2nd Honeymoon - day 3

(No photos for this entry for reasons that hopefully will become clear as you read.)

Thursday

We woke up Thursday morning eager for our previously canceled trip to Puerto Moreles where we hoped to go snorkeling again. A few times we discussed whether or not to have an adventure that too closely resembled that of the previous day. We could now successfully cross snorkeling off our list and do something else, but after enjoying it so much, we wanted more. In addition, I at least felt that it would have been nice to have a more colorful location with even more varieties of wildlife in the reef.

Alas, as we finished packing up our things for the day, ready to go out into the lobby to wait for our ride, the phone rang and we were told that the sea was still just too choppy, that it had been closed to snorkeling. We were disappointed and mobilized immediately to plan our alternative. Kimberly, our travel agent, ran through some options with us. One involved taking a boat to an island, cruising around there and basically spending the whole day exploring. However, she kept throwing in the added bonuses of the trip such as free drinks on the boat, a place to eat lunch, more drinks, and we knew we just weren’t interested.

Remembering something he’d read about early on in our plans for Cancun, Uri suggested the Underwater Museum. It is a museum of sculptures in the ocean that eventually would become part of the natural reef as wildlife attached itself to them. In the meantime, we were mesmerized by the photos of figures under the water and that notion that we could be underneath the water with them with fish swimming past us like the day before.

We jumped into action, eager to make a reservation before the boat filled up and we made it just in time with just two spots left on the boat. We drove to Aqua World, confirmed our reservation and went out on the back porch to wait for our tour. There were many other tours from the same spot as well as a place to buy drinks. We saw a lot of other tourists there, mostly in bathing suits and many with tattoos. Everyone was relaxed and just hanging out on the dock waiting for their tours to leave.

We had our usual long pre-tour wait during which we wondered exactly what to expect and how even to ask questions. Eventually the tour guide, Angel, approached. He looked older than some of the tour guides we'd met previously which reassured me a little. He looked calm and willing to entertain any questions we might have, but his English wasn’t as strong. I saw a big tour boat and asked if that was what we were taking to the museum. “No,” he laughed. “We’re going in a fast boat.” Then he gave us our life vests, directed us to pick up fins and waited a bit more.

I looked around at the others in the area wondering who would be on our tour. I saw a family with young children that I knew couldn’t be coming. I also saw a blonde woman in a bikini who was flirting with some of the guides, laughing at everything she said. There were some middle-aged men and a group of teenage boys with them.

Eventually all of them, except the family, were called together with us to go onto the boat. Two young women in front of us were from Maryland and had quite a few tattoos. Later that evening when we would compare notes about the day, U. and I would both reflect on our similar reactions, that judging solely on appearances, these didn’t seem to be people who we would normally expect to visit museums.

The boat was a small one, enough to hold about a dozen tourists and about 4 guides. We buckled in and listened to the tour guides give instructions, alternating between Spanish and English. They warned that the water was a bit choppy and that the boat would be going very fast, so we shouldn’t be surprised if the boat jumped sometimes.

U. and I were sitting near the front, the guy across the aisle from us right away called for "MUSIC!" and they cranked it up as high as it would go. The boat took off, picking up speed as soon as it was able and we were speeding through the waters at about 60 or 70 MPH, if I remember correctly what the captain said. For fun the captain rocked the boat back and forth with the steering wheel. It annoyed me in theory but was actually fun and all the people behind us were cheering madly. U. joked that he thought the music was awfully loud, but saw it wasn’t really an issue because we were traveling faster than the speed of sound anyway.

It was at this point I began to wonder just a little about whether this trip was a good fit for us. I enjoyed trying to be in on the party scene for a few minutes, even though it’s not usually what I would choose, and I find myself instantly defining this lifestyle as self-destructive and in fact terrible for the environment. But I was there and that wasn’t changing, so I enjoyed it.

When we slowed down to pass through some mangroves the music was turned up even a tad louder so we could show off to the people and other tour groups on the shore. I leaned over to U. and said I understood, now , the importance of the loud music... in order to keep crocodiles away.

Through the mangroves, we raced back into much much more ocean until suddenly, in what appeared to me to be the middle of the ocean without a landmark, the captain stopped the boat. The guides handed out or goggles, attaching it to our snorkeling tours, and instructed us to proceed to the back of the boat where we would put on our fins and jump in. We were advised to hold onto the rope attached to the boat with a buoy until everyone was off the boat at which we would let go and just try to stay together. If we felt tired or anything we could signal for help and they would be able to pull us with a buoy.

All that sounded just fine. I suppose. But what we saw were waves, big waves, enormous waves that would have been very fun to ride a speed boat over, but that I could not see myself swimming in. "You've got to be kidding," we said to each other, but jumped in anyway.

Instantly I felt nauseous and searched for U. to hold hands as we had done on the previous day. We tried but could barely keep together and I kept trying to take his hand and put it onto the rope. Eventually I realized that I felt more nauseous on the rope because it was fighting the waves. So seeing that the others had let go, I let go too, trusted, and began to swim.

As challenging as it was to swim in those waters, I wanted to see the museum, so I put my head under the surface. What I discovered was that the ocean really has a completely different world beneath the water than above. It was quiet and deep, with wildlife below and a peaceful rocking sensation. I saw fish and a sea star. One of the guides dove deep to point at parts of the reef. But when I came up it was like being in a disaster movie. Bodies were bobbing around me of the other swimmers – alive bodies, but bodies that were prevented from drowning only by the life preservers. We were tiny little objects in a vast ocean.

All the time I was trying to do this while staying close to U., but he signaled a guide and said he needed to get in the boat. It was just too much. “It happens, man,” the guide said and gently took U. I didn’t know quite what the problem was, but I wanted to continue on and I knew he would want me to anyway. So a moment later I looked up, saw him on the back of the boat getting his breath, and then continued on feeling alone and not quite as brave.

Again and again I tried to enjoy the sea, looking beneath the water, then checking to make sure the group was still nearby. But I began to feel afraid too. The waves seemed to be getting stronger and stronger, especially if the boat needed to come close enough to pick up U. and, as I would later discover, several of the others as well. I ducked beneath the water and found myself remembering movies in which people had died beneath the water, how peaceful it looked, yet knowing that at least I didn’t have to worry about dying. Then I popped up and saw another wave coming my way and thinking, “Oh know, I can’t take another one.” That reminded me of giving birth to ND so many years ago, and how my contractions had come in an odd pattern of strong and then weak waves, one after another. I remembered saying, “I can’t handle another one,” and the doula saying, “No, remember, the second one is just an aftershock.” Having that memory made me say to myself, “OK, if I’m remembering that, I may very well be at my limit.”

Still, there were others in the water and I wanted to see the museum. So at last I ducked under and saw what must have been one of the statues I’d seen online. I hadn’t been entirely sure what it was when I'd seen the photo… a large group of people standing around as though in a train station. In real life, I saw for sure that there were many figures, but they were pretty far beneath me, maybe about 15-20 feet below, and they were so covered in seaweed, I couldn’t make them out. I popped up, saw others bobbing around me still, then went under again. There I saw another sculpture, again a series of many figures, and again that was all I could make out.

By now I’d had enough.

I thought I’d been close to a guide all along, but when I said, “I feel sick,” the person closest to me took out her breathing tube and turned out to be one of the American women on the tour with us. She said, “If you stay under more you might not feel it as much.” I gave it a little try, but had definitely had it. I popped up again and this time waved my arm. Right away a guide was by my side and I just barely was able to say now, “I don’t feel good.” At other times during the trip I had tried Spanish wherever possible, but not this time. He handed me a buoy and pulled me with a rope towards the boat where the captain threw out another one for me to grab and dragged me in. He pulled me up onto the boat where I discovered I was completely spent. He gave me a bag in case I needed to throw up, and I gathered my strength to come up to the front of the boat with U. He was sitting as motionless as possible with his head resting on the bar in front of him, moaning now and then as the boat rocked. I joined him, feeling almost as bad as he seemed to, but a little more alert. I gradually realized that others had come back in as well, that more were coming in behind me, and then the captain called out in Spanish, “Charlie, bring them all in!” signaling with his arms.

I have no idea how long we were in the water. It was supposed to be about 45 minutes, but I don’t think I lasted more than 15 or 20. It seemed that the guides were surprised themselves of just how bad it was out there. After all, many of the ports had been closed that day. Once everyone was on board they blasted the music again, but this time I asked them to keep it down. Of the guides, one in particular was keeping an eye on us and was happy to turn it down. The guy on the aisle across from us looked disappointed, but as I think about it, I'm not sure he ever got in the water at all and so naturally was feeling the best of any of us. Later when we came through the mangroves again he yelled out “Music!” again and this time they cranked it up high.

By then I, at least, was feeling better. U. didn’t look so good. But when the guide came to ask me just what was wrong… was I hurting? Did I need to throw up? All I could think to say was, “I just want to go to sleep.” Later U. would say the same had been true for him, that he hadn’t had enough to sleep anyway, and then the sheer exertion of fighting the water had did him in. The guide also suggested I had perhaps swallowed too much salt water. I'm sure he was absolutely right on that.

The captain brought us back quickly, but obliged the thrill seekers on our boat with a few even heavier turns back and forth on the steering wheel so that we splashed down hard, close to the water and even spun the boat around a few times. I was worried about U. but he didn’t complain about it, and at the same time I kind of enjoyed the excitement, if only I could rest soon.

When we finally came in to port they brought out the tip jar that one refered to as “the happy box.” I had no issues with anyone on that boat, they’d gotten is out and back in again safely, but I couldn’t help but laugh.

Once on land I took charge, getting our bag from the car, buying a soda for U. and getting us back to our hotel. Once there, we napped a glorious nap, swam in the hotel pool, cooked up dinner of green beans, baked beans and cheese stirred together in a pan on the hotel stove, went out for a beer, packed our bags, watched Frasier, then crashed hard for the night.

Reading this now, I don't know for sure how much danger we were really in. I'm glad it's over and I never want to do it again, but there's a way in which I'm excited to have had so intense of an experience.