I Went Somewhere!

It’s time I get down to business here.  It’s time to stop being lazy and using my dirty laundry as an excuse to not write. I took a trip last week which I was going to tell you about anyway, but now I’ve had some special requests for a recap and I’d like to oblige those requests as I’d like to keep my status as your favorite.   

A few months ago, Woney called me up and told me about a cruise package she found that was very reasonably priced.  She offered to pay for my cruise if I would buy my plane tickets to her house, all the way on the other side of the country in California.  Naturally, I said yes.  I can tell I am her favorite.  For months we planned our tropical vacation, getting passports in order, buying swimmy suits, and working out with trainers.

I had a lot of expectations for this trip. I had visions of us lying on a beach or a pool chair by the crystal clear water of an ocean or a pool.  I had visions of us getting up faithfully every morning and hitting the gym.  I just knew that we would make healthy dining choices at almost every meal.  Fruity drinks were in our future as was a tan that would make me look like browned butter.  I would save money beforehand and then spend it all in Mexico buying presents for my friends and family while taking in the fresh ocean air that permeates all of the city of Ensenada.  And I would meet loads of fabulous people and be their favorite.  

Let me tell you how many of my expectations came to fruition.  One.    

The temperatures never got above 60 degrees.  And we had packed tropical wear for every day of the trip.  Every morning we would faithfully put on our swimmy suit or our cute dress with our sandals and then would don a coat and take our beach towels to whatever location we decided to perch in for the day.  There we would shiver for an hour or two with a book under no less than two beach towels apiece but usually four until we got disgusted and went back to the room to take a nap.  Or to the lido deck for lunch.  Or maybe to the hot tub where we would marinate for a little while but then would make a beeline for the two to four beach towels and then another beeline for the room where we would take a nap under the warm down comforters on our respective beds.  There was a lot of napping.   

One day it got warm enough to take off our coats although it was still cloudy, and do you know that was the day I got a sunburn?  It was a mild one but trust me, Ms. Pasty White over here, to find a way to get fried on a gloomy and slightly rainy tropical vacation.  Also, it should be noted that my sunburns never turn into a tan.  Instead I peel and then get about a million more freckles.  One day those freckles will grow together and I will have a really great tan.  I will probably also have a face like a leather handbag but at least my legs won’t be clear. 


On the night we pulled into Ensenada, I felt the ship shudder and rock a lot.  I was so sleepy (because of all the napping) and lazy (also because of all the napping) that I was only vaguely aware of the smell of rotten boiled cabbage but it just kept lingering. I wondered then if Woney was having some sort of intestinal disturbance or if maybe the sewage system on the boat was in distress.  I knew that the food we had eaten on the ship wasn’t the healthiest but for it to be this bad?  After a couple of hours, I finally woke Woney up and just asked her.  “No, sweetie, that’s Mexico.”  Oh.   

Honestly, the trip was great despite the fact that it was colder than we were expecting.  We did meet loads of fabulous new people and I am certain that I am now their favorite.  I did spend lots of my money on jewelry in Mexico with Marco who afterwards offered to let me come home with him because he liked my pretty pale skin.  I’m sure you know I declined. 

As for the healthy part of our trip, before we ever set foot on that boat, before we had our first fruity drink, before we even had a single bite of a single dessert, Woney and I visited her personal trainer for an hour and three minute long session.  You know how long an hour and three minute personal training session lasts when you go visit Woney’s trainer?  All damn day.  I wanted to hate that man – I was fully prepared to loathe him with every ounce of energy I had left after the workout (because let me tell you, when you place an order for Sheryl Crow arms or a Beyonce bootie, he takes you seriously and does his very best to make you work excessively for what you’ve just asked for). BUT!  I didn’t hate him at all.  I liked the guy.  What a pretty man he was, all giant arms and chiclet teeth and positive attitude.  Also, he’s a Navy man and once I got past the tearful, “Thank you, just for so much” speech I like to give to all service people, I tried to talk him into wearing his uniform at the end of the path we had to run down because, you know, it would make us run faster and all that.  He declined.  I’m sure it’s not at all against Navy rules so I really don’t see the issue there.  His name is Tony and even though I left with arms like noodles and a butt that was shaking, I was glad to have met him.  (Mostly because I felt justified and vindicated when I downed my first fruity cocktail but also a little because I grudgingly like working out.  DO NOT tell Lynnette.  She’ll make me do extra stuff in the next class.)     

After the training session we had massages with some sort of foot thing too.  Gosh, that was nice.  Incidentally, do you know how long an hour and 15 minute long massage lasts?  About ten minutes. 

So that was pretty much our trip into the Tropical Beyond.  Yes, my expectations were lofty.  No, things did not go fully according to plan.  But yes, I had a marvelous time and I’m thankful to Woney for the boat pass, Tony for the new muscles in my butt, Bobbie for taking care of my kitties while I was gone (it should be noted here that Murphy expressed his pleasure at my return by projectile varminting on my newly shampooed carpet), and Freddie for writing in my absence.  Catalina Island is nice.  Ensenada is nice.  Cruise ships are nice. All my new friends are nice.  And now I will close with some email exchanges between me and my nice new friends: 

Jimmie:  Has anyone else had a difficult time getting back to work properly?  Holy crap, my brain is fried.

Ciera:  Honestly work wasn’t even as bad as I thought it would be.  The hardest part about coming back . . . . feeding myself.  Heather and I kept hoping food would just appear somewhere but it never did.  We even had to choose what we were going to eat all on our own.  That was hard.   

Jimmie:  Excellent point.  I had to cook stuff and it was awful. And there was no dessert.  That really blows. 

Ciera:  Yea.  And not once have I come into my room and seen a towel animal waiting there for me.  Real life is hard. 

 

 

 

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