One of my biggest fears is being caught in a natural disaster so when the destination wedding was chosen to be in Mexico during hurricane season, I fretted. And sure enough, part of our week-long holiday included experiencing Hurricane Helene in her infancy. A stage one hurricane. As I checked storm watch the guests and staff treated the incoming weather like a sort of spring rain. I was dumbfounded that I appeared to be the only one in panic mode. On Tuesday I noticed subtle changes to prepare for what may be.
At breakfast, our server apologized that another server was taking his shift. His manager had told him to go home to his family as the storm is coming and he lives four hours away. At lunch, the same thing happened with a change in server as our original server was told to go home to his family as he lived 50 minutes away. By night fall, the staff had quietly removed all the pool furniture, and most of the bars and restaurants were closed. The remaining staff continued to serve us, smiling and behaving as if it was any other day. And to them, it was. This is their life.
When we went to bed the storm was a category one, listed to increase and hit Cancun. A loud bang woke me, and the fan stopped. Then the generator kicked in and the fan began to spin. Then another loud bang and it quit. I got out of bed to peek outside. It was dark; the rain was coming down sideways with the force of the winds. I shut the drapes. “Here we go,” I said out loud as I crawled back into bed. I waited for a siren or someone to shout out what would happen next. I was met with silence. Time carried on and soon I found myself dressed and going down for breakfast.
Our favorite server, Sergio had Tuesday off, but when he didn’t show up on Wednesday and it was clear the storm was upon us, we worried for him. We spent the day in our room or in the hotel lobby where the staff continuously mopped the incoming water. The wind forcing the palm trees to bend over, the dark skies hanging over the crashing waves. The entire day was surreal, hunkered down during a hurricane and yet eating and drinking as if it was just another day.
When we woke Thursday morning the skies had cleared, the pool was reset, and people were finding a place to bask in the sun. Just like that, in the blink of an eye, the storm passed through, moving onward to do massive destruction in upper Cancun and the southern States.
We went down for breakfast to find Sergio back to work. When he saw us, he took my hand and apologized for not being there to serve us the day before. The storm had blown his water tank from its tall wooden pedestal onto the road, blocking the only exit from his village. We listened to his story of his challenge with removing it and the need for new (fresh) water for his family. I am in awe of the people there, whose lifestyle we would grade as poverty and yet they smile and live a full life. They do not let the fear of what they cannot control overshadow their joy. They are grateful for what is given to them and honor their professional role of serving those of us who come to experience their country.
It was our last breakfast before we were to leave. Each of us hugged Sergio, thanking him for giving us such great service. He smiled and in his broken English said, “Can I be honest? I appreciate you. Gracias for your tips.”
The irony is that this trip gave me more tips than we gave the gentle people of Mexico. I am fully aware now and so grateful that I live in a place where natural disasters are uncommon. I have gained a deep admiration for those who live where such dangers are intertwined with their daily living. Bravery is the unspoken characteristic. By observing their actions, I witnessed how I can thrive when the focus is not on fear but rather on the appreciation of what I have in the place that I occupy.
To Sergio, “Nunca te olvidare.” I will never forget you.
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