How about a quick rundown of what our vacation was like in Mexico?
Day 1: arrive. eat chips and guac. drink beer. check in. go to beach. eat more chips and guac. drink more beer. drink fruity drinks. drink something in a coconut. eat more chips and guac. go get ready for dinner. go eat delicious dinner. drink margaritas. drink mayan coffees. damn tired. go to bed at 9 pm.
Day 2. sleep in. wake up eventually. eat breakfast. go lay on beach with books. drink beer. eat chips and guac. drink beer. eat lunch. drink tropical drinks. drink beer. eat more chips and guac. more beer. move to pool. drink margaritas. drink beer. drink margaritas. teach bartender to make side cars. teach bartender to make malibu drinks. drink "mistake" versions. get ready and go eat delicious dinner. drink sake with sushi. drink more sake. and more sake. drink after dinner drinks....
Pretty much repeat for 8 days. It's a wonder we have livers left, and that we could fit in our clothes to come home. It was awesome. It was amazing. I am seriously guacamole deficient upon returning. And alcohol, but admitting that seems like it qualifies as a "problem"...but clearly, we are guacamole addicts and should seek treatment.
We did get in a few swims in the spa lap pool. This helped us become hungry for things like breakfast and lunch. We saw a tornado one afternoon, across the water towards Cozumel; we were drinking tequila out of coconuts at the time. We saw the "Michael Jackson SHOW!" which turned out to be an excellent impersonation act. We ate zucchini flowers and did tequila tastings and got sunburned and I read 4 "books" (some were novellas) and we slept a lot.
Everything was beautiful - even the flooding rain every evening. Gauzy draped material blew gently in the breeze. We stole away one night with freshly wrapped cigars and drinks and walked down to the edge of the beach and climbed up to one of the two story beach beds and listened to the waves while we smoked our cigars down to nothing in the breeze, supervised by one lone anole in the rafters, hunting for bugs.
It was sad to come home, but only because the trip was exactly what we wanted, needed and had been dreaming of since we left last time. Life is short, so to go back someplace makes a statement; we would go back yet again.