Mexico, cont.

seaside village whose main tourist service was the 45-minute ferry ride to more prosperous Cozumel, the island standing barely visible in the heat, 12 miles across the azure sea. In the '80s, there were a couple of campsites here, populated by long-haired drifters searching for their lost shakers of salt; beneath the coconut palms, the strands of soft, golden sand attracted topless sun bathers.

The upper nudity, plus the ferry, are the two constants that have endured, so if social modesty is high on your travel checklist, go to Cancun, where the undressing starts at the pocketbook. If you seek the same sun, blue-green tepid seas, thatched roof palapas, swaying palms, cabanas and hammocks, delicious native cooking, affordable prices at small beachfront hotels, and lots of smiling Mayan faces, then Playa del Carmen more than satisfies.

My initial impression, however, was discouraging.

Arriving at the Pelicano Inn after midnight, following a late-night flight from Boston, we were dismayed to find the water turned off. "Bad storm," the night manager advised us, and surely, large puddles of water stood at every street corner, while big tanker trucks pumped the water into plumbing lines of the affected hotels.

Next morning, with a rose-hued sun peeking into a flowered courtyard outside our second-floor room, and following a sumptuous breakfast next to the beach, the plumbing was restored along with our spirits, especially with the realization that -- for $56 a night, including breakfast -- life at the Pelicano was looking good.

When you visit this part of Mexico, you soon learn that comforts and adversities are often running mates. Our hotel room and bath, for instance, were huge, whitewashed and elegant, with a shaded porch and hammock, but alas, the bedroom lacked dresser space, as if fulfilling the notion that tourists truly live out of suitcases.

Unlike the large chain-operated pleasure palaces of Cancun, Playa's hotels are small, mostly beachside, with plenty of restaurants and cantinas at hand. Fifth Avenue, running parallel to the sea and actually only one block distant, is a strolling pedestrian delight, remindful of a boardwalk, with dozens of restaurants and small shops selling items from the ubiquitous T-shirt to gold, silver and hammered-copper plates, and jewels of opals, topaz and emeralds.

When the sun sets, Fifth Avenue (Quinta Avenida) is a happy promenade, with a tantalizing aroma of cooked beef, chicken, pork and fish luring tourists to streetside tables, while strolling mariachi enhance the mood with Latin songs. There are as many Mexicans about as there are Americans and Europeans.

At the south end of town is the ferry pier, adjacent to a tiny city park with a small sandstone Catholic church in one corner. Fruit and vegetable stands line the square, their proprietors hawking at travelers going to and from Cozumel. It's an atmosphere almost totally native and flavored with Mayan culture and customs. Local women and girls still wear white-cotton huipil dresses, beautiful shapeless gowns with wide necks and bands of astounding colors and designs.

In the artifact-crowded Selva y Mar shop, we came upon the art and designs of the Huichol Indians, who live in scattered settlements far away in the Sierra Madre Mountains. They fashion gourds and carved wooden objects into masks and animals, coat them with beeswax and emblazon them with tiny colored glass beads pressed into the wax one by one with a cactus thorn. The brilliance of the colors shouts at the observer -- red depicting the East, green for heaven, black for the Pacific Ocean and Land of the Dead, blue for water or rain, yellow and orange for the sun.

Most visitors to Quintana Roo take in side trips to the abandoned Mayan cities of Chichen Itza, Tulum and Coba. The latter two, being south of Playa, make them accessible for half-day trips. Two other nearby tourist attractions are the busy seaside water-theme parks of Xcaret and Xel-ha (pronounced SHAY-car-ette and SHELL-ha), four miles and 33 miles respectively from Playa.

The chief attractions of both are large clear-water lagoons where fish and snorkeler revel in each other's charms. Alas, our visit to Xel-ha revealed the major curse of this part of the Caribbean: over-use of the coral reefs. When we first visited Xel-ha 14 years ago, the lagoon teemed with colorful tropical fish.

Now, with dead sticks of coral lying on the sandy bottom, the fish population has dwindled. Both Xel-ha and Xcaret are still fun-filled aqua parks, where you can ride rafts and tubes along beautiful mangrove streams, and see iguanas lazing on the shore and parrots on perches. (There are 520 species of birds in the Yucatan.) Admission for Xcaret, which boasts horseback riding, a botanical garden, aviary, aquarium and five restaurants, is $30. Xel-ha, also with five restaurants, is $15, plus an optional $55 for an hour's swim with trained dolphins.

For my money, an equally good snorkeling event for only $4.80 was an out-of-the-way cove called Yalku, reached via the resort community of Akumal. We swam an afternoon there among huge parrot fish, damselfish, hamlets, blue tang, queen angels, French angels, and the ever-present sergeant-majors, all richly decorated and enjoying, like us, crystalline salt water no deeper than 10 or 12 feet. Probably because of a dearth of comforts, like picnic tables, there are no crowds here. And you'll need something to protect your feet when walking on the sharp, lava-like limestone.

Thankful for our air-conditioned rental Nissan, we took in Tulum and Coba in one hot morning, ambling over the stone walled ruins of Tulum in a couple of hours, time fully spent and appreciated because the score or more buildings are gathered within a few acres abutting a beautiful public beach. The temples, arches and houses are wellmarked and documented since first found and freed from the undergrowth beginning in 1842. Coba, on the other hand, contains only a few noteworthy ceremonial pyramids spread over a vast jungle about 40 minutes drive from the sea. It is an archeological work in progress and if you're not up to trekking a good four or five miles along hot, dusty roads, consider skipping Coba.

There are vast underground streams and pools throughout Quintana Roo, and even along Route 307, the only north-south artery. When the earthy roof is off one of these caverns, the sunlit pool beneath you is called a cenote (se-NOTE-ay). Though simply a limestone sinkhole, cenotes are considered by the Mayans to be doors to the watery underworld inhabited by rain gods and other spirits. Certainly, to bathe in a cool cenote is to be in another world, far removed from the searing heat above you. Your whispers echo off cavern walls in limestone rooms tranquil and remote.

Though we were content with bathing and beaching right at our hotel, we spent one day under the palms of the Hotel Las Palapas, located a half-mile north of Playa. Throughout the shaded acreage were seven thatched beach-front cabins, and 60 one-and-two story whitewashed units, plus pool, open-air dining, porches, palms and hammocks all over the place. Two can stay here for $165 a night, including breakfast and dinner. (Phone 1-800-433-0885 for information.)

Even more posh is the Porto Real Hotel at the north end of Playa. It is architecturally exquisite, with Moorish, French and Victorian designs; prices start at $200 a night.

Other amenities in and near Playa are windsurfing, kayaking, scuba diving, jet skiing and golf, the latter at the Playacar Club de Golf, 18 holes designed by Robert von Hagge just south of town. These all cost money, and are plentiful and more affordable than in Cancun.

Amenities aside, you're likely to get the most durable memories from the native population. One day, while I read on the beach, a young and untrained voice suddenly blasted my repose with an off-key rendition of what you may recall familiarly as the "Frito Bandito" jingle: "Aye, aye, aye-aye! Aye, aye, aye-Yye-Yye!" the dark-eyed lad, only about 8, repeated loudly but with no apparent enthusiasm. He's a mariachi in the making. Off-key or not, he entertained me enough to elicit all the coins I had on me.

A more telling experience came while we dined one evening on the sidewalk outside La Placita restaurant. A tiny lad, no older than 4 or 5, yawned while he waited for customers to examine and purchase some tiny bead bracelets that probably someone in his family made. I was chagrined to see him hours later, about 10:30 p.m., wearily and patiently going through the same routine a few blocks away, barely able to keep his eyes open. In the United States, the guardian or parent of the child would be prosecuted under child-labor laws.

But then, this is not the U.S. This is Playa.

If You Go

Getting there. We were able to book our entire Mexican vacation by the Internet, including air and car-rental transportation and hotel. Sites include http://www.mayanriviera.com for hotels; http://www.travelocity.com for airlines, and http://www.mexicoweb.com travel!vip.html for car rental.

Getting around. Your left-turn signal may be interpreted as meaning that it's all right for the driver behind you to pass. Your car will come across speed bumps often in the least-suspected places. The same with dogs, who enjoy sunning themselves on the highway. Or a pile of rockes left by a motorist who just completed emergency repairs. While driving at night, you'll encounter rusty jalopies sans headlights barreling down the highway. Be careful. The good news: Frequent, modern bus service connects the towns on Route 307 and the Cancun Airport.

For more information. Contact the Mexican government tourism office, 1-800-446-3942.

©1999 Philadelphia Newspapers Inc.