Heaven?

We have been frequenting the same beach on our days off, it is a beautiful beach but it has garnered associations of gastroenteritis as it was where Steph ingested the crippling contaminant. A new beach was needed and the name "El Cielo" had been drifting in out of our peripherals. With the translation being "heaven" how could we not go. Promised were deserted beaches, bay protected snorkeling, and a carpet of starfish so thick only to emulate the heavens themselves. Conventional methods of getting to El Cielo is aboard a boat, and we actually have plenty of access to boats with the friends we keep, but they still can be expensive with the gas prices down here and the tendency for boats to be gas hogs. My friend Jasibe and her boyfriend Miguel told us they had a way to achieve our goals of ascension  without the use of boat, we would simply take the pilgrimage on foot. They warned us that 45 minute trek was to be book-ending our time in heaven, this didn't bother me in the least, everyone knows sacrifice is one of the keys to unlocking the pearly gates. I in fact took it as a good sign, our favorite beach in Oregon requires about the same atonement of time additionally traveling the hundreds of feet of vertical switchbacks. Cozumel being a flat island I expected the worst of it being hot, sticky and maybe a little boring.
We gathered ourselves and made the necessary pit stops along the way, gas, snorkel gear, bathroom breaks, microwave pizza, beers and other normal necessities associated with a small adventure for a group of twenty year olds. Our wagon train consisted of Jasibe, Miguel, Jasibe's sister, Simone, Nathalie, Simone's daughter, and the two of us. I was surprised to find ourselves pulling into a day resort parking lot, for some reason I was expecting us to park the cars on the side of a dirt road with very little clearance for other cars and hiking in through a rarely used but manageable trail that navigated its way through mangrove forests and open marsh land. Instead we were trespassing through the resort, thanks for the parking, and tromping down the beach. Jasibe had us take note of a point of mangroves extending into the ocean and told us heaven awaited on the other side. I could picture it we would wrap around the point and a secluded bay would be waiting for us. The distance looked manageable, it was the variety of hiking where Point A is in view of Point B and Brain tries to tell itself that the distance is too great, and tries to tell Body all of the downfalls of the distance, "You are going to be walking in sand you know." But experience has taught Body to just start trudging, and before any parts can complain to the next of the folly of their ways your Body is standing on Point B and Brain staring back at point A feeling stupid.
The sun was out and our jolly party of conch shell marauders started our journey. We came to the beach on a magical day it was hotter and more humid than what we were accustomed to, the sea was churning heavier than usual and we were most blessed by putrid seaweed the ocean had been vomiting onto our slim hiking path for the last couple of days. In some areas our sandy bath was interrupted by hundreds of feet of thick rotting sea vegetation with the accompanying smell one only finds with death. Every footfall was akin to the stench misting us as if we were stepping on the pumps of the most vile antique perfume bottles. Yet we continued because as Body predicted we were at Point B in no time, and there was no more decaying sea mass underfoot, in fact there was no more beach at all, we were standing at the tip of a great mangrove forest that had thrust a great finger of tangled of biomass into the sea.
I was starting to see that look on Steph's face, it's a look that tells me that she is being a trooper but the current situation should be changing as soon as possible. We changed the situation as soon as possible, we began bushwhacking our way through the mangroves in hope that Heaven would recognize the penance we placed upon ourselves and be open to us soon. As most bushwhacking goes we wandered in circles got tired and gave up. We couldn't go around the the tip of the finger either because of the rough seas, we couldn't see what is usually the white sand bottom through azure waters. We didn't want to step on broken conch shells, lion fish, or crocodiles. I've heard that there are crocodiles on Cozumel but I figure there are Crocodiles here like there are wolves in Oregon, I am not really worried about getting eaten by one, plus how big could they get in this dense forest.
We made do with sitting in a spot not quite vegetable rot and only a few feet from where as I exited from the forest hundreds of tiny beetles decided I made for a good transport vessel.
Steph was beyond reconciliation so we bided our time as the crew ate and we attempted to snorkel in swirling currents of flotsam seaweed muck. I gave up early grabbed our gear and we deserted our friends. I really wanted to take pictures of the horror of it all but I had a feeling my placing all the repugnance that was around us on a higher pedestal than Steph would have only ended up with my camera going for a swim. I had to play the mean husband and just start walking at a clip a little faster than Steph's. The key to our emotional survival was to not dwell on what was underfoot and focus on the checkered flag at the finish line. In no time I had Steph sitting in a chair drinking a beer back at the resort we had used for parking. Here I began to understand the true torture Stephanie was going through. One of her most hated things back home is walking barefoot on wet grass, that translation hadn't made it through my nerve endings but Steph's feet had made the translation perfectly and converted it into a few other languages as well as speaking in tongues. It was all over though and the rattled gang met up with us a little later as gathered ourselves in the parking lot next to a swamp mourning our disappointment over rejection from heaven. And hey look, some crocodiles, big crocodiles.

Maybe just a weather god.

A simple, beautiful weekend at the beach, with Moises, turned into hell for Steph. It was our usual day at the beach, Moises picked us up we got our usual of beers, chicken, salsa, and tortillas. We relaxed, swam and saw what amazing sights we could find. An infection decided to wreak havoc on Steph's stomach with the full evacuation of her bowels from whichever orifice seemed fit at 2 AM through 8 am.The doctors visit the next day confirmed she had gastroenteritis. She came through it like a champ, a crippled, severally dehydrated, feverish, exhausted dry heaving champion. We aren't completely sure what she ingested that Moises and I didn't, it might have been simply her immune system was too crippled from her cold she had from the previous week. 
At 5 in the morning I was trying to take care of my wife who was curled up in the fetal position dry heaving bile onto the floor but I couldn't help notice the alien light falling against our living room wall through the window. The restaurant across the street was on fire and I had to be at work in fifteen minutes I, of course, still managed to get pictures. Of the fire not Steph.

Vacation?

With all of the chaos of work I decided to make the commitment and spend a little cash so we could have a day of sloth. We work with tourists so our own time is usually spent avoiding the same market to the fullest extent possible. The draw of all you can eat buffets, unlimited beachside drinks and full use of non motorized beach sports equipment had cast it's siren song over us. The morning was beautiful, we ran a few errands and were giddy to spend the rest of the day lounging, swimming and being pampered at an all-inclusive resort on a day pass. We got settled on our beach chairs with margarita in hand and we watched our first thunderstorm roll through since we arrived here. I 
guess all of my complaining about the weak storms here finally caught up with me. Honestly it barely rained on us but we didn't put on any sunscreen and we had no hints of having a darker complexion. Luckily we know how to make the best of our situation regardless of the external circumstances. We went kayaking down the deserted coastline of Cozumel, swimming in the Caribbean currents, and watching the local fishermen ignore their chances of reeling in the big one in hopes of catching another glimpse of Steph paddling around without her top on. Working up an appetite I ate one of the largest plates of ceviche I could muster, a hamburger, french fries, nachos, and whatever else could take up real estate on my numerous rotating plates. Every time we found ourselves in a rain shower we speculated on how much fell and tried to drink the likes in margaritas.
During this all we realized we had a lucky charm for our days off, our friend Moises. When we head out with Moises the weather is always amazing, when we are on our own it is a game of craps with loaded dice. When we finally move back to Portland I will have to devise a way for him to live with us January through June. 

It is too bright anyways.

4 AM came in the same way that one realizes a limb has fallen completely asleep, it all just stopped working. Our ceiling fan slowed, the IPad turned on to say it was done charging, and a blanket of quiet smothered us like a fresh snow storm. The previous day on my walk to work I actually was pondering how I and my work would respond to a complete black out at the time when I should be shaving my face for my incoming clients. I texted my manger that I was going to be late because the possibilities  of showering and shaving in the pitch black and being on time were negligible. The genius of it all was that Steph and I were finally on the same schedule, so I sacrificed what hot water we had left to Steph and showed up to work a half an hour late. What transpired upon arrival is why I have reservations of going to Alaska; I sat on the curb and hung out with my coworkers for an hour and a half while management tried to figure out what to do with us while no form of security existed on the interior of the building. And I absolutely love my coworkers, Steph loves hers too. I don't think we will ever meet a greater group of people in such a stressed out crazy environment, and they will not be coming with us North. As for the power, the entire island had no current because of a construction project severing a line and power was restored by seven AM. The entire incident was forgotten two days later, except we still mention the stars which made their appearance in this unnaturally bright tiny town. 

The confused blogger

I have found myself in an interesting crossroads based upon the most benal sentence in my last blog but also the most important on how we live our lives, comfort. What do we see, and how do we see it. How does it shape our comfort zone.
I am becoming bipolar in regards to this blog, or how I reflect upon my life. When you have your toes wrapped around the cleft of a chasm do you scream in terror or do you melt and let the pure beauty of your situation overtake you. I have always been of the latter attitude, sit down and watch it all go by. Surprisingly Steph has unwittingly, unknowingly sat down next to me and let her toes dip into the chaotic white water that comes with the currents of our lives.
I am having a difficult time writing this blog, I have so many audiences I want to write for, or that is what I tell myself. Do I write for my parents, do I write for Steph's parents, or is my audience my friends? The real problem arises in the fact that I am more than one character on a stage. And each character comes out in a different way to take hold of my narrative. This is going to be a long post and highly disjointed, please read through as if it is a series of short stories by a plethora of authors. 
Okay I am no longer a narrative blogger I am the author of non fiction short stories. Or something.

Oh yeah, I have a blog.

The last couple of weeks have been relatively unremarkable. It makes it difficult to write a blog about our latest exploits when most of the week is remarkably repetitive. This job offers enough entertainment that the weeks are swift. I often find myself on Mondays remorsefully thinking about the six remaining days of work only to find myself befuddled that I have a day off with no plans on the following Saturday evening.
The Sunday before last I found myself blinking into the predawn darkness prepping a boat for some fishing. Or at least trying to prep it as we spent a good hour trying to figure out why the hydraulics wouldn't lower one of the engines on the boat we were on. The boat was provided by Captain Bob who is one of my work buddies old friends. I feel very fortunate to have made these new friends and connections as it will lead to future fishing  (Thank you www.blogger.com for having auto save, as my power just went out.) adventures and Stephanie will soon reap the rewards of some post fishing, we have to make it up to the girls, lounging on boat access only beaches.
Once we got out of the pier it took no time for Bob to announce that we were far enough out to start laying out our tackle. It was akin to watching an insect pupate. When I got on the boat it was a hard shelled simple creature with one ability, movement. Then the boat began to unfold. Within thirty minutes the boat had sprouted six antennas with feelers reaching out behind us enticing fish with bait wearing neon skirts. Now it was a beast blessed with the abilities reserved for those animals normally feared by man and considered kings by their brethren.

We didn't catch anything.

Stephanie and I made the decision to swap our state of wellness, so the following Sunday was spent relaxing/recovering depending on what side of the fence we were on. We ate good food and watched a couple of movies that we probably actually wouldn't have gotten around to for a while in the states, "127 hours" and "The Social Network".  It made me feel current as the Oscars aired that night and both of these films were up for awards.
I will try to be a more avid blogger, and take note of the small things that I have begun to pass over as I get use to this place and yet my few readers might find a moment of fancy in.
And, I am not taking enough photographs while I am here. Give me an assignment, anything (um, except relatives, I know you are going to say pictures of yourselves, give me a little more and I will work that detail into it) If you give me an assignment in the comments section I will post the outcome in my next blog.

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.