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It was a grueling schedule after we napped. I have a Coco Loco. We go to the spa and enjoy the bath-water warm pool and the jacuzzi hot tubs. We return to our room and the combination of sun, alcohol and warm water makes me decide to take another nap. What can I say? It’s exhausting doing nothing all day.
We get ready for dinner.
We ask the concierge if we can get a ride to the restaurant, Venecia, the Italian restaurant. She has our pictures and CD with the Mayan warriors from the night before. We are pleased with how they turned out.
Jesus is the butler who gives us a ride. He was the one who helped us get a car and driver to go to Tulum when we were here in June. He remembers that our son is a sushi chef. I am impressed with his memory. I tell him that Nicholas is no longer a sushi chef, but is still a chef, now in San Francisco.
We arrive at the restaurant and are seated. Guadalupe and David are our servers tonight. David doesn’t usually serve at dinner, so we suspect they are short staffed. They both work very hard and provide us with excellent service.
Zung has the calamari.
I have the salmon carpaccio.
He also gets the ravioli.
I get the pasta with seafood and the sauce is so rich. I think it is mostly butter. Good but a little too rich.
I get the panna cotta for dessert. Zung gets some fresh fruit.
After dinner we head towards the lobby to get some smaller pesos and then go to the lobby bar. We pass the lady I saw earlier in the rest room who said her husband reads my blog. They are leaving and she says we shouldn’t go to the bar because there is a drunken brawl. She isn’t very happy that something like that happened at a place like this. She tells me I shouldn’t put it in y blog. Unfortunately, having a clientele who can afford a place like the Grand does not guarantee class, or that they won’t drink too much and act stupid.
I go to the lobby desk to change my money. The woman at the desk knows my name and I feel bad because I don’t know who she is. I can’t remember seeing her before. I know I’m a rock star, but I don’t think they have my picture posted in the back, so I must have met her before and just don’t remember.
There are several security guards at the lobby, but the brawl is over. Gabriel, the assistant general manager (whom I HAVE met before) is there as well. Whatever happened was dealt with and the excitement is over. I chat with Gabriel for a bit. Zung and I then go sit at the bar and Daniel makes me a cucumber mojito and fills me in on the excitement. Nothing really dramatic, just some drunk guys that got into it. I don’t like drama, especially when it involves drunk, obnoxious people. I’ve had my share of that.
We get our favorite drinks, made by our favorite bartender.
Rudy comes in and comes over to say hi. I ask where his wife is and he says she is sleeping.
Seriously? Now I am starting to wonder if he really has a wife. It’s starting to get weird.
A guy comes in a sits at the bar and lights up a cigarette.
I say something to Daniel and he says something to the guy, who takes his sweet time leaving. Ok. So, THAT’s really rude.
The cigarette guy comes back when he is done with his cancer stick and orders a drink. After he drinks half of it he asks Daniel for the bottle of vodka and fills his drink up himself. Okay! I am not liking the vibe in here tonight. Time to say good night.
We make plans with Daniel to meet tomorrow to go to Playa del Carmen for ceviche and to hunt for rum.
We go out front and ask for a ride. We have to wait a couple of minutes. There is a big bus there and we wonder what it is for. It is a bus for the club, Coco Bongo. A young couple walks up and gets on. She is wearing pink sequined short shorts (we called them hot pants, back in the day) and BIG shoes. Oh, to be young and beautiful and be able to stay up until the wee hours partying, in shoes like that.
Actually, I was never like that. I never partied. I was a responsible and married and a student. There was just that one weekend in Vegas. And I was 49 when that happened.
When we get back to our room we have a glass of Havana Siete and go to sleep with the balcony door open. I never get tired of the sound of the ocean.