June 30, 2008
Honeymoon Chronicles, Part 5
June 28th, 2008
Unable to journey out to the jungle tree houses due to overbooking by a team of archaeologists, we mandate a day of sheer utter laziness and boredom. George is thrilled when we stumble into a breakfast of "sopapillas" (a word he has been repeating over and over in Spanish because he thinks it sounds so cool), served with maple syrup, eggs, fruit and the familiar bean mash. We are satiated and settle into a breezy wandering chat with the Mom of the traveling Floridians, who elaborates on their free-spirited journeys through the Carribean and Meso America.
We have begun to contemplate departure from Crystal Paradise due to some of the high cost of tours, uncomfortable essence, and disappointment of quality. Basically, we've begun to feel that we've done most of what we've wanted to do here in the jungle, and the resort and/or the Tut family has not given us any reason to stay.
It is difficult to explain why it is uncomfortable here, but I'll attempt it. Nothing is quite what you expect or are led to believe it will be. While the family is certainly laid back and lackadaisical, they seem to take it a bit too far. Meals are often thirty to forty five minutes late to as much as an hour late. Tours are often not prompt, nor are pickups and are often passed off or contracted out to strangers. Thew food is mostly mediocre and can best be categorized as basic American. Sudden changes in itinerary or schedule are not communicated to guests, who are often left waiting in confusion. While the lodge is simple, it is still lovely and even the enromous amounts of beetles, spiders, lizards and bats that make it into the cabanas might be overlooked if only the place was run with some manner of responsible professionalism. George and I, disapointed with some of what we have experienced here, begin to lean towards an early departure.
The Tut Family seems a disjointed thing and I'm never sure who belongs and who doesn't. The older children seem to drift in and out of the premises and are not much involved with the operation, with the exception of the oldest boy, Jeronie, who seems to be his father's right hand man. Jeronie is a big, round, burly man about our age with a deep belly laugh that seems to come out wrong as a tinkling giggle. The women of the family we see little of, except in and out of the kitchen. They seem to know little English and quietly avoid contact with guests whenever possible while behind the curtains and doors of the kitchen, the chatter runs fast and thick in Spanish. The children range in ages and can be found romping around the property at any given time, but they lose all animation when noticed by guests, as well as power of speech, and simply stare mutely at our bungled attempts to coax play from them.
The Canadians, of whom you have heard so much and so little about, can really be summed up in one word: Geeky. The father, a tall obscenely chicken legged thing with enormous square rimmed glasses, is awkward to the point of pity. His wife, whose straw colored hair is frizzed into a helmet immovable by wind, does strange, nervous things with her hands. Their daughter, who must be teased mercilessly at school, is stark white with crooked glasses and a singular talent for saying the most inappropriate things at the most inappropriate times to the most inappropriate people. She is eleven and shows it. Whenever they are waiting, gathered together, you can find them sitting apart, silently immersed in a book. The husband and wife seem never to touch and only the mother is awkwardly affectionate towards her daughter, who is unfortunately named Ariel.
In addition to these human companions to our days, George and I have had the pleasure of the company of several animals, by choice or not. There seem to be at least three dogs belonging to the place and they wander about, seeking out petting and play. The first one we met, possibly a Doberman/Rotweiller mix with black and born coloring, is tail less and we promptly name him "D-O-G." When another comes on the scene, a milky white and completely submissive dog with ears that lay flat against his head, we name him "D-O-G-2." He seems to be the original "D-O-G"'s abject and humble servant, often the brunt of snapping jaws and nips. A third (D-O-G-3, of course) looks similar to the original D-O-G and we don't really see much of him during our stay.
The animal who happens to be most frequent during our stay is "Fred" or "Geico- the Gecko." We're not even sure he's a gecko lizard but he is long and green with a head like an iguana and he moves at lightening speed. George discovered him in one of our bags the first morning of our stay here when he jumped out, almost as terrified as George was. He's kept up residence with us since and although we're not always sure he's still here, we'll find him occasionally in odd places- by the toilet, on the window screen, in the corner, under the bed. He seems confused and I'm sure wants out but is refusing all assistance in the matter.
George and I spend our day of luxurious laziness playing long sessions of Battleship, cards, writing and reading. A mid day naps caps off the day and dinner proves more tantalizing with squash soup, warm tortillas, beans, rice and chicken. Dessert, a coconut cream pie, is not nearly sweet enough and the meringue is flat but we don't complain over the effort.
The couple from Oklahoma is raving about their hardcore cave expedition today and George and I waffle on our early departure plans. Unsure, we schedule canoing and massages and put off decision making for another day.