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Looking out my Backdoor - Rags to riches

Remember a few weeks ago I stayed in the sleaziest hotel in Chacala? Lovelytown. Ugly hotel experience.

This week, thanks to the generosity of Kathy and Richard, I am in the most posh hotel in Cancun, which says a lot! Cancun is “Tourist Mecca,” jaw-dropping beauty.

Our friends also invited Leo. Leo started as our gardener. Now he is our friend. It is our bonus that he helps us with gardening.

Kathy said that this is the Ultimate Blowout Vacation, making use of timeshare points they either had to use or lose. I said, Wow! And Thanks!

To get to Cancun, we chose “Wingflap Air,” cheap with no frills. The plane was powered by dogs running a treadmill in the belly of the plane. The treadmill was connected by rubber band to the prop on the nose. The dogs set off a yowl when the pilot released the rabbits. Rabbits ran. Dog chased. Plane lifted into the air.

When we got within sight of the Cancun airport, the pilot pushed a button to drop the exhausted rabbits to the ground, may they rest in peace. The dogs quit running and settled down to a feast of doggy biscuits. We coasted to a landing.

Once we picked up our bags, we made a huge mistake. We separated. Kathy and Richard took a shuttle to the resort to check in. Leo and I shuttled to rent a car.

The mistake — we did not think to have a copy of the reservation. Security is tight at this resort. Both Leo and I tried to call Kathy. Her phone shuttled us to voice mail.

Ever-resourceful Leo got in touch with his inner lawyer and negotiated our way through three security check points before we could drive up to the lobby. Leo is a pro — he hardly broke a sweat. Me, I freaked, considered spending the week in a low-rent hotel. Silly me.

Ah, the lobby! The grounds! The buildings! The greenery! The pools! The coconut palms! The fountains! The statuary! Words fail me. The rooms!

Yes, the rooms. We made our way to Unit 345 in Building 14. At the elegant carved wooden double doors, none of our keycards opened sesame. Kathy released her phone from airplane mode to call the lobby. A man arrived to fix our door lock. He called another man. Five men and 40 minutes later, we entered our palatial suite.

My room alone is an entire suite with every possible amenity. We each have our own suite within the larger suite, if you can imagine. In the center we have a huge kitchen (which we will never use), a dining room and living room, all enormous. Each room faces the ocean with a balcony. Each room has a bathroom. A jacuzzi tub sits in a nook on the balcony of the living room. Are you getting the picture?

In addition to the kitchen, we each have a coffee pot, microwave and a stocked fridge in our rooms. Each bath is stocked with an array of toiletries to serve every need. Except soap. Somebody forgot to leave us soap. We had toothbrushes, tooth paste, razors, loofahs, shoe rags, hair products galore, lotions but no soap.

We had not eaten all day and darkness was descending. We left to find one of the several restaurants for dinner. I’ll tell you, when it comes to negotiations, Kathy and Leo make an unbeatable team. Kathy talked our way into seats in a reservations-only restaurant.

Ah, such a meal! Superb cuisine. Every bite delicious. Service is impeccable. Our every desire was satisfied before our brains had a notion there might be a desire lurking in the background. Each bite elicited embarrassing mmmmm noises.

When we returned to our rooms, we had soap. Which was nice because that might be the most satisfying shower I ever had!

But this is not reality. This is not Mexico. This is a Disneyland sort of place.

In the beginning we felt a bit out of our element, not quite comfortable. Now we recognize this experience as a retreat, a week for each of us to feel petted and pampered.

——

Sondra Ashton grew up in Harlem but spent most of her adult life out of state. She returned to see the Hi-Line with a perspective of delight. After several years back in Harlem, Ashton is seeking new experiences in Etzatlan, Mexico. Once a Montanan, always. Read Ashton’s essays and other work at montanatumbleweed.blogspot.com. Email [email protected].

 

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