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Who really ruined Tulum? by Anon

Who really ruined Tulum?

By Anonymous

Including my well-meaning, but overly invested in-laws in our March Break plans during the first year of my teaching career had seemed innocent enough:  we were visiting the Grand Canyon via Las Vegas, and they wanted to see what changes had taken place during the decade since they’d last visited.  But conflicts over restaurants and activities coupled with their desire to do everything together left my husband caught in the middle as I grew more and more frustrated and short-tempered.

And so it was with a mixture of surprise and horror that I heard my in-laws announce, only a year later, that they had once again booked their holidays during March Break, so they could join us on a trip.

“You know,” they complained, “everything is so much cheaper the week before, or the week after.” 

Gently, I pointed out that as a teacher, I didn’t have the flexibility that they had, but they might want to remember that for another year. 

“Oh no,” they insisted.  “We like to go with you and Andy…”

Andy – knowing I would have preferred not to travel again with his parents - told me to choose any destination I wished. As long as there was a beach for his mom and dad.     

Aruba had everything we wanted:  a stable political situation, good diving, and the all-important beach.  Unfortunately, it also had Dutch roots, and my in-laws had failed to pay a parking ticket on a rental car in Amsterdam several years prior. They couldn’t return to Dutch soil. I thought I’d found my loophole, until my husband sighed and told me to choose another destination. Bitterly, I settled instead on Mexico’s Mayan Riviera.          

“It seems kind of expensive,” my in-laws told me.  “But maybe the price will go down if we wait until closer to the departure date…”

Again, I explained that March Break is “special” and it doesn’t usually work that way.  They promised to get back to me with a decision within a couple of days.  And by the time they did, the price had gone up, by nearly $500 per person. My husband paid the difference for them, and swore me to secrecy,

Thus, when we finally arrived, I knew they wouldn’t want to pay for a taxi. Together, we hiked out to the road near our resort seeking one of the white vans that provided local transportation.

My research had suggested that a fare to the Mayan ruins at Tulum should cost only $2.00 per person, however, Andy and my father-in-law agreed – against my advice - to a much higher rate of $20.00 for all four of us. Payment was to be made up front, and we had only a fifty dollar bill, so the driver promised to provide the change as soon as we reached our destination. True to his word, he did.  But in his focus on getting his change, my husband left our digital camera behind in the van.  In 2001 – the very early stages of digital photography -- this was an expensive loss.

 

 

Inquiries at the hotel, and the local police station failed to turn up any leads.  Without knowledge of which van we’d been in, or who the driver might have been, there was no way anyone could help us recover the camera.

And so, two days later – on the eve of his thirty-fifth birthday – my husband sighed loudly and shook his head in frustration.  His mother leaned in and took him by the hand.  “Oh Honey, don’t be so upset,” she counselled.

 “I just lost a twelve-hundred dollar camera!” he reminded her.  “I think I have the right to be a little bit F***n upset!”

My mother-in-law began to cry.  “Oh Andy!” she sobbed.  “I didn’t know you swore!”

For a moment, I considered telling her that he wasn’t a virgin, either. But I was afraid I’d have to ship her body home.

 


Details for other travellers from our anonymous travel story entrant: