We arrived in Cancun airport along with a plane full of people who were ready for spring break. Unlike my recent trip to India in which the flights were split among Indians, Europeans, and Americans, this flight was 100% Americans going on vacation. After going through a lax customs checkpoint, we were almost funneled through a duty-free shop that sold beach gear and booze. It had separate sections for whiskey, tequila, and other beverages.

We then walked through a gauntlet of dozens of concierges who all wore the same uniforms. They may have worked for the airport – it wasn’t quite clear, and I would have investigated further and taken photos, but I was trying to remain inconspicuous. Outside the doors was a frantic taxi / shuttle pickup area flooded with marker-drawn signs on clipboards that bore riders’ names. On the right side was an open-air bar. On the left was a restaurant / bar (but mostly a restaurant).

Our first dilemma was that we had about 30 minutes until our scheduled shuttle pickup, but it was about 8:00 pm, and we hadn’t eaten. I thought to get a quick quesadilla at the restaurant on the left. Em was concerned about making sure we found our shuttle and it didn’t leave without us. I put my Spanish to use and explained that we had to catch a ride in 30 minutes and asked if we could get a quick quesadilla. I ate while Em got up to find one of the airport workers with the clipboards to let him know where we were. We rushed to make sure we were punctual, and then we waited around in the center island around which taxis and shuttles circled for about thirty more minutes. Apparently, there was an accident on the road which was blocking traffic and delaying our shuttle. Earlier, Em had found the guy with my name on a clipboard. He introduce himself as Johnny, and he waited around with us, checking in on the status of the shuttle every so often. He said that day was a particularly busy day with so many people coming in for vacation. His haircut was a subdued mohawk, which appears to be a common style here.

We made it to the hotel a bit weary from a full day of traveling. The front desk clerk offered us a drink on the house, but he also offered that we could postpone it until the next day, which is what we decided to do.

Our home for the week (El Pez – we highly recommend it!) is beautiful and peaceful. Em has a hard time deciding what to call the place – it’s kind of a cross between a beach-front cabaña and a full-service hotel. When we open the windows of our room, it feels like a treehouse with the sound of the waves and the bird calls and the wind flowing through.