We settled on the Playa Norte each night for the sunset. As the sun’s descent began, people gravitated from their hammocks and chairs, moving towards the shoreline to watch this beautiful performance. Cameras clicked and people applauded as the orb slowly disappeared beyond the water, leaving bright oranges, yellows and reds across the ocean.
I could have spent every day on the North Beach. Hotels have their beach section designated with chair and shaded areas for their guests, but plenty of open places for the numerous visitors. We camped near the northeastern side, just around the corner from our hotel. I paid 40 Pecos to rent wooden chairs for the day with an option to settle in the shade. The sand was white, smooth and free of seaweed. The water was cool in the morning and refreshing by midday. Boats clustered around the outside the swimming area, dropping off crowds of people for swimming in the shallow water.
Vendors occasionally strolled by asking us to purchase jewelry, scarves, clothing items and food. We were pleased that they were not pushy or aggressive. We bought a bag full of fresh sliced papaya and should have tried the fresh coconut from the vendor who cut off the top and filled it with adult beverages. Fisherman came around asking to schedule fishing expeditions and snorkeling adventures.
The bar at the far end of the beach offered two-for-one drinks and I always volunteered to walk the stretch of beach for refills. The attraction was not so much the lesser price drinks, but the scenery along the way. North Beach follows international rules and many female sunbathers were topless. Uninhibited, women removed their tops to capture every ray of sun. Women of all ages, unashamed of their bodies, showed themselves to the world.
Once when I returned with a round of drinks to the most beautiful woman on the beach, my wife was laying in the sun on her stomach. “Why don’t I unhook your swimsuit top so you don’t get line across your back?” I asked. “Then if you decide to go topless, you just have to roll over.” My wife turned her head towards me and gave me a look. I rubbed sunscreen on her back and continued, “When we travel, we try to blend in with the customs of that area. You know, when in Rome… So, when in Isla Mujeres…” She gave me another look. Was I making progress? I reached to tuck a stray lock of her hair up under her hat and attempted it again. “It is my birthday” I whispered, “Happy Birthday to me.” With my poorly sung stanza, my wife gave me a final look. And with that fellow travelers, I will let you decide the rest of the story.