Friends:

Well, I've finally recovered enough from the vacation to talk about it.

It was very hot the whole time, but very beautiful.  I've never stopped being shocked by the brilliant turquoise of Yucatan waters, and have pondered the why for years (Hawai'i is peridot & tourmaline).  This trip, I think I figured it out -- it must be the sand.  Hawai'i's sand is golden, where Cancún's is snow white.  So perhaps turquoise is the natural, unenhanced color of clear water?

We tried to see Tulum, but I couldn't handle it; after a few broiling minutes, I told Tom that I'd retreat to a restaurant near the entrance with a fan and CocaCola.  I was feeling guilty about crapping out, but -- in 5 minutes he joined me.

But the stop at Xel-Ha (SHELL-hah) was wonderful.  The water was blessedly cool, and more fish than in an aquarium.  The Yucatan waters have many colors of parrotfish, but their most common is the emerald-and-ruby, and we saw two that were as big as Volkswagens.  We rested on submerged mini-islands a lot, and suddenly Tom started whooping and leaping.  I dived down to take a look, and there was a sweet little wrasse, the "cleaner fish" that tends turtles & sharks, nibbling away at him.  Tom has a magnificent new tattoo, two eagles wrapping around front & back with great detail of feathers and such, and the poor wrasse was trying to clean him!

At a rest stop, I met some children who come from 79 km away to sell chiclets to the tourists (the chiclets there are made with real gum, and real chicle).  Henry, maybe 7, was the ringleader, supported by cousin Irving and sister Carmencita.  We took turns taking our pictures, and I bought billions of chiclets, and we had conversations that I'm sure they found hilarious.

I got my chance to swim with the dolphins, my big dream.  Our group had two, Lisi and Serafina, and they were very kind to us.  They towed me, pushed me, and showed me a good time.  They were remarkably like Hawai'ian tour guides, I thought:  They were polite and friendly, but they clearly thought we were nerds, and there was much smirking & rolling of eyes over our slavish devotion.  The videos were embarassing -- I look like a chubby two-year-old on Christmas morning who's received everything she ever dreamed of.

The other really heavenly day was at Xcaret (roughly 'shkar-ETT), a big archeological & ecological park down the coast.  There are two rivers you can wander thru, partly underground, that wind thru Mayan ruins that are at the site.  Again, the water was cool, and there was lots of shade.  Orchids and poinciana blossoms fell into the water, and I twined them in my wet hair.  I looked up along the tall, white-rock walls, past the flowering vines hanging down, to the so-blue sky.  I found some ruins where I wanted to live, with canoes at the bottom, and ladders up out of the water to the lodge-pole houses.  As in Hawai'i, there were guppies and swordtails.  I tried to catch the guppies with my hands, something I hadn't done since I was 11 or 12 (having graduated to nets after that).  I missed the first 15 or so, but then could catch them consistently.  I was thrilled.  The guppies were not thrilled.  But now they have something to tell their grandchildren.

We both got very tired.  We screwed Tom's medications all up -- we'd be on the ferry to Isla Mujeres and suddenly remember it was time for his shot, etc.  The treatments permanently destroyed my regulatory systems, notably fluids and temperature regulation, so my feet swelled like beach balls, couldn't wear shoes, and couldn't walk around.  The chemo left me over-sensitive to light, so I burned purple real fast.  So the last couple days, enfeebled, we retreated to an air-conditioned room and watched Cinemax's "Summer of a Thousand Movies" -- Acck!!  And we pined for our respective kitties.  We had a bunch of pigeons who had taken over the lanais, and got quite bonded with them (when they weren't decorating our towels and swimwear hung out to dry), but it wasn't the same.  So it was very, very good to get home.  I won't even describe the horrible plane trip.  The chilling fog I'd been griping about only a week before was a real gift.

So here I am, happy to be home, playing chiclet-pitch and re-appreciating my home.