Week 10

I believe in my lackadaisical/overworked/confused state this is in reality week 11 for us, we have never been that good with time in regards to passing of the moons. Ask anybody and they will tell you we have been dating for eight years, because that is what we have been telling everyone for the last two and a half years. I think we actually just caught up with our actual eight year anniversary. It is our own fault in trying to celebrate based on the Lunar New Year, one year it is in January the next February, is it a rabbit or is it a tiger anniversary?
This last week was amazing, we did practically nothing, but we did it on the same work schedule. Our schedules aren't completely in sync but that is for the best as regards to our tiny hot water heater trying to supply showers for two, which is four times the amount it can deliver in one go. Previously our days together were spent kissing one another good morning, goodbye, hello, and goodnight. Now we have time for smooches, regarding 'that was a nice walk', 'what a nice day', or one of my favorites 'I am actually coherent enough to know what you are talking about' so here is a kiss.
I have been on and off with a cold for the last two weeks, one of those annoying ones that just gets you sick enough that you feel like the crud on the bottom of a boot by the end of the day but the morning brings false hope of recovery. Steph's immune system (knock on wood) has been sturdy and the only nicks in its defenses has been allergies, something we were hoping would be alleviated here as our previous forays into Mexico had abolished nasal irritations.
We both ended up with two days off in a row this week, which didn't line up with each other, because of a Mexican holiday we were owed. Like icicles after a long freeze it felt good to shed some of that extra weight and let ourselves melt a little. This job builds a shell around you, it works you to the bone. But it is also fantastic in that it is easy, everyday is challenging in regards that you are an actor on stage for 56 hours a week. You act to everyone, customers, coworkers, managers and so on but those hours fly, they soar. I get to the end of Tuesday and often am psyched that I only have four days left to my week. This island allows you to cultivate the time you have off and treat it like taffy. You can pull it, stretch it, and fold it back over on itself. The only time you regret it is when you realize you didn't take full advantage of it. More importantly the masks you wear at work never stop the beauty of Cozumel from coming in, they just block the people who try to make you forget about it. And don't get me wrong, we work with a lot of people who wear much brighter and beautiful masks than us and we spend a lot of our time looking each other in the eye garnished with knowing winks.
Speaking of masks it is Carnaval in this neck of the woods, it aint no Rio, but last Sunday I went to the square to see the first performances, a kind of sneak peak.

Week 9

Shrimp scampi with risotto and sauteed zucchini with leeks, chicken and tomatoes over penne with a mushroom sauce, sauteed calamari and potatoes in a Mediterranean tomato sauce. This has been our menu for the last three nights, I am especially proud of it in that my stove is a hot plate with one temperature, hot. My kitchen knifes have found a substitute, my pocket knife. My cutting board is a plastic plate, and I only have one large spoon that acts as every handled implement one would normally reach for in the progression of raw ingredients to a finished meal. I could change all of this in a brief trip to the market, but I am not going to. I have no reason to, honestly these are some of the best half hour meals I have produced, ever. My limitations in preparation  and cooking have made me hone my sights on flavor in the supermarket and timing in the kitchen. Through my limitations I have learned to make individual flavors sing yet marry everything else found on the plate. Additionally my wallet has only released on average $8 a day for the two of us.
A day off, a wonderful day off finally found us on Sunday. Everyday we have had off together wounded hand or no has been cloudy and cold enough to think twice about going for a dip. This Sunday did an about face and mustered up all of its regiments of sun, warmth, sandy beaches and transportation. Our access to the ocean, though we live one block from it, is actually quite limited. Sure we could set up a towel on the main road and dodge fishing boats, local ferries, and behemoth cruise ships but that scenario errs on the side of a miserable time. What we needed was a vehicle and one came in the friendship of a coworker, Moises. Moises owns not just a car but a big old cadillac. After a quick trip to the super market for cervesas, rotisserie chicken, tortillas and salsa fresca, we found ourselves cruising to the wild side of the island.

The eastern shore is beautiful, it is dotted with tourist and local traps alike but it also has the remarkable bends in the road where one wouldn't know modern civilization set foot upon this island since the Mayans were here. The geology was scrubbed clean in 2005 by hurricane Wilma leaving petite palm trees and fallen cement lifeguard towers along the shoreline. The rocks were frightful, the eroded limestone structures looked liked human sized cheese graters, though the local families and the teetering toddlers made me look like an 90 year old man trying to find footing on a escalator.

I brought my goggles and found amazing fish but the most remarkable aspect was the sea and the sky. If Picasso lived here his blue period would have been completely different. Between the sea and the sky the blue takes hold over the landscape and is only cut through by the white beaches, rocks, and reflection of the sun across the surf.
Moises delivered on the following Sunday with a trip to a great snorkeling site. The snorkeling here is incredible and has me begging for the SCUBA experience. We found ourselves at a somewhat tourist/local location that as a US American I was expecting the landscape and wildlife to be a spoiled by the constant transients ruining what is natural. The truth is that when my toes hit the shore line I could have gone limp fallen straight down and when I opened my eyes aquatic life would be there to dazzle me. Two inches from shore small fish were picking off the scraps from land, 12 inches small barracuda were waiting for the petite fish to break from their schools. A few kicks with the flippers we found ourselves in a forest of purple sea fans. From there we become the stalkers of whatever fish entertains us the most, and the tens of thousands of them all have a show to put on. The queen trigger fish was the most imaginative swimmer while the multiple species of grunts and their curiosity of ourselves lent us the constant puppyish enjoyment of scampering away whenever within reach. I found crabs, sea urchins, fish making nests by picking up rocks in their mouths and carrying them great distances, and scuba divers. The most fascinating aquatic spectacles were the fish who changed color. I found these fish who I thought were puffer fish because of there bulbous heads and their diminutive tails, but when I descended to hopefully put a fright into them instead of puffing they changed from tan with black spots to azure with black spots. And they were not the only ones, I found species of parrot fish also displaying the same characteristics. I can probably go on forever but for now I promise you I will get a cheap underwater camera so pictures can replace my thousands of words.