Mérida '07

Day 1

It is hurricane season. The clouds are hanging and the crowds are low. It seems quiet, in spite of the Mexican Independence Day weekend celebration ahead.

We are here later this year. It is just Dennis and I, the Lord in His sovereignty having planned to send us alone on our annual trek to Mérida, Yucátan. Because it is just two of us, things will be different this year, we know, but we are excited nonetheless to see what He has in store.

We have had just two casualties thus far...a six pack of water and two jars of almond butter. Both have been confiscated by the DFW Airport on our initial pass through security at home. In his efforts to avoid extra charges for heavy bags, Dennis had packed, repacked and packed some more, carefully weighing each suitcase while watching the dreaded 50 pound mark. He had managed to get it all together - our few personal belongings and the things we will leave in Mérida for the church, the church school, and the missionary. We are bringing books, school visual aids, bilingual products and games, and...67 pounds of tracts!

We also had a couple of pounds of various dried nuts and cranberries, a few -medicines, and two very hard-to-come-by jars of almond butter at the special request of Monica, our American friend and full time missionary. But even in spite of Dennis' earnest efforts and some diligent and clever packing, it was not to be. He had forgotten that liquids are no longer allowed to be carried on airplanes, and had placed the bottled water and the almond butter in his shoulder bag.

We had protested "almond butter is not a liquid" but - and here's something to remember - under the TSA rules, it is considered a liquid. "Unless you have diabetes," the sympathetic screener said, eying us as if to suggest "just say you are diabetic and I'll let you keep it." But alas, we were unwilling to lie about it and so Monica's almond butter, all $24 of it, went into the trash barrel with the water. Casualties one and two were behind us, at least.

We have arrived in Cancún safe and sound, nix almond butter, in the late evening. We have just five suitcases between us (quite a difference from our usual 17 or so!) and make our way though the airport and customs looking like any other American tourists headed for the beach. We have survived the green light/red light of immigration and managed to somehow find our bags at Carousel 3 (or, wait! Here come our bags - on Carousel 4! No! Look! They are one and the same - Carousel 4 curves around and becomes Carousel 3 before the bags exit and then reenter again. You gotta love this country!).

We have made the familiar connection at the car rental counter, followed the agent through the myriad of taxi drivers and tour guides shouting their deals, and climbed into the van which takes us to the car rental depot near the airport. The route is a little different than prior years, thanks to Hurricane Wilma in 2005, the airport has had to rebuild parts of its structure and roads, and remodeled in the process. Once at the car rental office, we are familiar with the routine. Agents of nearby hotels wait at the door with maps in hand and sales pitch memorized.

They are always friendly and speak fairly good English, but this one here tonight catches Dennis' attention. He listens patiently as the young man pitches a free breakfast the next morning at whatever resort-on-the-water he is selling that night (really a time-share). By the time he is finished, we have our little car for the week, a Volkswagen Jetta, waiting for us and the resort agent has a gospel tract in his hand. We load up, climb in, and breathe a collective sigh of relief. We are here, again, and it feels so good.

The Western Mexican Caribbean is a beautiful place, and this night it is no exception. It is warm but because it is September this trip, it is not unbearable. The humidity is high and Den is hoping for some good rain while we are here, maybe even a good storm or two. But there will be no storms tonight. It is dark, calm and quiet.

We find our hotel on the Cancún strip- a place Dennis came across on the internet and booked because of its low room rate (yeah, Yahoo!). We are surprised by its elegance and grace, and its beauty in the evening twilight makes us wish briefly that we could stay longer than one night.

(We later learn that this hotel, like most others along the beach in Cancún, has been completely rebuilt since the devastation of Hurricane Wilma. Everything is fresh, new and modern...except the elevator, which didn't seem to exist. We climbed five flights of a sweeping spiral staircase to reach our room. It was beautiful but exhausting and not for the faint of heart or weak of knee!)

We will head for Mérida tomorrow, but Pastor Sam isn't expecting us until late afternoon, so after watching the beach below from our balcony, we decide to enjoy this place for a few hours in the morning. It is midnight when we get to bed - some things never change on mission trips!