The World's Longest Miracle Cruise Report® (Beware of cheap imitations!)
Cruise 4 - Costa Maya | Cruise 5 - Cozumel | Cruise 6 - Belize | Cruise 7 - Day at Sea | Cruise 8 - Disembark | It's a Wrap! | The Photo Gallery
It's 7:30 AM. You're on vacation. Why on Earth are you up?
That is the $64,000 question of the morning, my friends. What the heck was I doing up and awake at this early hour, especially after staying awake until well past 1:00 AM the night before? Well, it's like this. I couldn't sleep, and I thought I'd beat the French Woman's wake-up call (and perhaps her wrath of doom), so I got up, let Mary sleep in, grabbed our large plastic bag of dirty laundry and my roll of quarters and an old copy of Rolling Stone, and made my way down one deck to the laundry room. It was the beginning of day 4 of the cruise and day 6 of our vacation - the halfway point in our trip, and the point where our clean clothes supply had begun to run out. And since walking around in soiled attire wouldn't be entirely polite, it was my mission to launder all of our dirty clothes in one shot, then not have to worry about it again for the rest of the trip.
So down the stairs I went, carrying my huge plastic garbage sack of dirty laundry. I knew that there was a laundry facility somewhere on deck 7, but I'll be darned if I could find it. I must've looked like a lost Santa Claus, carrying my satchel of "goodies", walking past all these deck 7 cabins in search for the elusive laundry room. Finally, one of the room stewards from that floor helped me find the room - which was marked with only a tiny little sign - and in I went, after thanking him for saving me from a lifetime of roaming the ship looking for a washing machine.
The laundry center was small, but had two washers, four dryers, a couple of ironing boards, a small sink, and a machine that sold soap and fabric softener. The washers and dryers were $2.00 each, and the soap was a buck a box, so my roll of quarters went almost as fast as they did in the slots (but not quite). An hour later and a rather dull Rolling Stone article on Gwen Stefani later, Mary showed up, just as I was taking the stuff out of the dryer. She offered to finish up while I went back to the cabin to shower, an offer that I gratefully accepted. (It was hot and a little claustrophobic in that room.)
By the time I was done cleaning myself up Mary was back with our clothes, and after hanging/folding/putting away, it was time to go find something fun to do. Let's see...what would it be today? Oh, yeah - did someone say morning trivia???
Yep - it was time to go down to the Fountainhead coffee shop and play trivia with Candace again -- Mary and I teamed up for this one, and we scored 14 out of 15 - another winning score. The medallion count now stands at Kevin 3, Mary 2. Whoo-hoo! We're kings of the world!
To celebrate our knowledge of all things commercial (it was TV commercial trivia - right up our alley!), we then went up to the Lido deck for a championship breakfast of blueberry pancakes. While we were eating we noticed that the ship had stopped moving. Lo and behold - we were in Costa Maya, Mexico!
The port at Costa Maya was built specifically for cruise ships, and pretty much consists of a long pier that can moor several cruise ships at a time, which leads to a small shopping / drinking / more shopping / more drinking area along the waterway. The beach access is pretty rocky, and while you can technically get into the ocean there, it's more likely you'll feel better if you just get into the giant swimming pool with the swim-up bar attached. Or why not just spend the day shopping instead?
Ah, but such blatant commercialism would never do for the Burk family - the two people on this big ship who were probably the least interested in spending a day bartering with the locals over their fine merchandise. Nope, much to Super Shopper Lacey's dismay, we weren't there to buy crap - we were headed to the beach! So we finished up our breakfast just as CD Steve announced that we were now disembarking for Costa Maya, ran back to our cabin for our beach bag (definitely much lighter than the day before), and then made our way down to deck A to disembark onto Mexican soil (or dock, as the case may be).
I should probably mention our neighbor in Mexico at this point. The Miracle was parked directly next to Royal Caribbean's Jewel of the Seas, so instead of our usual sea view from our cabin we were now staring into the cabins of people directly across the pier from us. And let me say -- it's a darn good thing that they get complimentary bathrobes in their cabins, too.
Anyway, we disembarked from the Miracle and came out in the shadow of the two giant cruise ships, which reminded me more of being on a Manhattan street than a pier, and walked down towards the shopping/drinking arena. They do have a Disneyland-style parking lot tram to give you a lift down the pier, but it was a beautiful day, so we decided to take our own sweet time and walk the few hundred yards instead. Besides, it gave us a chance to marvel at the beautiful blue water. Amazing!
We stopped along the way for a couple of quick photos, and thanks to a couple of kind souls, we were actually able to get both of us in a couple of the same frames. We then made our way past the hucksters into the shopping area, which was crowded with both lookers and sellers, both aggressively negotiating life-or-death deals on leather and silver. We looked around real quickly, but didn't see anything that struck our fancy, so off we went to find a beach.
The beach. Or, as you'll soon discover, a rocky alcove where if you happen to make it across without breaking your neck and/or cutting yourself to bits, you'll eventually hit water. Not exactly what you'd call "inviting". This wasn't the "beach experience" we were hoping for, so instead of climbing over the rocks and then being stuck out in the sea all day, we decided it would be best to try to find something a little...smoother.
So I asked a local guy where was the best beach for swimming.
"Beach?" he repeated.
Yeah, the beach. Swimming.
"Right there, you can swim," he said, pointing to that nearby swimming pool with the swim-up bar.
Uh -- it was nice of him to suggest, but not exactly what we had in mind, either. Sure, it would be okay, but it's all the same to you, I really didn't want to be a living aquarium exhibit (now starring - Kevin the Really Unattractive Mermaid!), swimming merrily by on display for all the thousands of shoppers and drinkers walking past there to gawk at all day long. So I thanked him, looked at Mary and said "Come on", and we made our way out of the shopping/drinking mecca and towards the taxi stand.
In my massive months of Internet research, I had learned about the nearby fishing village of Mahahual, which was only three miles away by taxi. Thanks to the cruise ships arrival down the road a few years back, the residents of the fishing village had discovered that there are MUCH bigger fish in the sea to be caught - 'the pasty tourist with a pockets full of spending loot' variety - and they'd been welcoming foreigners to their town ever since. It worked out well for everyone involved - the locals make some money, the cabbies get full time work, and the sandy beach access is perfect for a day of fun in the sun.
So it was off to Mahahual we went, after buying a couple of $3 one way taxi tickets. Several of us touristas piled into a large van, driven by a man who was wearing LaToya Jackson's sailor cap, and we made our way on the five minute trip from the pier to the town. (In addition to LaToya's hat, the driver also had four other hats with him, either lying on his dashboard or hanging from the gear shift. Why so many hats? Nobody asked.) The drive was pretty fast, except for sort-of-slowing-down for the occasional speed bump, which wasn't an asphalt speed bump, but instead a large thick piece of rope (like what you'd find attached to the Miracle's anchor, perhaps) which was tied to two trees and laid across the road. Whatever, it worked.
We soon arrived at the end of the street (the only street, it seems) in Mahahual, and after a none-too-subtle "Don't forget to tip me - I have a wife, five children, and two mistresses to feed" spiel from our driver, we were on our way.
However, we didn't make it too far before we were stopped by a nice young man. "You want beach?" he smiled a mouthful of silver teeth at us. "Come on, it's free!" And so that's where we went. He showed us to a small plastic table and chairs underneath a palm hut, and said that there was no cost to us to use them for the day, as long as we ordered something from the bar every now and then. He also had beach chairs available for $3 each if we liked. (Later in the day we overheard him renting those same chairs for $4, then $5.) We liked the table, so we stayed there, and I ordered a margarita to get things started. Sure, it was only 10:45 in the morning, but it's never too early to enjoy the pleasures of a margarita, is it?
About 5 minutes later our new amigo brought me my drink, and I gave him $4 for the booze, plus a buck tip. I took a small sip - it was quite good! - and then put the cup on the table. I then reached for my backpack to get my snorkel...and knocked the drink over.
The good news is that the plastic table had a hole in the middle where an umbrella could go, and with the slant from being on the sand, the drink ran straight through that instead of all over our stuff. The bad news? It wasn't $5 dollars down the drain - it was $5 bucks down the hole and into the Mexican sand. Argh. At least Mary had the good graces not to laugh at my misfortune - yet another reason why she walks on water.
(This was Spill #1 of the week. You'll soon hear the rest of my clumsy vacationing ways.)
To take my mind off my frustration of pouring my money away like that, Mary and I decided it was time to get into the water. They had a pretty good sized area roped off for beach access, so into the sea we went. The water was cold at first, but we quickly acclimated to the temps, and before long we were about 20 feet out from the shore and were snorkeling right along.
The sea floor was grassy in spots, but the rest was clear white sand, and the visibility was really quite good. We'd brought an underwater camera with us, so I spent a lot of time trying to photograph the small fish that swam by us, without a whole lot of success. I did find a huge conch shell, though, (which luckily for all did hold still for my photos), and although it was tempting to try to take it home to show off to all of the Iowans who had no idea what a conch was, we felt it was best to not have a large, hairy, somewhat slimy shell smelling up our luggage for the next four nights, only to have it confiscated by Customs, so I put it back out in the sea for someone else to have fun discovering. I did pick up a few small shells, though, which will come back into play in a few minutes from now.
We swam for quite a while in the sea, soaking up the sun and marveling at the blue water and the occasional fish that swam up to meet us. I saw a small flounder down low in the sand, and there were a school of angel fish that went by at one point. It was rather cool to see in person, and I'm glad that I had a chance to do so.
After swimming we went back up to the beach to lay in the sun for a while. Our table and chairs had been moved out from underneath the covered hut, which was now being used for beachside massages, and was now underneath a huge coconut palm. Despite being evicted, it was okay with us. The table was still ours to use, and it wasn't all that bad to have some sunshine to enjoy. Mary dozed while I dug through the sand looking for small shells and pieces of coral.
The beach was getting more crowded by now; we'd watched as a third ship pulled into the pier, and it seemed that a majority of the passengers from this new arrival (mostly Europeans, judging from the accents) had arrived in Mahahual. We had to laugh at the hairy fellow in the teeny-tiny leopard print Speedo who paraded up and down the beach a few times. Who he was showing off to, we'll never know, since most of the people around us seemed to be in their upper 50's. We also watched a few local vendors go by, selling banana chips and hand embroidered pot holders. There was also another guy who was balancing a huge iguana on his head, and for a tip you could hold it and have your picture taken with the poor creature. It was unique, I'll give you that much, but we passed.
Our amigo from the beach bar stopped by once again to see if we needed anything (he never really did pressure us at all, which we really appreciated), and we ordered a couple of bottles of ice water, then we headed back into the sea for some more snorkeling. I picked up a few more small spiral-shaped shells, and took them back to my backpack to put with the other ones I'd collected earlier. It was then that I discovered my Mexican faux pas.
My shell collection? They weren't all empty. Some were "occupido".
Yes, hidden inside several of my little spiral shells were little tiny hermit crabs. I hadn't noticed them when I had collected the shells earlier, but now my little shell pile was moving. So being the nice guy that I am (and not wanting to destroy an innocent creature just for my personal collection), I took all of the shells that were moving (and closely inspected the rest, just to be sure), and then set the little guys free back in the sea. Oh, sure - it might seem like a small gesture, but trust me. Somewhere out there, Ariel and Sebastian are singing me a song of thanks.
My shell collection was now a third of what it was before, but that's okay. I had enough left over to remind me of the Mahahual fun. I filled my empty water bottle with some beach sand, then tucked the shells and sand into my backpack as Mary and I picked up our stuff and moved on. We'd been on the beach for almost four hours, and we were starting to get pretty hungry, so we decided to look around Mahahual for a while, then head back towards the pier.
Mahahual the town wasn't that big - two blocks or so of shops and houses along one side of the road, with the beach on the opposite side. There were vendors set up all along selling just about anything you could imagine - hammocks, Mexican tiles, hand-painted bathroom sink basins, jewelry as far as the eye can see, clothes, and just about anything you could think of to paint the word "Mexico" on. We walked to the end of the street and back, checking out the merchandise, but we didn't buy anything except a $2 taxi ticket back to the pier. Sorry, Super Shopper Lacey - we've disappointed you again.
We piled into a waiting taxi (no hats on the dashboard this time), and a few minutes later we were back at the pier. After a quick visit to "El Bano", we walked through a few of the pier shops. Mary wanted to get a plain silver ring to wear as a stand-in for her wedding set, as it needs to be resized down and she didn't want to risk losing it in the Caribbean Sea, so she looked at the jewelry store while I snapped photos of the shops and the senoritas dancing.
We then went into what would be best described in the U.S. as a "junk store", and I only mean that in the nicest of ways. It was Mexican souvenir heaven - full sized sombreros, bongos, maracas, fringed wallets, "ball in cup" games - everything you needed to prove to the people back home that you'd been in Mexico. We looked around for a while, marveling at all of the stuff - some refined, most of it tacky - but once again didn't buy anything.
I did however have to snap a couple of pictures in the shop of items for sale that really made me wonder. And before you continue reading, I should warn you: The subject matter is about to become a little "spicy". ("Spicy" was the term CD Steve used for any show on board that might possibly feature heaving breasts and/or the use of four-letter words.)
Let's look at the shelves in the back of the shop, shall we? One was an entire shelf filled with marijuana pipes. That's right - great big giant pipes, little pipes, pipes for two, pocket-sized pipes, water bongs, even a hookah or two. It was like an entire head shop in one shelf. You really had to wonder who was going to be stupid enough to try to bring one of those back to the land of Homeland Security, past the Customs agents and TSA. Showing up with one of those in your pocket is an invitation to a full body cavity search, in my opinion.
Another surprising thing we discovered was the intricate, delicate, and sometimes very artistic statue work that was being sold. The statues were of couples in...how do I put this in a family-oriented report?...entwined in every position you could possibly imagine, and some that even the Kama Sutra had never heard of. Each one was anatomically correct, and from the unique angles the couples were taking, it was apparent that their models were quite limber. Once again, I have to ask: Who in the world (outside of maybe Larry Flynt) would have this type of stuff on display in their house? "Hi, come on in, new neighbors! Let me introduce you to my wife, the PTA president. This is our son; he's an Eagle Scout. And let me show you my vast collection of erotic Mexican sex statues!" Nah, I can't see it happening.
A third shelf contained phalluses. Lots and lots of 'em, carved out of stone and polished to a shine. And as you can see in this photo, they came in two distinct "sizes" - American size for $10, or Mexican size for $20. Har, har, real funny until your suitcase goes through the x-ray machine at the airport.
So that was our trek into the underground world of Mexican drug and erotic paraphernalia. You may now reopen your eyes and share the rest of the tale with the kids. And please - no smoking.
Thoroughly worn out by this point, we walked to the end of the shopping area, near that "beach" we decided against swimming in earlier in the day, and found a restaurant for some lunch. "Mamacitas", it was called, and it seemed like the perfect place to rest up and grab some lunch. They showed us to a table on the second floor that overlooked the water, and we sat back and enjoyed the view while we ate. Mary ordered quesadillas, and I went with the mondo plate of nachos, which were quite good, except for the "cheese whiz" cheese on them. We sat up there and enjoyed the warm breeze and the sounds from the band playing in the bar below us, although we couldn't explain why a band playing in a Mexican bar in Mexico would play the songs they did - 50 Cent's "In Da Club", followed by Pink Floyd's "Another Brick in the Wall"? It just didn't seem to fit in with the atmosphere; that's all.
The true highlight of Mamacitas was the beverages. Mary ordered a Dos Equis with lime (naturally), while I went for broke and ordered..."La Yarda". La Yarda, better known as "the yard", was three feet of frozen mango margarita, served in a really tall glass with an even taller straw. For $9 American, this is what the laughing waiter brought me, along with this promise: "If it's not strong enough, let me know and I'll bring you some more tequila." Now, in the past tequila and I haven't always gotten along so well. It usually ends up with me sporting a nasty headache and vowing to never touch the stuff again. But...it was vacation, and I can always say that "el diablo" made me do it. And so to work I went. I mean, when in Mexico, right? So I sucked La Yarda down like a good boy. And let me tell you - it really didn't need anymore tequila, thanks anyway. Of course, our waiter was proud of the nice little lightweight Americano, and immediately offered me another, but I was wise and slurred no - one Yarda was enough for me. Besides, I didn't need Mary to carry me back down that long pier to the ship.
Lunch was over, and it was getting close to time to head back to the ship, so we wandered the shops a little more. Mary was after a Mexican blanket, and she spotted one she liked. "How much?" She asked the guy. "Oh, those are $65, he smiled." "Nope, I only have $20," she told him. It then went down to $50, then $45, then $40, his final offer. No, Mary said, I really only have $20. He shrugged his shoulders, she said thanks anyway, and we walked away.
Or at least we tried walking away. As we started walking, he started hollering at her. "$30 dollars! $25! Okay, okay, okay!" Two of his buddies caught up with us and stopped us. "He'll go $20 dollars. Go back!" So we turned around, Mary gave him a $20 bill, and we came home with a beautiful blue and white blanket. He feigned being angry at making the deal, but Mary and I just smiled and knew that he was probably still making a nice profit.
Well, since that trick worked so well for Mary, I thought I'd try it with a panama hat. I'd seen them advertised in a different shop for $20, so as we were walking out of the shopping area, I saw some with another vendor. "How much?" I asked him. "$35," he said. "I don't have that much," I told him. "I have $13 left." This was true - I'd blown all of my cash on La Yarda and lunch. I had $13 and a couple of pesos in my pocket - nothing else.
This guy was stubborn, though. Instead of the panama hat I wanted, he pulled out this ugly Gilligan floppy hat and said, "You can have this for $13." "I don't want that," I said. "I want a panama. But I really have only $13 left!"
Well, let's just say that negotiations fell apart. He didn't get a sale, and I didn't get my hat. Some times the haggling magic works, and sometimes it apparently does not. Perhaps I should have listened to Super Shopper Lacey after all.
Anyway, we made our way back to the ship, stopping for a few more photos along the way, and by the time we got to the end of the pier we were held up by security agents, as the ship next to us was about to pull out of the pier, and nobody could be on the pier as the ships come in or leave. It makes perfect sense; those are some huge ropes that they use to tie the ships to the pier. If one of those bad boys were to snap and hit someone, you'd be knocked clean into the ocean, or worse. So we stood around for about 15 minutes as the Jewel of the Seas pulled away from the port, and when we were given the all clear, we reboarded the Miracle and headed back up to our cabin.
It was late afternoon - so what does that mean? That's right - fries and ice cream on our balcony. We've started a good tradition; why stop now? So up to the Lido we went for our snacks, then back down to the balcony. We ate, enjoyed the now ship-free view, and then laid down for our afternoon nap. Yep, life is indeed good.
Showtime for tonight was going to be after dinner, so instead of having to make our way downstairs for the 7:00 PM show, we were able to sleep in until about 7:30, then get up, clean up, and head straight to dinner at 8:15. Tatiana and Jana took good care of us once again - tonight was wonton soup starters, shrimp entrees, and for dessert? Bread pudding (excellent!) and cream-filled phyllo tubes served with fresh fruit. Good stuff.
But before you can have dessert, there was work to do. Yes, Tatiana made us get up and dance with the other waiters. Everyone was invited to get up and dance with the staff, and most people just sat there, but Tatiana made it quite clear that there would be no dessert for our table until we danced. So it was a tough choice - dance or go without our fresh fruit phyllo pastry? There was only thing we could do. Dance, baby - dance!
Let's just say that we fully earned our sweet rewards.
After dinner and forcible dancing we made our way to the Phantom showroom to see this evening's show, "Miracle Idol". It's a cross between the ship's traditional passenger talent show and the obnoxious FOX TV show. Because of the size and scope of putting on the talent show, instead of the usual two shows a night schedule for early and late dining, there would only be one showing of Miracle Idol, so the Phantom was pretty full already. We pushed our way through the crowds that were huddled towards the back of the showroom, and went up the stairs to the second floor balcony seating, where there was plenty of room.
The talent show was hosted by CD Steve, and was "judged" by three guys - Assistant CD Karl with a K, one of the ship's officers (I think), and one of the Miracle dancers, whose name was either coincidentally or not-coincidentally "Simon". There were a total of 5 singers who got up on stage and sang karaoke-style (mostly country songs), and then had their performance praised by two of the judges, but naturally ripped apart by Simon. Points were awarded by the judges, which were tallied by Sarah, a tall Miracle showgirl wearing the traditional showgirl costume - high headpiece, yellow feathers, and a reeeeeally long set of legs.
After round one of the singing and teasing of Sarah by Steve (and a hundred catcalls from the audience from men who truly appreciated Sarah's outfit), they brought on a special guest - one of the passengers who'd asked to perform some magic. So onto the stage came "Grandpa Magic" - a guy who was probably close to 85 who talked a lot and did a little magic with a piece of rope and a champagne bucket. He wasn't "Sigfried and Roy" by any longshot, but I'll give him kudos for getting up in front of 1,200 people like that.
It was then time for round two, where the 3 finalists from round one got to come back up and sing again. This time the scores weren't tallied by Sarah - she'd left the stage in a huff because of Steve's insults - but by a guy dancer dressed in the feathered showgirl outfit. It was funny and shocking at the same time, especially when he dropped the pen and bent over to pick it up, giving the audience a look at the "full moon" from deep within the ship.
In the end, an older gentleman named Charley won, after singing a Willie Nelson song. (He was okay, but the girl who sang really deserved to win.) He and all the finalists were awarded a bottle of champagne and a medallion (Ha ha! I have three! Neener! Neener!), and that was that. An okay way to spend an hour or so in the Phantom.
We then made our way out, stopping at the Raven library again to send e-mails out to the poor souls at home, then we went through the casino so that the quarter sucker could take our money. (Trust me; it did.)
We were good and wiped out by this time, so we made our way up the elevator to our cabin, sat on the balcony for a little bit, then crawled into bed. There was a special midnight bathrobes & blue margaritas party on the deck above us that night, and we could hear the thump-thump-thump of the music through the floor, but we didn't care. We were so wiped out by this point you could've been teaching elephants how to line dance on the Lido and we wouldn't have heard it.
So it was lights out and good night for the Burks. Another fun filled day down, another one just around the corner.
Aren't vacations great???
(c) 2005 Kevin C. Burk All rights reserved.