March 23 Xpu-Ha to Puerto Morelos - The last morning at Xpu, I ran into Kim as I walked along the beach to the Cafe de la Mar for breakfast. He's a 51 year old social worker in a high school in the Midwest. He's been coming to this beach since the early 90s, and he said so far it hasn't changed much. That's one of the reasons I stayed an extra night- because I knew it would soon go up in flames of development, and I wanted to enjoy it while it is still here. I asked Kim if he's ever been to other places in Mexico, and he said, no. He comes to this beach for a week every year by bus from the Cancun airport, and stays at one of the rooms at the place where I'm staying. He brings a tent, and camps on the property if there's no room available. There are also several RVs parked here with laid-back, tan inhabitants hidden under shade tarps during the hottest part of the day. As I was reading in my hammock, Corrie walked by, carrying a potted plant. I asked her if she was planning to stay for awhile, and she told me she'd been living in one of the rooms for two and a half years. She's from the states. I don't know which one. She said she used to be a tour guide in Mexico, but decided that she wanted to settle down, so for the last couple of years she's been a massage therapist, and that most of her clients stayed in Puerto Aventuras. I couldn't really guess her age because her skin was quite sun worn from her years down here. I'm guessing late 40s or early 50s. I asked her how her `settling down` was going, and she was a little hesitant in her answer. Then she said it's often like living in a Mexican telenovela, which is what they call Mexican soap operas. She said people at Aventuras were the worst gossipers because they didn't work. They had more time to gossip. Anyway, today I drove up past Akumal and Playa del Carmen (which Guinness said is the fastest growing city in the world), and now I'm back at home base in Puerto Morelos. After I checked into my old hotel, I walked to the beach to schedule a dive down to a shipwreck (an old Coast Guard cutter) for tomorrow, then moseyed along the beach and found our old friend Alan sitting at the same beach-side bar where I met him. As we talked, Don, the Scot who owns the dive shop I frequent, trudged through the sand to the bar. I introduced the Brit and the Scot, and we had a few beers while Don told jokes, and he and Alan made fun of Americans. Don  made fun of Dick Van Dyke´s accent in the movie, Mary Poppins. And he started singing some of the songs Van Dyke sang with a supposedly bad English accent. I, of course, stood up for my fellow countryman, by remarking that Van Dyke must have made an impression on him if he could remember the songs and the accent after 40 years. But mostly, I sat back and listened to them, but, I guarantee you, Don and Alan  understood each other a lot better than I did. If I only had my digital recorder with me on this trip.

March 25 Puerto Morelos - For the first dive, we went to the sunken wreck site yesterday. We floated down to 86 feet. It was nice. The water was deep blue, and the bottom was white sand, and it would have been even better if we'd been able to actually locate the ship. The buoy that marks it's location had drifted off. (It's part of a National Park system, so that should explain it.) But the boat captains all carry gps´s that accurately mark all the dive locations within twenty feet. Hmmm. So we supermanned in a few directions at 80 feet in nothing but blue water and white sand, which to me was an experience because it's the first time I scuba´d in nothing but space. Oh well. We cut the dive a  little short and did a 60 ft reef dive that wasn't remarkable, but it was fun. Alan left today, and I was supposed to give him a ride to the airport, but he pulled a stunt last night that made me grow very weary of him, and I just walked away from him last night. This morning Alan told me he had hired a taxi to take him to the airport which freed me up to go CENOTE! snorkeling with my NEW friends. The cenote was "7 mouths" which refers (I guess) to seven openings through the top which lets in lights and sends shaft of light hundreds of feet down into the water. But we only saw three openings so maybe "seven" refers to the underwater canal openings. I should have asked the property owner. The sunlight shafts slant through the water as the sun sinks, which changes the way you see things underwater. This cenote is truly amazing. You can swim through narrow channels under stalactites into other rooms that have openings to the sky. And the water is blue, and so deep, I don't even know how deep it is. You stick your head in the water, and you see huge stalactites stretching down into the blue water, with the sunlight shafts in the backdrop. Once I submerged, and saw there was another room on the other side of what looked from the surface like a wall. Nate had already swum to another room like this, so I did it this time. And I dove down under a 30 foot -long wall of stalactites (but I only went 10 feet deep) to the other room. Then I turned around and dove back to the original room--at least what I thought was the original room. As I was below the stalactites, I aimed for the light blue sunlight that told me there was a cavern ahead, but it took a lot longer this time, and I had time to think that maybe this is how people drown in cenotes--by swimming toward what they think are rooms, but it takes too long to get there, and bye-bye. Well I made it (of course), but I did have enough time to contemplate all the above. When I came up, I was in a different room, and I had to yell out to find my compadres. Nancy called out and directed me back, and when I asked where Nate was, she said he went down a few minutes after me. I said, shoot, I wanted to tell him not to aim for the wrong room on the way back. And a second later, we heard Nate calling for us. He returned and did the exact same thing I did. The coolest sight was when we snorkeled to the end of an ever-narrowing cave until it stopped at a narrow wall. I ducked under for a look, and there was a huge, and I mean huge, single stalactite emanating downward from right where the water level was, and where you expected to see the wall continue. The world was upside down. The level area began an inch below water level and the huge stalactites and others to my sides were upside- down  narrow mountain peaks. I held myself below the water and stared at it so I could describe it but I'm sure I didn't do it justice. EVERYONE has to go see this place. I met Nancy last night at La Pirata, which is where I saw old Jerry Van Dyke (and it's a good place for breakfast). I met Nate this morning, with her. They are renting rooms at the same house. I visited their place and it's very nice. The rooms are $50 a night but I believe they have access to the whole house. It is managed by a French Canadian named Martha. . Nancy's father is 96 years old, and used to fly the Hump. She was also Angelica Huston's best friend, and she dated Michael Douglas years ago about the time Douglas produced One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (which was news to me). Nancy was also a friend of Hunter Thompson (Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas). She didn't really boast these things.  She didn't really boast these things. It  just came out in all of our stories. And the weirdest thing of all is that I think it's all true. Nate has done a lot of sailing in the Caribbean and other places, and is a scuba instructor, but that's not what he does for a living. I don't know what he does. But he's well traveled. Oh, and in the middle of the Yucatan, on our way to the cenote, on a dirt road off of a dirt road, we came across a huge, green polo field, with snappy dressers practicing polo. One of the country club members, Roberta, gave us a lot of info, and Nate and Nancy are going to get more info on the lots that are for sale. Muy interesante.

| March 26 Puerto Morelos - Today was a slow day. I went on two dives at 9 am with Don, the Scot at WetSet (the one who made fun of Dick Van Dyke). Don was the chief engineer on some ship in Burma before he left the rat race and started a dive shop business. From there he had a dive business in Thailand then Belize. Now he and his wife, Debbie, are here in Puerto Morelos. On the way to the site this morning, Don checked our gear and found that my tank had a leaky O-Ring. While he was bent over it, tearing it out with a knife, I asked if the O-Ring was leaking, and he muttered, "It wasn't supposed to happen until 60 feet," in his Scottish accent. I think he was kidding. I recommend him and his shop to all divers who come down here. Today's dives were nice. A 60 ft and a 40 ft. We saw a 15 ft wide Eagle Ray on the first one. It looked like a Pterodactyl flying in slow motion. Back on the beach I went to the beach bar at Casa Azul and had a sandwich and water. I finished my book, and basically did nothing more. Nate came by and told me Nancy's 96 year old father (the one who flew the "Hump" in WWII) had taken a turn for the worse, and they had to arrange for a flight for her back to the states, so she's gone. Last night I had a couple drinks with Bobby (the bartender at Casa Azul), and a couple of English women (one of whom he seems to be making progress with). The other one was nice, but only 23 years old. I called it an early evening (midnight) because of today's scuba, and broke up the party. I'll mention some other people so I will remember to write about them when I make this a real web page with photos. Mario and Bridget are from the Netherlands, and they stand out because they got tired of staying at the 700 dollar a night Ritz Carlton in Cancun that their company had supplied them, and they rented a car and drove to Merida, then to a tiny beach town on the Gulf called Celestun. Real adventurers. I met a Swedish dude (through Nancy) named Magnus. I asked him, "doesn't  Magnus mean grand or something like that?" and he said it actually means "the great one," so now whenever I see him I call him "the great one." I told him today that if I introduced him to the two English friends of Bobby, I'd call him "the great one," and he said that was fine with him.

So it looks like this may be my last entry until I put it all together on the web because I'm planning on flying home tomorrow. I finally checked flights two days ago, and tomorrow is only day I can get back without too much trouble. And the only way I can get back tomorrow is by flying through Chicago. The flights between Miami and Boston are sold out. I guess it's still the Spring break thing.

I'm home in good old New Hampshire now. I could write a lot more about places and people that I encountered on this trip but I don't want to burden you with any more reading (and some of the stories aren't fit to print). All in all, it was a great trip, and I want to go back and check out some more cenotes. If you want any more info (or specifics), email me or write a comment. As for me, I'm going to sleep for about a week. Thanks for reading.

Bye,

Paul Ogier

Alan Behind Bars at the Hotel Inglaterre	Magnus, The Great One (at La Pirata)

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