Riviera Mayan Descriptive Writing

Cancun, Mexico: where the ocean is so salty, the water burns your eyes, the humidity does not allow you to wear denim shorts, and the jungle extends far beyond where your eyes can reach to. The Riviera Mayan Jungle stores my memories, waiting for me to return.
Looking out the airplane window, I wondered where the aircraft would land; there was no runway in sight, just layers of jungle, every shade of green. The airplane began to dip down into the earth and eventually landed on a strip of concrete. The hallways of the airport smelt like the Pine Sol my grandma uses to mop her floors; I was reminded of my family back home. I traveled to Mexico with my cousins, but I wished my parents were there, despite having eighteen of my family member there.
Breathing in the air felt like breathing over a pot of boiling water. Within minutes of arriving, the sky opened up and it started to rain. This was not Washington’s rain; this rain felt like turning over your pillow onto the cold side. The rain was the perfect complement to the hot air and I did not feel the need to open up an umbrella. It felt good to feel the heavy droplets on my shoulder, like a cold shower. The welcoming rain continued for the rest of the trip.
As soon as we got to our hotel room, I rushed to put on my swimsuit to go to the beach before the sun fully set. The hotel room looked like I had been there for a month, with clothes scattered over the marbled tiles in our hotel bathroom. The soft sand between my toes felt like fuzzy socks as I ran to meet the ocean’s tide. The foaming water washed away the sand as well as the stress I had accumulated at the airport. My worries about not having my parents with me and being in a new place fled as I watched the sun set behind the tall