The day you have to go home always arrives, whether you want it to or not. And so it did with me. Monday morning was the day I was going home. I woke up and appreciated that my flowers were still beautiful.
It is pretty early. I go out to the beach and get a chair and then go to breakfast.. I see Asael and ask to sit in his section. I have my usual breakfast. I check the world on my iPad – the news, Facebook, etc.
I go back to my room and change into my swimsuit. I see Charly and ask about a lat check-out. I tell him that I know it is busy and it is okay if that doesn’t work out. He checks for me and tells me it is fine. He will have the bell boy come at one.
I go out to the beach. I foolishly decide to skip the sunscreen because I don’t think I will be out that long, and it’s early.
I have a Mimosa. Maybe I have two. See this is the problem of trying to write notes two weeks after the fact, the memory is not so good. But there is photographic proof that there was a Mimosa.
I went up to the room and packed some. I went to the water and went in up to my knees. It was too chilly to go in any further. I read and looked at the ocean. It was pretty freaking awesome.
I cursed the lady in front of me who was smoking – in between sounding like she was going to cough up a lung. Smoking is such a self-centered event. Not thinking about the people who are breathing your smoke. Not thinking about the people who love you who don’t want you to trash your health. Not thinking about the people who will be devastated what you are gone because you chose to smoke. I would have moved if there had been somewhere to move to. Smokers – please take note.
Can you tell I have issues with smoking?
There was a couple in matching bikinis.
I went back to my room and packed a few more things. I returned to the beach and kept trying to figure out how long I could stay out there. It was about 11:30 or 11:45 when I finally went in. I showered,, finished packing, got dressed, took some pictures on the balcony and made myself one last rum and coke.
Leaving is always sad, no matter how good the trip. This time was no exception. The bellboy called me at one and asked if I was ready. I wanted to say NO! I am never ready. course I said yes and two minutes later he is knocking on my door.My bag is quite full. I have decided that this bag is for three nights but four nights is pushing it, especially if I was wearing anything other than bikinis all day.
The bellboy takes my bag and I go to La Brisa for lunch. I sit in Asael’s section and they are still out of the Sauvignon Blanc. They have no Pinot Noir. I end up ordering the Damon Tempranillo.
I have lobster that is perfect, and french fries.
After lunch I walk the sad walk to the lobby. As I walked up my bellboy said that my ride was there. I say I have to go check out so that I can get my ticket to get my bags. Raphael is there and he tells me I don’t need the tick. I say, well, I still need to pay. He agreed that I did need to do that.
He walked me to the van and said he heard about me not getting my breakfast the day before and apologized. He explained that they misread my number and he had the order form I had filled out. I agreed that the 6 could have been read as a 4.. He said Eder read about it on Facebook.. Now I am feeling embarrassed about even mentioning it. I reassured him that it wa fine. The trip had been great and my husband and I would be back in June.
It is a quick trip to the airport. I check in. They had moved Frontier check in, which threw me for a minute, I go. Aging is what it is.I go through security. At Duty Free I buy two large bottles of the Havanan Siete.
I go to Bubba Gumps for clam chowder and my waiter wants a kiss as part of my payment.Then he wants a picture of us together. He was a character.
I go to my gate. Wait a bit. When I do board I have trouble getting my bag up in the overhead. I sleep a lot on the flight bag.
Solo trip to Mexico crossed off my bucket list. It must be time to go again.