and shake our heads no in the begining. By the end of the day we were ignoring them all together. If we were interested, then it was another matter. Once we went into the shop door, we were opening ourselves up to extremely pushy sales people.
I looked in several silver shops for some new jewelry. The main thing on my list was a new necklace as the jade and silver necklace I wore constantly for years, had finally broken. I fell in love with a silver and amythyst choker and decided that I must have it. The shopkeeper had been following me around discussing the virtues of each piece of jewelry in broken English. I asked him the cost of the choker and amythyst charm. The choker was $30...reasonable. Comparable to what I might pay in the US. (Which means that he was making a huge profit on it.) But for the charm he wanted $120! I laughed at him, laid the jewelry down, thanked him for his time, and marched out of the shop. He chased me out into the street, "Senorita! We can discuss price! Come back!" I turned around and went back in. I told him that I was a poor tourist and didn't have that much money to spend...that I had spent it all of the cost of my cruise to get here. He went to $100 for the whole thing. I shook my head and asked for $50. He went to $60. I kept pushing for $50. He wouldn't budge, nor would I. I bid him good day and left.
Basically every shopping exchange involved haggling. My sis agreed to the first price stated for a few things and you could see the look of shock and pleasure, like they'd gotten a good joke over on her, beaming from the faces of the sales people. I bought some maracas for kicks, a Cuban cigar, a pair of silver hoop earrings, and finally, the silver and amythyst necklace. I caved and paid $60. :)
Wayne and I enjoyed the shopping experience a bit more than everyone else, because we were partaking of the $1 Coronas! At any given time, walking down the street, we each had two beers in our hands. God, I love Mexico!
One of the shopkeeps who was about 5'1 came up to me as I was just walking down the street and put his arm around me. I stopped, a bit shocked, and said, "Hi! Can I help you?" He looked over at his buddies who were still lurking in the doorway of their shop and said, "Just my size!" Had I been facing him, his face would've been right there with my bossoms.
Another guy working a kiosk-type thing in the middle of the market place asked Rose, "Is she your seester? Does she have a husband? Does she have a boyfriend? Does she want a Mexican?"
At the end of the shopping experience we all gathered at a resturant for a few minutes. As I walked in a twenty-something quite attractive Mexican man followed the through, saying, "Hey lady! Hey baby! Where are shu going? Talk to me, senorita! Hey lady!" I smiled at him and said I had to meet up with my family. I saw him staring at my chest like he'd found a giant treasure trove of Mayan gold. Rose laughed and started plotting to whore me out, wondering how many pesos I'd fetch. :)
After shopping we went to a beach called Nachi Cocom. The sand was much like the sand at the Fort Lauderdale beaches, the waves were comparable as well. The beach had a full bar and a swimming pool that any beach goer could use if they didn't want to swim in the ocean. There was a kiosk at which you could rent jet skis or kayaks for a reasonable fee. And some of the dancers from our crusie ship were there, dancing on the beach, and looking particularly attractive in their bikinis and speedos. Especially Andres from Brazil! In his yellow speedos. :)
So we lounged around on the beach, swam a bit, lounged a bit. Saw a nude sunbathing attractive young lady. Cheryl got into the ocean deeper than she's ever been before. I was very proud of her. She's a little terrified of water since she can't swim. (That must be where Meg gets it from.) After a bit, we caught a cab back to Puerta Maya. Wayne and I hadn't finished our tasty alcoholic beverages and thought we were going to have to throw them away for the cab ride, but no siree! There is no such thing as an open container law in Mexico! And no seat belt laws either! Wooo hooo! Drunk driving in paradise!
So we made it back to the boat safe and sound. After dinner, we went back out for a bit more shopping and then got back on board before she left port. It would've sucked to get stuck in Cozumel by myself. But I suppose this post would've been more interesting too. Hmmm...
The next day was just a day at sea on the boat as we returned to Tampa. It was quite windy so no one really sat outside that much. We enjoyed our last fancy dinner together, saw the last Vegas show, packed our bags and went to bed. We made sure that we smoked our Cuban cigars the next morning so as not to get stuck with a huge ass fine by customs. Sorry guys! No cigars for you!) Honestly...I know I'm no expert on cigars, but the cuban didn't seem that special to me at all. I don't know. I think people get all excited about them just because they're banned in the US.
Anyway, we arrived at Tampa on February 5th, said our goodbyes to the WV Garris clan, and hopped on our plane back to snowy Baltimore.
THE END
On February 2, 2005, we arrived at Grand Cayman, largest isle of the Cayman Islands. We took a little boat from our cruise ship into shore, flagged down a big yellow taxi van, and went to Seven Mile Beach, the largest beach on the island. The taxi driver was dark skinned and spoke with the accent of the islands. He kept up friendly conversation, pointing out interesting shops and dining locations, calling our attention to the hurricane damage, all the while driving on the left side of the road. (Damn British.)
He left us at the beach and agreed to return in two hours. It was about 10:00 am and I was sitting with my family in the whitest, finest sand I've ever laid eyes or foot on. Instead of a mass of sea shells near the water line, there was bleached white dead coral pieces. (I brought a couple small pieces home. It's illegal, but what the fuck. It's not like I killed the fucking coral myself.) A few minutes later, I was swimming in the warm and incredibly clear waters of the Carribean Sea. In water up to my chin, I could still clearly see my toes. There were not waves to speak of really. Just a slight roll to the sheet of glassy water every now and then. It was amazing and so beautiful. I just wanted to stay there forever. I'd quit my job and start driving a taxi or something.
A bit later, I tried to coax Meg into letting me take her in the ocean. When she got off of the lounge chair, she started saying, "The sand!" and lifting her feet to shake the sand off of her little swimming shoes. She then looked up at the sun and screamed, "The sun!" and shielded her face from the sun against my leg. Once we made it to the water and the first mini wave hopped up and got her legs and bottom wet she screamed, "The water! My panties!" and started grouching. I decided it was best to take her back to her mother. She's such a priss and has no idea that it's okay to get dirty every once and awhile. As Wayne says, "She's such a little girl!"
We enjoyed the beach for a couple of hours then caught our cab back to the dock, where we boarded a glass bottom boat. We drove past a couple of ship wrecks and saw some amazingly colored fish, including a Parrot Fish. We learned that the beaches are made up of 70% Parrot Fish poop which is why they're so soft and powdery. :) So I was playing in poop earlier. Cool.
After our tour we looked in some of the shops. We learned about Big Black Dick who was an infamous pirate that made his home on Grand Cayman way back when. I bought a shot glass, t-shirt, and three bottles of Tortuga Rum and then it was time to go back to the boat.
Does she want a Mexican?
On February 3 we arrived in Cozumel, Mexico. The first thing that stuck me as I walked out on deck was the perfect turquoise blue of the ocean. It was electric blue and gleaming with millions of diamonds of sunlight reflecting from it's surface. I was still for a moment...just watching. Just enjoying the view, the beauty of which I knew would be impossible to capture, with words or photograph. So I just soaked it into my mind.
The ship was docked at Puerta Maya so we just walked off the boat, down the pier, and onto shore. Puerta Maya was very touristy. It felt more like Florida than another country. You could drink the bottled water here and eat the food with no worries. We walked past a few shops, and my brother stated that things were more "expensive" here and suggested that we go farther in, to the shopping district. So we hopped a cab and communicated in broken Spanish where we wanted to go. About five minutes later we were in the heart of Cozumel in the shopping district.
Once I stepped foot out of the cab, I knew for sure that I was in another country. Everyone we saw was Mexican. We were the only gringos in evidence. Everyone was dark-skinned, with dark hair, dark eyes, and on average, about 5 feet and 5 inches tall. At first being surrounded by people speaking Spanish was...odd and uncomfortable. About an hour into the day, I didn't really even notice anymore. And I was starting to remember words from my high school Spanish class. Oh if only we hadn't tortured Senora Stevenson so much, perhaps I could hold a conversation with some sexy young Mexican in his native tongue!!!
Anyway, shopping in the US is typically a laid back experience. You enter a store and browse a bit. You may or may not be approached by someone offering to help you find what you're looking for. If you are approached and you don't need their help, you turn them away and that's that. They leave you alone. All of the prices are listed on each and every item. There's no guessing or negotiation. Nope. It's simple and straightforward. Shopping in Mexico is no like this.
The moment we started walking toward the main street of shops, shop owners and workers were popping their heads out of their doors and saying things like, "Senorita! Senorita! I got what shu need here! Come see!" "Looking is free, senorita!" "Hey! Bonita! Come see! Looking is free!" "Senorita! I got nice silver here! Look pretty on you!" "Cuban cigar for your man friends in US, no? Come see!"
They would call out to us, they would yell out their wares, sometimes in Spanish, sometimes in English. If uninterested we would just smile and shake our heads no in the begining. By the end of the day we were ignoring them all together. If we were interested, then it was another matter. Once we went into the shop door, we were opening ourselves up to extremely pushy sales people.
I looked in several silver shops for some new jewelry. The main thing on my list was a new necklace as the jade and silver necklace I wore constantly for years, had finally broken. I fell in love with a silver and amythyst choker and decided that I must have it. The shopkeeper had been following me around discussing the virtues of each piece of jewelry in broken English. I asked him the cost of the choker and amythyst charm. The choker was $30...reasonable. Comparable to what I might pay in the US. (Which means that he was making a huge profit on it.) But for the charm he wanted $120! I laughed at him, laid the jewelry down, thanked him for his time, and marched out of the shop. He chased me out into the street, "Senorita! We can discuss price! Come back!" I turned around and went back in. I told him that I was a poor tourist and didn't have that much money to spend...that I had spent it all of the cost of my cruise to get here. He went to $100 for the whole thing. I shook my head and asked for $50. He went to $60. I kept pushing for $50. He wouldn't budge, nor would I. I bid him good day and left.
Basically every shopping exchange involved haggling. My sis agreed to the first price stated for a few things and you could see the look of shock and pleasure, like they'd gotten a good joke over on her, beaming from the faces of the sales people. I bought some maracas for kicks, a Cuban cigar, a pair of silver hoop earrings, and finally, the silver and amythyst necklace. I caved and paid $60. :)
Wayne and I enjoyed the shopping experience a bit more than everyone else, because we were partaking of the $1 Coronas! At any given time, walking down the street, we each had two beers in our hands. God, I love Mexico!
One of the shopkeeps who was about 5'1 came up to me as I was just walking down the street and put his arm around me. I stopped, a bit shocked, and said, "Hi! Can I help you?" He looked over at his buddies who were still lurking in the doorway of their shop and said, "Just my size!" Had I been facing him, his face would've been right there with my bossoms.
Another guy working a kiosk-type thing in the middle of the market place asked Rose, "Is she your seester? Does she have a husband? Does she have a boyfriend? Does she want a Mexican?"
At the end of the shopping experience we all gathered at a resturant for a few minutes. As I walked in a twenty-something quite attractive Mexican man followed the through, saying, "Hey lady! Hey baby! Where are shu going? Talk to me, senorita! Hey lady!" I smiled at him and said I had to meet up with my family. I saw him staring at my chest like he'd found a giant treasure trove of Mayan gold. Rose laughed and started plotting to whore me out, wondering how many pesos I'd fetch. :)
After shopping we went to a beach called Nachi Cocom. The sand was much like the sand at the Fort Lauderdale beaches, the waves were comparable as well. The beach had a full bar and a swimming pool that any beach goer could use if they didn't want to swim in the ocean. There was a kiosk at which you could rent jet skis or kayaks for a reasonable fee. And some of the dancers from our crusie ship were there, dancing on the beach, and looking particularly attractive in their bikinis and speedos. Especially Andres from Brazil! In his yellow speedos. :)
So we lounged around on the beach, swam a bit, lounged a bit. Saw a nude sunbathing attractive young lady. Cheryl got into the ocean deeper than she's ever been before. I was very proud of her. She's a little terrified of water since she can't swim. (That must be where Meg gets it from.) After a bit, we caught a cab back to Puerta Maya. Wayne and I hadn't finished our tasty alcoholic beverages and thought we were going to have to throw them away for the cab ride, but no siree! There is no such thing as an open container law in Mexico! And no seat belt laws either! Wooo hooo! Drunk driving in paradise!
So we made it back to the boat safe and sound. After dinner, we went back out for a bit more shopping and then got back on board before she left port. It would've sucked to get stuck in Cozumel by myself. But I suppose this post would've been more interesting too. Hmmm...
The next day was just a day at sea on the boat as we returned to Tampa. It was quite windy so no one really sat outside that much. We enjoyed our last fancy dinner together, saw the last Vegas show, packed our bags and went to bed. We made sure that we smoked our Cuban cigars the next morning so as not to get stuck with a huge ass fine by customs. Sorry guys! No cigars for you!) Honestly...I know I'm no expert on cigars, but the cuban didn't seem that special to me at all. I don't know. I think people get all excited about them just because they're banned in the US.
Anyway, we arrived at Tampa on February 5th, said our goodbyes to the WV Garris clan, and hopped on our plane back to snowy Baltimore.
THE END
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