DAY THIRTEEN

After the racing around yesterday we deceided to have another slob day - however on the walk to the beach we deceided to have a strenous Friday morning's painting. Next to the swimming pool was a Mexican woman selling ceramics and also selling unpainted items that you could do yourself which she then glazed, so Owen picked a little treasure chest and I did a small vase. Owen's was miles better than mine - I deceided mine was more in the Bloomesbury style where the imperfections made it special!

After the hard graft it was the usual round of beach/veranda/iPod/book/snooze. Such a curse.

Tonight we headed off to La Palapa Hemingway for dinner - one again affording a 1st floor balcony view of the moving sea of people and musicians along 5th Avenue.


DAY FOURTEEN

Umm.. we went back to Xcaret today! I know... I know.... but it is a GREAT place!

The Hola parrot was AWOL again... new things we did were a nice peaceful river ride which was very restful - until I got splooshed when we got close to a waterfall! - and we finally saw inside the St. Francis church next to the memorial mound. It was delightfully simple, open to the elements at the side and overlooking the Caribbean stretching beyond the simple altar and the 'crucifix' tree with the face and hands carved in it.


Apart from that.... bring on the Sea Trek (no problems this time, even gave a pep-talk to a Brit family who went in before us... the father came shooting out of the water as soon as he went in, the wuss), bring on the animals, bring on the cemetery mound monuments, bring on thr Diet Coke and water... more more more!









We went for our final meal tonight at the marvellous Ula-Gula - again left there with fully satisfied taste-buds and stomachs - and wandered one last time past the shops and restaurants on Fifth Avenue including this delightful shop where I spent a few pesos during my stay - known to us as the Frida Death Shop - on behalf of the large section of Frida Kahlo merchandise and the ever-present skeleton figurines. Home to pack in sad silence *sigh*


DAY FIFTEEN

Here it was then, our last morning in our little eco-paradise. Had breakfast and then went for a final hour or so of beach life - and lo, there was the mythical Sock Man that Owen had been trying to tell me about all week. I say trying because every time he started he would start to lose it and spend the next 15 minutes in shrieks of giggles. So there he was this mythical beast... half German tourist half knitting shop. He was wearing a knitted sock/pouch over his meat and zwei veg and nothing else Constant Reader... nothing else. Oh apart from the co-ordinated necklace of course. I really didn't know where to put my face... especially when he started bending over to move his sun lounger - it was a sight that I don't think I will ever forget - although I hear therapy can work wonders.

But let's not let Otto von Knittypouch be our last view of this holiday! We had one last look at our little cabana that had been our home then with heavy luggage and heavier hearts we trundled down to reception to await the car to take us to Cancun airport. Quite a few were checking out - including Sock Man... in a pair of pink plastic pampers with elasticated leg-holes - I was verklempt. I had time to take one last picture of the green on the other side of reception which was presided over by a large Ceiba tree - under which O and I had a little boogie when ever we passed in keeping with Kirsty's song MAMBO DE LA LUNA "And we'll dance underneath the Ceiba tree"

The car ride was sadly the same as all the other rides we had complete with loud gobby bloke, this one American, yakking on about sport. Boy was I happy to see the airport. We got there to find Rosario the Kuoni rep who told us that there were still Premium seats available on the flight that had to be paid for in cash. Rather than face a cramped seat - albeit with our already-paid-for extra leg room - O raced to the nearest cashpoint. It turns out that we got the last two, you know I am sure I get snotty looks in the departure lounge from those behind us in the check-in queue!

It was only once they had shut the plane doors that we were told the flight was going to Manchester then onto Gatwick! We were not happy as I suspect were the people who would have people waiting at Gatwick to pick them up at 8am as the itinerary said. The flight was - well a flight. Ploughed onto the end of EASY RIDERS, RAGING BULLS. Sat at Manchester for ages while the dizzy Monarch mares attempted to do a headcount. We arrived at Gatwick after 10am... waited an age for the carousel to be allocated but the bags popped out among the first. Cab back to Owens... and Mexico carries on without us.