Maya Chan Life

One of my favorite things to do in the US is to take a drive away from the city. I love to escape from the people and the traffic and just see open spaces and roadside fruit stands. Those are one of my favorite finds. Not always the best prices, but definitely the largest, juiciest, best quality produce anywhere. So when I found a roadside stand along the side of the highway between Cancun and Playa Del Carmen, I was naturally excited. Mark? Not so much.
“Seriously Jane? You want me to pull over for some random dude selling junk on the side of the road?” It took him almost half a mile to finally stop. “Don’t be surprised if he’s selling road kill or live chickens.”
I was out the door before I even thought of an answer. He didn’t see what I saw. I saw a mirage along the side of the road. There was a beautiful deep blue pool with two people enjoying a lovely break from the unyielding heat and humidity we have become accustomed to. I saw a few palm trees and a refreshing wooden deck surrounding the pool complete with two lounge chairs. And there was a cooler of beer. It might have been the cooler that caught my attention, but I’m pretty sure it was that sparkling pool. The sun danced off the small ripples made by the couple as they slowly swung their arms around in the cool water.

I was sweating profusely by the time I reached that roadside mirage. And just as I imagined, there was a very good looking couple lazily floating in a beautiful pool right in front of my eyes. I pinched myself, just because that’s what you’re supposed to do when you think you are hallucinating. They watched me as I entered their chained-off area – which had an open gate so I knew I was welcome. I walked right up to them and quite determinedly declared, “I want to be you.” They paused briefly, smiling at me in a friendly sort of way, and invited me to join them in their pool. It was really hot. Not a breath of air. My face felt flushed and my knees were weakening as I stared. It looked so inviting. So refreshing. They were so friendly. Luckily my brain started working again, and I realized that jumping into their pool with my shorts and t-shirt on would probably not be a good idea. And although we were in Mexico and it is very acceptable to do so, stripping down to bra and panties was not going to happen.

I accepted a beach chair and a bottle of cold water from their cooler, which had both water and chilled white wine to choose from. Day drinking is one of my favorite pastimes, so basically the hook was set. I was immediately in love. That’s about when I noticed all the other pools standing on end surrounding the entire area. I smiled, acknowledging the great sales scam I had just fallen into. I had been drawn into the web by subliminal sublimation: the part of my brain that saw what I wanted to see, not necessarily the steps I needed to climb in order to get there. Basically, I saw the endgame and I was strangely okay with this. Sometimes the rabbit hole is a good place to be. After all, I was now caught in the middle of an amazing hallucination that placed me lounging by a fresh water swimming pool in the middle of an oasis surrounded by palm trees….and other fiberglass pools. With the 307 highway about twenty steps away.

“So,” I began, trying not to notice the spider circling in every so slowly, “tell me about these pools.”

The three of us had a nice conversation and I learned they were representatives of a pool company out of Merida. They really were selling pools right there, along the side of the road. No road kill or live chickens, just cool, clear, freshwater dreams. I gathered my senses enough to ask some semi-intelligent questions, well, I thought they were semi-intelligent but I learned later that I may have forgotten a few. I then left their oasis with a full-color brochure. I had my new best friend Diego write in the prices next to several possibilities. I literally turned and began skipping back to the car, but realized Mark had backed up the vehicle and was now at the entranceway to the compound, sitting in the driver’s seat, shaking his head. I saw his hair blowing from the A/C and the look in his eye told me to stop wasting his time. I braced myself for an onslaught of Negative-Nancy.

“Those won’t work for us, Jane,” he began.

“Why not?” Seemed like a logical question.

“Permits, remember? Filtration, remember? No space, no fresh water, and no money, remember?”

“Well, I think you will be surprised at the price. And Diego said we don’t need a permit because it’s not a permanent structure.”

“Who is Diego?” Seriously, I thought it was obvious at this point.

“The dude selling the pools! And it’s a legit company out of Merida and they have a professional brochure and they even have a website. And it’s in English! (because Mark doesn’t “speak the lingy.”)

“Well, who is going to dig the hole? Do you realize how big that hole has to be and how deep? We will probably hit ground water before we are deep enough.”

“Diego said we only have to have half the pool under the ground, unless we want the entire thing over the ground and we can just build a deck around it.” Yep, I had all the answers.

“What’s going to support it if it is above the ground?” Okay, I didn’t have a clue. “Do you know for a fact we don’t need a permit?” Such a stupid question, of course not. “How are we going to filter it?” Ha! A question I could answer.

“It comes with it’s own filtration system!”

“How much more is the filtration system?”

“It’s included in the price.” He looked at me suspiciously and I began to get a little nervous.

“And don’t forget, we have taxes to pay on top of the price as well.”

“It’s included in the price.” I may have rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t tell for sure.

We drove for a while in silence before he finally asked for the price. Of course, I quoted the lowest number Diego had written for the smallest pool available, but Mark didn’t need to know that yet. He rambled on for a few miles about how he was sure I was wrong and that the price didn’t include the filter and taxes and yada, yada, yada. I looked out my side window, definitely rolling my eyes this time. Seriously, is it a guy thing or just a Mark thing? The way men always believe the woman is wrong? So annoying. I was overly frustrated and deflated by the time we returned to the condo with all our shopping supplies from Cancun and just went into the bedroom to take a nap. But I did leave him with the brochure.

Three hours later, (I happen to be a very good napper), I awoke to the sound of my husband discussing pools with our son on the phone.

“…And I verified on the government website that only permanent structures need to be permitted…..right, right, Diego said this isn’t considered a permanent structure….I know, right?! Right there on the side of the road! I saw it as we were on our way home from Cancun! Mom thought it was just another typical roadside stand but we stopped anyway….”

I didn’t remind my husband that everything he was reporting to David was everything he had insisted was incorrect when I said it. That’s just something a wife learns along the way. As far as I was concerned, it was okay for Mark to claim victory in this battle because I knew I had won the war. We were now actively planning to have a fresh water pool at Maya Chan Beach. There was a chance that after ten years of living in a block building with no electricity, no running water, and similarly no hot water, we were about to realize a dream that we had always thought would be impossible. We made plans and drew pictures and wondered back and forth where we could possibly fit a pool on our small stretch of beach.

Don’t judge us. We honestly did not intend to share this luxury with any of our guests. The idea of trying to keep the water clean with all the sandy people climbing in and out was almost paralyzing. The more we thought about it, the more we didn’t like the idea of any children in our pool. There was simply no way to control the amount of sunscreen, sand, and whatever leaked out of those skimpy swim diapers that would enter our pool every day. And while we were discussing all this, it dawned on us that maintenance sounded like a lot of work. Just running Maya Chan in a country that seemed to have everything backwards was enough of a challenge; we really didn’t need anything more on our plate. But we really wanted that pool.

And so we planned. We laid out the measurements of our “above the ground” pool in several different locations. We knew we would have to keep it hidden away from guests so nobody would know it was there. This pool was going to be just for us. We studied the structure of the house thinking a nice roof-top oasis might be ideal. With a wood deck surrounding it on all sides and a thatched roof overhead providing shade. And then we realized we could actually get real patio furniture to use around it, as in stuff our guests couldn’t break or stain on the very first day. Sometimes I’m accused of being too honest.

We looked at a few different locations around the property. Along the entrance would be too close to the street and therefore too close to the wandering eyes of passing government officials. It was to be above the ground and totally legal, however we knew by now that legality had nothing to do with reality in Mexico. We looked at locating it under a palapa close to the restaurant, which was stupid, (sorry Mark), as it would be right there in the middle of the beach for everybody to see. How would we be able to keep our guests from jumping in? We finally decided to locate this oasis on the north side of the property, tucked back and hidden from the daily crowds.

We took a long, hard look at positioning it under the large existing palapa we were currently using for our larger groups. After measuring and marking and a few rational observations, we admitted that our guests would have to walk past it to access our second bar and set of restrooms. Guests would obviously see it. And we would lose the use of that large palapa as a guest venue. After a few days of back and forth, we decided to extend the area behind that group palapa and create a private pool oasis just for the three of us. We planned on building a fence around the area and figured nobody would have a clue what was hiding behind the barricade. We seriously believed nobody would even look. Nobody had ever looked up to this point, which was a good thing. That was where we had our sargassum pile.

We measured and drew lines in the sand. We dug deep holes to make sure the water table would allow us to keep the bottom half of the pool below ground without interference from an exceptionally high tide. And then we worked. And worked. And worked. We dug out 30-foot tall Pandana plants, the ones with thorns on their fronds that slice into arms and legs like they are melted butter. We relocated palm trees. We dug out a hole to the precise measurements of the pool we had selected. We moved the hole a few times to accommodate tree roots. When all was said and done, we were offered a better deal on a larger pool that had a different shape than the one we wanted. David thought the shape looked like a Crown Royal bottle; I thought it looked like a hot water bottle. We didn’t like it. Being the great business man he is, Mark explained that the new pool was a better deal and David and I were both over-ruled. So we re-measured and re-dug the pool hole. It was just going to be for the three of us, so size and shape really didn’t matter. I’ve always wanted to say that.

I’m pretty sure the staff thought we were crazy at the time, but most had been with us for a number of years and understood that crazy was what we did. They understood that a pool was going in, but they couldn’t figure out how the pool was already a pool and didn’t need to be built into the hole in the ground. They didn’t understood why the measurements had to be so precise and to be honest, neither did we. Secretly Mark, David and myself all knew the specifications would be wrong and at the last minute we would all have shovels in hand trying to reformat this hole in the ground while the pool sat on top of the sargassum pile patiently waiting to be installed. There were plenty of nightmares and at the end of the day, the three of us would sit and look at this hole in the ground and imagine everything that could go wrong. More could go wrong than could go right. We all knew this. But we all wanted a pool.

Our fresh water dream was to arrive on a Tuesday morning. We worried that the local cops in town would see this huge truck with a fiberglass pool strapped onto it and decide to pay us a visit. But why? This wasn’t illegal. Following the huge truck with the pool would be an even larger truck with a huge crane. The idea was to use the crane to lift the pool off the first truck and deliver it ever so gently into the perfect hole we had prepared. Dug out using only a tape measure for guidance. Using six pointed shovels and a few wheelbarrows. As directed by a trio of gringos who really had no idea what they were doing. Rest easy my friends, we’ve done “no idea what we’re doing” before. This crane would have to lift the pool over a few palm tees on the journey to the hole, but we were told that wouldn’t be a problem. At this stage of being resort owners, we knew that “no problem” meant this could be a disaster. Simple things very easily turn into disasters in Mexico.

Tuesday morning turned into Tuesday afternoon. Of course, Tuesday afternoon turned into Tuesday evening and so went the hours until we finally sent everybody home at 8pm. My “sweet dream” wishes were answered with a gruff “I told you this wasn’t going to work out.” David and I both thought the truck had broken down along the way and would show up in the morning. Mark fully believed there never was a truck or a pool or a roadside mirage. As I climbed into bed, he began emailing our attorneys.

At 11:15 the pool arrived. That is 11:15PM. The best I could offer Mark as he sat up in bed trying to figure out what the noises were outside was “at least it’s still Tuesday. They aren’t technically late in Mexico time.” He didn’t think that was funny. Why does everything turn up in the middle of the night? For almost eleven years we have been asking ourselves this exact question. It’s a mystery we have yet to figure out and nobody has been able to explain it to us. But the pool had arrived and we were excited. In a scared sort of way.

Apparently 11:15 pm is the time the early birds in Mahahual are returning to the roost and the night owls are heading out to town. I honestly had never seen so much traffic on our little dirt road. I couldn’t imagine why all these people were out, in front of our beach, in the middle of the night. Obviously the arrival of our little above-ground pool was no longer a secret. The whole town showed up for the occasion, some taking cell phone photos. My heartburn roared into action. David perused the scene and announced he needed a beer. Mark turned on the night light function on his cell phone and muttered three words: “Oh My God.”

The pool was huge, much larger than we expected. We instantly knew it was not going to fit into the “little” hole we had prepared. I popped a few Rolaids and watched Mark and Diego have an animated conversation off in the darkness. I heard Diego ask “Where are all the guys you said would be here to help us?” I heard Mark respond, “Where were you this morning when you said you would be here?” This was going to be an interesting evening. David and I arranged a few chairs in the general area and aimed our cell phone lights on the monstrosity being unstrapped from the back of a semi truck. A few horns honked and a few choice words were yelled. I pretended like I didn’t know what they were saying. In perfect choreography, the truck with the crane had saddled up beside the truck with the pool and began lifting this huge pool high into the air. Mark appeared from the darkness and sat down beside us.

“Are they going to put it into the hole right now?” I asked.

“I have no idea what they are going to do,” Mark answered, “but I’m just going to sit here and watch.” We weren’t prepared for a midnight delivery and really could do little more than observe the fiasco with our eyes and mouths wide open. All three of us had our cell phone lights on, looking more like we were at a rock show than watching a pool being installed in the middle of the night. Nothing to see here; just a pool waving around in the air on a Tuesday night in Mahahual. The crane operator and Diego were trying to figure it all out, yelling over the grinding sound of a crane that hadn’t been properly maintained in years. The strap holding the pool looked alarmingly fragile and it was instantly obvious that it would not be able to lift our new treasure over the few palm trees blocking the direct passage to the hole. Night revelers were now sitting on the hoods of their cars drinking beer and laughing. A few angled their headlights onto our property in an effort to help out.

The crane operator was in no mood to deal with the situation and abruptly set the pool down on top of the sargassum pile. That is, on the opposite side of the palm trees. So close to the hole, and yet so impossibly far away. Then both semi trucks just drove away. The three of us sat there, wondering what was going to happen next. I figured once the trucks we no longer blocking the roadway, the men would return and complete the installation. That apparently was not the plan. Diego said he would be back in the morning and drove off as well.

“Now what?” David asked, finishing off his beer.

“Now we try to get some sleep,” Mark sighed. “It looks like tomorrow is going to be an interesting day.”

In the morning, the pool was still there. Traffic on our little dirt road was crazy. What in the world was so interesting about a fiberglass pool sitting on top of a sargassum pile? Again, nothing to see here; just business as usual for our little town. The staff showed up and just stared. They knew what we all were thinking: it would be up to them to get this little tub around the palm trees and into the perfect hole. However the first order of the day, even before coffee, was to construct a fence to block all the sightseers. This forced the curious people to sit on the roofs of their cars as they slowly drove by, careening their necks over the fence to observe this obviously hilarious sight. And then the real show began.

Mark and I watched as David, Abraham, Felix, Jesus, and a few of our beach cleaners from Chiapas expertly lifted this little fiberglass oasis and turned it onto its side. They finagled it around the palm trees and gently dragged it towards the hole. After a few almost-drops and one incident of Felix coming to within seconds of being crushed to death when three of the guys all tripped and fell at the same time, the pool made it to the hole. And it was a perfect hole. That’s right; the fiberglass monster fit perfectly into the crazy-shaped chasm we prepared with an exact five-inches to spare all around. I think we all got drunk that day, but I really don’t remember.