Jewels

Okay, I admit it. I'm too busy either preparing to travel, travelling, or recovering from travel, to actually write about travel. That is irony...right? In fact, the date on the post prior to this one has been taunting me so aggressively regarding my failings, that I feel compelled to get something up here just to make it stop. (I would just hate to end up being one of those writers that "think" about writing a great deal, but never actually writes). Now that my confession is out of the way, I will regale you all with another post regarding our time "Down South" which indeed had sufficient effect on our lives to warrant another visit...

Enjoy!


I’m walking along one of the roads that run parallel to the waterfront, but it’s not one of the roads a tourist would be likely to see. There are no jewelry stores and no T-shirt shops. No one is asking me to come inside because they “have the best junk,” or “speak broken English perfectly.” No enormous white ships can be seen sitting offshore like office buildings lying on their sides. None of the things twenty thousand cruise passengers a day might remember about this island are on this street, but it does have a few attractions of its own. I pass a bougainvillea, pouring over a mission style wall like a waterfall, exploding with red flowers. The color is so intense in the setting sunlight that it doesn’t even seem real. On my left now is a bright orange house I never tire of seeing. The locals are fearless about their use of color in decorating, with vibrant yellows, blues, and reds everywhere. My neighborhood back home was brown and gray. The sidewalk under my feet is mostly cracked concrete, but in the center of every rectangular section is a small, bright-blue square of tile, set like a jewel. Jewels of a different kind for those of us that pass this way. 

Orchid Growing Wild In Our Back Garden - Cozumel, Mexico

Yin and yang, good and bad: each needs the other. I enjoy the frequent blasts of beauty I see while walking here all the more, because ugliness is not that rare either. Cozumel is never neutral, and never dull. One minute I might pass a house or restaurant and exclaim, “Oh my god! What is that smell?” as the intoxicating aroma of a delicious meal being prepared escapes into the air. The next, while passing a vacant lot, might produce the same exclamation -- but for a different reason entirely -- as I smell something dead and decaying amongst the garbage and empty beer bottles. It’s a feast for the senses here, but good or bad, everything is set to maximum. When I returned home for a visit last summer, I was struck by how ordinary everything seemed. There were identical houses with identical lawns, no highs and lows, no wild oscillation in the range of sights and smells. Beauty isn’t as valuable without anything to compare it to.

Mayan Ruins - San Gervasio Site - Cozumel, Mexico

I walk past a "municipal jungle," my name for the empty lots dotting the town. Green rectangles of unrestrained nature, they are usually bordered on four sides by man's handiwork. In these places nature makes a stand, and fights back with a ferocity that can only be seen in the tropics. I smile at the notion that the whole island looked like this once, and would look like it again if it were not held at bay every single day. Sky-blue flowers, the size and shape of a petunia are everywhere, giving the jungle the look of an out of control garden. A young egret stands near one border of this wild spot like a garden ornament: slim, graceful, and white. But it’s real, and a reminder that nature is patiently waiting to take over if it gets the chance. I often hear we need to save the planet, but I think the planet will do just fine by itself if one day we aren’t around to interfere; it’s we that need to be saved from ourselves. 

Iguana - So common that they're the "gophers" of Cozumel, Mexico

I heard a parable once about an old man standing near the gates of an ancient walled city. A family approached carrying all their belongings in a wagon. The father spoke to the old man, telling him they were looking for a new place to live, and asking him what he thought of this city. The old man asked, “What was the place you came from like?” The father answered, “It was a terrible place, dirty, ugly, and full of liars and thieves. No one was kind and everyone looked out only for himself.” The old man replied, “You won’t like it here then, because this city is just like that.” With this, the family moved on. Soon another family approached and asked the same question of the old man, as they too were looking for a new place to live. Again, the old man asked, “What was the place you came from like?” They answered, “It was a wonderful place, clean and beautiful, full of loving and kind people that were always ready to lend a helping hand.” The old man said, “Then you will like it here, because this city is just like that.” Well Cozumel is just like that too, and like any other place, it is exactly what you make of it.

Performers In The Annual Carnival Parade - Cozumel, Mexico

The sun has plunged toward the sea now, seeming to set faster here somehow. The sky to the west is on fire with yellow and orange and red. The clouds look like something from an oil painting, illuminated from within as if they are the source of this light and color. I’m on my way to a local nightspot. It’s not some noisy bar full of twenty-somethings, swilling beer and flashing their tattoos and body piercing. It’s a quiet oasis of cosmopolitan flair called Ambar, another example of the surprising range of this place. I walk through the lounge; past eclectic art and machine turned tabletops, thinking this place would be at home in the most hip of districts in any metropolis. I head through the back door into a garden seating area, where jazz plays softly from speakers hidden in the plants. I love the way the architecture in Mexico blurs the distinction between indoors and out. Vicky is waiting for me at one of the tables, with two ice-cold bottles of dark beer at the ready. The moon is full, or nearly so, and those areas not lit by the garden lights are bathed in bright blue moonlight. I shake my head, thinking that back home the snow is two feet deep and it’s thirty degrees below zero. We clink our bottles together, making a toast, and drink deeply; it’s hot out tonight. 

The Harbor At Christmas - Cozumel, Mexico

Travelers to places like this probably go home thinking they have a notion of what it’s really like here. They tell their friends and family they have been to Cozumel. Sadly though, they have likely seen only a sanitized and carefully prepared set, designed to empty as much cash from their wallets as possible. Avenida Rafael Melgar, the main shopping street along the waterfront, is all of Cozumel most people will ever see. They are warned not to wander onto the dangerous back streets, and to be wary of the local eating establishments. Patent nonsense, as this is the safest place I have ever been, and I’d rather trust local restaurants (that feed their friends and families day after day) than tourist joints that serve you once and never see you again. Make the effort to break free of convention and see the real Cozumel, because you won’t find it on Melgar. Sure, you might see some garbage on the streets, or smell something bad, but you might see some unexpected beauty too.

Sunset From The Ventanas Al Mar (Windows To The Sea) Eco-Hotel - East Coast - Cozumel, Mexico

Vicky and I are walking home now. The streets are quiet but for the occasional taxi driving by. They still flash their headlights in case we want a ride. I guess we’ll always look like tourists no matter how long we live here. Overhead, the moon is bright and clear, and seems impossibly large. Closer to home, we are passing by another municipal jungle when something catches my eye. We stop to look more closely, and within the densely packed leaves and vines is a natural marvel. Hundreds of tiny flickering yellow lights are moving this way and that throughout the plants. They are fireflies, and they look like Christmas tree lights that have been freed, as if by magic, to float away from their wires and do as they please. I stand and stare in wonder. It’s dark, and though I’m sure this jungle is just as full of trash as all the rest, it’s the fireflies I will remember. Each one of us lives in a world of our own making, given form by the power of our thoughts and perceptions. We can see the beer bottles and garbage, or we can see the flowers, birds, and fireflies: the jewels of a different kind. Each one of us is in charge of how we feel. 

I feel lucky.


Fox & Vicky

Under The Big Top

Did I mention that we're scuba divers? If you dive, then you've either already been to the reefs of Cozumel, Mexico, or you're planning on going one day...and with good reason. Vicky and I lived there for quite a while, and it was the diving that drew us. Here's a piece I wrote then that touches on my feelings regarding what must be one of the world's very finest examples of Nature's work...

This is my favorite time. I'm sitting on the side of a friend and dive-master's boat, above the reef called Punta Dalila. My tank is hanging over the edge, supported by the straps on the back of my equipment. I know it’s only gravity pulling it toward the water but it feels like much more. A while ago, we had a dive where nothing seemed to go smoothly. Afterwards, while waiting to be picked up, the dive-master apologized and said, "The reef just didn't want us here today". This day is different. The reef does want us here this time, and my tank just knows it. It tugs at my shoulders impatiently, the way an eager boy might tug at his father’s pant leg, as if to say, “Come on, let’s go! We’re gonna miss it!" The author Dave Barry once wrote, "Staying on the surface all the time is like going to the circus and staring at the outside of the tent.” Well, the circus is about to start. I watch the captain, waiting for his signal; usually a brisk nod and a hurried "go!" Soon it's my turn; everyone is clear, and I get the nod. I give in to the tank’s eager tugging and feel myself roll backwards. This is the moment. This tiny free-fall that marks the beginning of another hour spent in a world most people will never see. My tank hits the water first, and pulls me under quickly in a swirling explosion of bubbles that is the curtain going up. During training, an instructor said I would see things so beautiful while diving that I would want to cry. His words come to mind once again as the bubbles clear, and I see it's not just any circus today; it's a Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey three-ring extravaganza. I'm in the middle of a hundred or more Creole Wrasse, looking like cobalt blue torpedoes flying in every direction. "Laydeeeez and Gentlemen, high above the center ring, it's the Flying Creole Brothers…" I hustle to rig the lights on my video camera and clear the bubbles from the lens. I don't want to miss any of this. 

French Grunts On The Reef - Cozumel, Mexico

I live here and this is my Cozumel. Before I moved here I managed a couple of telecommunications stores where we tried to convince people that a cellular phone, or pager, or some other electronic gadget would make their lives better. Every day I did that emptied me out a little bit more, and took me a little farther from the real sources of happiness life has to offer. Now I dive, write, shoot photographs and video, and spend my time trying, as Gordon Downie puts it, "… to do one true, beautiful thing." I don't have a car -- they're not needed here -- a bicycle will do, or a taxi in a pinch. I have no phone line -- though I do have a cell phone -- but it's a servant now, not a master. No Internet connection, and consequently no life-sucking surfing to eat up the hours. An occasional trip to the Internet cafe to check for e-mails from friends and family is more than enough. No television either -- at least no television signal -- though I do have a TV and DVD player to watch rented movies now and again. All of these things are available here, but something about Cozumel made me recognize they don't really matter. I thought I might waste away without them, but exactly the opposite occurred; I woke up.

Yellow-Line Arrow Crab In Vase Sponge - Cozumel, Mexico

Descending below the Wrasse, I see the second act is starting their performance. Dozens of Sergeant Majors, the official models for reef photographers everywhere, are decorating the reef with their black and yellow stripes like self-propelled Christmas tree ornaments. Now it’s countless Blue Tangs, swirling together with a surprisingly large group of Ocean Triggerfish (normally seen alone or in pairs). A crop of Garden Eels disappears into the sand like retractable blades of grass as we approach. Like the first time, like every time, I'm awestruck. I think of this as "The Riot of Life," where the interaction of different life forms is played out like a Technicolor ballet right before your eyes. The reef makes it so obvious each creature depends on another for its survival. I shoot as much tape as I can, but the current is really flying today, so we don't have long to enjoy these opening performances. We go deeper into the warm, blue waters of the Caribbean, our world compressed now, focused, and extending only to the limits of visibility.

Queen Angel Fish - Cozumel, Mexico

The hands of the clock don't move any slower here, they just don't matter. If you're married to the idea of firm schedules and on-time performance, you'd better stick to Cozumel as a tourist destination. Living here requires a more relaxed attitude than I was accustomed to back home. At first, I had trouble accepting the offhand manner in which people would fail to keep appointments - and promises. Later however, I saw it for what it was, a part of a simpler and less rigid view of our place in the world. There was an electrical problem in the house we are renting that took almost two weeks to get fixed. Once upon a time, that would have really bothered me. Now it's an accepted part of a more relaxed rhythm of life, swimming with the current, and not against it.

Anemone - Cozumel, Mexico

It's a good day for flying. Our group is blowing through the water, propelled by the high current, with the reef slipping by a few feet beneath us. This always looks so cool in person, but I know from experience that it looks terrible on videotape. I decide to just relax and enjoy it, so I let the camera dangle on its lanyard, and stick my arms out like the wings of an airplane. (I know it doesn't really do anything, but somehow it feels more like flying this way). My dive partner notices an enormous Nurse Shark lying under an outcropping of reef. Usually, they have their heads in a hole with only their tails sticking out, and consequently don't photograph very well. This one is lying curved in a "C" shape with its head looking out from the reef. For this shot, I guess I'll just have to swim against the current a little bit. Kicking like crazy to hold position, I move closer and closer to the shark, finally bringing the camera within eighteen inches of its snout. I concentrate on composing the shot and holding the camera steady, but I can't help wondering if today is the day that things will go horribly wrong. However, the shark is accommodating, and remains still as we let the current pull us away to continue our flight.

Squirrel Fish - Cozumel, Mexico

I always thought a big income meant certain happiness. Everything around me seemed to indicate that money was the key to enjoying life. The time I spent in the telecommunications industry was like winning a small lottery. They were dumping money on me with a front-end loader, yet I was miserable. It didn't make any sense to me. So I spent most of that money diving in expensive places, trying to find the happiness I was supposed to have. It was in Fiji, while staying at a thousand dollar a day resort that I first realized money and happiness have nothing to do with each other. We visited a traditional village of two hundred people on a neighboring island. Their lives had not changed significantly in hundreds of years (except they now had motors on their boats). By the standards set in North America, these people had nothing, yet they were indeed the happiest people I had ever seen. Later, back in our room, I couldn't help but wonder if being happy for three weeks out of every year was really good enough. This was the beginning of a new path for me, or at least a fork in the road. I don't have much money now, but…

Brittle Star On Coral (During Night Dive) - Cozumel, Mexico

I've still got a thousand PSI of air in my tank. This is the second dive though, and the computer says I've had the recommended daily dose of nitrogen. It used to be I ran out of air long before nitrogen was a problem, but not any more. Slowly, I rise to safety-stop depth and begin the five minute wait to ascend. The reef is too far away to videotape now, so I shut down the camera and drift with the current. It’s not as exhilarating, but this "high-altitude flight” over the reef is equally beautiful. This is a quiet time with few challenges, a time to reflect. It's been a good day, and maybe I got some nice tape. I hope the shark footage comes out well. Now, very slowly to the surface, turning, watching for boats, my hand, arm, and finally head, break into the sunlight. I'm back outside the circus tent, smiling at my friend the dive-master a few feet away. I thank him for presiding over yet another beautiful experience. He says, "You're welcome, but it was the reef; it wanted us here today."

...I'm happy.

Fox & Vicky