Welcome to Isla Mujeres

Chapter 1: Only the beginning of my Mexican adventures

I fell in love with Mexico back in the 80s. When I began traveling to Mexico’s Caribbean coast, first stop was Isla Mujeres, an island 20 minutes by ferry from Cancun. Cancun hadn’t become the tourist hotspot it is today and getting there from San Francisco took us an unbelievable 14 hours. My husband and I flew Mexicana, a drama in itself. Though the flight was said to have one lone connection—Mexico City—before we reached our destination, Guadalajara became a port of call along with another airport we stopped at in the dead of night and never learned the name of.

Because of Mexicana’s unplanned delays, we nearly missed our boat. Through sheer luck we arrived at Isla Mujeres on the last ferry from the Cancun mainland, back then called the people’s ferry. By the time we reached Hotel El Faro our reservation had been given away. The desk clerk insisted “no problema” as he led us to an outdoor bar under a palapa, lit by candles. We settled in, too tired to protest after the long trip. Cool drinks appeared while things got figured out. It took an hour for another room to miraculously come available, but the air was warm and humid, a light breeze ruffled the palms, and the stars were out. Since we were on the beach, we kicked off our sandals. The sand felt cool beneath my feet. I heard waves lapping on the shore. I could have just slept right there under that palapa. I felt like I’d died and gone to heaven. I was falling in love. With a place, with a country. Hijole! I was a goner. Bienvenidos a Mexico.