My husband and I fell in love with Mexico, specifically, the Yucatan Peninsula.

Most Americans' reaction, when we extol the virtues of vacationing in Mexico think only of the recent ugliness due to drug wars, or of tales of extortion by Mexican Police or thievery by an impoverished people. While it is true that Mexico has its share of unpleasantness, so do many American cities.

Talk to a born and bred Californian, and New York is full of rude people, rotting garbage, sewer rats, and dangerous criminals. Talk to a New Yorker, they believe that California is rife with crazy, liberal New Agers, earthquakes, oh, and dangerous criminals. Talk to each of them after they’ve gotten a chance to really see the other side and usually you’ll hear a much softer stance.

Once you’ve been treated to the best Mexico has to offer, you might change your view as well.

Our first adventure was in 2004, when we stayed at a resort, one of those all-inclusive setups. This one was tiny, only 27 rooms, with a dining room, lobby, bar, separate dining palapa, and a gorgeous figure-8 freshwater swimming pool. At the time, the pool was clothing-optional, something new for us and not for everyone, but an interesting adventure, nonetheless.

The initial cost of this resort was $240.00 per night, that included the room and all meals, and most importantly for my husband, ALL BEVERAGES. Beer, water, sodas, mixed drinks, this place was truly all-inclusive.

Our room was impeccable, with tiled floors, white walls and simple but tasteful furniture. We had read there were lots of bugs, but we only encountered a few. Mostly ants as well as lots of teeny little geckos. My theory is that they were there first, they didn’t ask for their jungle home to be ripped out and a building placed on it.

There was a wait staff, with a concierge who took care of everything. Our waiter was Isidro, who was a terrific young man with a wicked sense of humor. One night at dinner he was trying to convince me that the Filet Mignon was really made from monkey. The concierge was Jeronimo, the kind of guy who could get you anything you needed.

Our stay was five nights, we met some truly memorable characters, swam naked in the pool and never had to want for a drink or a meal. One of the staff was always on hand to bring you whatever you needed. We experienced a monsoon, watched those ants I mentioned take apart a small crab in about ten minutes, swam and snorkeled in the Caribbean- which was stunning blue-green and as warm as a bath.

We had pre-booked a snorkeling trip out of Cancun, and it turned out to be one of the worst experiences of our lives. It’s a day trip, you take a party boat out to Isla Mujeres, where they have attractions from a turtle farm to volleyball, to waterslides. There were food and drink kiosks, this was all-inclusive, and you could board one of the snorkeling boats. The island was fun for about two hours, although it would be a great setup for families with kids, not much for adults to do. The snorkeling trip was a disaster. They crammed 40 of us on a boat meant for about half that, we were literally packed like sardines. They took the boat about six miles offshore, showing us how to wear the mask and how to utilize our life vest to float. Then they told us to put on our flippers and jump off the boat, not easily done when you can’t reach your feet. As the boat emptied, it became easier for those of us near the front to get our flippers on, but it took some time to get the feeling back in your legs. All the while, the guides are yelling at us to GET OFF THE BOAT!

While out on the ocean, we looked like a bunch of refugees being picked up by the coast guard, 40 of us, bobbing around in the water in orange life vests. 10 or 15 additional boats had also gone out, so in little groups of 40, there were hundreds of us, all swimming around our respective boats. Apparently, someone from our group had a medical emergency, so they loaded her on the boat and left. We were stranded!! They divided us up among the other boats, because, hey, what’s a few more sardines in the can, eh?

As boats were docking, snorkelers were everywhere, hanging off the boats, and pier railing, tossing their cookies.

(Or in my husband’s case, his hotdogs ….. with onions and mustard)

We then got miserably back on the party boat (which was a lot quieter for the voyage home) and headed back to Cancun.

Cancun is a great place if you like to party, and I would never recommend NOT going there, but we were pining for our quiet little resort. And we had fallen in love with the nearby town, Puerto Morelos. We went there to catch the bus to another excursion we had booked, to the ruins at Tulum. The travel agency there is Marand Travel, and she can hook you up with nearly anything on the Mayan Riviera.

The town is small, but growing.  It is a fishing village, and then they were just beginning to promote tourism, including snorkeling. 

Even though our resort was all-inclusive we tried out a restaurant there.  We were enchanted not just by the delicious food, but by the customer service we experienced there.  Our favorite restaurant was and still is El Viejo Pescador, which means old fisherman, and is run by the fishing cooperative.  During that visit, we booked a snorkeling trip through one of the owners, and while they were a bit more primitive in their efforts, it was far more enjoyable.  We lucked out in that we were the only guests on the trip, and we snorkeled at the reef a half mile out from the town.  Our ‘guides’ were a couple of teenaged locals, one of whom was outstanding, having a great time showing us ‘his’ reef.  Our trip included lunch, at the Pescador, and they treated us like honored guests, something we have gotten used to as we have returned to the Yucatan, Puerto Morelos and El Viejo Pescador many times.

During that first visit, the other excursion was to the ruins at Tulum, and the ecological water park, Xel-Ha. The ruins site was breathtaking, as our enthusiastic guide showed us the remains of peasant dwellings, noble dwellings, temples and the main buildings. The three main structures were used as a calendar by the Ancient Mayans, who had an amazing grasp of astronomy. We would liked to have spent all day there, but were moved along to Xel-Ha, an amusement park where iguanas roam free and you can hike through the jungle, commune with native birds, visit a turtle breeding habitat, or snorkel in amazing crystal clear lagoons. We decided that on our next trip, we’d spend an entire day there.

We were reluctant to come home, and I often joke that I left fingernail marks on the deck at the Reef Club, being dragged away kicking and screaming. The Caribbean Reef Club closed as a resort, attempting to convert to individually-owned condos. When we returned in 2006, Hurricane Wilma had destroyed several of the buildings, as well as sweeping the beachfront and pool out to sea.

Our second trip down to Puerto Morelos, in March, 2006, was planned out months in advance. We stayed 7 days, and used our experiences, good and bad, in our planning.

We booked a home rental through VacationRentals, and paid $700.00 for the week, for a 1 bedroom apartment –the middle floor of a 3 level building. Our apartment was beautiful and spacious, with tiled floors and windows everywhere, to allow in light and ocean breezes. There were also efficient air conditioners, a fully appointed kitchen and a washer/dryer. During our stay, there was a pair of “snowbirds” from Minnesota staying in the ground floor apartment, they were helpful, giving us pointers on where to eat and play.

Our first night in town, we immediately ate at our favorite restaurant, El Viejo Pescador, but we were soon sorry we did. Not because the restaurant wasn’t as good as we remembered, but the town church was having a fiesta. We wandered around, watching the church ladies, buying tamales here, cookies there, until we were stuffed! We stopped at another restaurant for a drink, El Pirata, and found a familiar face. It was Jeronimo, from the Reef Club. Even though it had been two years, he recognized us and we chatted for awhile, about the demise of the resort and how the town had grown. We made certain to stop by many times during our stay, and Jeronimo always had a smile and a good story, as well as good food, for us!

We tried many restaurants, including a few many tourists would probably avoid. We met a fellow American who recommended Africa by Night, a restaurant a half mile out of town. It was a converted house, as many restaurants are, and the dining area was a patio area, screened off with mosquito netting. They served fried whole fish, Rojo (snapper) and shrimp ceviche. Their portions are generous, the beer is cold (and $1 a bottle) and they take great care to see that you are happy and well-fed. We ate there several times.

We stopped by a restaurant owned by a pair of Italian sisters, Giaconda, where the Bruschetta and Tiramisu are as inviting as the atmosphere. Uniquely decorated with museum posters turned into wall fountains, and a Michelangelo behind the bar, you almost forget you are on a small residential street in Mexico.

We ate fish and shrimp tacos at Nisha’s, a rooftop restaurant with views of the town square. Nisha’s specialty was Chaya Water.  Chaya is a plant native to the Yucatan, similar to spinach.  Chaya is combined with pineapple juice to make a tea/fruit juice that is as refreshing as it is nutritious

We made that all-day trip to Xel-Ha, a sanctuary that makes the whole trip worthwhile. You can purchase an all-inclusive package, which covers your food and drink, as well as your snorkeling gear. (You keep the snorkel as a souvenir). We snorkeled in the lagoon, venturing as far out as we were permitted, while schools of Sheepshead and AmberJack kept us company. There are rock formations to explore, where you’re likely to see Clown Fish, Blue Tang and dozens of other brightly colored fish.

You can grab an innertube and float along the lazy river that circles the park, hike through the jungle, stretch out on a chaise to sunbathe, or snooze away in a hammock.

We jumped off the “Cliff of Courage” and explored an underwater cave.

During our first trip there, we found the food to be substandard, but two years later, they had stepped up their game. We ate at a buffet that offered both local fare and tourist-friendly cuisine, with decent results. The bartender at this buffet came to our table to encourage us to try a tasty Tequila, as well as some Brazilian beer. Both were excellent!

We made the trip to Xel-Ha on a public bus, they have fantastic public transportation, and the trip home in a Collectivo, which are taxi vans that fill to capacity as they go down the highway.  The collectivo drops at the main highway, and taxis wait at the crossroad to whisk you away to town, a 2.5 mile trip down a jungle road.  The taxis are reasonably priced, the drivers all wear clean white shirts and are neatly groomed, although their aggressive driving sometimes takes your breath way.  In three trips to Puerto Morelos, we have never bothered renting a car, never seeing the need.  Between these three methods of transport, it’s best to leave the driving to the locals!  And while some may think that taking public transportation sounds risky, I am far more afraid of inadvertently breaking a law, driving the wrong way or ending up incredibly lost.

We took a jungle tour on ATV’s, were we were experienced the first of many cenotes, underground caves and pools, carved by the fresh water flowing through the limestone that makes up the Yucatan Peninsula. The first was call Boca de Puma (Boca is mouth), which had a small opening, leading to a claustrophobic underwater cave. It was a bit unsettling to ease yourself into the cool water, which is said to have healing powers, and a bit scary as you explored narrow passageways, sometimes needing to submerge completely. The guides were helpful and the group was not too big, but that particular cenote is not one I’d care to go into again. The second cenote was a huge, open topped pool, with a zip-line. We took turns flying out over the cenote, dropping into the water.

On my husband’s second trip, I positioned myself so I could photograph him as he dropped. I heard him hit the water, hard, and everyone up top, collectively gasp. He was O.K., but his hands slipped almost immediately after take-off.

After the two cenote visits, our group was riding the ATV’s up a deserted stretch of road, goofing around. Unfamiliar with an ATV, I braked too hard, flipped the machine up onto the front wheels and went flying over the handlebars. I landed directly in front of the machine, which was coming over on top of me, and instinctively curled up, so my feet took the weight. My husband and several others were there immediately to lift it off of me and I escaped with some road rash and a few bruises, as well as a story to tell.

Our most interesting excursion for that trip, and probably so far, was with an American named Goyo. We fondly refer to him as Papayoyo. His daughter is Nisha, the rooftop restaurant owner, and he books jungle tours out of her place. To say that he is an odd character is like saying water is wet. His “tour” was an experience we talk about to this day.

Our first stop was the “school” he was building in the jungle, a Spanish Language Immersion school as well as a spiritual center. There were many small dwellings under construction, as well as the outdoor communal kitchen, “sweat hut” and meeting circle. The place was not yet inhabited, but he had volunteers working on it. The LanguageSchool was to be in a more habitable dorm-type atmosphere and tuition would be charged, but the spiritual center would be run as a commune, with your room and board bartered for work. The deserted commune brought up comparisons to Jonestown and we jokingly told Goyo we didn’t want any Koolaid. He either didn’t get the joke or chose to ignore it, and while he didn’t seem at all threatening, only a bit wacky, we were eager to leave the place.

He then took us to a large and spectacular cenote, which was deep, wide, and though covered, the roof was 20 feet above the water. He allowed us to swim and explore, I paddled around on my back marveling at the magnificent ceiling of limestone stalactites, while he dove down, with only a snorkel, to the bottom of the pool. Despite being a heavy smoker, he stayed down for nearly five minutes. He claimed that he only experienced life by dying each day, and this underwater ritual was a daily reminder of how precious life is.

Exploring the jungle was amazing, as he was and expert in everything. I had multiple mosquito bites that no ointment was helping to soothe, so he mashed up some plant leaves and smeared the sap on them, they felt instantly better and were gone in a few days. He told stories of the locals, local plants and animals, and detailed so many different healing herbs to be found in the jungle, our heads spun.

The last part of our trip was lunch with his friend, a woman who lived in the jungle with her husband and kids. They owned the land on which there was a small cenote, for which they charged admission, they stocked a very small store/souvenir stand, and she sold embroidered items, dish cloths, blouses, skirts and dresses. She prepared a lunch of chicken and macaroni, black beans and hand made tortillas, which was divine. We washed it down with cans of Coca Cola, truly a mixture of two worlds.

We returned to town some eight hours later, exhausted and relieved.

We encountered Goyo during next years’ visit. We saw Nisha first and she told us that her father was spending most of his time at the jungle school, and rarely came to town. He had many guests, mostly young people and we found him the next day, waiting in the coffee shop for one of those youths. He was advertising on a website for young people who wanted to volunteer time in a foreign country and as we were talking to Goyo, the young man showed up. He was from Northern CA, and had thumbed his way down, even hitching a ride on a container ship, and walked into the coffee shop, disheveled and dirty, clearly ecstatic to be nearer a hot meal, shower and a bed. We relayed that story to my teenaged son, threatening to send him to Papayoyo if his grades didn’t improve!

The 2006 trip also included a scuba lesson to do a 35ft dive near the reef, our instructor was a local who got his dive instruction certification at a dive school a few miles from our home. It is a small world, after all! We got roped into a timeshare presentation, where their methods were just this side of kidnapping! We also made another bus/collectivo/taxi excursion to the WalmartSuperCenter in Playa Del Carmen. There we found one of our favorite Tequilas, Gran Centenario Anejo. In the states it is $60 per bottle, there it was $26. Between the Tequila and the Mexican Coffee we fell in love with, our bags were quite a bit heavier. Add to that the enormous hammock we were dumb enough to think was a good idea, and our trip home was more cumbersome than getting there!

Once again, we were reluctant to leave and immediately began planning the next trip.