Vamos Corillo! (or Let's go, friends!)

Travel is so much more than leaving your home for a different, temporary location.

Travel allows you to experience new locations, foods, weather, lifestyles.

Travel opens your mind, and your heart to the things that make us different yet bring us all together.

 

the beach near Old San Juan

Last Spring, we were lucky enough to take a return trip to the Caribbean and the British Virgin Islands. 

While Rob set up the majority of the trip, I was in charge of setting up the flights. There is no easy way to get to the BVI from the Coast of Illinois. Travel day can either be a 16-hour odyssey or a nice leisurely day with an overnight stop.

Of course, I chose the leisurely day with an overnight stop. (On the way down only. The return was regrettably Odyssey worthy.)

We flew Southwest on this trip, which flies into San Juan, Puerto Rico. The following day we would be taking a much smaller plane to Tortola.

I must admit, initially, I was a little nervous about the stop. Puerto Rico, as well as the whole Caribbean, was still recovering from Hurricanes Irma and Maria. I am always a little tentative when it comes to trying a new location, especially when traveling with friends. The desire to show everyone a good time is strong.

And I have a reputation of booking awesome hotels sight unseen to maintain.

With all that pressure, I typed in ‘hotels in San Juan’ and going by photos alone settled on Villa Herencia in Old San Juan. The photos showed an old-world Latin-style hotel with stucco, brick work, courtyards, mosquito netting and bathtubs on the roof.

Seriously. How can you pass up bathtubs on the roof?

sun bathing, taken literally

We were all a little nervous when our airport taxi driver had to ask directions to the hotel….twice. There was much laughter as a couple of people in the taxi mapped the drive on phones, which gave conflicting routes.

The Bishop's. We drove past them so many times, we felt they were blessing us personally. 

The driver persevered and committed to driving us up and down streets so narrow we were pretty sure they were sidewalks, past breathtaking views of the old fort installation and finally dropping us off in front of a locked door on a blue stone road in the middle of Old San Juan.

Eduardo met us at the door, welcoming us with a booming voice and endearing smile. He gave us a breakfast menu to fill out for the next day then took us to our rooms and left us to explore the premises.

through this hallway...

the courtyard outside our room

This is the moment of truth, when traveling with friends who are relying on your hotel pick to set the tone for the trip.

High ceilings, heavy wood furniture and mosquito netted beds, modern fixtures surrounded by antique mirrors in the bathroom…although the rooms were small, they were absolutely beautiful.

mosquito netting for ambiance only

modern meets antique

a secret behind every door

I retained my Great Booking Mystique.

Given the fact that we had less than twelve hours in Old San Juan, we hit Eduardo up for some suggestions before heading out into the city. He gave us numerous suggestions for dinner, depending on our preference of ‘touristy’ ‘authentic’ ‘quick’ ‘young-vibe’ ‘where he would meet friends’. We settled on a tiny tapas style place Rosa de Triana, complete with stone arches, dark hallways and candles. Mojitos and tostones consumed, we wandered the streets of Old San Juan.

We wrapped up our evening on the patio at Barrachina, sampling flan and dodging unidentified that felt it important to try to bean us in the heads.

I’ll let pictures give you the rest of our tour, but first I have to mention our Villa Herencia breakfast.

On check in we were given a menu to choose from – eggs, fruit, yogurt, toast. Not a huge selection, especially for people who LOVE breakfast. But we figured it would be a good start and we could grab something at the airport.

We woke early, packed our bags and met in the dining room – another high-ceilinged room filled with heavy wood table, and coffee and juice laden buffet. The ladies preparing our food apologized for the delay, only to arrive minutes later with silver trays for each of us.

this is now known as breakfast eduardo

I have never had breakfast served to me on an individual silver tray. I could seriously get use to this.

 

El Morro, a portion of the old fort

the city gate

San Juan Cathedral, Ponce de Leon was being renovated

Forteleza Street 

I have always found old world Latin style beautiful and romantic. I did not expect to leave San Juan with such a strong desire to return. It has become yet another place that I will always hold near and dear.

And to that end, Puerto Rico is once again in need.

Puerto Rico is a United States territory. They do not have the luxury of benefits afforded to the rest of our states. Yes, there is a history behind this. I am not going to enter that discussion. This is not that sort of page.

Rather, I am going to appeal to our humanity. This island country has been hit with multiple earthquakes over the past few weeks. They were still recovering from the effects of Hurricane Maria two years ago.

Below is a list of sites which are aiding Puerto Rico.

If you can, give them a hand now.

And in the future, give Puerto Rico a visit.

American Red Cross

Hispanic Federation

Direct Relief

ChefsForPuertoRico

All Hearts and Hands

Empty Pages

Well, hello again!

It's been a while, I admit.

Only two months worth of Facebook reminders that 'your friends haven't heard from The Coast of Illinois'...

And I had such big plans for writing this year...

Actually, I didn't.

Oh, I have ideas, but the motivation for putting them out into the universe has been lacking. Blame it on too many grey winter days, that pesky thing called 'work' or just plain apathy.

Can't really say.

It is such a strange feeling to stare at an empty page and have so many things swimming around in my head but no real way to get those ideas to travel the distance from grey matter along the great nerve highway to finally land via ink pen or computer at their destination, on the right....

What finally got me here?

This beautiful book.

This is a exquisite example of Yunjin brocade. This type of brocade is over 700 years old and serves as a royal tribute and is of great historical and cultural importance in China. This type of weaving is still done by hand, not with automated machinery. The information card included with the book says it best:

"The Yunjin Brocade is woven with unique ring jacquard card which adopts the silk thread and the cotton thread to record all the information of the pattern designs in the method of keeping records by tying knots in primitive times, and all these informations is passed to the hands of the thread puller on the wooden loom....it is passed down merely by the handicraftsman orally and by the heart memory..."

What a wonderful description – passing down information, through fabric and words and memories.

the inside cover. little pockets! a bookmark! a dragon! the yellow information booklet is at the top of the photo. it is written in Chinese characters with just a few paragraphs in English on the back.

I was given this journal as a thank you from two Chinese nurses who came to visit our medical facility. One of our anesthesiologist dropped the two in my hands one day, asking that I show them around so they could see how our recovery room worked. I love teaching and showing people our facility and these ladies were eager to see how our Western medicine compared to their Eastern version. Except that they spoke little English and I speak NO version of any of the multiple Chinese languages.

We did a lot of broken sentences and hand gestures. There was a lot of 'watch this', followed by discussion between the two and then the woman who spoke most English would ask for clarification.

I handed them off to one of my co-workers, who is from China, hoping at least one of the three would have a dialect in common. She faired slightly better than I did. But in the end, we managed to show them our routine, got them a tour of the ICU when we transferred a patient there, and while they learned about our work, I learned a little about theirs.

The next day they moved on to another area of the hospital but at the end of the week the ladies stopped by to thank us and gave us each one of these beautiul books.

They had no idea what the gift of a journal means to a writer. Especially such a lovely journal.

As something of a 'paper' addict, I was dying to use the journal, but didn't want to just put anything into it. I have multiple notebooks lying around the house, in purses and suitcases with random notes and ideas in each and every one.

I didn't want this particular book to become another purgatory of ideas.

So, it lay taunting me on my desk for nearly a year.

As the New Year and a random, luxurious weekend trip loomed closer, it occurred to me that this would be the perfect time to use this special book.

The bravery of these women, coming to a country so different from their own, to learn from total strangers who they could barely talk to, was not lost on me. Nor was the story of the beautiful brocade on the journal.

It seemed that this book needed to be honored in a tradition of bravery and adventure.

After all, travel is the best way to learn that we are each, hardly different from one another in ways that matter most.

2019 is rather notable for my husband and I. We are planning a return to the British Virgin Islands in May. This trip has been in the works since we left the BVI five years ago after taking sailing lessons there. Lord knows, there will be many stories.

And God willing, there will be many more stories of travels long planned and surprise trips met with a 'why not' attitude.

The first story in this Journal is our visit to The Moorings, a luxurious property in Islamorada, Florida.

It is a nice mix of planning as well as 'why not'.

I'll be sharing it with you in the coming month.

Promise.

Wouldn't Trade you...

"...makin' for the trades on the outside...and the downhill run to Papeete..."

on way to BVI, not Papeete and by plane but still...

This line from the song Southern Cross, truth be told, never really meant that much to me. While I have always loved the romance of the song, the technicality of it was lost on me until my sailing life began.

The 'Trades' in the song are the Trade Winds.

that's a lot of arrow, so, you get the idea...

These winds blow consistently around the world – northeast in the Northern Hemisphere and southeast in the Southern. Sailors have depended on these consistent, predictable winds to guide their vessels as they ran goods from Asia to Europe and the Americas and back.

We used the dependablitly of the Trades during our sailing classes in Tortola. The consistent winds there make the islands one of the best sailing destinations.

Personally, to say I have 'sailed the trades' enriches the adventure, romance, mystery persona I have created in my head...

These days, shipping is not dependant on the wind but on what ever magical fuel used to make those massive vessels run. Yet, the Trade Winds are still important.

I won't get all meteoralogical on you here, but in a very shallow explanation:

Cumulous clouds form over islands, because of the warmth of the land mass and the temperature and moisture content of the air above.

The Trade Winds steer rainfall, with weaker winds causing an increase in rain.

The movement and temperature of the gulf stream effects Trade Winds. As the water in the gulf stream cools (from melting ice at the poles) the temperature difference between water and air begins to equalize and the winds stall.

A stalled Trade Wind makes rain.

And wind.

As in the massive hurricanes we have seen of late.

Hurricane Irma being a prime example.

We watched, safe in our Midwest home, as Irma moved through the US Virgin Islands, devastated our beloved Tortola, then moved on through Puerto Rico, and up to the Keys where we watched in awe as the water from the bay at Key Lime was sucked up by the wind, leaving boats beached on the sandy bottom where hours before they had been floating.

In an update – Tortola is moving forward with rehab well underway. The US Virgin Islands are also bouncing back. Puerto Rico has had the slowest recovery but reports from a March 2018 article in Travel stated that the island was around 90% functional with power and telecommunication up and running and over half of hotels and attractions open.

These islands still have a long way to go.

Toursim powers a good deal of their economy, so while I prefer to keep my favorite places relatively to myself, give these beautiful places a thought when planning your next big vacation.

I know we can't wait to go back.

There is something about the islands that exceeds explanation.

Maybe its the warmth, the lush foilage, the wonderful people, the exotic foods.

Personally, it has something to do with those beautiful sunsets...and that....

'reach before a followin' sea....'

the red sunsets are caused by dust, blown by the winds from the Sahara...
thanks, Science...

*Southern Cross by Crosby-Stills-Nash, lyrics used with the utmost respect.

This post is part of the A to Z Challenge. For more entries click here: a-to-z-challenge.com

A-Ahoy

B-Bells

C-Catamaran

D-Dramamine

E-Escape

F-Flags

G-Galley

H-Head to Heel

I-IC24

J-Jib/Jibe

K-Keys

L-Lakes

M-Motor

N-Navigation

O-Ocean

P-Points of Sail

Q-Quote

R-Reef

S-Sailbags

Where the Horizen Ends...

I have been getting a lot of grief lately.

We were lucky enough that life allowed us a return trip to Key Largo early in May and it seems my travel companions have been WAITING for some posts about the trip.

As well as more posts from our previous trip to the Keys last fall...

The fact of the matter is this.

I have traveled quite a bit these last few years; each trip even better than the last. I want these posts to reflect just how amazing these travels have been. I review my notes. I study the photos. But I am still at a loss for words.

I just can't seem to begin.

So, with that in mind, I am starting at the end...sort of....

Our first trip to the Keys was a Griswolding Adventure of sites to see with some sailing.

This trip was about chilling, sailing and trying to figure out if the magic we found on our first trip down was real or just that 'honeymoon' effect.

Like we should have had a doubt.

No sooner did we land in Miami than my phone exploded with texts: Are you here? We're at Alabama Jacks! How much longer? Do you know what you want?

Rob and I were met with hugs, a fresh from the kitchen seafood platter, a Landshark Beer for me and a Rum Punch for him.

It seems that Alabama Jacks has become the place from which we launch...

We drive down Cardsound Road to US1, past the Caribbean Club and the African Queen to our home for the week, Key Lime Sailing Club.

The plan is to hang out, sail, eat, shop, sail...

That is just what we do, the week tinted by colorful Texan neighbors, frat house sing-a-longs, the biggest bag of whip cream I have ever seen, grocery store lunches, the most depressing final set a band could ever choose, a sunken golf cart, an accidental stop at what can assumed to be the 'home' of a Miami drug lord and this: 

Our final day of sailing was perfect. The wind finally forgave me for some past transgression and allowed us to take turns riding on the bow under the shade of the jib. The perfect place on a sailboat. As I took my turn on manatee watch, studying the ocean for underwater floating rock shapes, I looked up to see that moment when the water of Buttonwood Sound changes from turquoise to Florida blue and rolls into Florida Bay in shades of sky.

The horizon was gone.

The boat became silent as we, each one, considered the possibility of sailing off the edge of the world...

Sailing to Florida Bay. The body on the bow is alive, don't let her immobility fool you.

Curious about the first trip down? 

Want links to some amazing locations?

Click on these:

salt-shakers-and-explanations

orientation-and-mangroves-in-rain

open-ocean-sailingthats-right-open-ocean

bloodline-giant-lobster-and-so-much-more

Island...Tales of the Caribean

Time for 'I'.

And of course, 'I' must be Island.

Which means it's time for another Tale of the Caribbean...Island...

Most people experience the Caribbean on a cruise or an all-inclusive resort. Rob and I have never done anything the easy way.

 

Our destination on the first trip to the Caribbean was Tortola in the British Virgin Islands. The trip included in a small condo where we could cook breakfast and probably lunch or dinner each day, with a plan to rent a car to explore the island. Never mind that they drive American cars (steering wheel on the left) on the opposite side of the road from what we are accustomed.

That particular detail of the trip was parked after the open-air taxi ride to the rental place- on the WRONG side of the road, which was barely two lane in places and shouldered on one side by steep walls of dirt and vegetation and shouldered on the other by the ocean.

Literally.

Ocean spray would on occasion splash the front window and the passenger on the water side should you be in an open-air vehicle. 

This is an oil tanker. Taken from the passenger window as we sped 50kph around the island.

Oh, and the rental place was closed on Sunday afternoon.

As our drive said, "Welcome to the Caribbean!" He graciously drove us the rest of the way to our condo at Fort Recovery.

Now you would assume, being a taxi, that there would be no hesitation. However, Fort Recovery sits near the West end of the island which means chances of a fair back to the airport was slightly slim.

We figured out the nuances of cabs quickly.

As foreign cell phones can get sketchy coverage on the island, Fort Recovery provides local cell phones with around $5 worth of minutes available, renewable in the office. The phone is loaded with about two dozen taxi services. It took three calls to arrange a cab – the service on the West end really didn't want to drive all the way to the East end. The East end didn't really want to come West. The third dispatcher I spoke too, at a different number but sounding suspiciously like the first dispatcher I spoke with, finally agreed to send a car.

I got the distinct feeling these services are family run. More than once we were picked up in unmarked sedans.

Sounds safe, right?

Actually, it couldn't have been nicer.

Every driver, with the exception of one, was pleasant and helpful and told us all about the beautiful island. Even the cranky one warmed up when we asked his favorite local place for dinner – Fish and Lime at Soper's Hole.

Sunset at Fish and Lime. More on this in another post.

He was right – dinner was inexpensive and delicious.

Good thing. The taxi rides averaged around $20 - $30 one way.

Which brings me to the original idea of this story.

We have stayed in several condos on other vacations. They are economical, given that a kitchen – no matter how small – offers the opportunity to save money on meals. I generally plan to cook breakfast and stock the fridge with a fruit plate, veggie plate and some lunch meat from the local grocery. My vacation pantry includes coffee, tea, crackers, chips and something sweet.

Exactly how I intended to stock our kitchen in Tortola.

Our tiny, but well equipped kitchen. Of course the stove is on the WRONG side of the kitchen.

This was before I began to take an actual interest in island life. Had I read even one article on cooking on a sailboat I would have realized that grocery shopping on an island is...different.

Road Town, the largest town on Tortola, offers a couple of actual grocery stores.

Of course this would have meant another taxi ride to and from.

The kind folks at Fort Recovery told us there was a small grocery just down the road, about half a mile. Well within walking distance.

So we figured, on our first afternoon on the island, what better way to discover our new neighborhood than to walk to the store...on that narrow, two-lane road where everyone insists on driving on the WRONG side.

Or perhaps we were WALKING on the wrong side.

Either way, I never did get use to hearing a car approach only to be facing the approaching vehicle rather than having it come up from behind. We side stepped several times into driveways, dirt paths and once an honest to goodness palm tree jungle. 

You thought I was kidding, didn't you.

But as death defying walks go, it couldn't have been prettier or more interesting.

We listened to children at a day school singing songs.

We spied into the courtyard of a lovely, albeit forgotten, home. 

part of the gate

 

so inviting

And then we arrived at the grocery...

Or more specifically, the Tortola version of a QT.

Part gas station, part cell phone provider, part grocer.

All neighborhood hang-out.

Yes Big Ben. You are indeed a Super-ette!!

I could not have felt more like an outsider that Sunday afternoon as we wandered cautiously onto the parking lot. A couple of men sat on the concrete steps talking, a dog at their feet. A family, I assumed heading home from church, were piling back into their car. Each child with a treat in hand.

The interior of the small store felt a little more familiar. Dry goods on shelves. Produce in an open cooler at the back. A large freezer in the other corner.

There were a few familiar brands – Coke, Pepsi, Oreo, Campbells. But most everything had a slightly exotic tweak. The carrots were the size of watermelons. The juice and milk were un-refridgerated in vacuum sealed cartons.

And the meat?

All unlabeled and frozen.

And Unlabeled...

I was very cautious on our first trip to Big Ben's. I was also slightly travel shocked. We had to carry our purchases back to the condo and we didn't want to waste money or supplies so we tried to buy things that could do double duty. It seems like we wound up with some juice, a couple of apples, some lemons and limes, a zucchini, a 6-pack of soda, a bag of coffee, a stick of butter and a rice pilaf kit. And some sort of fish.

I am still not sure what sort, I think it may have been a red snapper. Given that whole 'unlabeled' issue I really just guessed according to color, thickness and smell. Or in this case, lack there of.

I also grabbed a package of locally baked raisin buns at the checkout.

The buns were great for breakfast, sliced and slightly toasted in a skillet with some melted butter.

The fish, sauteed in butter with salt and pepper and a little lemon tasted quite exotic.

As it turns out, unlabeled meat became a fun challenge.

By our last trip to the market, I was a pro at rummaging through the freezer. Tossing aside boring chicken and what looked to be pork, or goat, to score the coveted 'some sort of beef'.

Turns out it was a skirt steak.

And it was delicious, not just because of the Caribbean pepper blend sprinkled on top or the lime juice marinate.

It was most delicious because the clerk recognized us as the goofy couple who held a guessing game outside the meat freezer and debated over which ice cream treat to eat on the walk home. And she greeted us that day with a familiar 'hello'.

(Visiting local markets is one of my absolute favorite things to do when traveling – whether it is the SafeCo in Colorado, the Piggly Wiggly in Florida or the Mexican Walmart in Cabo. Big Ben's was my most challenging to date. And so worth the push past my comfort zone. Which is really the point of travel, in my opinion. As always, come back again. There will be many more Tales from the Caribbean.) 

For more info on Fort Recovery click here: http://fortrecoverytortola.com/

For more info on Fish and Lime click here: http://fishnlime.com/index-1.html

And Soper's Hole: http://www.b-v-i.com/sopers.htm

 

This post is part of the A-Z blogging challenge, where Monday -Saturday in April is dedicated to running the alphabet, using each day's letter as the inspiration. 

Jamaica! No Mistake-ah!

Well, here it is. One month after my Supremely Fancy Jamaica Vacation and I am still so overwhelmed I can't even begin to write about it. I noticed this same phenomenon after last year's Vacation of Awesomeness to the British Virgin Islands.

Maybe it is the beautiful blue ocean. Or the familiar yet foreign accents. Or the miniature water related traumas...

Anyway.

I have been reading over my notes and I am going to give it a go. My posts may be a little erratic. Some may include info and stories from both vacations. I promise you there will be vomiting.

Sorry.

The Supremely Fancy Jamaica Vacation (SFJV) was a year in the making. A year plus five or sixish. You see, this was our first Dinner Club vacation. (Several years ago, a mutual friend thought it would be fun to get together every couple months for dinner as a way to keep in touch. We all had kids at home and it sounded like a good idea. 

Dinner Club - from left to right: Friends since Brownie Scout Leading, Rob and me, Nebraska Fans, Fireman and our Founder!

No one warned me that five years later I would have six very good friends and find myself being served cake by the side of a crystal clear swimming pool while a Romanian Octogenarian modeled the latest in Speedo fashion.)

But I digress.

The SFJV was set for November – nicely cushioned between hurricane season and resort season. The Iberostar Grand Rose Hall resort was chosen for its previous history of impressing two of our dinner club members, their adults only policy and the Dirty Bananas – more on that later. 

 

Iberostar Grand Rose Hall

(It should be noted that Dinner Club is essentially an empty-nester club now.) The flurry of planning emails makes Hilary's message problems look like grade school note passing. Suffice it to say, it is not easy coordinating four couples, all of whom work, even though some of them are retired, causing a question of mental stability by some of the other members of the club. But thanks to the perseverance of our founding member, a kindly travel agent and approximately 100 overtime shifts, I found myself standing at the Southwest Airline check in at 0530 on a November Saturday.

Let it be noted that there is NO ONE at the Southwest Airline check in at 0530. No one except other Midwest travelers praying to get the heck out of the first wave of cold arctic air. The first guy to arrive was a TSA agent, who promptly set off the security alarms. Using his embarrassment to our advantage we made it through the gates in time to grab primo spots at the Dunkin'Donut shop inside the terminal. (At one time Lambert Field in St. Louis was a busy hub airport. Now it is sadly quiet and even though there are numerous food service spots, it seems that at 05:50, Dunkin'Donut is the only one to still care about the nutritional requirements of their travelers.)

Now, a few thoughts on air travel:

Can anyone tell me what Southwest has against assigning seats?

Maybe it's the German in me but come on! It is just plain old laziness on the airline's part for using that ridiculous A-B-C nonsense. Oh sure, it works great when your travel agent comes through and gets you in the A group of single digits. But when the same travel agent gets you in the triple digit D group...well, lets just say there is now a new travel game called – Let's Get the Flight Attendent to Pass Various Magazines, Earbuds and Pre-purchased Snacks to the Man in Row 43B. I mean 42B. Sorry...

I will NEVER travel without my newly purchased neck pillow with removable, washable cover because that thing touched EVERYTHING on the return trip.

And along those lines:

Sleeping passengers DO NOT NEED peanuts. Neither does that poor guy in Row 43B.

Evian Pure Mineral Water Facial Spray really is refreshing. And a super fun way to spritz your travel companions in the face with a fine water mist.

The lack of non-stop flights seems to be fueled by a secret agreement with Starbucks, who conveniently has it's kiosk set up as the first stop outside the air-bridge, just past the bathroom.

And finally, I don't really have to sit in the window seat. But I am going to lean across your lap to stare out the window when there are interesting sites to be seen – such as the Seven Mile Bridge and Cuba.

See that dark line, just at the horizon between the blue sky and clouds? That's Cuba!

Sorry Rob.

Not sorry.

Our flights were actually quite nice and we arrived in Montego Bay to this beautiful sight.

Makes getting up before you go to bed completely worth it!

Immigration was another story.

The Montego Bay airport has these super effecient auto-immigration machines which require you to slide your passport into a slot and stand back while the machine takes your photo and compares it to the passport pic. Naturally, being the current owner of the World's Worse Passport Picture, I managed to break the machine and immediately got the message 'PLEASE SEE AN AGENT' which is always a little unnerving. Those immigration people have NO sense of humor. Of course my heinous picture was enough distraction to allow our other travelers to immigrate through unscathed. 

Montego Bay offers the 'MoBay Club' for air travelers. This service is available on arrival as well as departure and allows you access to a quiet, well air-conditioned place to relax, get some complimentary snacks and slide through immigration quickly. We opted to only use this service on departure as we knew we would be waiting several hours for our flight home. The cost was around $30 per person and well worth the price. (The cost for arrival and departure was around $75 per person. Depending on your arrival time it might be worth it to line jump in immigration. But we made it through without in about 30-45 minutes.)

Our bus ride to the hotel was pleasant, if you can get past the fact that the steering wheel is on the WRONG side. The gear shift is on the WRONG side. And all the cars are on the WRONG side. Every time we turned into oncoming traffic my foot went through the floor and I waited for my life to pass before my eyes. Instead, I saw a panoramic view of the ocean on my left and the hills of Jamaica on my right.

 

These terraced gardens great you as you arrive at Iberostar. In the distance is a grand old plantation house.

We arrived at Iberostar around noon.

Bellman met the bus, unloaded our luggage and delivered to our rooms as we checked in and sipped welcome mimosas. This is also where they 'tag' you.

Did I mention this was my first trip to an All-Inclusive resort? I had not considered how they kept track of who was a guest and who wasn't. I just assumed they had a highly evolved facial recognition system.

Nope.

We received clear bands with stars.

Much fancier than the sister resorts, further down the beach. Sister resorts who were NOT allowed on our much fancier beach, yet had to endure our considerable strutting as we hiked down the lesser beaches to the scuba shop. 

Just one view of our exclusive fancy beach. (photo by our Fireman)

(Truthfully, the only difference was the fact that our resort was adults only. Which meant that our pool was crystal clear while the other pools were a little more...sandy...)

And speaking of Scuba shops...

Set your alarms and come back next week for:

Laura vs King Neptune or Why Does the Ocean Hate me So!

Because I had to set MY alarm, while ON VACATION, in order to experience this...experience.

Upcoming posts will include:

 I Get a BUTLER with that?

 Coffee, it's calling me home.

PIRATES!

Catamaran, Shmatamaran!

 As always – these are not  sponsored posts. The opinions are strictly mine. This is not to say I couldn't be persuaded to make an all expenses paid, return trip for actual promotion purposes.

Please click on this link: http://iberostargrandhotel.com/ for more information on the fabulous Iberostar Resort.