I INTERRUPT MY OWN BLOGGING HIATUS TO BRING YOU A SPECIAL REPORT on our recent non-van trip to the all-inclusive Iberostar resort, the Grand Paraiso.
Members of my family have been encouraging us for years to join them at this or other resorts on the Riviera Maya. I have two siblings who have vacationed there for more than a decade and they have number one: never had any problems vacationing in Mexico, and number two: love the Riviera Maya more than anywhere else on the planet.
So after Pat retired and we eagerly announced that we intended to travel as much as we could, our excuses started to wear thin… which led us to book 6 nights at the adults-only Grand Paraiso right after Thanksgiving last year.
First let me explain something about the Grand Paraiso. If the Spanish name makes you think that the property is some sort of grand paradise, you are right. The buildings, the rooms, the ocean, and the pools there are heavenly. The entrance to the “Grand,” as it is called, is as grand as the name implies.
When I stepped out of the car that transported us from the airport, I immediately felt a warm breeze whisper across my face, making the tips of my hair wave. Friendly faces greeted us, offering to take our luggage and give us liquid refreshment.
My general policy is to say yes if someone offers to me a wide-rimmed glass that looks like it contains something wet, sweet, tropical and alcoholic.
So SI, POR FAVOR, I said with great anticipation.
Unfortunately, this is when everything went off the rails.
I took a sip of that sweet something, and immediately felt my throat start to swell. I coughed, hoping to expel whatever is was that I was allergic to, but within seconds I was hacking desperately, struggling to breathe.
An astute bellhop with a look of panic on his face ran inside to the front desk to notify one of the managers, who rushed over, helped me sit down, and asked if I wanted to see a doctor. It’s hard to answer questions when you are choking and wheezing and making a big, embarrassing scene, but I managed to nod NO to this kind woman, who I think was the manager of member services (?)
I don’t know what this says about me, but all I really wanted to do was stop coughing so I could pound down the new drink that the bartender had already prepared for me, this time minus the spicy Tajin powder on the rim, which is what nearly sent me into anaphylactic shock the first time.
Full disclosure:
If you’re wondering where my husband was while I was having this near-death experience… he was off in a corner trying to follow the final minutes of the Michigan-Ohio State football game (Go Blue!) and he claims that he was completely unaware of my distress.
When I finally recovered enough to walk, a porter, wheeling our luggage on a big dolly, showed us the way to our room, which thankfully wasn’t far because my face was red, my eyes were bloodshot, my throat hurt, and I basically felt like I had just gone through the spin cycle of a gigantic washing machine.
I’m happy to say that this was the low point of our vacation and it only went up from there.
Although we happily traveled tens of thousands of miles last year in the Paddy Wagon, I can honestly say that it was kind of fun to be in a hotel room in which we probably could have parked four Ford Transit vans, possibly five if you count the balcony.
The balcony was my favorite place. I could have spent hours every day sitting in the swinging chair, sipping a glass of wine and reading a book. But there was so much more to do. We loved walking on the beach and exploring the resort.
The Grand provides designated golf carts to transport guests anywhere on the massive Iberostar property, which include four other resorts with restaurants, beaches and bars. Pat and I always prefer to walk everywhere, but the property is so huge, we got lost every time we tried to walk somewhere specific. I nearly showed up late for my massage appointment at the spa (heaven forbid!) and I’m still fuzzy on how to get to the water slides, which are at one of the neighboring resorts. If my sister-in-law hadn’t escorted me there, I never would have found it, and apparently Pat wandered around for a long time before he found us there.
“I want to go down a slide one time, just to try it,” I told my sister-in-law.
But once I climbed the stairs to the top and went down one twisty, splashy slide, I had to try all of the slides, so yes, two middle-aged grandmas shut down the slides that day. And we even came back for more the next day. So much fun!
But let’s talk about the food. If you are a fan of fish, fruits and vegetables, you will not find anything fresher anywhere. Joining my brother, plus his wife and her family every evening, we enjoyed dining at the Italian restaurant, the Japanese hibachi, and the steakhouse and we never tired of the main dining room buffet for breakfast and lunch.
I don’t usually drink juice in the morning, but it was impossible to refuse the fresh squeezed juice bar, which offered more than just orange juice. I tried the mango and even the tomato juice, sans whatever they add to make it a Bloody Mary. Everything was delicious.
Avocados deserve a category of their own. One afternoon, we attended a class on how to make guacamole. The staff set up a demonstration table and some chairs under a pavilion next to the large, main pool with the (dream-come-true) swim up bar. The high-hatted chef cut and scooped out about 20 avocados, mixed in fresh lime juice, salt, pepper, cilantro, onion, and some chopped up cucumber to make a big bowl of guacamole, which the staff spooned out onto little plates with a few tortilla chips for the guests to sample. While I expertly used chips to shovel every spec of guacamole into my mouth, I noticed that some people just politely nibbled a miniscule dab of guacamole on the end of a single chip, and other well-fed-looking guests held up their hands in mild protest, as if eating a bit of guacamole was going to ruin their usual diet of burgers and greasy fries. The thought of any guac samples going to waste so enraged me, I wanted to push all those ridiculous people in the pool and watch them splash and sputter while I piled up all their untouched plates of guac on a chef’s trolley and wheeled it back to our room, where Pat and I could have made a whole meal out of that green nectar from the gods.
I restrained myself, though, and instead made guacamole a prominent part of as many meals as I could for the duration of our stay.
I regret nothing.
Pat and I had always wondered what it would be like to stay at an all-inclusive resort, and the Grand Paraiso answered the question. It was fantastic. We are not big drinkers, but we enjoyed having full rein of the beer and wine in our mini-fridge, as well as the complimentary bottle of sipping tequila on the desk. Every day, our room steward asked if there was anything we wanted, and he was happy to bring us more drinks or refill the little glass jars of cookies, crackers, chips, and nuts whenever we asked.
Will we go again? ABSOLUTELY.
