Cozumel

Cozumel

When we lived in California, we had Mexico for a favorite vacation destination.

I reminded Meri of the time in Mexico we went to Cozumel Island off the Yucatan long before it became a popular destination. We rented a motor scooter to explore.

After a few hours in the sun, somewhere on the desolate western side we came upon a small dilapidated hut, half in jungle, half on the gulf and looked like it was felled by bad weather and rough times, and rebuilt more than once. Torn and faded marketing posters advertised food and drinks. The hand-painted sign read: San Francisco restaurant.

She laughed when I said it. She remembered the name of the place. It was lunchtime when we found it,

and thought the shack was abandoned, but then small, happy, thin man with long dark pants, and long sleeve, worn white shirt appeared to tell us the restaurant was open, and we could take a seat at the table on the beach. His words painted an attractive picture for us.

We ordered a couple of rum drinks where we stood. They were quickly prepared and we carried them with us, down where he indicated toward the beach. On the beach behind the hut we found one crude table with two chairs and a sun-faded umbrella in the sand. From there on the white dune beach a short distance from the water in the middle of nowhere, we sipped our drinks and waited a few minutes amused by the situation, when the same little fellow came around the hut, stepped off the deck and began walking over to our table, ankle-deep in sand, carrying a wooden tray with a menu on it in is right hand, and a checkered folded cloth draped over his outstretched left arm. I can see him yet, weaving barefoot through the deep powdery white sand. The checkered cloth over his arm was a nice touch. We ordered tacos, rice beans, ate, and it was good.

version 2

The years we lived in California, we had Mexico as a favorite vacation destination. We traveled to different parts of Mexico. I reminded Meridith of the time we went to Cozumel Island off the Yucatan, long before it became a popular destination. We flew in, found our hotel, rented a motor scooter and were quickly off to explore the island.

After a few hours in the sun, somewhere on the desolate western side of the island we came upon a small, dilapidated hut made of palm leaves, sitting by itself half in jungle, half on the gulf and looked like it was felled by bad weather and neglect, and rebuilt more than once. Torn and faded marketing posters stuck on the side of the shack advertised food and drinks. A hand painted sign read: San Francisco Restaurant.

She laughed when I said it. She remembered the name of the place. It was lunchtime when we found the shack in the sand and thought the place was abandoned. But quickly a  small, smiling, thin man with long dark pants, and long sleeve, worn white shirt appeared and with a smooth wave of his arm told us the restaurant is open, and we could please take a seat at the table...around that way, on the beach. That way, please. His words and actions painted an attractive picture, and we were hungry.

We ordered a couple of rum drinks where we stood. They were quickly prepared while we waited and the man pointed and said we should take them down that way to the beach. We carried our drinks down where he indicated toward the beach. Behind his hut we found one crude table with two chairs and a sun faded umbrella in the sand. There on the white dune beach a short distance from lapping water in the middle of nowhere we sat at the table, sipped our drinks and chatted a few minutes amused by the improvised restaurant, when the same little fellow came around the hut, stepped off the small deck and began walking over to our table, nearly ankle deep in sand, carrying a wooden tray with a menu on it in is right hand, and a red and white checkered, folded cloth, draped over his outstretched left arm. I can see him yet, weaving barefoot through the deep powdery white sand. The checkered cloth over his arm was a nice touch. From his menu we ordered tacos, rice and beans; ate, and it was good. I think we recommended to out friends if they should find it, do try the small island's San Francisco Restaurant.