Carol M. Merchasin: How It Goes In Mexico – Where I Announce the Winner of My Own Personal Travel Contest, “The Best Undiscovered Beach Spot Ever”

My husband, Señor Roberto, is a strong believer in undiscovered Mexican beach spots where the amenities are generally limited to a lumpy bed and a resident iguana. I, on the other hand, am a person who worked 80 hours a week in a high-stress environment. I rationalize spas as a necessity associated with the production of income, using, of course, Earned Value Technique, Internal Rate of Return, and a Cost Benefit Analysis. As you might imagine, this difference in view can lead to marital discord.

When it came time to take our annual beach vacation, I went on the offensive for an all-inclusive ocean resort and spa where the only decision necessary would be whether to have the Seaweed Body Wrap before or after an organic, locally-grown vegetarian lunch, cooked and served without my participation. Where I could have the Pacifica Masque and Mineral Scrub, guaranteed to cause a profound transformation in my cellular makeup, release all my toxins, correct my tensions at the deepest level, and unblock my trapped energy.

“Think of it as the cost of doing business,” I told Señor Roberto. “Think of it as something that makes it possible for me to work. Think of the Cost Benefit Ratio.”

“Nice try,” he said, “but the last I heard you are retired.” And just like that, the ocean resort and spa was relegated to the loofah-lined dustbin of my former life, and the undiscovered beach spot vacation became the new normal.

If you are thinking that I am filled with unreleased toxins and uncorrected tensions, all directed at Señor Roberto, you are right. To unblock my trapped energy, I have decided to sponsor my own personal travel contest hereinafter known as “Carol’s Contest for The Best Undiscovered Beach Spot Ever.” If I have to go to an undiscovered beach spot, at least I want to find the right one.

Let me give you the sophisticated criteria I will use for scoring points in my contest. I will award a maximum of 10 points for each of the criteria. Some require deduction of points, some may be eligible for bonus points, and the whole thing is at my sole discretion. Do not write to me with your suggestions or complaints: Write to Señor Roberto.

Here are the criteria for scoring points:

1. The undiscovered beach spot should have nothing but beach, ocean, dirt roads and a few stores, none of which sell souvenirs or inflatable beach toys. Briny air mixed with toasting corn tortillas and an occasional rotting fish carcass should perfume streets with no names and no house numbers. Extra time must be allowed to drive up and down every street in town to find the house you have rented, whose full, complete address is “the blue house on the beach.”

2. The town must have no more than 25 tourists, who must be Mexicans or Canadians. There should be a lot of local Mexicans who cannot imagine what you are doing there, but who will welcome you with enthusiasm and curiosity. If you can identify by name ten people in town whom you consider friends by the time you leave, you will earn bonus points. Getting invited to a local child’sthird birthday party is worth 20 points.

3. There can be only one restaurant in town open during the day, and then only sporadically. The one restaurant allowed must have a “devil-may-care” attitude about both the speed of service and the flexibility of the menu. They will not make a bacon omelet if it is not on the menu, even if they have bacon, because the omelet is always a ham omelet. Period. No points here if there are any restaurants open at night, although pop-up taco stands are permitted. You must either come to love fried pork or cook at home. This is a difficult decision—ask your health care provider if fried pork is right for you.

4. It must be impossible, no, it must be unthinkable, to buy arugula or mesclun lettuce. It is permitted to have rare sightings of the iceberg kind, if it is limp. White wine cannot be an item that is available every day, but should be seen only when the white wine man comes from a distant town and only then if he thinks to bring it. “Buy local” will be not so much a political statement as a statement of fact. Bonus points are yours if the store has a hand-written sign with the names of the people in town whose credit has been cut off and a plastic Jesus presiding over a Coca-Cola cooler.

5. You are required to look out of open doors and see a beach that is empty except for a few stray dogs that are running, playing, digging holes in the sand and plopping down in them. You must be able to run on the beach for at least two miles before you turn around. If you see even one umbrella or beach chair, you will receive no points for this category: I don’t care how far you run.

6. Trucks with loudspeakers roped precariously to their roofs must be the only communication system, informing you daily of the trash pick-up schedule and a volleyball game on the beach. You are permitted to receive local news via a 10-year-old boy, improbably named Brandon, who comes over every day to tell you the gossip, lured by an inexhaustible supply of packaged cookies accurately called Polverones, which means “dry as dust.”

7. The presence of a television in your casa immediately and irrevocably disqualifies an undiscovered beach spot from the contest, but you are permitted to have internet access if it is constantly down because the owner of the service has to turn it off every time he gets a phone call. Wireless coverage must be less than your average bikini.

8. A scorpion must sting your husband when he puts his hand in the sink, complaining that you have not cleaned up from the last meal. While you do not have to believe that this is proof there is a just God, it doesn’t hurt. You will have to go to the local clinic for intravenous anti-venom medication, but if la doctora looks like Selma Hayek, the husband will not mind. Please submit the bills in support of this category, even if the two hours in the emergency room cost less than $40.

9. To get points in the final category, you must find a garter snake under your pillow in the morning that looks very sleepy and doesn’t seem to understand that sustained, high-pitched screaming while jumping up and down means that he needs to leave. Note: Photographic evidence may be necessary to award points in this category. Alternatively, a signed affidavit attesting to a mental breakdown that required extensive spousal counseling on the meaning of the expression “all creatures great and small” can be accepted.

For the real bonus, you must discover certain priceless lessons: The stock market, like the sun, rises and falls every day without your help. As cell phone reception declines, you are more inclined to listen. Organic food never goes out of style when you cannot afford pesticides. Sand is great for exfoliation; seaweed and saltwater baths are not exclusive to spas. The daily drama and hysteria of 24-hour news infects you with fear, but simplicity remains perfect and requires no upgrade. Version 0.0 is enough. Margaritas are not required for the bonus, but they may help in correcting tensions at the deepest level.

So, those are the criteria for my contest. Now that my trapped energy is unblocked, I will announce the winner. On second thought, I had better not say. I am definitely coming back next year to see my snake and I want this particular spot to remain undiscovered.

That’s how it goes in Mexico.

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