Voyage to Ensenada Part 2 (Part 1)
By Cousin Kim
By Cousin Kim
Aboard the Carnival Paradise, we reached Ensenada Saturday morning. Cathy and I opted to join a shore excursion called the Gold Coast tour.
One of the group asked about the large colorful rings, which looked like giant hoola hoops, that we observed in the ocean. Our tour guide, Gloria, explained that these were tuna pans which corral the fish so that they cannot swim far and will grow fat. Once fattened up, the fish are then sent to Japan for sushi. Japan, an island, importing fish from Mexico? Who knew?
After a walk through the decorative convention center, we headed to a beach resort. While I ate and sipped on a delicious virgin pina colada with cinnamon sprinkled on top, children played in the nearby pool with the beach less that one hundred feet away.
Cathy and I then decided to head toward the exquisite ocean. Dodging ATV's and horse manure, we paused to take a closer look at the waves.
Before we could get to the patio to rejoin our tour group, however, a security guard carrying a miniature billy club approached us speaking Spanish. From what I could ascertain, he seemed to think that we were Mexicans from another locale attempting to use this private beach without being resort guests. Concerned about the mini billy club, I explained to him in English that we'd come to Mexico by ship and that we were visiting.
Continuing to question me in Spanish, I finally pointed to our tour bus. At that moment, he seemd to understand and quickly apologized... in Spanish.
Back on the bus, I related our experience to Gloria. We then went on to exchange stories about other experiences we'd both had while traveling; including my being mistaken for a Cuban in Cuba and her being mistaken for an American in Mexico.
As a single Black woman from LA who has traveled all over the world, our discussion really gave me alot to think about.
Back on the bus, I related our experience to Gloria. We then went on to exchange stories about other experiences we'd both had while traveling; including my being mistaken for a Cuban in Cuba and her being mistaken for an American in Mexico.
As a single Black woman from LA who has traveled all over the world, our discussion really gave me alot to think about.
Sunday was our "fun day at sea". We were literally in the middle of nowhere, motionless, all day. Having partied in the disco all the previous evening, Cathy and I elected to sleep in. Due to being out at sea, our cell phones were not displaying the correct time, so while we thought we'd gotten up at nine, we actually got up at ten. No chance to win a free cruise during morning bingo, dagnabit!
We shook off the blues by joining the Austin Powers dance class in the theatre that afternoon. Guests, including us, filled the stage and learned a choreographed routine which we performed before gathered onlookers in the audience.
With moves like cat eyes and chicken neck, we had absolutely no future on Dancing with the Stars, but at least we worked off the frozen yogurt from lunch. Then, in our deck chairs that afternoon, we read our books while a men's hairy chest contest ensued on the pool deck below us.
That night we ate dinner with a lesbian couple from Burbank, California. Our waiter seemed upset that I chose not to eat dessert again. Even Baked Alaska could not sway my resolve. Rather than enjoying after dinner mints, we chewed on a very deep discussion about organized religion and the new thought/ancient wisdom movement with our dinner companions.
Then like old farts, we headed to our cabin in preparation for our early arrival in Long Beach the next day.
Throughout the weekend, I explored the food, spa services, gym, and disco on my first Carnival Cruise to Mexico. I not only tolerated the experience, I actually enjoyed it. Once again I was reminded of one of the great mysteries of life which I reflected upon as I stood on the beach. I thought, "how wonderful that the ocean speaks the same language wherever I go."
With moves like cat eyes and chicken neck, we had absolutely no future on Dancing with the Stars, but at least we worked off the frozen yogurt from lunch. Then, in our deck chairs that afternoon, we read our books while a men's hairy chest contest ensued on the pool deck below us.
That night we ate dinner with a lesbian couple from Burbank, California. Our waiter seemed upset that I chose not to eat dessert again. Even Baked Alaska could not sway my resolve. Rather than enjoying after dinner mints, we chewed on a very deep discussion about organized religion and the new thought/ancient wisdom movement with our dinner companions.
Then like old farts, we headed to our cabin in preparation for our early arrival in Long Beach the next day.
Throughout the weekend, I explored the food, spa services, gym, and disco on my first Carnival Cruise to Mexico. I not only tolerated the experience, I actually enjoyed it. Once again I was reminded of one of the great mysteries of life which I reflected upon as I stood on the beach. I thought, "how wonderful that the ocean speaks the same language wherever I go."