Friday, January 18.

I survived (just) the foam party at Basic Discotheque. At least now I’m squeaky clean (bar those incriminating photos…). 

Enjoyed a cheeky nightcap with the guys from Morfmobile, complete with a dried out hotdog (it was a lot nicer than it sounded, try it some time). Waddled like a wet duck back to my room to crash.

Awake, sort of… Found a cool spot near the hotel to shoot. All kinds of cool geometric shapes. Tempted to tell others. Tempted NOT to tell others.

Things are really in full swing now that all of the models and photographers have arrived. The competitive shooting is going hard and heavy as both try to kick figurative butt by shooting literal butt. Speaking of which, there is a whole squadron of Latina models here. Thank God I have Adrian’s blog in Spanish to show them!

Everyone crams onto a ferry bound for Isla Mujeres. We’ve seen wealthy Cancun for several days now, but this is the real Mexico. We are told if we miss the ferry, we get to sample the nightlife. This place is simple but has a romantic appeal. I could spend an entire day shooting the quaint marketplaces and the exotic street-corners. Instead, we camp out at the Aqui En Picus Cocktereria, right on the shore with hundreds of small boats docked. Boats, and models that is. Lots of models. I shoot some, interview some; mostly become a fan of Sol beer. There is a band at the restaurant (and by ‘band’, I mean one guy in a colourful shirt playing a keyboard with background music). He plays an elevator music version of the song Tequila that has my new friend Canaan jumping up and doing a dance in the spirit of Pee Wee Herman.

Get into a fascinating discussion about butt glue and hair extensions with a model. It is true: you do learn something new every day.

The Latina presence is heavy. Communicating is a challenge. I would insert a “language of love” joke here, but it’s just too easy, and my sub-editor will most likely take it out anyway (despite her infinite wisdom and incredible good looks). The girls are spectacularly sweet about all of the staring. They must be used to it by now. The staring thing may prove problematic when I attempt assimilate into society back home.

I wonder, how many hours of sleep have I gotten over the last four days?

I hop on the ferry and ride the waves back to Cancun just in time to shower off the sand and get ready for the Clubkini Party at the Dady ‘O Nightclub. Basically, the party is a way to get all the girls in a nightclub wearing their Ujena bikini tops. Great branding exercise.

The Ujena group gathers outside the hotel for the 5km run. Several locals join them. I take photos before it starts. I don’t run unless someone is chasing me.

There’s a little cold going around, it seems. To avoid catching it, I avoid shaking hands, or making out, with anyone.

Ujena contestant Jill Hardin is proving to be a great lady – beautiful, sweet and nice enough to give advice to some of the first timers. Every time I see her, she points and says (in a dramatic voice), “SAAVVVVYYYY!” Or calls me “Mis-ter Savvy!” I am a little bit frightened of her.

Here’s where it gets serious - deadline looms in a mere six hours. As photographers sit in the hotel lobby with laptops burning data CDs as quickly as they could, girls lurk in wait. They still have to view the hundreds of photos they’ve posed for and select only the very best for the judges. The veterans are easy to pick - they have the USB drives that let them quickly load those jpegs and put on their own laptops.

You could feel the tension release as everyone put the contest out of their minds and realises it is Saturday and that we’re in Cancun! A band plays in the hotel lobby (a real one this time) and the sweet Mexican server, Juany, keeps the drinks coming to a large group that have assembled.

I talk to Hoss, founder of the Solomodels.com web site. I wish all business meetings were pool-side at sunset in Cancun.

We arrive at the world-famous Senor Frogs nightclub. Here we enjoy ass-shaking competitions, and Ujena’s new range (as modelled by the ever-obliging Ujena models).

A Senor Frogs bartender uses a great line on one of the girls, saying he remembered seeing her from the Hawaiian Tropic event. When she tells him she wasn’t here for that, he says, “So you mean we didn’t sleep together?”

One of the Ujena contestants is devastated that she lost the ass-shaking contest to a woman three times her size. I try to console her, unsuccessfully.

Ujena staff model (and Savvy ISH Contestant) Tatum Miranda does a stripper dance (fully clothed) around a lighted pole to try and win a t-shirt. It was a pretty good t-shirt.

The bus back to the hotel arrives. The Mexican guys who have been videotaping the event from the start are singing on the bus. When we get back to the Hotel Barcelo, the after-party moves to the lobby. Ujena and ISH Contestant Andria Lee and I are learning how to say obscene words in Spanish.

I wake to find it windy and wet outside. No problemo. Everyone has a free morning while the contest judging goes on upstairs. There’s talk of some of us going off-site to get some photos later.

After the formalities were done and dusted, we headed to The City Cancun nightclub for a costume party. While all of the models obviously put a lot of effort into their costumes, I spent most of the night mourning the bikinis that I have come to know and love.