Day 1-2

It’s 10am local time and we are 4428 miles from our stop over in Miami. Just our luck, we are leaving behind a sunny 19•c London. Although the 34•c we will be arriving into is a positive consolation prize.

A seat with a view.

The flight is later than scheduled, naturally and the map on my screen displays the great expansive mass of water we are about to cross. So it’s Cancun after that and the beginning of our adventure! We will need to get a bus into town and then get to the port to make the last ferry over to Isla Mujeres, our first stop on the long road to Managua…..but its never that easy right….

I strolled through American customs without a care in the world. Obviously the American officials care a lot about me. From taking my fingerprints and entertaining me with the usual small talk I was seamlessly ushered into a side room to wait for my ‘details to be varified’. This room was occupied by about 80 sullen individuals from all walks of life. It was full and naturally I was lead to an overflow room with two other people. It felt like an eternity between those four walls but I had my book to occupy me. An hour dragged by, then two and I started to panic. I plaid out the deportation procedure in my head. the forms and the stern looks, the money wasted on my flight. My stomach sank to a depth I haven’t felt in a long time. An endless elevator tumbling with the force of gravity, enclosing me, helpless, in it’s metal embrace. It hit the three hour mark and I was all but lost. The book produced no interest for me. The floor and it’s cracks provided the plateau for my mind to create it’s world of gloom. I asked a cleaner to try and see what was happening with my case and 3 hours of solitude a young officer came in and called my name. Salvation. Not quite. I was interrogated about my visit to Vietnam and Lao along with my descent and my purpose for the visit. He was quiet, noting down each and every word. I had an hour to make my connecting flight and I reminded him of this fact, politely of course. His reply was the best news I had heard all day. ‘Don’t worry sir, your going to be on that flight’.

All the while, encased in helplessness, without my old, wrinkled, maroon companion, my travel buddy Fawaz was outside, waiting. I had managed to send off a few stealthy text messages to keep him updated. I collected my baggage and found him seated by the luggage drop off for the next flight. ‘Mr Luna’. We both grinned and embraced each other. The grins lasted the flight to Cancun.

We landed at 8pm, with time to get into town and on to Puerto Juarez. Fatigued, we opted to fork a little extra for a taxi to the port. Arriving within minutes of the next ferry it was a mad dash to speak to the ushers, run back to the ticket office and then a sprint back to the ferry. All with our heavy laden sacks.

The ferry crossing was a much needed break and the serenity of the cool salty breeze calmed our nerves as we sat back and glared up at the gleaming, star studded sky.

The hotel was easy to find and this quiet little island has given us a much needed rest.

We’ve found and befriended the owners of a small eatery near our hotel who have filled our bellies with the most delicious enchiladas and quesidillas at the cost of £1.75. Horchata provided a filling and healthy drink, I must get the recipe. And now we are going to sit back, enjoy the heat and the sand until Sunday morning.



P.S. Day 2 was mostly spent between our pool and the beach, not much to report or bore you with.