5 days with “Hoo-lia” - DAY One

Photo by Julia Aron


Where to start? It’s been quite a week here in Mexico. Julia arrived on Friday afternoon and I was thrilled to have some company. I picked her up at the airport in Cancun. We rented a car for the time that she planned to be here. I negotiated a deal for a week and was so happy to have some wheels for a change.

We headed south with the intention of stopping in Playa Del Carmen for some lunch. Julia had never been to this side of Mexico before so I wanted her to see as much as possible. Since Cancun had no appeal to either one of us, we were off to Playa, about 45km south of the airport which takes about 30-45 minutes depending on traffic.

Playa Del Carmen or “Playa” as known to the locals, is considered the “city”. It’s much bigger than Tulum and over the last several years, has become quite a popular tourist area. I’ve been several times, only for a few hours, but my feeling is that it’s not as americanized as Cancun, though it’s certainly close. There’s Walmart and Starbucks and Sam’s Club and Office Depot – need I say more?

With both hands on the wheel (no power steering) and mi amiga by my side, I felt more adventurous than I had in days. We turned right off the highway, just north of the main Avenue de Constituyentes because I’d heard from some of the locals that the north side of Playa is nicer and less gentrified. Julia knows Spanish so it was fun listening to her call out the signs she’d see as we passed them.

We ended up on the north side of 5th Avenue and I wasn’t sure if we’d missed the “cool” area. It’s kind of hard to find something when you’re not sure exactly what you’re looking for. We settled on a spot that served Mexican food and enjoyed some guacamole and fish tacos. Afterwards, we walked around a bit and dipped into a few shops when the skies opened up washing the streets for a good fifteen minutes. We waited it out in a jewelry store / tequila bar browsing but not drinking.

The rain stopped and then started again so we decided to walk back to the car in spite of the rain.

Forty five minutes later, we arrived in Tulum, did some food shopping and headed directly to the beach. It was close to 6pm, but I didn’t want her to wait until the morning to see the ocean and connect to the fact that she was truly in Mexico. After that we headed to mi casa. Julia was pleasantly surprised at my digs for the month, which by the way, are really nice. I joke that I’ve been “living in a palace” to which she agreed enthusiastically.

She settled in and we poured ourselves a drink and headed over to Casa Dos. I wanted to introduce her to my “posse” – Ron and Matt, with whom she hit it off immediately. We originally planned to have a drink with them and then head out to dinner, but they’re so easy to be with, we ended up staying for dinner and many more drinks. It was so much fun.

September 11th – A Fine Line Between Looking Forward and Looking Back

Editors Note: I was going to publish my piece which is a personal account of the events on Spetember 11th, but at the last minute, I decided to publish the following entry instead. If you are interested in reading about my experience on that day, please email me at gari47@gmail.com and I will send it to you.



It’s hard to believe it’s been eight years since September 11th. Where do you put an event that rocks you to the core, yet each year, is overshadowed by the natural continuation of life? The cliché comes to mind – “Life Goes On.”

And it has.

The first couple of years found me frozen in the past – reliving the day in honor of all that was lost and not to be forgotten. Two years became three and four and eventually, I began to wonder, each year as the day approached, whether it was wise to immerse myself in the past or focus on the future in front of me.

At what point are we allowed to put the past behind us without dishonoring the importance of the very event that inevitably shaped the future? We all move forward naturally – if we’re lucky. However, on this day, I always find myself torn. Part of me doesn’t want to think about it anymore. It took me so long to move past the pain, the nightmares, the adjustment - all of it. Why would I want to bring it all back? At the same time, why would I want to forget something that changed all of our lives collectively and individually all at once?

This year, I am in another country. It would be easy to forget as in Mexico, the days all mold into one and everyday is Saturday. But my friend arrives today – a tricky “coincidence” that in spite of my isolated existence this month, I am forced to acknowledge the day.

And I will. But this year, I will honor the past by focusing on what I’ve learned since then. I will think about my progress forward since that day eight years ago and most importantly, I will honor the love and support that got me through the aftermath. I will be thankful that my family and friends are all healthy and alive and just an email away (for now).

Life will go on as it always does – and that’s okay. As long as we acknowledge where we’ve come from as we continue our journey into the future. I will never forget, but I will continue on.

Sororities and Solo-hood

Wow. I feel like it’s been ages since I’ve written anything. There’s definitely some pressure as part of the reason I came here was to write – and I’m not talking just emails. But, I’m trying to go with the flow and find some sort of rhythm within that flow.

I’m a productive person by nature. Coming to Mexico for a month, I had to have a mission. I, of course, had several. The first being writing, of course. I told my friends, Daphne and Julia at our final lunch together in New York, that I was “looking forward to being a writer every day.” (Insert audience laughter here.) Though, I must say that what I know about writers, they are always looking for a reason not to write. Tulum is a wonderful place to lose yourself. It’s also a great place to distract yourself from writing. There’s so many things to blame!

The beach, is first and foremost – the sand is so fine, who wants to get the computer all full of sand? Best to leave it at home and save the writing for later. Then, there’s the heat factor – which is only good for about May/June through August/September. “It’s too hot to write or do anything or that matter. Maybe it will cool off tomorrow. Until then, I will sit in the shade and bear the heat.” I’ve also been using the “adjustment” mode excuse this trip thinking that I need some time to adapt to my new environment, so what’s the point of writing? Yes, better to write when I’m feeling more acclimated.

And lastly, there’s the connection factor. This is probably the trickiest of all for me in that I need a certain amount of interaction to feel comfortable and inspired. I travel alone a lot and mostly, I like it very much. There are ups and downs, but, my motto is this – until the downs outweigh the ups, I have no problem tackling new things and places on my own.

I’ve been traveling alone since the late 90’s. Officially, that is. Unofficially, I was back in High School and all of my friends chose to go to college either locally or with others from the town in which I grew up. I flew solo from the get-go. I don’t think I was aware of my innate wanderlust at the time, though, looking back, I find it interesting that I didn’t apply to any of the schools my friends were applying to – hence my break from the nest, I guess.

I fought it though. The total immersion in college life. My first college, Quinnipiac College (spell it and you’re in!) was only about an hour north of my hometown. Though I loved my college friends, I was still tied to home and would travel frequently home, just to get a manicure. (HEY!! It was still the eighties!!) In spite of my attachment to “home”, I was determined to prove my independence as well as quench my thirst for new and different experiences.

I’d always wanted to live the stereotypical college life of fun parties and football games – just like the movies. And at 20 years young, knowing yourself is still an exercise in experimentation, so I figured if I went to one of the big schools, I would then, live a big life.

Enter University of Miami – a cinematic dream of American college life. Sprawling campus complete with palm trees, an outdoor student café with music piped in and a lovely manmade lake running the length of the walkway separating the campus from the dorms. I transferred in as a Junior, but was put in freshman housing. My roommate was obsessed with joining a sorority, something I’d never even imagined. In the end, she talked me into participating in Pledge Week - a week designated for potential new recruits to visit each sorority, get a sense of whether it’s the right fit and most importantly, impress the “Sisters” – the existing members of the sorority and secure a “bid” which is an invitation into the sorority at the end of the week – on Bid Day.

My participation in Pledge Week was mostly detached. I cared less about being in a sorority than I did about meeting people as I knew no one at this school. In the end, I was more attracted to the Catholic-driven sororities – a direct result of my upbringing. Though I was raised Jewish, we were never influenced in my family to only stick with “Jews”. Plus, all of my friends in my hometown were Catholic so naturally, I was attracted to the Catholic sororities in which I felt most comfortable.

“Bid Day” arrived and my freshman roommate was anxious about her hope to be accepted into her first choice – Delta Phi Epsilon – aka “DeePhiE”. Me, I was hoping for a bid from Delta, Delta, Delta, aka, “tri-Delt”, but in truth, I wasn’t all that invested. I guess I saw life outside of the Pan-Hellenic world. I was just looking to connect with some people. Belonging to a sorority was secondary.

On Pledge Day, each Pledge writes down their top three picks for the sororities for which they’d like to be chosen. A half hour later, each pledge receives notification of the top three “bids” they have received from all of the sororities. In my case, the irony was this – I had no bids from any of the non-Jewish sororities which happened to be my top choices. The final kicker was that I received a bid from DeePhiE! I was mildly thrilled thinking that at least me and my roommate would be together, so I accepted their bid and prepared for the welcoming ceremony.

In the interim, I searched for my roommate to give her the good news only to find that she didn’t receive a single bid – except from AEPi, who supposedly bids on everyone because they are so unpopular. I was conflicted. Being in a sorority meant nothing to me. I did it mostly as a goof and an act of participation because my roommate was so into it. However, I am human and being chosen felt good. I struggled with the idea of banning the whole Bid Day and standing in solidarity with my roommate against the whole process of being “chosen”. She insisted that I go forward and in truth, I didn’t argue that much. I cared less about belonging than I did about finding some people that I could truly call friends.

Months later, after I transferred to NYU, I got a letter from my former roommate letting me know that she had finally gotten into DPHiE. Though, through my experience, she realized that she didn’t have to become someone that she wasn’t and that in the end, she was grateful for the time it took to be accepted – now she could enter with a sense of self, as I did and for that, she was grateful.

I never really vibed with the whole sorority thing. As a Junior, I wasn’t all that interested in kissing ass or pretending to be someone else just to win approval from the Sorority Sisters. Strangely enough, that catapulted me into a place of honor and individuality, excluding me from bullshit pledge duties and creating an instant equality with my sisters. My Pledge Sisters didn’t love this pseudo popularity of mine, but I was less about the popularity and more about the connection, so I didn’t mind.

How this relates to Tulum, I’m not so sure…Certainly there are no sororities here! However, connection is important to me. A great conversation with a stranger can carry me for days. But there’s a fine line between being open and being desperate to talk to anyone just for the ake of talking.

Tulum’s certainly shaping up to be a different experience than I’d imagined. Though unnerving at times, I have faith in the fact that whatever it has in store for me will serve me in the end. The biggest challenge of all is remember this very thing each day.

Hasta Pronto mi amigos!

It rained last night. I didn’t hear it, but I saw wet spots on my patio this morning as I took my coffee and laptop to the pool for my newest morning ritual. There’s a lot going on in the pool area. Mickey and Terry are here. They take care of the complex. Hailing from Iowa, they’re an interesting couple. He’s a bit older than she. Maybe 50’s. He’s a Harley guy – well, he used to be. She’s in her early forties. They’re simple people in the most positive way. He’s got gray hair, a full mustache, very blue eyes and a weathered face I imagine from being in the Tulum sun for the last five years. Terry has dark brown eyes, dirty blonde hair and a round physique. Her face is happy in spite of the few bottom teeth she’s missing. They both like to talk and each day when I see Mickey he announces in his gravelly voice and Iowan accent, “Another day in paradise.”

Today, he and Morrison, a tenant in one of the condos next to the pool are trying to decide what to do with a snake. Yes, I said snake. I’m sitting across the pool from them, so I can’t quite see the snake, but apparently, it’s poisonous.

“I’ve got a machete!” Morrison exclaims, running into the house.

His wife is standing on the steps, with their Pomeranian in her arms. “But honey, you’ve never used one before.”

Mickey holds watch as Morrison returns. I don’t know Morrison, but I’m sensing he’s kind of excited about getting his caveman on. He proceeds to chop up the snake as the women look on.

“Oh man! The back-end is still moving!” Terry observes.

I’m speechless because I hadn’t even thought about snakes.

“That’s the third one I’ve seen this year, “ Mickey announces. “Not too bad.”

He proceeds to tell all that are listening about the scorpion he killed yesterday and the tarantula that he’s taking to the jungle in a few minutes. “This one’s not poisonous.” He says, grabbing the shovel on which it sits and shows it to Morrison. “Ya see, it’s got the little orange hairs. If they get on you, it will just sting, but it won’t kill ya.”

Still speechless and fascinated, I listen intently feeling foolish for being all freaked out over the gigantic flying cockroach I met last night in the bedroom. Yeah, I said flying! OMG. I’m gonna have to figure out that one, but given the latest reptilian encounters, I’ll wait it out and be thankful that it’s just a roach.

I’m heading to the beach for awhile, hoping that I won’t fry myself into oblivion.

Mezzanine and New Friends

It’s been a few days since my arrival and things are shifting slowly as I settle in and find my way into new routines and experiences.

Having internet totally helps and Ron, of Ron and Catherine in Casa #2 has been extremely generous in allowing me to use his wireless whenever I need to. I have a key and can come and go as I please. It’s nice because I can just sit right out on his patio and do my thing. In the evening, he’s home along with his new biz partner, Matt. Catherine has gone off to Guatemala for a month-long yoga/meditation retreat. Though I’m bummed she’ll be gone for all of my stay, I’m excited about her journey and very curious about her experience.

She’s going to a full moon retreat which basically starts on the full moon and ends on the following one. It’s in Guatemala which is at least an 18 hour bus ride from Tulum. Catherine left around 6:30pm on Wed. and arrived in Palenque, a Mayan town in Southern Mexico, 12 hours later. Unfortunately, she just missed the bus to Guatemala, and of course there’s only one, so she had to stay overnight and catch the next one in the morning. Traveling all those hours by bus, for me, is quite a stretch. Factor in her limited Spanish and very gentle nature, we are all anxiously awaiting word of her safe arrival in Guatemala later today.

Back in Tulum, I met up with Stacie, a woman I’d met online while I was looking for places to stay a few months back. She’s from Denver and has a place here where she and her family are staying until the 6th. I emailed her to let her know that I’d arrived and she subsequently invited me to join her family and 2 friends from Akumal (20 minutes north) for a drink at Mezzanine, one of my favorite places on the beach.

I was hesitant to say yes only because I was feeling so out of sorts the night before with my walk into town, but I realize I have two choices - I can stay folded into myself or I can get out there and meet some people.

Mezzanine is a great bar/ restaurant/hotel. During the high season, they fly dj’s in from all over the world for a lively Friday night party. I arrived early and settled in at the bar with a beer and my journal. It was great to see the ocean again!! Amazing that from my bar stool, just 20 feet from the shore, there wasn’t one person on the beach in either direction. Plus, I was one of 3 patrons in the restaurant. More reminders of the realities of low season.

Stacie and her husband were lovely. Her two year-old son, Holt, was gorgeous, with white blonde hair and eyes as blue as the Caribbean. Sherwood and her husband, whose name escapes me, were also very nice. They don’t officially live here all year-round, but they keep coming back and staying longer each time. It was nice to listen to their stories of dealing with their travel visa’s and the border patrol – they drove here from the States. Sherwood asked for my email – she wants to have her chart done.

As the visit wore on, I was conscious of my tight budgetary restrictions. This week, I’m trying to live on $20 per day. It’s quite possible to do so in Mexico, though I’d be drinking at home and eating Torta’s (sandwiches) from the stand in town and walking everywhere. It’s just for this week only, thankfully. With paying for groceries and transport from the airport, my self-imposed weekly stipend was cut dramatically.

I hate being on a budget which is why I only took exactly enough pesos with me. Had I taken more, I would have blown the bank because I was tipsy and having fun. Instead, I bid my new friends adios and headed back into town. The unfortunate part of this story is that I didn’t have enough money for a taxi back to the condo. So, I was on foot for the long haul. I don’t how far the beach is from the condo, but I’d venture a guess of 2-3 miles. I didn’t mind. I had a nice time and I was feeling more positive about my time in Tulum.

About 10 minutes into my journey home, a young mexican boy passed me on a bicycle. He said something in Spanish and stopped. All I could make out was”ride” to which I exclaimed, “YES!!” Two minutes later, I was standing on the pegs affixed to the back of his bike, with my bag hoisted on my back. He spoke no English and I don’t speak much Spanish, but it didn’t matter. I was so grateful for the ride.

He let me off at the edge of town and I walked home from there happy to have a shower.


The next day Catherine asked me to lunch. She wasn’t leaving until that evening and she wanted to introduce me to some of the people she knows in town. In the end, a bunch of us went and it was fun to eat a great meal for very little money. I was able to ask a lot of questions of everyone at the table as each of them live here all year ‘round. Robin and Jeannie husband, live in the condo next to my friend, Karen’s. I met them on my last trip. They just moved from Canada days before my departure. Both of them are leaving for the month of September, a common theme that’s starting to amuse rather than irritate.

There’s going to be a lot of room for meeting new people on this trip and the departure of the majority of the ones that I know, though disappointing, leaves the space open for the new. Yet another moment to choose my perspective – gain or loss? Gain keeps the energy moving forward. I’ll go with that until it proves otherwise.

A Different View

Once I unpacked, I decided to take a walk into town, something I reveled in on my last trip. I love to walk anyway, but taking the short journey into town on foot gave me a sense of connection to the locals. Many people walk here, so I would frequently pass small families walking along the highway, on their way home from a day’s work, I assumed. Their faces were always inviting with wide smiles and warm eyes as they greeted me, “Hola!” About a month before my trip, I was walking down the street in Brooklyn and the very idea of walking to town once again in Mexico made my heart skip with joy.

Though I’m exhausted, I know the walk will do me good, reconnecting to the very thing that draws me here – the warmth. It’s still really hot, (which is not the warmth to which I’m referring!) but I’m on my way. It’s not yet dark, but the sun is definitely setting as I turn left off the condo driveway and head north on Highway 307 towards town. Highway 307 runs all the way from Cancun, through Playa, to Tulum and beyond. It turns into Avenida Tulum in the pueblo or the center of town. The condo sits about a half mile from the edge of town, which on foot, usually takes about ten minutes to reach.

Making my way north, Tulum feels different to me. I dismiss the feeling and chalk it up to the internal dialogue that continues to haunt. I want to be afraid – a default mode of sorts. But I gently remind myself to breathe and have faith that it will be okay. I pass several locals on the street, but they don’t greet me with the same enthusiasm as my past experiences. In fact, they don’t greet me at all. I try to take the initiative and offer up a cheerful, “Hola!” but their responses are either lackluster or non-existent. This fuels my fear. The inner dialogue growing in volume, “Ya see? Tulum was just a fluke. It’s not so great……”

I focus on my feet and the ground beneath them telling myself that in the heat, perhaps, it’s just too much energy to be friendly.

I think about dinner. I’m craving something light and Mexican. I decide on Charlie,s, a local spot in town that has a great chicken tostada with black beans, guacamole and tasty pico de gallo. With renewed enthusiasm, I carry on.

At the edge of town, I notice some places that have shut down. Empanada Joe’s is for rent. Disappointing, as I liked their breakfast and free WiFi. My usual internet cafe is shuttered too, but I wonder if it’s just for the low-season. And, unfortunately, Charlie’s is closed too. Not shuttered, thankfully, but closed. Perhaps it’s because it’s Monday. I continue on and notice several places seem to be closed as well. The town seems sleepy and not as inviting.

I settle on La Nave – my favorite Italian spot, though it’s a little hot for pasta. I have a quiet dinner amongst 5 other diners and decide to call it a night. I am truly exhausted – it’s 8pm.

I hail a cab back to the condo and even the driver seems unfriendly. I’m so disappointed as I can’t help but keep comparing it to my last visit where I would converse with anyone willing to deal with my broken Spanish. I feel myself pulling inward – a silent warning bell ringing. “I can’t disappear. I have to stay present,” I tell myself. I think about sleepaway camp and my childhood, determined to trust my choice and give this journey a chance.

Arriving “home”, I turn on my NY cell phone hoping for a text message from someone reminding me that I’m not completely shut off from the outside world. I don’t have wireless in the apartment. One of the couples, Ron and Catherine, who live here all year ‘round, have offered me a key to their patio, where I can use their wireless connection for access to the internet. It’s great that I have this option, but I’m conscious of not wearing out my welcome.

No messages from home. I am tired and anxious to sleep. Tomorrow, I tell myself, I will start fresh. Tomorrow, it will be better.

Surrender / Intention

A good theme for this trip. A friend of mine just texted me(free for incoming, 35 cents for each outgoing text). Her text read: "Thinking a lot about surrender and intention." Her text was a gift to me - a reminder of my own journey. My own intentions. And ultimately, the courage to give them up and let the universe do it's thing.

I can feel the pressure of being an inspiration to people – near and far. I don’t mind mostly. I chose it, boasting about going away for “a month” to my customers and strangers while at work. I wasn’t really bragging. The trip just provided casual fodder for conversations that needed an injection of excitement.

I'm a bartender. A storyteller. It's my job to keep people engaged and interested. (and drunk, but that's the easy part.)

Good stories are essential to the job.

I've been planning Mexico for months. The story had chapters. Some people were supportive. Others not so much, saying things like, "Mexico? Well, don't get kidnapped down there." or "Bring a mask." In my final days before the trip, I was anxious to start the next part - PART 2....the trip.

Shall we go?

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I am here in Tulum – finally. I arrived on Monday after a long day of travel. To save money, I opted for the Super Shuttle to the airport in NY. For $27, I got a ride to Newark with 11 strangers. The van was full when it got to me, so I sat up front with the driver. Although it was 5:30 in the morning, it struck me funny that I was sharing such close quarters with people, some of whose faces I never saw as my back was to them for the entire ride.

I landed in Tulum and was to be picked up by Gilberto, the caretaker of Brian and Gina’s apartment, where I’m staying. I met Gilberto only once and couldn’t recall his face, but thankfully, he had a sign with my name and we were on our way down to Tulum.

Cancun is about 90 miles north of Tulum. Playa Del Carmen sits in-between. Playa serves as the “city” to those that live south. It’s built up over the years and many people in Tulum fear that it’s a preview of what will come in a few years to their sleepy town. Convenience-wise, Playa is great.

There’s a Walmart which makes the American version look like an outpost. Walmart here, is huge! It’s got everything, including produce and fresh meats and fish. Gilberto suggested we stop and pick up some stuff for the condo. I was grateful to have a Spanish-speaking person with me to translate some of the labels and answer my questions about some of the local fare.

After Walmart, we continued down to Tulum. Gilberto is a wonderful person. He’s very smart and his English is really good. We spoke easily throughout the trip and he’s a great audience for my humor, so there were a lot of laughs as well. He’s married to Priscilla and they take care of a few of the condos here in Tulum. He and his wife are a jack/jill of all trades. He transports people to and from the airport, the market, the beach. She teaches Spanish, cleans, irons. It’s a great thing they have going.

Arriving at the condo was mixed for me. The last time I was here, I stayed in a different apartment which faced the pool. I liked it because I felt connected to what was going on around me with the others and it was an easy way to socialize without really trying.

Brian and Gina’s place faces the back part of the property, which is much more isolated. However, it’s decorated really well and there’s a warm energy in the apartment, so walking inside, I was glad to be there.

It was blazing hot outside, so I was thankful for the modern amenities like air conditioning and ceiling fans. I bid Gilberto good-bye and unpacked my groceries and clothes. I wasn’t as excited as I thought I would be. I kept trying to find the joy that I felt the last time I arrived in Tulum, but all I felt was apprehension. The noise in my head translated to, “What the hell am I thinking? A month? What am I going to do for a month?” This would quickly become my new mantra.

I know myself. It takes me a minute to adapt, but once I do, I’m golden. Even when I was a kid, I’d go to camp and spend the first week crying and missing home so badly that I thought I wouldn’t make it through the month. Once the month was over, I’d spend the car ride home crying because I would miss my new friends so much. I decided to counter the mantra with another one, “I will be fine.”