My Club Med card. |
In the 1990s I spent 4 different winter vacations at Club
Meds in Mexico. I was at Playa Blanca twice and Cancun and Ixtapa once each. I
was about 46 years old and married when we visited Ixtapa and in my early 50s
and single when I went to the other Club Med resorts.
Club Meds first came into being in Europe in the early
1950s. Some French guy came up with the idea. The resorts kind of morphed over
the years and expanded to the Western Hemisphere. Those French guys really
found the most glorious spots in Mexico to build their clubs. 9/11 kind of
killed off a lot of their business and a number of Club Meds closed their doors
for good over the past decade including the one in Playa Blanca.
I look back now at the times I spent at Club Meds as a
single “older guy” in a bit of a haze. Everything seemed to have happened so
fast, lots of vivid colours, lots of noise. A week in the sun with strangers
then back to the Vancouver rainy winter.
I don’t have any photos of those trips as I was using a
video camera to capture the moments. Maybe it is just as well. You don’t need
to really see a drunk guy in a polka dot ball cap.
So here’s a toast to all those guys I stood at the bar
with years ago pretending we were interested in each other’s stories when we
really were using one another so that we didn’t appear to be alone and
desperate. We might as well of been bookies in the way we figured out our odds
of getting lucky.
Ixtapa
Ixtapa |
My first wife came up with the idea of going to Club Med,
Ixtapa. It was one of those kind of “save the marriage” type of things. We were
leading a fairly fast paced life. I was running a relatively new business I had
started and my ex was working in outside sales for a tile company. We had 4
year old twins at home, a boy and a girl, who were taken care of by a nanny
during the daytime. There was also pre-school and our kids were starting to get
involved in activities. Our daughter had just started ballet classes. We were
primed for a vacation in the tropics.
At the time I had only been to Mexico once before, about
12 years earlier. We went over the brochures about the club on the flight down
to Mexico from Vancouver, BC. It was suggested that we pick one special
activity to concentrate on for our week long holiday. My ex chose the trapeze
for some reason. She looked at bit frightened at times way up at the top of a
pole. I can’t remember exactly what she accomplished high over the net. I don’t
think it was a triple summersault.
I chose tennis to concentrate on. I had played tennis off
and on over the previous years and would later join a tennis club in Richmond,
BC. Tennis, to me at least, isn’t like riding a bike. It takes a while to get
the feeling for the game back if you have been away from it for a while.
The tennis pro at the club was from all places, Alaska.
He was in his thirties and had done hitches at other clubs. There was a rumour
at the time that he had an alcohol problem. He would also have a smoke when he
thought nobody was looking.
Tennis lessons started at about 9:00 a.m. By 10:00 a.m.
it was blistering hot. The class was made up of mixture of ages from teenagers
to middle agers who were mostly women. Towards the end of the week there was a
tournament and I was matched up with a 14 year old boy. The score was pretty
close and I was leading the first set. The heat was becoming unbearable for me.
The court had no protection from the sun at all. In between volleys I tried to
hide in the meager shadows of some overhead leaves of a tree. Finally I walked across
the court and shook hands with the 14 year old lad and quit. Spending time in a
Mexican hospital with heat stroke just didn’t seem very appealing.
Anyone who has ever been to a Club Med or has seen the
old TV advertisements is familiar with the “Hands Up” song. It is kind of
addictive. Every night the club staff would put on an outdoor show and the
finale was always almost every guest dancing to fast moving songs including the
“Hands Up” one. The more experienced would clasp their hands together and pump
those hands over their hearts like it was beating wildly.
The Chef de Club at Club Meds seemed to usually be some
guy in his 30s who might look a bit like Jean Paul Belmondo, perhaps a little
on the swarthy side with some mid- eastern background (Algeria?) They were
always from France. The Chef de Club always had some underlings who kind of
promoted the idea that he was the king and deserved respect. You might have
thought he built the resort by himself with his bare hands? His main job seems
to have been greeting guests at dinner.
The staff at Club Meds (GOs) came from all over the world
including Canada. The pay for a 6 day work week was something like 600 bucks a
month. Not a lot of money but the memories later in life would be priceless.
Unlike other resorts the staff could mingle with the guests.
Club Med Ixtapa also had a Mini Club where you could dump
your young kids for the day if you had brought them with you. My ex and I
thought it would be a great idea to bring our kids to the club when they got
older but that never happened.
A middle aged single woman who worked as a sales clerk at
Woodward’s Department Store in Vancouver somehow latched onto my ex and we had
a hard time avoiding her. She was kind of relentless and I recall her finding
us at a secluded area under some palm trees. We hung out a bit with a French
Canadian couple who both worked for one of the airlines. My ex had been a stewardess
at one time for Ward Air so they had things in common. We split a taxi into
town one day.
The food was great and the beach had nice white sand. I
hadn’t sailed in about 30 years and I took my ex out on a laser. I was kind of proud of myself that I landed
the boat on the beach with the rudder up.
As the week wore on I became less and less enthusiastic
about watching the nightly amateur entertainment put on by the staff. My ex, on
the other hand, was really into it. I found that most of my interest was in
those young gal’s bums up on the stage packed into their leotards.
We flew back to Vancouver and felt we had really enjoyed
the break. I didn’t know it at the time but within 2 years our marriage would
be over. On the upside I had a renewed interest in sailing and a few years
later joined the Locarno Sailing Club in Vancouver.
Playa
Blanca First Trip
Playa Blanca |
I had been separated from my wife for about 2 years when
I decided to visit another Club Med. I don’t know what I expected at the time.
I was now 50 years old and single. I did know I wouldn’t be chasing any 20 or
30 year old women. Back then Club Med had something called “The Wild Card”. For
a few hundred dollars less you could take your chances on which club you ended
up at. I think this deal was rigged because I ended up at Playa Blanca not once
but twice.
Playa Blanca is out in the middle of nowhere. I believe
it is about 1-1/2 hours south of Puerto Vallarta by bus. There are no cute
little touristy towns around. The bus trip was sometimes referred to as “the
bus ride from hell.” The bus driver would careen around blind corners of rough
road that clung to the sides of the hills at high speed. You would often see
the huge drop off from the road to the ocean below. The religious ornaments
that hung next to the bus driver didn’t instill any confidence in his driving
capabilities. It was always a relief to arrive in one piece.
Playa Blanca is a singles club. Supposedly this club
could accommodate 600 guests, whatever the number, that’s a lot of people.
Like most other guys who are single and in their fifties
I wondered what my chances were of getting laid in the tropics. Not that great,I
would find out, unless I was willing to totally have no standards at all. Club
Meds are not always what they seem, particularly if you are getting up there in
age.
First of all about half the guests or more are men. There
are quite a few married people and a lot unmarried couples. There are a number
of people over 60 years of age too. The younger gals from 20-35 years of age
are out of bounds unless you are a complete letch. And then there are the
bow-wows and very overweight gals. I couldn’t get drunk enough to go down that
path. You might run into a couple of gals more age appropriate who were
travelling together but separating them isn’t an easy task. When all was said
and done there would just be a few possibilities and those gals would get to
choose the pick of the litter, usually a tall good looking guy with lots of
cash in his jeans.
Somehow I found myself spending most of the week hanging
out with a group that was from Toronto. I met them when I shared a table with
them at dinner the second night. There were four of them, two twin guys in
their early 20s who had received the trip as a Christmas present from their
family to see if the brothers could bond again, a kind of sloppy guy who told
some funny jokes and liked to be close to drunk most of the time, and a
corporate head hunter gal who was about my age and quite pretty.
At dinner that night the sloppy drunk guy was coming onto
the head hunter gal and she was clearly uncomfortable. The next day I got into
a conversation with her by the pool where we were both reading books. My bait
that I was using was leaving another book beside my lounge chair on the ground
so that anyone who was curious could see the title and maybe think I wasn’t a
complete moron. Unlike the sloppy drunk guy I had been working out in the gym
back home in Vancouver and was in decent shape. The head hunter and I kind of
hit it off and spent a fair amount of time together the rest of the vacation.
Here is the one joke I can still remember that the sloppy
drunk guy told….”What is the difference between dog shit and an older
woman?....The older they are, the easier they are to pick up.” Rim shot! Not a joke a lot of woman would find funny
but I did. Sue me!
I remember sitting around the pool one day and
overhearing three gals from Buffalo, New York talking. Apparently they had been
at a party hosted by some rich guy who lived off of the property the night
before. At some point during the evening he pulled out his wiener and they
described it as a 12” skinny noodle. Ah the lives of the rich and famous!
One afternoon I was asked if I would like to join
something called “The Tequila Walk.” Tequila? I had sworn the nasty stuff off
years before. The deal was we had had to hike up the side of a mountain to a
bar/lounge that overlooked the ocean. Once we arrived we were allowed to drink
as much free tequila as we wanted to for 2 hours.
A French Canadian guy with a mullet was leading the pack
as we hiked up the hill. I got out in front of him by a fare way just to piss
him off. Once we reached our destination we were kind of blown away. The bar
had a balcony that looked over the ocean. The sun was just starting to set and
the view was spectacular.
The music started and it was mostly Reggae and Latin
stuff. Everyone was ready for a party and tequila kicks in pretty fast. It
wasn’t long before most everyone was wasted. A limbo pole appeared and some
fell flat on their backs trying to get under it. Next up was a conga line. 2 of
the 3 gals from Buffalo started dry humping the wooden posts that held up the
ceiling. I guess that was their “noodle” of choice.
I had something like a dozen tequila shooters in those 2
hours. I can’t recall ever being that drunk. How I ever made it back to Club
Med is beyond me. It was now dinner time. Somehow I had lost my video camera,
my passport, and my wallet. Fortunately I got them all back. I propositioned
the head hunter from Toronto to no avail. I spent most of the next day in bed,
alone.
The only booze Club Med provided back then for free was
beer or wine with meals. If you wanted to hang around the bar you needed to buy
beads to pay for your drinks. Beads had different colours that indicated their
value. For easy access they were worn as a necklace. I went through a lot of
beads that week.
Cocktail hour was just before dinner and it often looked
like a stag line of mostly men. The bartenders were Mexican locals and not the
biggest conversationalists. They sure put up with a lot in their jobs. Being
called Pedro when their name wasn’t Pedro just might piss them off a bit.
I remember the last day at the club before the Toronto
group went home. I left the next day. Earlier in my life I had spent time
working in the resort town of Banff, Alberta. I was familiar with the idea that
some women like to have a fling on their last night. No having to face the
other party involved the next day and a punctuation point on the vacation.
After dinner on the last night, the head hunter told me she had some booze in
her room. I knew what she meant but let it pass. I was still hung over from all
of the boozing. We settled for jumping into the pool with all our clothes on.
Now I was cold and shivering…. and hung over. In the whole scheme of things I
probably could have played my cards better and taken a pass on the tequila deal
but what the hell.
Cancun
Cancun |
The flight down to Mexico was delayed and I didn’t make
it to the Club Med resort until about 2:00 a.m. There was hardly any of the
staff around and I had to carry my luggage to the room. Then I had to wait for
one of the staff to turn up with the key. It turned out that I would be sharing
the room with a guy who was a member of the R.C.M.P. We did the “where are you
from” stuff and I asked him if he was for legalized pot. He also found out that
I smoked. He moved out the following morning. Being a smoker guaranteed me a
room to myself on the 3 visits I made to Club Meds as a single guy.
On my second night at the club I met a pretty gal at dinner.
She wanted to go dancing after dinner so we went to the disco. Later on she
suggested we go back to my room. I was kind of bagged from the sun and
suggested we get together the next day. This was probably a good decision
because I never saw her again at the club. My guess is that she probably walked
into the club off the beach to get a free dinner and was going to see how far
she could stretch things. She might have stolen my cash or wallet in the room
but then again they were in a safe. The clubs have coloured wrist bands to
identify guests but long sleeves could hide not having a band.
Club Med had the best location in the Cancun area. I
snorkeled a few times and saw some amazing colours on the fish. I also
discovered that you can look very dopey trying to walk around on land with long
flippers.
I found out that there was a separate dining room for
smokers. Everyone in there spoke French so I wasn’t involved in any of the
conversations. I made a few attempts to speak French but didn’t get any
encouragement. I ended up going back to the regular dining room. I could wait
to after dinner to have a smoke.
At the end of the property there was a wharf and the
sailing area. I took a laser out about 5 times while I was at the club and went
for a ride on a catamaran once. A few hundred yards off shore there was a
floating bar that was owned by a private club on the next property which I
believe catered to wealthy Mexicans. These folks would go back and forth in
groups on jet skis for hours on end. The sound of the jet skis could drive you
nuts if you let it.
I took a day trip to the ruins of Tulum. On the way we
went to restaurant out in the jungle for lunch. The restaurant had a pool and
we went for a swim before eating. I remember our tour guide asking me how old I
was. I was about 53. He told me he would like to look as good as I did when he
reached my age. I was flattered but he was the wrong sex.
The ruins at Tulum are quite spectacular. They are right
beside the turquoise ocean and a white sandy beach. Back then you could climb
the steep steps up to the top of the pyramid (you can’t now). You could get
seriously hurt if you stumbled on the way up or down. When I was at the top of
the pyramid my video camera fell out of my backpack and hit the stone surface.
That was the end of my camera. When I got home I tried to get it repaired in
Vancouver. After a while I phoned the repair place to see what progress had
been made. I was told that it was not fixable and they had tossed it in the
garbage. I didn’t even get my film back. What jerks!
I hung out with a divorced banker from Kelowna at the bar
a number of times. He was a good looking guy in his early thirties. In the week
we were at the club he never came close to getting lucky with some young babe.
It may sound shallow but I thought if this dude couldn’t get any action I
shouldn’t be disappointed in being in the same boat.
On the flight down to Cancun I met 2 guys from Vancouver
who were also going to the same Club Med. They were in their early thirties and
claimed to be doctors. One of them had a satchel full of prescription drugs.
One of these guys was a bit full of himself. One night at the Club Med disco he
jumped off a speaker and broke his leg. Bringing that satchel of prescription
drugs might have paid off for him.
If you have read this far you may have thought to
yourself that I might have been a bit of a drunk back in the day. In the 14
years I was married I was only drunk once. I’m kind of lucky when it comes to
alcohol. I can take it or leave it. There was no way I was ever going to lose
my driver’s license for drunk driving.
For the first 10 years after I split up with my ex I
would get drunk about twice a year, always at some place where I could walk
home from. Club Meds account for a number of those times. As it stands I
haven’t been drunk in about 15 years now but I still like the occasional
cocktail.
Playa
Blanca Second Trip
This was to be my 4th and last trip to a Club
Med. I took my chances with the “wild card” thing and sure enough ended up back
at Playa Blanca. One of the things I found amusing at Club Meds were people who
had an attitude and tried very hard to portray themselves as big shots back
home. One guy from the Silicon Valley in California once told me I would be out
of business within a year if I didn’t have a website. That never happened. I
don’t think I ever thanked him for his concern. A 1200 dollar all-inclusive
vacation isn’t exactly the lifestyle of the rich and famous.
I struck up a conversation at the airport with a gal in
her late forties who was also about to share the long bus ride to Playa Blanca.
We both smoked so we had that in common. Throughout the following week we would
have little chats now and then. I never made a move on her because I just
wasn’t interested. She kind of became the mother hen to 3 younger gals from
British Columbia. I found out from her that one of the younger gals had an
ambition of hooking up with a blonde beach boy type. I guess she was oblivious
to the reality. She was quite overweight and had hair on her arms she could
comb. I don’t know if she ever ran into bald, overweight, drunk, and desperate.
Being back at Playa Blanca was one of those déjà vu kind
of things. It was very weird. Once again there was very little in the way of
decent looking single women in my age range. I hung out a bit at the bar with a
real estate agent from Port Moodie, BC. The guy was about 50 and looked like a
strapping mercenary, the military type. He did the mating dance with gal in her
late 40s. One of his “war stories” was about how he was broke and didn’t have a
current driver’s licence because of drunk driving. A real catch.
Each Club Med had its own disco joint and a DJ. For some
strange reason Mexican DJs at all resorts think Gringos just can’t get enough
of the trance-like music called “Techno”. "What Is Love" by Haddaway
was a favourite. “Baby don’t hurt me?” No! Hurt me so I can be put out of this
misery. You would be hard put to find anything more fake and unreal as a
Mexican disco.
At all the Club Meds there always seemed to be someone
walking around with crutches or with their arm in a sling. Usually these folks
were in this state because of accident from being drunk on one of the previous
nights. Head bandages were usually the result of trying to negotiate the stairs
back to their rooms while being wasted.
I remember one older gal, about 65, who took part in
every activity possible. She was maxing on the value at the resort to the
extent the bus back to the airport had to wait for her. One day they had a
sailing race that I took part in. My laser got tied up in some ropes and it
took me some time to get under way. The old broad cleaned everyone’s clocks.
There was no “tequila walk” on my second visit to Playa
Blanca. The bar up the hill had closed down a few years before. Just as well
for me. Tequila would never be on my radar again in my life.
I had a beer at the airport with the mother hen gal I had
chatted with a number of times at the club before we caught our plane. She said
something about using birth control for no reason because she never had any
action. I thought to myself that I was glad I hadn’t been “the one”.
I don’t miss being single and in my fifties a bit. I do
however miss being twenty.
In 2 weeks Linda and I will be heading back to Mexico and
one of our favourite spots, Cabo San Jose. We can’t wait!
Cabo |
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