Sick as a dog? I wish. I was as sick as three mistreated pigs and a plague-stricken monkey. Not how I wanted to feel when we reached Hualtulco.
The alert reader will be thinking “WTF? When did Hualtulco come into the picture? And what happened to Acapulco?”
A few days ago we received a note saying that there had been some problems in Acapulco, and for safety reasons that stop was being cancelled. No details were provided, so I’m guessing it involves warring drug-lords, mobs of gringo-beating thieves, or a siege by pirates. Possibly an assault by radiation-mutated giant crabs.
Anyhow Hualtulco was substituted, which seemed like a reasonable alternative. Reports were good: it’s a pretty tourist development, nice beaches, with a nearby archaeological dig. No prizes for guessing which tour we picked.
Anyhow, we arrived in port, beautiful weather, and the biggest swells we’ve had the entire trip. Swells at sea, not a problem. Swells in a tender port, broken-leg city with a side-serve of barf.
So we sailed on, wondering if we would ever set foot in Mexico. Were we on the Crystal Symphony, or the Flying Dutchman?
On a purely selfish note it was probably for the best, as I left the room twice, the major trip being to deck 12 to take a few shots of Hualtulco disappearing behind us.
So here is Hualtulco. Enjoy.
I didn’t even make it to Spanish class. No gold stars for me.
Otherwise I coughed, spluttered, sneezed, and suffered.
Oh, I also managed to drag myself to the main dining room. That was a crap idea.
I hate being sick at home, but it’s ten times worse on holiday. So in my next life I’m coming back as a cyborg.
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