Sunset at Isla Mujeres, just off the popular resort town of Cancun, appears exactly like the postcards and movies you see depicting pastel seas and skys, brilliant white beaches, and most especially, the feeling that paradise does indeed exist somewhere. It certainly felt so to us as we made the turn into the narrow channel cutting across the island's northern tip � there on the platinum strand 50 meters away were grass roofed huts dispensing cool ambrosiac nectars to tanned, athletic celebrants engaged in the ancient rituals of the warm weather sabbatical. In fewer words: beach party!! We had our invitations (in the form of legal documentation for vessel and crew) ready for the door (aka Port Captain and customs)�. now to just find the door�. We tried several and discovered that it was already after hours. But not to worry, we were assured, they will reopen in the morning. This bit of happily received information came from a passerby at the gas dock we had moored at. "You don't have to worry, you guys," he translated for the beleaguered attendant who's English was as limited as my Spanish. "You can stay right here. They'll find you." Most anywhere else, having the government come looking for you would inspire a certain foreboding � we were elated! We'd arrived versed in the intricate steps of the "Paperwork Cha-Cha," described in detail in the Rains' guide "Cruising Ports: Florida to California via Panama" (can you think of a more serendipitous find for the planning of our trip? Neither can we). Faith was prepared to undergo the nautical equivalent of a full physical administered by at least four departments and filtered through a fine mesh of red tape. We'd been momentarily disconcerted when we tried to raise the Capitania del Puerto Isla Mujeres on the radio (the first step) and couldn't decipher a thing he relayed back in rapid fire, abbreviated Spanish. So we fell back on our tried and true stand by: go to the gas dock and look confused. This always works � people come out of the woodwork to offer advice. Often they'll even start shouting it before you've tied the lines�. In this case I had to go rooting around in the woodwork but the confusion part paid off. We relaxed for a moment and sized up the situation. We were undeclared foreigners in an assumedly friendly country who would be expected to remain aboard their vessel until properly cleared. And we were in Mexico. The Rain's guide had detailed this particular harbor and pointed out one of its benefits being the convenience stores conveniently located just a block from the harbor. Caution, we all agreed, should dictate all of our subsequent moves. Eric and I cautiously walked the block to the store, cautiously bought a couple of beers, and cautiously returned to the harbor to speak with the front desk about arranging to call Cancun. Cautiously, of course. The call was to inform Donisha, Brian's fianc�, that we had safely arrived and that Brian would meet her on the mainland on the first ferry to leave after we were officially cleared by immigration. Having completed the required tasks I repaired to the gas dock � almost. Eric had gone on ahead to the boat and found it leaving. "Brian's taking the boat with some Mexican!" he informed me. Hmmm, a possible one man mutiny aided and abetted by the locals? Not to be: harbor security had noticed the Faith and invited us to come stay at a dock with running water and electricity. In no uncertain terms was it an offer they invited us to refuse. The Second Mate and I arrived at pier 26 just as the First Mate, Faith, and passenger were preparing to tie off. "There is the Capitan," Brian pointed me out to our helpful harbor ambassador, "I told him you were talking to the Harbor Master�."
"That's right," I replied, "they said they'd sent someone out."
The ambassador smiled ruefully, "this is OK?"
"Ci! Mui Bueno!" I smiled broadly, "It's perfect!"
"The ship's agent will come in the morning. We will take care of everything."
Ahh, we all sighed, Viva Mexico! We leaned back in the cockpit, taking in the warmth of the embracing night while we sipped our first cool drinks in three days. Thus with happy hearts did we while away our first evening in a foreign port. Buenos Noches!