Because I know you all just couldn’t wait to hear the rest of the story.
Though I realized the funnest part to talk about (or bitch about if I’m being honest with myself) is the “getting there” part. Do I just attract these really crazy moments.
It’s punishment for watching that Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen movie too much as a child.
I’ve decided that there is a few more things I want to comment on before I move on to the Playa Del Carmen section of this story, which really is just pretty boring. (Well, I’m not gonna post the really exciting parts on the internet because come on, I have standards. And besides, my mother usually reads these! Just kidding mom! I’m never doing anything too exciting and you know it!)
I always get so distracted when I’m writing these posts! Good Lord!
So Joshua (the man who convinced me and Marah to abandon our hostel in Cozumel and take the trek across the bay to Playa del Carmen) made dinner for everyone in the hostel the second night we were there, claiming he had “pesos to burn”
Now this guy had just been staying at this one hostel, which was fine, but not spectacular or anything, for THREE WEEKS.
He wasn’t diving.
He wasn’t with anyone. He was literally just sitting around in this hostel for 3 weeks.
There was also a couple who was taking a while off of traveling. Now, they got me all inspired to do South America, because that’s what they were doing. The woman said she’s been doing the whole 6 month working/6 months travel thing.
There was another guy from Canada who was talking all about how he’s a “bachelor” and has this passion for biking.
Then Marah and I got into a debate about that whole “backpacker lifestyle” because in her brain it’s kind of selfish to just travel, but I’m kind of drawn to it more. I don’t know. I feel like they all enrich each other.
I’ve never met a backpacker who doesn’t live for good conversation.
So I take them to be good people.
MY LORD WOMAN GET BACK TO THE FREAKING STORY!
So me and Marah get to our new hostel in Playa Del Carmen. Which is called Hostel Playa Rio.
I’m giving them a shout out cause they were fantastic.
I got Marah to stay in a dorm!
Well it was an all-female dorm, but I would say we are making big strides with this one!
And we decided almost immediately that we had made a good decision in coming there. Now, it was a lot more western, but a lot more lively. And hey, I wasn’t really planning on this trip being a “real, authentic, Mexican vacation”. So if there’s a Starbucks, I’m not complaining.
The beaches were open to everyone! Which was not how it was in Cozumel. (Freaking corporate melarchy)
So this is the not so long story of how Marah and Brenna got wildly and ridiculously tan!
Hint: We laid on the beach.
Brenna spent her time reading “Paper Towns” by John Green, which was sub-par. And Marah spent her time reading “Red Rising” the insanely phenomenal that I having been begging people to read for over a year.
Yes, it’s better than the Hunger Games.
Yeah, I know it’s conceptually similar so everyone is going to say that it ripped off the idea of the Hunger Games, but who gives a shit. All published work is a knock off of something nowadays, and when has that ever stopped the general public from falling into a craze over something?
The answer is: It hasn’t.
(And this is the part of the blog post where Brenna completely stops even pretending to write a story about her travels to Mexico and it dissolves completely into a rant about books. Is there a better way to waste space on the internet? I think not)
Now, because Marah and I are college students that meant that we spent our lovely chiche mexican vacation living in adjunct poverty. We allowed ourselves one real meal a day (where I pretty much reliably got tacos)
Look at that spicy goodness. You can’t get this in the states, folk.
Okay maybe in Southern California.
And then the rest of my money was spent buying Coronas and Mai Tais
We also had a struggle with the time zone
Because our hostel had this thing where ladies got free drinks from 10pm-11pm and–because of the aforementioned poverty–Marah and I were down for that.
So we killed time at this awesome restaurant with live music. Some guy with a guitar who sang “Santoria” (so clearly he was catering to the rich American tourist crowd). And then when we went back to our hostel at what we thought was 10:30. It was actually 11:30.
But the nice man gave us free drinks anyway.
Because we were so obviously clueless Americans. And actually, we kept getting these responses from the other backpackers like : “Oh, you’re on American spring break“
I can be a cliche if I want to, thank you very much.
And I’m the life of the party. Obviously!