I Kissed a Dolphin (and I liked it....)

I think I've already mentioned that we stayed in a resort that had dolphins swimming around RIGHT OUTSIDE OF OUR ROOM, and I may even have alluded to some dolphin cuddling. 

Yes - that happened.

For $150, you too can have a "dolphin encounter" which involves a lot of petting of the dolphins, kissing, hugging, and - the crowning glory - a "dolphin push" which involves a dolphin swimming up behind you and pushing your feet so that you are raised up like some sort of majestic mermaid and fly across the surface of the water, balanced on the dolphin's head, at a rather alarming pace. 

Unfortunately, the encounters were completely sold out by the time we sauntered up to the tourist desk to do so. I was able to snag a spot from a cancellation, but The Gentleman was unable to get up close and personal with the dolphin, so he had to be satisfied with taking pictures of me and hearing me talk about my experience for hours and hours afterwards.

Here's something I never expected: dolphins are kind of scary. They look so super cute when they're like this:

(image courtesy The Institute for Marine Mammal Studies)

...like all, "Hello there! I am a friendly creature of the sea, who might possibly be smarter than you and also contain magical powers, and my best friends are unicorns!"

But they're actually kind of really intimidating. You forget that they're roughly the size of a small horse, because most of them is underwater when you look at them, and you have no idea how incredibly strong and powerful they are until you feel one swimming by you. Also, they have lots and lots of teeth. 

I got over my fear of being in deep water surrounded by beings much larger than I and was able to go with the flow. It helped that a seven year old boy and a nine year old girl were in my group. They didn't seem scared and, I reasoned, they were smaller and weaker and would be picked off more easily should we have a case of Rogue Dolphin on our hands.

High five? No? Gonna leave me hanging?

Dancing. This was the point when I realized how freaking big dolphins actually are. I got a little scared at the point. 

But then I got to hold the dolphin like an upside-down baby, and all was well.

So, something else happened during this experience. There are probably 6-7 dolphins in the pen at any given time, and each dolphin has a trainer, and a small group of about 6-8 people. The dolphin must hug, kiss, cuddle, and "push" each of these tourists who have paid an exorbitant amount of money to fondle wildlife. Understandably, the trainers are highly sensitive to the fact that they're working with very large animals around very dumb tourists. The dolphins' needs HAVE to come first, and a trainer who knows his/her charge well will understand his/her personality quirks and triggers, and will lead the experience accordingly. I have nothing but respect for these trainers, who do the same shows multiple times a day, and are responsible not only for the safety of these scary beautiful creatures but for tourists who pile in from around the world for the opportunity to get up close and personal with a marine mammal.

But "Debbie from Texas" in our group apparently just didn't get it.

"Debbie from Texas" had a bee in her bonnet from the moment we were ushered out of the small hallway where we were assigned life jackets and watched a brief and depressing film on dolphin endangerment (as well as a terrifying brief documentary on how dolphins are wild animals and have been known to attack humans if provoked) and onto the dock where we lined up to "meet" our assigned dolphin and trainer. "Debbie from Texas" was pissed off because, apparently, she wasn't aware that a "stranger" (i.e. - me) was going to be put into her group which consisted of her, her best friend, her sister, and her best friend's two kids (who I purposefully did not get attached to in the event that they got eaten by a dolphin - better them than me). But another group had a cancellation that I was able to snag. However, the other group was assigned to a dolphin who, for whatever reason, the trainer had decided needed a smaller group to work with on this particular afternoon. Whatever, dude; we're talking about wildlife with teeth - I absolutely defer to your judgement. 

So the extra tourists were divvied up amongst other dolphins, and I wound up getting assigned to "Debbie from Texas" and her crew. And "Debbie from Texas" apparently felt that this inconvenience had ruined her entire vacation.

"Debbie from Texas" bitched about this for a solid twenty minutes as we adjusted our life jackets, lined up, and had our first encounter with the incredible sleek, gray creature who silently slid by me in the water and eagerly opened her mouth for the (very dead/slightly frozen) squid that I tossed in. I was amazed - with the tiny squinty eyes of our dolphin, to her powerful tail, to the scratch marks on her back and fins which are common among penned dolphins who "rough house" with one another.

"It's no offense to you - hey, what did you say your name was?" "Debbie from Texas" went on.

"Um, me? Lindsay?" I said, still mesmerized by the fact that I was touching a dolphin for the first time in my life.

"Right, Lindsay, seriously, nothing personal, ok? It's just I paid for a private encounter, you know" (bullshit, private encounters are for only two people, and it's five times as expensive as what you paid) "and I didn't know they were going to try and pile on random people when I'm just trying to have a nice experience with my family and friends, you know?"

Shut up, "Debbie from Texas". Just shut up.

The trainer, a very kind and patient man named Marco, asked "Debbie from Texas" to please be respectful of the fact that the trainers have to make decisions based on the needs of the dolphins, who work very hard every day, and that he could assure her as intimate an experience as possible even with the extra person (me) present. He, and the staff of the resort, would do everything in their power to ensure that her experience was as once-in-a-lifetime as she wished.

"How about free T-shirts?" "Debbie from Texas" requested. I'm pretty sure Marco would have given her the shirt off his back if it would shut her up at this point, so he eagerly acquiesced.  "And one for Lindsay, too," she said, smiling at me as though we were in this thing together.

No, "Debbie from Texas", we are not.

As Marco went to ask one of the staff members to round up some T-shirts for us to shut "Debbie from Texas" up, she leaned over to me and whispered, "Seriously, no offense to you, at all, but, I mean, you know how these Mexicans are. If you're not careful, they'll just screw you over in any way they can! They're just out for your money."

I was aghast. I was shocked, first that "Debbie from Texas" would say something so completely inappropriate, and second that she would say this to a stranger and expect that person to commiserate with her bigotry. 

I wish I could say that I defended Marco, the dolphin, and the whole damn team, but I was so taken aback that I just kind of stood there in the murky pool water with one hand on the dolphin. I was halfway between a magical sea world of wonder that my child-like self was wholly absorbed in as something truly otherworldly, and halfway between wondering if I would get kicked out of the Dolphin Encounter for bitch slapping "Debbie from Texas". 

Fortunately, we were both saved from the experience of her being slapped and me probably being removed from the dolphin pen by Marco, who re-appeared and, clapping his hands together excitedly, said "Ok, friends, let's meet your dolphin up close and personal!"

I mostly forgot all about "Debbie from Texas". And I did get a free shirt. It has a giant heart on it with dolphins leaping out of it. I have reassigned feelings of guilt and anger towards that shirt and now look upon it with fondness of the memory of the time I overcame my fears of large marine mammals and let one kiss me on the cheek.

The dolphin is kissing me.

Mexico - cOcO bOngO

"You HAVE to go to cOcO bOngO," my friend, Lauren, said. I could practically hear the creative capitalization of nouns.

"What," I asked; the pray tell part of the sentence left unsaid because I was 30 at the time and Lauren is a pretty little 26 year old and therefore would dismiss me for using the phrase 'pray tell'; "is cOcO bOngO?"

"You know," she said, "like from The Mask. Only it's much crazier now."

Coco Bongo (I simply cannot keep typing it as cOcO bOngO or I am going to go cOcO f-Ing bAnAnAs) is a club very near to where our resort was in Cancun. The Gentleman and I had divvied up our vacation time as such: three nights for quiet dinners and relaxing after-hours listening to live music and sipping wine so that we could get up early in the morning, one night relegated to the resort's on-site club (which turned out to be...not what we expected) and one night "out on the town." Like - THE REAL SPRING BREAK, YA'LL.

Here's how the whole Coco Bongo thing works - our second or third day on the resort, we stopped by one of those desks in the lobby with tons of flyers for ANCIENT RUINS TOURS or SNORKEL WITH DINOSAURS (a slightly stretched truth, I imagine) and tried to sign up for some excursions. There were some really awesome ones - snorkeling through ancient ruins and caves, zip lining through jungle trees, day-long boat rides that went from reef to reef for diving. Unfortunately, we waited too long to sign up for things, and most everything was booked.

NOTE: go to those touristy-desk things THE FIRST DAY YOU GET THERE. Shizz fills up fast. I managed to sneak in a dolphin cuddle, but there was only ONE spot left, and The Gentleman was forced to stand off to the side and drink free beers and take pictures of me getting up close and personal with a dolphin because the entire "dolphin experience" was sold out, and I only got in due to a cancellation. More on that later. 

But we were able to buy two tickets to get into Coco Bongo, and they were worth every penny. $75 a person gets you tickets to not have to stand in line (which you probably will anyway, but at least not with the "general admission" putzes who pop their collars or have sun burned tits), and open bar. Apparently, in recent years, all of the clubs in the area moved to the "huge cover charge, but open bar" theme. I can't imagine why (a million credit cards left behind at the end of the night and/or a million unpaid tabs walked out on). At first, I was kinda pissed - like how enraged I used to get when Seacrets would charge ungodly sums for cover charges in Ocean City in college (most likely to keep out the rifraff like myself- a college kid with no problem coughing up $11 per drink but balked at a $10 cover charge),  but then we got to Coco Bongo. And, lemme tell you, this club put anything I have ever seen to shame. Including Vegas.

We donned our wrist bans, and headed out for our big night on the town in Cancun during Spring Break.

Holy shit.

I'm not even going to give any commentary. I think the photos stand alone on this one.

Cancun, MX - Grub

My dad tells me I'm in trouble because he added my blog to his iPhone's feed, and there haven't been any new posts in a really long time. Oops.

The past few weeks have been seriously busy, with the highlights being my first attempt at air yoga and my 31st birthday. (That is not me performing the air yoga, by the way. My attempt was much less graceful. I got stuck upside down at one point, and my friend Emily had to untangle me. But I did not, as I feared, hang or otherwise fatally injure myself, so I declared the whole thing a success and signed up for three more classes.)

But let's get back into the swing of things (no air yoga reference intended) and talk about all the delicious crap I ate whilst on SPRING BREAK in Mexico. 

We stayed at the lovely Dreams Cancun resort, and don't believe any lies that people tell you about the dangers of "all inclusive." We've stayed at Dreams both in Mexico and in the Dominican, and both had exquisite food choices, especially when it comes to fish and produce. 

This is a terrible picture, but I needed to include it because this phenomenon was both frightening and life-changing to sample. This is octopus tartare, and it's ridiculously delicious. I was a little skeptical about it, because I mostly hate octopus sushi because of the consistency, but this little pile of deliciousness was perfectly tender. 

 I think I may have mentioned before how much I love breakfast/brunch, and most especially breakfast/brunch in other countries. They just do it right, you know? There's no tomfoolery, there's no "Oh, here are some runny scrambled eggs and some dry crackery toast and some burnt-up bacon." Which is shameful. SHAMEFUL. No, other countries proudly incorporate all kinds of deliciousness into breakfast, including food items usually intended for other mealtimes. Like beans.

Or sauteed cactus to put on top of your eggs:

And papaya, and grilled tomato, and bacon-done-right, and ham, and beans, and spicy sauces. Yum.

This is pico de gallo and vegetable chips and I CANNOT FOR THE LIFE OF ME make this picture behave normally despite the fact that I've reformatted it 7,000 times. ANYWAY IT WAS DELICIOUS.

Snail ceviche - amazing. I've had escargot before, but never in a ceviche-style. It was bright, citrusy, and had that rich, snail-like taste that's less garden and more ocean. 

Al fresco dining might also be one of my favorite things. I have a lot of favorite things.

Shrrrrrimp tacos!

Ridiculously fresh salmon with couscous and some sort of light, citrusy barbecue sauce. 

Avocado and hearts of palm salad for an appetizer. Only I ate it, because The Gentleman is deathly allergic to avocados. This is no lie. 

This is not a food item, but lemme tell you a little bit about this - it's half a cerveza and half a Bloody Mary. That sounds really, really weird, I know - but, believe me, it's kind of really delicious. Refreshing, even. Also, "Klamato juice" is not the same thing as "Clamato juice," so you shouldn't be worried when they tell you that they don't have any Bloody Mary mix and will be mixing your vodka and beer with clam juice. Klamato juice is basically V-8. I can't find any evidence of this online, but I assure you - no clams were utilized in the making of Klamato juice. It's allllll veg. 

Mexico - SPRING BREAK

Delightful.

I feel slightly compelled to defend our choice of going to Cancun in late March by saying that:
a) It was cheaper than our first choice (Key West)
b) As an expat, The Gentleman cannot be in the United States for more than 30 days within a calendar year. Coming home for two weeks meant that leaving the country for 6 days of those two weeks buys him a little more time on another visit.
c) After our last few vacations, I put my (admittedly spoiled and bourgeois-y) foot down and declared that I wanted to lie on a beach and read chick lit and have drinks brought to me. I do love history and museums, but I also love "Doing Nothing." And by "Doing Nothing," I mean all of the aforementioned activities. 

We picked Cancun based on the sole fact that the flights weren't outrageously expensive, and we could find something all-inclusive. But herein lay a conundrum: Cancun? In March? The Gentleman and I are both well above the requisite Spring Break Age Limit of 23 (argue all you want - that EXISTS), and I didn't want any wet T-shirt contests or drunken bro's to disturb my daily regimen of British chick lit and Bloody Marys beachside. After some thorough research (any hotel that bragged about ENDLESS, BOTTOMLESS, or TOPLESS was immediately rejected), we discovered that the resort where we'd stayed in the Dominican for a wedding last May has a sister resort in Cancun. Our vacation had been incredibly lovely, and nothing like the all-inclusive nightmares you've heard. The food was delicious, the service impeccable, the rooms spotless, the beaches pristine. 

And so, we arrived at 8pm on March 26 at Dreams Cancun and discovered that we had certainly picked the right resort for charm, beauty, and no SPRING BREAKKKKK-eyness going on.

Unfortunately, we went a bit too far in the other direction....

The Gentleman and I were slated to stay in a fully-booked resort for six days, and apparently we had forgotten to bring children under ten. Because EVERYONE ELSE HAD THEM. IN SPADES.

Far away from fountains of tequila shots or sexy contests involving whipped cream and bananas, we found ourselves at Cancun's Familiest Friendliest Resort. Not once could I get into the hot tub - because it was completely full of small children. A small children stew, if you will. The first night we went to the resort's on-site night club, we were treated to a lip-synced sing-along rendition of Grease, complete with a blonde-wigged Sandy whose dark Mexican curls kept springing out from under. As I lay on the beach reading child-inappropriate literature and drinking fully-liquored Bloody Marys, I was kicked with sand as children ran by, and at one point nearly clocked in the head with a stray horseshoe from a nearby game.

BUT - and I will fully admit this - it's pretty hard to complain about much of anything when you're at a beautiful beach resort with unlimited food and drinks and the person you love. We had a truly fantastic time. And if we find ourselves someday having seventeen children under the age of ten, we know just where we'll go for vacation.

And, to be fair, any resort that claims to be "adults only" is, well....slightly dodgy. Maybe next time we just won't go on vacation the week of Easter. That's all I can think of, because everyone in Cancun kept talking about how it was the "slow time of spring," and that the "spring break rush" was over. Not at Dreams Cancun. That place was hopping with virgin pina coladas and limbo competitions on the beach. Which is completely unfair, because not only are those kids all hopped up on sugar (and no liquor), but they are VERY SHORT and can OBVIOUSLY LIMBO MUCH BETTER BECAUSE OF THE SHORTNESS.

Not that I'm mad about that or anything.

Anyhoodle. It was a lovely vacation. I read three books and drank a lot of cervesas.

Oh, and our room? It overlooked a dolphin pen.

A DOLPHIN PEN.

Up early on the first morning to enjoy my coffee...

....with the dolphins hanging out below. DOLPHINS.

The dolphins do shows throughout the day. More on thiss in a later post, wherein I kiss one of said dolphins. (See side panel of blog for evidence.)

Day One was overcast and slightly chilly.

The Gentleman made an attempt to stick a foot in the water, but alas - the Caribbean on this particular day was a LOT colder than it looks....

We stuck it out, lying determined by the beach, until it started to rain on us. Cold and clouds we could handle...rain we could not.

So we went for a walk. This was a giant lamp in the hotel lobby. I took about 17,467 pictures of it. In fact, The Gentleman became annoyed because everytime we walked past it, I wanted to get my camera out and take another picture. "IT'S DIFFERENT LIGHT RIGHT NOW." 

A walk just out of our resort led us to where all the kids hang out (although not today, apparently....)

Nothing. Makes. Sense.

The weather was not lovely on the first day.

But the SECOND day.....  !!

Dolphins having their breakfast.

View of neighboring resort from our balcony.

I  MEAN, WE ARE OVERLOOKING A DOLPHIN POOL. HOW COOL IS THAT?!

Much like the Dominican, the resort is absolutely beautiful and brings the outdoors in. Light and airy with plants and birds everywhere.

The dolphin pool sucks salt water in from the Caribbean, and it drains slightly when the tide goes out.

One of the restaurants had an albino catfish. He was not on the menu.

The same gray sea - a day later.

I don't know what compels me to take pictures like this. I just need to.

Nighttime.

The third day we were there, I decided to try out the resort's yoga class. They said to be at the gazebo at 9am. This is the gazebo. Where they do yoga. Outside.

DOES IT GET ANY BETTER?! (Obligatory foot pic)

This is the view from the gazebo. Where they do yoga. Outside.

Bird!

 Stay tuned for: Adventures in Coco Bongo, the Food (of course), and my cuddle episode with a dolphin.