swans sculpted from towels

swans sculpted from towels

by the young boy who mops floors,

smiling shyly

On the first day of our stay in Hotel Alhambra, we are greeted with an intricate sculpture made of bath towels, hand towels and wash cloths laid out like a white hibiscus at the foot of our bed. As usual, whenever I see anything beautiful, I take a photograph. 
          The next day, when we return from our outing to Isla Mujeres, we find an even more elaborate towel sculpture, in the shape of a swan with a red hibiscus tucked in its breast. We are reluctant to destroy the sculpture in order to use the fresh towels. How on earth did the artist, who must be the person cleaning our room and changing the sheets and towels, manage to get the swan's neck to stay upright with that graceful curve? Curious as to how it was constructed, I carefully take the swan apart and then try to reconstruct it, but to no avail. A little sign by our water pitcher says that our room is being cleaned by Rebeca, so she must be the secret artist. 
          The following day, we leave the coconut I bought on the island along with a note, written with the help of the man at the desk: "Muchas gracias por el cisne, Rebeca. Está muy hermoso. El coco es para usted." After we return from our trip to Tulum, we find not one but two swans, their heads touching, the arch of their necks forming a heart shape. Nestled between their breasts are a yellow gladiola, a white gardenia and a note with a smiley face: "Disculpen pero no soy Rebeca sino Ricardo. Disfruten su estancia. Gracias." We show the note to our Spanish-speaking friends and they translate: "Pardon, I am not Rebeca but Ricardo. Enjoy your stay. Thanks." So our "secret admirer" is a guy, not a gal. How is he going to top two swans? And how can we top the coconut?
          The next day is a rest day. Before we go out to explore the town, we make a clumsy version of sheet and pillow art: three pillows in a pyramid, the sheets as twin sphinxes and an artistic mimosa pod in the middle with another note: "Nos gusta muchismo! Maraviloso! Usted está artista!" When we leave, there's a pile of sheets on the table outside our room and the young boy with the spiked hairdo is mopping the stairs. We've seen him every day, busily mopping and cleaning. "Ricardo?" I say, and he smiles shyly. When we come back, we find a dove with a green branch in its mouth. This young boy with the hidden talent, mopping floors! You just never know.
          Here is another mystery. None of the other members of our group are being graced with Ricardo's towel sculptures. Why us? We are not newlyweds. We are not a pair of pretty young girls. Perhaps it's because, from the first day, we always took the time to greet him with a smile.
          Another day there's a white elephant, its trunk curved up, and finally, on the last day, a "family" of two adults and a child, each holding a red hibiscus and a small seashell. We like to think this represents the two of us with Ricardo, who has become like our son. We leave him an extra big tip, along with my photographs of his towel sculptures and our hopes that he have a long life filled with beauty.