now
you are probably expecting another Alaskan adventure story, which means it’s
time to shake things up and leave the frozen north for a spell. How about we
head for warmer climes? Namely, the Yucatan Peninsula in Mexico. I’d wanted to
visit there for years. Back in my teens I had this burning desire to be an
archeologist and specialize in Mayan civilizations. To travel widely, be in
touch with history on a literal scale, it was a heavenly career choice for
someone like me.
Alas, the road not taken. I didn’t become a female Indiana Jones, but I never
lost my fascination with Mayan ruins. Especially since their calendar ends in
December 2012, which scarily, isn’t that far off. But I’m straying…
Okay, here’s the romance part of my tale. Marriage bells were ringing. So
naturally, me and my adventure loving fiancé decide on a destination wedding and
Cozumel was the perfect place to tie the knot. It turned out lovely too, sunset
vows under a gazebo on the beach, a mariachi band playing softly in the
background, colorful Spanish decorations flowing in a fresh ocean breeze. It was
magical and so very romantic.
But it almost never happened. And I’ll tell you why – because of a measly
$6.00 airport tax.
You see, by necessity we had our honeymoon first. Because in Cozumel law
states you must be in the country four days before you could legally marry. Not
a problem. We were staying at a beautiful resort and they had a helpful
coordinator to schedule off-island jaunts. Which is why we chose this
destination – it’s proximity to the Yucatan interior and the amazing Mayan ruin
complex of Chichén Itzá.
Photo credit:
www.differentworld.com
Excited beyond reason, we booked the luxury excursion and paid our day long
tour price including – you guessed it – the $6 airport tax. That’s per person,
mind you. Now, don’t get me wrong, I was completely fine with paying the tax. At
least, I was the first time.
The next morning about seven of us resort tourists boarded a little
puddle-jumper and flew over to Cancun where we switched to a larger plane. We
had our boarding passes, but still had to wait in line to get them stamped. At
the counter we handed over our passes and the clerk at the counter said… “$6
airport tax due.”
“Wait a minute,” we said. “We already paid that tax back on Cozumel.
See…here’s our receipt.”
She smiled and nodded and still said, “$6 dollar airport tax due.”
Well, we hadn’t brought much cash on this flight, mostly due to the warnings
of the tour coordinator. She said lunch was provided, free drinks on the plane,
and we’d be safer carrying very little cash. Though the flight was much less
risky than say…a three hour bus ride through local villages with gun-toting
escorts and a few chickens in a cage. So really, what do you do? We dipped into
our small cache and doled out another $12 bucks to pay the tax. Again.
We climbed aboard our 20 seater 1960’s prop plane and were lucky enough to
snag a seat toward the front where we could see out the window without a wing
blocking the view. They billed this flight as luxury. To me, that stretched the
term to its breaking point. The free drinks were canned sodas in a cooler at the
back of the plane, there was no bathroom (though only a 40 minute flight), and
the narrated portion consisted of the co-pilot yelling over the engine noise to
point out the relentless forest below.
All things are relative I suppose and if you compared the trip to say – the
guns and chickens alternative, it qualified as luxury.
Green was pretty much all you saw out the window. That is, until the stark
white pyramid, ball court, ancient observatory, and other ruins popped into
view. To say it’s incredible doesn’t do it justice. It totally makes landing
that plane on a dirt-packed runway ripped out of a tangle of impenetrable trees
well worth the risk. It’s all part of the adventure, right?
This is the spot where I could spend all day talking about how absolutely
incredible Chichén Itzá is. Every step you take on that complex connects you
with history in a way that is nearly unexplainable. I mean just look at this
picture of the Ball Court below and you will get an idea of the impact this
ancient site conveys. Its awe inspiring, deeply mysterious, and a touch of
serious spooky.
Photo credit:
www.mysteriousplaces.com
We were lucky enough to climb the steps to the top of El Castillo, the
Pyramid of Kukulkan (first picture). Let me tell you that ascent is steep on an
alarming scale, but the view is spectacular. And at the risk of sounding like a
New Ager, I’m saying the energy inside the top chamber makes your spine tingle.
Or maybe it was a lack of oxygen from the dizzying height, either way it’s a
strange sensation. I warn you…Chichén Itzá is an experience that changes you.
But again, I’m straying. My story isn’t meant to be a Travel Channel
promotion on the wonders of an ancient Mayan city, though it probably could be.
No, my story is about a $6 airport tax, so I’m powering on.
We explored every inch of the Mayan ruins (except the underground chambers
beneath the observatory and that’s only because they wouldn’t let us down there.
Dang it.). Then right on schedule, we arrived back at a 3-sided shack that
doubled as the airport terminal and got in line. With tickets in hand we
expected an easy boarding. We were wrong. At the counter a dusty looking hombre
in denim and boots repeated the same litany we’d heard from the get go. You got
it – “$6 airport tax due.”
Well, as I mentioned, our cash supply was small to begin with and after the
other taxes we paid, the entrance fee, and a few souvenirs from the fairly nice
gift shop there, we had about eight dollars left. We needed twelve. So we
argued.
“We already paid this tax,” I said. “Twice!”
“Not here. $6 airport tax due,” he said.
We argued this way for a few more minutes until I realized this wasn’t a
battle we were going to win. There was nothing left to do but raid the emergency
reserve. My fiancé reached into a hidden pocket and pulled out our secret stash.
“Can you take a hundred dollar bill?” he asked.
“Si,” the clerk nodded with a big smile. “No change.”
That’s when the mild-mannered man I’d known for four years, a
go-with-the-flow kind of guy, morphed into I’ve-had-enough-of-this-crap kind of
guy. And believe me when I say the battle that ensued gave me visions of a
Mexican jail cell and bread and water rations. Others began grumbling, some
joined my fiancé’s tax revolt and just when I thought mutiny was unavoidable,
two honeymooners in line behind us came to the rescue.
They were staying at our same resort and they did an amazing thing. They paid
the $12 tax for us. With the money paid things settled back down, people fell in
line, doled out their tax, and boarded the plane. Later that night at dinner we
saw our rescuers, paid them back the money, and sent a couple glasses of wine to
their table.
In the end we had our wedding ceremony as planned and our new friends stood
up with us as witnesses. We celebrated the event in the lounge afterward by
slamming flaming shots of liquor called Mexican Flags and toasting the fact we
were at a posh resort and not languishing inside some rotten jail cell.
So the moral of this story is…1) when you leave the country don’t take
hundred dollar bills 2) don’t listen to tour coordinators who say you don’t need
any cash, and 3) just pay the dang tax.
And go to Chichén Itzá. It’s worth every penny of those $6 airport taxes.
Just trust me.
