And paradise is exactly what was needed after a ten hour flight and the chaos of Cancun airport, where the organisation must have been a project set to the children of the local primary school. After a short taxi ride through the old town of Cancun and after passing through the three security check points, the luxurious 5 star, all inclusive, adults only, Excellence Playa Mujeres resort awaits.
Everything about the hotel screams luxury. You can even pay extra to belong to the Excellence Club, where you can sit in a bar that nobody else uses and get a different colour towel to use by your own pool. Shared by the other 200 people that join the club.
The resort has seven pools, five bars and seven restaurants - Mexican, French, Asian, Italian, Mediteranian, plus a specialist steak house and a place that only serves lobster. Breakfast and lunch are served in the steak house, which is situated near the main pool, but the buffet avaiable in the Italian restaurant is truly amazing. Eggs any way you like them are cooked at breakfast and a wide variety of fresh fish and meats, along with salad and fruit is what makes up lunch. With plenty of cakes and ice cream for those with a sweet tooth. There is a modest dress code for breakfast and lunch, you basically need to wear clothes, rather than swimming shorts or bikinis. In the evening the dress code is more formal. Long trousers need to be worn by men, woman are expected to wear more than a flannel. The Steak, lobster and Mexican restaurants allow tailored shorts as they are outside.
The four remaining restaurants are in the main building and wouldn't look out of place in London's West End. The food that's served in them is pretty much as good as I've had in London too. Then it all gets a bit confusing. There you are, all dressed up, in this fancy, bordering on posh, restaurant, when a smart looking waiter approaches you and serves you in the way someone at T.G.I Friday or Franky and Bennys would. Thankfully they stop short of saying "can I take your order guys" and then proceeding to call us both "guys" for the rest of the evening, even though my wife is quite obviously a woman.
The other thing that I find not quite right is the over the top subservience the waiters are forced to show. I'm a working class bloke and have never had servants. So having someone chase me around a restaurant offering to carry my plate, makes me feel slightly uncomfortable. To say "it's my pleasure" 15000 times a day each time a guest says thank you, is just ridiculous. I really cant see how a ten minute walk in 90 degree heat, just to get me a cappuccino, can bring anyone pleasure. Although I must point out that the gratitude is genuine when a tip is left.
Some of the waiters also made the mistake of thinking I was a foreign language student, there only to learn Spanish. Some repeated the Spanish translation to me after everything I ordered, then stand there with a look on their face like they were Yoda teaching Luke Skywalker to make a woman take her clothes off, without saying a word. They eventually gave up on this game after about two days when it looked like I might slip into a coma through the boredom of it. There was one persistent bloke that cooked my lunch every day. Every day he would tell me the Spanish for fish, shrimp, onions and mushrooms, and each following day I would continue to order in English. I'm pleased to say my vocabulary of Spanish is the same as when I arrived: Hola, si, por favor, gracias and, probably the most important of all, cerveza.
It's not that I don't like other languages, it's just completely pointless me learning Spanish in two weeks. Firstly, all of the staff at the hotel spoke and understood English perfectly well. Secondly, the waiters will need to speak English long after I've departed Cancun, where as I won't speak a word of Spanish until I next return, possibly a year or two away. So it makes more sense for them to practice their English than me my Spanish. So in a way, I'm doing them a favour.
One thing I have learnt is that ninety percent of Americans don't hold a passport. And I would say out of the remaining ten percent that do, nine percent go to Mexico. The Americans are a strange bunch to work out. On one hand they are the most friendly, polite people you'll have the pleasure to meet, only ever addressing people as Sir or Mam. On the other hand, they can also be the most loud and irritating race on the planet. They also have some strange customs.
If two Arabs get into my taxi in London, they seem to shout at each other in an aggressive manor, even though they are only sitting about two feet apart. The Americans do it slightly differently. They sit as far away from each other as possible, sometimes to the point where binoculars are needed, then have a very loud conversation.
I've never been to the States, but unless they have followed the British Labour Governments lead of banning anything people enjoy doing, you can still get a drink anytime you want. Which is why it's baffling that Americans start drinking around 10am in the pool bar and finish around midnight looking like a zombie. Every night. Which leads to another of their customs - whooping. And they whoop at everything. It usually starts about 3pm in the pool bar after several hours drinking of cocktails. One day the whooping was so loud I started to wonder if Osama Bin Laden had been brought back to life, then killed again. All that really happened was a bloke asked the barman for a straw.
There is peace and quiet to be found on the beach, where the sand is white and the water is warm and clear. And thankfully they don't play music out of speakers that the Rolling Stones might use in a concert at Wembley Stadium. They do, however, have those speakers in the theatre.
The hotel next door boasts as being more exclusive, in reality it's just more expensive. They only have three restaurants and no night time entertainment. I can only imagine the entertainments manager plays the music at such a high volume to tease the other hotels guests when they are bored and bed is the only option at about 9pm. Either that or he's deaf. And after hearing some of the singers he's booked, it could be both.
There is a nice area to sit and have a drink after the main show is finished, where a three piece band plays in what resembles a town square rather than a hotel. There is a cigar shop on site, so if a Cuban short Churchill, Romeo and Juliet is as close to Shakespear as you wish to get, this is the place to be.
This is the fith time I've been to Mexico, and have stayed in four different hotels along the Riviera Maya area. I've never been disappointed. So if you're thinking of visiting the Caribbean and don't have the bank balance of Simon Cowell or Wayne Rooney, forget about Barbados, Antigua and St Lucia, say Adios to England (or wherever you call home) and say Hola! to Cancun, where paradise awaits.
No comments:
Post a Comment