B with Sister, Bro-in-law & Godson Carson when frist arrive in Playa

Of all the juke joints in all the world how’d we end up in Playa?

We track down the hotel doctor and get him up to see Dad. Dad shows him the medicine from the pharmacy and the doc starts to laugh. ‘Well the first thing you might want to do is stop taking this stuff!’

 My Dad, unable to speak Spanish, thought he delivered his message quite effectively at the pharmacy. Who needs to know Espanola! He bragged about how he communicated so well through sign language and gesturing. (Something I have become very adept at myself. We could open up a mime theatre here.)

Unfortunately, when all other synonyms failed him he finally said to the girl behind the counter, ‘I’ve got the shits!’ They all cracked up and she gave him a laxative for constipation. And a very effective one at that. To quote one of my father’s favourite sayings, ‘He could shit through the eye of a needle at 50 paces’.                                                                                         

Papa Butch and Carson. The next generation.

 Step one, get off the meds and start on the Gatorade right away to fix the old electrolyte imbalance. Poor guy. Gets worse. Canadian government decides it is time to evacuate the Canadians down this way as they are forecasting another hurricane headed straight toward us again. We all have to leave on one of those international planes with the huge middle section of seats. We’re all separated and are seated on opposite sides of the plane. Earphones are on and we’re watching a Batman movie. Lucky us.

Suddenly, I think I hear somebody say my name. ‘Brenda’. Must be another Brenda nearby. ‘Brenda’. I faintly hear it again overtop of the loud movie sound effects blasting in my ears. Then I hear, ‘Buuuuuutch!’ My Dad’s name. I yank out my earphones and try to stand up and turn to see across the plane where my parents are sitting. I see my Mom standing up facing me, with her worried, strained expression staring at my Dad. He is unconscious with his mouth gaping open and his head bobbing to the motion of the plane. ‘Help, I need help!’ she screams.

Shangri-La

I have to jump over the honeymooners seated beside me and the entire middle row of people. All deaf people as they are watching the movie. I’m sure I spilled something on somebody. Sorry! I somehow scramble over top of the food trays & make my way over there about the same time as the steward does. He’s yelling at my Dad to wake up. I don’t know what to do when I get there as I think he is dead. I am afraid to touch him to make it real. I am frozen.

My friend Szuz runs around the front of the plane and she comes up behind me and I just hug her. The steward pleads loudly,’Is there a doctor on the plane?’ Just like in a movie. Only this is real life. Miraculously, a doctor from St. Catharines, stands up and says, ”I’m a doctor”. He rushes over. My Dad is still unconscious. The steward has started CPR. I can’t watch.

To be continued……Happy Hallowe’en.

Of all the juke joints in all the world how’d we end up in Playa?

Daddio

Conversation kinda went like this…’I wanna take Spanish lessons!’ B makes a bold declaration to her Dad in Niagara Falls. She’s calling from Calgary, one of their ritual ‘Hey how ya doing?’ weekly phone calls.

‘Why?’ he asks.

‘Well it is has always been in Paul’s retirement plan to move to Mexico and since we have both vacationed there for a number of years, it just seems like a smart thing to do.’

‘I’d move there in a heartbeat,’ he spits out.

‘You would?’ B is shocked at her Dad’s even bolder statement. (Especially considering he has never even been to Mexico.) ‘Don’t you think maybe you should at least visit first and see what you think Dad?’ Hence a vacation is born.                           

B & P at the Royal Real in Playa

So there we are my parents, my dear friend (my driving to Mexico in my Jeep partner) Szuzu-a–BooSzu-a-(wait for it)….Bear, and me. We have perfected our nicknames over the years. And for the record she is definitely an excellent driver, definitely and not a coincidence I chose her as my driving partner. I only colour my hair blonde.

Anyhooo, we’re having a great time at the Gran Porto Real and then that nasty, cranky Wilma decides to come and join us there for 4 days. So we’re in the bomb shelter at the Royal Porto Real with 600 other people. But we’ve got our bottle of vodka from our room and they have V-8. Now in hard times we call that a Caesar. Life is OK. We have power from their generator and find the staff showers in the basement. They even set up an exercise program for us. It’s called pick up the squeegee and help us get this water off the floor and into the bathroom floor drain. Helps work the kinks out of your back from “sleeping” on the cozy marble floor. Slowest moving hurricane on record and it sat over Cozumel for 4 days. If I knew I would have brought in another

My 2 Favourite Guys!

bottle from the room. But at that point I was a hurricane rookster. Live and learn.

When we get out the banks are closed for a week with no cash left in the instabanks, no electricity yet in town, windows blown in, pools full of sand and I mean full completely displacing all water, injured & dead animals up & down the beach, new 3 foot deep streams of water pouring in from downtown back in the ocean, coconut trees strewn everywhere, streets missing as in no interlocking bricks left, general chaos. Like nothing I had ever seen in my innocent little Canadian life.

To top it off my Dad is ill. And he is passing ill now and getting worse. He is so weak he can hardly walk. Water is pouring out of him from the wrong end. No pesos left as we tipped the last all out to the poor hardworking staff in the shelter, no electricity available to use Visa, no money in instabanks. We are all getting increasingly worried about Dad.

To be continued…..