Honeymoon: Last Day

Previously on Pickled Beef...
Day 1 & 2 (Key West)
Day 3 (Cozumel)
Day 3 Continued (Cozumel- Maya Ruins)
Day 4 (Belize)
Day 4 Continued (Belize- River Tubing)

I got a massage once while in Orlando on vacation. It was wonderful. I vowed to get one at least twice a month after that. Four years later, I got another. Before Hoop and I left for our honeymoon, my Mom stuffed a hundred dollar bill in my palm and told me to treat myself to something nice. Hoop thought that meant booze. I, on the other hand, had my eye on the day spa of our ship. I'd have been better off buying the alcohol. Nothing on a ship is cheap. Even the food, which is "free".

It's like dining at an all-you-can-eat (and-not-barf) buffet. Unless you pick your selections wisely, you're probably just wasting your money on a really expensive salad and some popcorn shrimp. The day we boarded, I realized I'd forgotten to pack our toothbrushes, toothpaste and shaving cream. We went to the little supply shop on board, where we bought low-grade versions of those items for $4 each. There was a moment in my frugal mind where I contemplated scrubbing my teeth with my finger and salt water instead.

Back to the massage. It wasn't until the last day, our day at sea, that I took a good look at the day spa prices. I had naively assumed that it would be affordable enough that Hoop and I could treat ourselves to it without completely blowing the rest of our funds. Hoop had never had a professional massage before and I, as mentioned before, should have been on my 96th by then. "*An arm and a leg!" Hoop exclaimed when I showed him the flier. "Actually, it would be TWO arms and legs," I mumbled. "An arm and a leg EACH?!" But I was determined.

So what if Hoop was out of work and I made little more than a second manager at McDonalds? We were on our honeymoon! It started off pleasant enough. The masseuses doused us in peppermint oil and turned on the mood music. It was a lot less budget porn than I just made it sound, really. All was going well until fifteen minutes into the treatment, when my masseuse stopped massaging and started playing with my hair instead. The hair on my HEAD. Stay with me people! I remember thinking, "Well this is odd." Followed by, "Does she still have oil on her hands?"

After playing with my hair she moved on to tickling the bottoms of my hands and feet. At one point, I swear she was doodling the alphabet. Not long after, my masseuse shuffled off. It was dark and I was on my stomach. I thought about calling out to Hoop to make sure he was still there, but then I heard the masseuse shuffling back. Apparently, she'd just stepped away to get her cowbell. After ringing it, like some actor signifying the end of a second act, her and the other masseuse left us to dress.

"That was weird," I mumbled to Hoop before the two came back in. They handed us glasses of warm water and then proceeded to try and sell us every massage oil and lotion known to man. I left feeling like I'd been to a timeshare seminar. "That was NOT what a massage is supposed to be like," I told Hoop when we left. "I'm going to schedule us a real one as soon as we get back!" We've been back for almost two months now. Have we gone for massages yet? Nope. That puts me at 99... and counting.

The rest of the day was spent laying out in the sun and fighting old people for claim on the hot tubs. It wasn't hard. We just pushed them over. I'm kidding! We told them there was Bingo three floors down. All in all, our honeymoon was just as awesome as I had hoped it would be. I would recommend taking a cruise to anyone. I can't wait until Hoop and I take another. If anyone knows of someone looking to pay a permanent honeymooner, I'm their gal. I'll even do it if there aren't monkeys. Although, monkeys would be a bonus.

*Not the actual price.

Have a wonderful weekend Homebloys!

Honeymoon: Day 4 (Continued)

Previously on Pickled Beef...
Day 1 & 2 (Key West)
Day 3 (Cozumel)
Day 3 Continued (Cozumel- Maya Ruins)
Day 4 (Belize)

The camp looked like a movie set for a drug smuggling operation. The three buildings on the grounds looked like jungle huts. But they were relatively modern on the inside, with running water and tiled floors. It wasn't intentionally campy. Rather, as if the buildings couldn't make up their minds what to be. It reminded me of that early 80's movie, "Victor Victoria" where Julie Andrews plays a woman pretending to be a man pretending to be a woman. Only, these were huts pretending to be modern buildings pretending to be huts.

The employees of the camp were all business, never smiling as they politely ushered us around. My mind painted them with machine guns and I was startled to find that the image fit just fine. After buying rubber shoes and a tube of bug repellent (Hoop was still scared of Malaria), we stripped down to our bathing suits and waited for the guide. I was instantly self conscious of my tiny bikini. Whether due to our guide's previous warning about piranhas, or because they were equally self conscious, most of the other women opted to stay fully clothed.

After a short trip on the tractor-taxi, we arrived at the beginning of the river and a pile of inner tubes. The water was crystal clear... and freezing, much like the spring fed rivers in central Florida. Hoop and I happily jumped right in. Floating down the river, buffeted by jungle, made all the day's misadventures worth it. My only complaint was that the guide's attendants, who were also on tubes, continuously shoved at the people in the back to make sure the group kept moving. Apparently, Hoop and I are more *cough* dense than some. We were almost always on the tail end.

About halfway down the river, the guide, who was up from us, started pointing at the water and shouting, "There they are! There are the piranhas. Watch your nipples!" Several people took off paddling. I, on the other hand, had unintentionally drifted right into the spot where he'd been pointing. Cautiously, I looked over my float and saw... minnows. I laughed about that for a good twenty minutes. Nipple-biters indeed. Then we hit some miniature rapids. I loved that part, until I scraped my ass on a fallen tree. It was still worth it though.

After floating down the river we stopped to look at some Maya ruins, followed by a meal back at the camp. Our guide tried to convince us that it was iguana we were eating. After the whole piranha incident, no one was inclined to believe him. I'm pretty sure it was chicken. At least, I HOPE it was chicken. After we ate, Hoop and I wandered off to check out the caged jaguar. The poor cat was pacing the enclosure, mouth open and wide eyed. It wasn't like a jaguar at a zoo. You could tell this guy had been caught recently, and he was itching to go back.

Hoop stood so close to the bars, I envisioned the story I would tell our kids one day about how Daddy lost his arm. Fortunately, they called us back to the tractor-taxi. Back on the bus, our guide continued telling us of his culture. In Belize, one of their delicacies is Cashew wine. It's made from the fruit, not the nut. They're soaked out in the sun under a blanket of brown sugar until they ferment. The result is a thick, almost syrupy, orange wine. "Coincidentally", the guide's Mother happened to make the wine and wouldn't you know it, she had made a fresh batch that day!

After a quick stop at the guide's Mother's house (no lie), we were on our way back to the ship with drinks in hand. I wanted to like the wine. I really did. I daydreamed about buying a few bottles for my friends and family back home. My treasure from Central America. Unfortunately, the wine tasted like a mixture of cooking wine and lighter fluid. My eyes watered at the smell of it. Hoop tried not to laugh as I juggled the full cup on my knee the entire way back. He finally took pity on me and snuck it off to the sink in the back. Oh well. Belize was interesting. I'm not sure I would go back though. Not unless they could guarantee monkeys.

Honeymoon: Day 4

Hoop says that I have to stop finishing the sentence, "Belize was nice..." with the words "...but there were no monkeys." Because it wasn't about the monkeys. But it was. It really was. I was disappointed the moment we stepped off the ferry. I don't know what I expected; lush rain forests and houses in the trees maybe? I know, I'm such a stupid white girl. What we got instead was an early morning wake-up, followed by a jostling crowd of people and a long dirty bus ride. You can't wander in Belize City like you would other ports of call. They give you two options: buy an excursion or stay on the boat.

Hoop and I bought the excursion where you *clears throat*, "Lie back on your tube and let the current take you down the river. Stop for a dip in one of the swimming holes. Emerge in a Mayan tomb site, Hubelna, overlooking the river. Enjoy a tropical feast served in the heart of the jungle." Pretty cool, huh? What they failed to mention (but do now, coincidentally) was that there would be an hour and a half drive to get to the river. But that was before our guide turned the bus around fifteen minutes into the ride to tell us that our excursion had been cancelled. He told us fifteen minutes later that he was joking.

No one laughed.

After we picked up our missing tourists, the real reason for turning around, we were on our way. Belize City was nothing short of shocking in its poverty. Most of the houses looked condemned, although the clotheslines outside indicated differently. The streets were narrow and flooded. The people were skinny and dirty. Graffiti was everywhere. I noticed immediately that it was all in English. Words like "Cunt" and "Puppy" were often painted on the same wall of a bus station. "And now we leave the good side of town" our guide announced as we crossed into a portion of the city that looked absolutely no different than the one we'd left.

We all stared at him, waiting for an indication that he was lying or joking. But he wasn't. Although I would never agree to such a long bus ride again, I did learn a few interesting things about Belize along the way. One, most Belizeans speak English! Their lineage is a cross between British, African (slaves) and Maya. Two, "Mayan" is the word for the language the Mayas spoke, not the people. Three, Mayas still exist! In Belize alone there are three remaining tribes. Their names are Yucatec, Kekchi, and Mopan. If you ever stumble across a Maya in Belize, the appropriate greeting would be "Hach ki'imak in wóol in wilikech."

Or you could just nod.

During the trip, our guide described to us some of the wildlife we might see. It was here that monkeys were mentioned. "What about crocodiles?" I whispered to Hoop. He quickly raised his hand to ask. "What about crocodiles, snakes, and piranhas?" The guide chuckled. "There are several poisonous snakes in Belize, but all of them are nocturnal. Although I know we have crocodiles, I've never seen any in this river. As for piranhas, we have some, but they're very little. They like to nibble on nipples." "For real?!" One nervous tourist blurted out. The guide gave a sly glance and said, "You better wear a shirt."

After the hour and a half bus ride, we were dropped off at a little house not far from the border of Guatemala. Guatemala. I'm not even kidding you. An older gentleman, the owner of the house, loaded us onto a trailer fixed with benches. Then he pulled us up the mountain with his tractor. His wife and three small children watched with curiosity from the open doorway as we left. I couldn't stop cracking up at the absurdity of it all. "This isn't at all what I expected!" I shouted at Hoop over the clank of metal and wood. "Do you really think they have piranhas?" He replied.

To be continued...

Honeymoon: Day 3 (Continued)

(Click for larger pictures or visit my Flickr page.)

I didn't think we were going to make it to the Mayan ruins in time. We had two hours left until we were due back on the boat, and we weren't even sure where we were in relation to it. "We can make it!" Hoop yelled over his shoulder as we flew across bumpy roads butted by blue water and palm tree forests. I leaned forward to reply and was instantly hit in the mouth by his tears. I turned to rest my head on his shoulder instead and watched as the wind whipped the water from his eyes and out to sea. A short time later I was roused by the sight of more scooters. Some of them were being ridden by other tourists.

You could tell they were tourists because they, like us, were wearing helmets. Cozumel locals apparently don't believe in helmets... or weight limits... or physics. At one point I saw a four person family piled on one bike. They flew down the street as if something softer than concrete were below them. The Father was up front driving while the Mother was seated on the back juggling their two small children. The smallest, still in diapers, balanced on her arm like it was a beam. I tried not to think about them later, to imagine what fate that kind of lifestyle could bring them. But it haunts me still.

One hour and thirty minutes until departure, Hoop and I finally rode up on the main gate for the Mayan ruins. What we didn't realize was that the road beyond the gate was filled with potholes, fallen tree limbs, and about three miles long. I closed my eyes through most of it.

That's not it. But it sure FELT like it! This is a picture of the original walking path to the main temple. I can't remember the function of most of these buildings. Some were temples. Others were houses. The ones below were decorative, if I remember correctly.




A couple pictures of us...



Hoop claimed this one for himself.

These are my favorites...




The entire time we were walking, Hoop kept freaking out about the mosquitoes. He was convinced he was going to get Malaria. Fortunately, another family of tourists ahead of us had bug repellent. I only wish they'd had annoying-tourist repellent too. Once we started talking to them, we just couldn't shake them. The daughter spent the next half hour complaining about their cruise ship. Finally, Hoop and I ducked behind a ruin and then ran off in the opposite direction. I had suggested knocking the girl unconscious with an ancient Mayan pillar. But we decided we didn't want to spend the rest of our honeymoon jailed in Mexico.

After the ruins, Hoop and I flew back on our little yellow scooter in the direction we believed our cruise ship was. After avoiding three near accidents (Cozumel locals apparently don't believe in traffic signals either), we got back to the port with ten minutes to spare. The guy at the scooter depot practically yanked us off the bike as we pulled in. We had just enough time to grab souvenir stickers and run to the dock. Overall, it was an amazing adventure. Cozumel was hands down my favorite port. Hoop disagrees. But then again, he was the one driving. All I had to do was close my eyes and try not to hyperventilate.

The next stop was Belize, which was amazing for entirely different reasons.

More on that soon... Well, soon-ish.

Honeymoon: Day 3

I had good intentions of posting Friday. Then I lapsed into a turkey coma. I tried to type, but all that would come out was, "UGH." Work pretty much paid me to stare at my screen that day. I think I've finally digested that second helping of mashed potatoes though. So, we're OK. Without further delay, may I present to you day three of the honeymoon. Sweet Jebus, this has got to be the longest recap ever!

(Click for larger pictures or visit my Flickr page.)

I'm a planner. I don't mind being spontaneous, as long as it's what we've planned on being. It's an oxymoron (oxymora if you want to be picky), I know. But think about it. If you can plan on being lazy, why can't you plan on being spontaneous too? I'm game, as long as I don't have to make the decisions once we get there. Hoop and I arrived at Cozumel on Wednesday. Straight off the boat, people were ardently trying to sell us things. Hoop weaved around vendors holding bright signs and shouting things like, "Come here! I have something to show you!"

We pushed our way to the street before Hoop turned to me and said, "Wanna grab a scooter?" "Sure," I shrugged. The guy behind the kiosk took our money and handed over two pint-sized helmets and the keys to a bright yellow "Tucan". "The speed limit is 40ish," he mumbled to me as Hoop took an experimental drive around the parking lot. I hopped in behind him and away we went. There are a few things you should know before driving in Cozumel. One, no one obeys the speed limit. Everyone drives 80mph (130km), including the scooters.


(Scooter For Two)


(Palm Tree Beach)

Two, people will jump out in front of your moving vehicle in order to sell you things, like sculptures of people fornicating on seashells or timeshares. Three, "Topes" means speed bump and not "boobs", which is what the symbol on their sign looks like. You can imagine Hoop's disappointment when we finally figured that out; especially since we were looking too hard to notice that we should slow down. Our first stop on the scooter was a snorkel shack. A couple of Hoop's gambling buddies were already there and invited us to attend a wedding on the island for one of our cruisemates.

Having had our fill of weddings already, Hoop and I politely declined and then sped away for our own private getaway. It was at the next snorkel shack that things got a little hairy. Hoop kept asking me what I wanted to do. "As if I've actually been here before? I don't know, snorkel?" "Yes, but do you want to go on our own or in a group or somewhere else?" That's where the whole spontaneity thing from before comes in. Don't throw out the idea of plans and then expect me to make them last minute. After a bit of unfun snipping at each other, we decided to snorkel alone.

The beaches in Cozumel are fascinating. There isn't much sand. Mostly, it's made up of broken coral and shell. I wanted to haul it away by the handful. After an hour of fish-gazing, Hoop and I hopped back on the scooter for the next destination. Along the way we stopped at a little store for drinks and queso chips. As with everyone else, the kids behind the counter tried to con us out of money. Hoop stared at the 20 pesos in the cashier's hand, 16 pesos (about $1.70) short of what we were owed, before going back to the scooter for exact change. The chips were fantastic though. I wish they made that flavor back in the states!


(Chip Break)

The next stop, about an hour later, was a little Reggae bar halfway down the island. We ordered Coronas and sat in the shade for a bit staring at all the graffiti. It covered every surface of the place, including the floor and ceiling. In the distance you could see a lighthouse. Before and after that was nothing but empty beach and wild palms. It was awesome. I never wanted to leave...


(Reggae Bar)


(Reggae Bar Graffiti)


(Parrot)


(Posing On The Beach)


(Cozumel Beach)


(More Cozumel Beach)


(Wild Palms)

Tomorrow: WWC
Wednesday: Cozumel (Part Two), Mayan Ruins.

Honeymoon: Day 1 and 2

(Click for larger pictures or visit my Flickr page.)

This was our ship, the Enchantment of the Seas.

We almost didn't board her in time.

Here's a fact you might not know, I suck at directions. Hoop sucks at planning things. So imagine the trouble we get into when I trust him to plan something and he trusts me to gauge how long a drive is going to take. It was about ten o'clock on boarding day when Hoop checked the Royal Caribbean website and realized that our ship was going to begin loading at one. It was going to take us five hours to get down to Fort Lauderdale. "Baaaabe." He called from the office. "We have to leave- NOW." I was about halfway through my packing. I did the rest of it in tears, convinced we were going to miss our honeymoon.

We made it, but with no time to spare. The only time we stopped was to pee and to collect a warning ticket for speeding. By the time we got on the ship, my nerves were shot. Hoop gave me a tour of the facilities and then steered me in the direction of the boats massive buffet. Never have I seen so many of my favorite foods together in one place before! There was lobster ravioli, sushi, steak kabobs, stuffed chicken, and a dessert bar that could almost convince you to skip dinner entirely. Unfortunately, I could do no more than look at my overflowing plate with trepidation. The ship had begun to move.

I never got sick on the cruise. In fact, after the first night I was completely fine. I could run up and down the decks and eat two plates of food without ever a thought about where I was. But on that first night, my fear got the best of me. I retreated to our room for a little R&R and Hoop made his way to the casino. The next morning I awoke to a stillness I hadn't expected. "Why aren't we moving?" I mumbled to Hoop. Suddenly, we both shot out of bed and looked out the window. We were in Key West! After Hoop force-fed me breakfast, we left the boat to explore the port and score some drinks.


(An island off the coast of Key West.)


Our first stop in Key West was the art museum. Located just off the port, it was an easy choice for something to get into. It featured lots of "interactive" art, which Hoop and I took to mean "art you can get pervy with."


(Pinching The Mona Lisa.)


(Painting Grope!)


(Licking the Girl with a Pearl Earring.)


(Right At Home.)

There were tons of others. But really, how much dignity can we afford to lose on one post? After the museum, Hoop and I went bar hopping. But mostly it was for the cool t-shirts. At the last stop, the Flying Monkey, we got alcoholic slushies to go. We were in pretty good spirits by the time we bumped into this guy.

I can't remember the joke he told us. But I remember it had something to do with blowjobs, and the punchline included him letting beer pour out of his mouth. What a gem. Hey ladies, there's no ring on that finger as far as I can tell! Whatcha think? No? Ok, moving on.


This is where we eventually ended up, at the southern most point of the U.S. Obviously, this picture was taken by someone else. Why do people always cut us off at the feet? You should have seen this picture before I cropped it. There was allll this space on top and nothing on bottom. It was like that with several other shots too, all taken by different individuals. Next time, I'm bringing a tripod. As a whole, Key West was really fun and laid back. Not to mention colorful. I would definitely go back, if for nothing more than those alcohol slushies. YUM.

Bonus shot for Newt:


Tomorrow: Turkey Day! I'm taking the day off. Have fun Homebloys.
Friday: Cozumel, Mexico.