Traveling with an Ancient.
We spent the day in Cozumel at a Mayan ruin. Well, it wasn’t a true ruin, just a run down all-inclusive hotel. I can’t wait until my Ancestry.com results come back, as I think being part Mayan could explain why my 4’10” mother towered over the hotel staff. My Mom believes that she speaks Spanish and since she speaks to all strangers incessantly, she either speaks to them in over exaggerated English saying sentences like “food good. We like” or blurts random incorrect Spanish words to them like “Bolsa” pointing to someone lugging a suitcase or “Amarillo” pronounced with the double LL sound vs. a y sound to someone eating cantaloupe. I so enjoyed being the recipient of manic patting on my head whenever a child was nearby, as she kept repeating to the frightened child that I’m her bambina. I’m sure the Mexicans think she has the Benjamin Button disease, as she blurts out random words like an angry toddler, who has a faulty straw in their juice box. Then, to our dismay, the buffet wasn’t Mexican food, so she didn’t get her Kesso-Dilly-Ya. When she ordered guacamole, her pronunciation sounded more like “Whack-a-mole” causing hundreds of Mexican landscapers to come running with clubs and pick axes looking for day labor only to lose out on a day’s wage to a ripe avocado. Most importantly, we made it back to the ship on time taking a taxi, which my mom aptly called a taxi en espanol. Hace una dia mas.
Rubber Chicken 