holbox: arrival.

David and I have been day-dreaming about our 20th anniversary trip for years now, wondering what we might want to do, getting input from friends.

We actually had a trip to Costa Rica planned for our 10-year anniversary — when all the plumbing broke in our house and had to be replaced for about $2,500. So we pivoted and instead we went to Flat Rock, NC. It wasn’t at all what we’d planned, but God gave us a lovely trip.

However, toward the end of this decade of marriage we promised ourselves that, Lord willing, no matter what went wrong with the house or the cars or whatever, we were going to travel somewhere big! We briefly considered Costa Rica again, or Glacier National Park, when some friends at church recommended an all-inclusive resort in Mexico they’ve visited several times and highly recommend. Since we love food, and in particular, Mexican food, we were intrigued.

We thought an all-inclusive was exactly what we needed for this season . . . the simple luxury of not have to make decisions or figure out where to exchange money or find food or plan excursions. We seriously considered booking a room there, but at the last minute, David reached out to another college friend via Facebook who’d recently traveled in Mexico, and she recommended a spot that’s still on her bucket list: Isla Holbox.

This is an island in the Gulf of Mexico, just 20 minutes from the mainland by ferry that is completely walk-able.

David did some more scouting around and found the most magical little Airbnb with rave reviews, and we suddenly knew that Holbox was the place for us. Trying something brand new is always risky, but the luxury of a resort and the ability to be decision-free for a week suddenly paled in comparison to the chance at an adventure. An island adventure, no less.

Oh, I nearly forgot: you may wonder why we chose to take this trip at year 19 of marriage rather than year 20. Well, my husband has meticulously budgeted our Family Road Trips, and the next is due next summer (he wanted a total of three before Judah graduated from high school). So we decided to space things out and take our anniversary trip this summer.

Like I mentioned previously, I dropped the three boys at camp Sunday while Amie also left for the mountains with some friends. She spent the rest of our time away here at our house with Steve and Linda and Kira. During the overlap, Kira went to Laura’s house, which she always loves, but she still was decidedly unhappy that her pack was dispersed.

 

Poor girl. She gets depressed anytime we pull down the suitcases from the attic, and from the time the kids left, could be found in different parts of the house (like Gabe and Noah’s beanbag), whining and looking dejected. She’s a family dog!

After a little hiccup on Tuesday, in which we woke to a 4:15 am alarm only to find our very first flight of the day was cancelled and re-booked for two hours later (by the time we got that sorted we were unable to fall back asleep), Steve and Linda dropped us at the Columbia airport at 7:00 am for our trip, and we were off.

 

We flew to Atlanta and had an almost 4-hour layover due to the flight change, which was a bit of a bummer. David loves bypassing the transport train in favor of walking, so we grabbed some iced coffee from Starbucks and walked and walked and walked in the airport while we waited. I haven’t been in the Atlanta airport in years and forgot how fun it is. So much diversity; it feels like all the countries of the world converge in that neon-bright, bustling place.

The flight from Atlanta to Cancun was just two hours: long enough for me to settle in and watch 27 Dresses . . . which was certainly a blast from the past. I’m not one to watch chick flicks these days, so that felt very vacation-y and made me relaxed.

Our delightful Airbnb host, Marco, arranged for a driver to pick us up from the airport in Cancun. We walked out into the blinding Mexican sun and it was rather like walked outside the Columbia airport in the dead of summer: about 95 degrees and humid!

It was the most amazing feeling to leave the crowds of the airport behind and get in the van and drive off. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized how much my soul craved being far, far away from it all. Crowds. People. Needs. Running into people we know. Responsibilities.

That moment is when I felt like vacation began.

We drove two hours north from Cancun to the town of Chiquila, with a driver who spoke no English, but very solicitously stopped at a gas station right at the start of our trip in case we need drinks or a restroom. Even though the van was nicely air-conditioned, we were already thrilled to get cold bottled water.

We loved our drive because it allowed us to see rural Mexico, dotted with tiny towns and dwellings. I haven’t seen that much undeveloped land in maybe ever. Parts reminded me of India, but there’s just so many more people in India. We saw lots of chickens. Lots of dogs wandering in the streets. Lush green foliage everywhere we looked with bursts of tropical flowers that to me say “home.” Home is Florida. Home is Barbados. Home is India. Of course, now home is South Carolina. But I love, love tropical plants. Perhaps that’s why I have so many of them.

We arrived at the port of Chiquila at about 6:30 pm and bought tickets for the ferry ride to Holbox.

 

All of this felt new, but we had good instructions from Marco. We were thankful for that, since David wasn’t able to get his phone working once we arrived in Cancun.

Once we boarded we found seats on the top deck. Here’s a view of the port as we’re leaving the mainland.

 

We were just about 30 minutes ahead of the sunset, unfortunately, but it was still incredible on the open water with the salty wind whipping at our faces.

 

Twenty minutes later, we landed at Holbox island, and were completely confused as to what to do next. No one spoke English, and I mean no one.

We found the row of golf cart/gator taxis (no cars are allowed on the island), and David tried to show them Marco’s instructions to the Airbnb but nobody seemed to know what he was talking about! Finally he got one of the taxi drivers to call Marco on his phone and he was able to give him directions.

 

 

It turns out that the Airbnb is less than a mile from the port but everything was so new and bewildering that first night, I’m so glad we didn’t have to walk those dusty streets with our rolling suitcase, trying to figure out what to do next.

A few minutes later we were at the casa and greeted by Marco, who’d been worried after hearing nothing from us all day.

Ah, the casa! I could go on and on about the little studio apartment adjoined to his house where we spent our week. But I’ll wait and give you the tour tomorrow.

For now I’ll say we dropped our bags off, changed into shorts, and walked down the short street down to the beach to explore before dark.

 

Above you see our beach. Our tiny street/alley takes us right to that shrub at the right of the picture, where the beach bar is.

We walked a bit, then, since we hadn’t eaten dinner, sat at a table at the bar to order something with sweat just dripping off our bodies (did I mention it was hot?), learned a plate of two tacos cost $20 US, and decided we weren’t that hungry after all. 🙂 We walked in the other direction to the pier that you see in the far left of the photo. That marks the beach at the center of town.

On our walk we found a cart selling marquesitas, which we learned, through our Holbox research, are crepes native to the state of Yucatan. We were advised by a blog by to try one filled with Nutella and cheese, which we did. It was delicious.

 

We were so worn out we headed back to the casa without dinner and ended the day chatting with Amie on Facetime on our rooftop balcony while sipping Marco’s tasty mezcal.

What could be better?