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Published: April 27th 2011
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'Avoid Playa del Carmen unless you want to be transported to the Costa del Sol wearing a St George’s flag on your back, smashed off your noggin on cheap cocktails, being woken up in on the beach by cruise ship tourists taking photos of you to show their rellies back home.'
C. Warren, 2011
I opted to stay in Playa Del Carmen for four nights. Were it not for the fact that Stacey and I were meeting up with some friends, I would probably have gone off Playa a lot quicker. As it happened, our friend, Jennie, was already there and met us shortly after we arrived and gawped at our truly revolting hostel. In addition to Jennie, I'd agreed to dive with Steve, another chap that we'd met in the socially abundant period in Cancun. Jennie was staying in a much nicer hostel but we were able to go along and hang around at the bar so it was all good in the end; our hostel was simply a place to crash. Also, it being Holy Week, it meant there were far more locals and Central/South Americans present which watered down the touristy feel a lot.
The first
thing I did in Playa of note was buy three tickets for three consecutive club nights. The first was Lee Burridge which was boring, the second was Sander Klienenburg which was less boring but still not out of this world and the third was the finale, none other than my idol of old, Sasha. I had a run in with Sasha previously when he bought out a terrible album which I bought and was disappointed by on the day I was going to see him at Fabric which I was also disappointed by. On top of this, I tried to shake the hand of said idol and he gave the dirtiest of looks and then blanked me. He is, without shadow of a doubt, a total tosser. Anyway, fast forward a good 7 or 8 years and he wasn't tooooo bad but hardly raised the roof. The club was adorned with a Garden Eden theme which was novel and they had mahusive speakers outside so you could get your groove on the beach. Pretty sweet. We have mainly spent our time bar hopping, meeting new people and meeting the same people we met earlier but in a different bar. The
atmosphere amongst those I've been hanging around with is much less orientated around going out on the pull which is total relief but there are still some total leeches knocking about. It is probably worth noting that, whilst Jennie and myself attended all three nights, fellow attendees began strong (Stacey and an Australian/American - hellova combo, I know - called Ben joined us for the first night, just Stacey the second and Jennie and I flew solo on the third). Bruno is a glutton for minimal/progressive house, favouring to strut his stuff whilst wearing glittered lederhosen.
Whilst this was a fairly special weekend of the year, it should be noted that Playa Del Carman is by no means a place to go unless you want loud music and drinking. It is also very expensive. All that considered, I had an amazing time there and it was fun while it lasted. Certainly it was good to cut loose after our jaunt West to the Yucatan.
By day, I mostly sat about trying to feel better or having a read and a listen to my iPod. The beach is rather nice with PLENTY of people watching. Everyone poses their pants
Lauren Lane
Attractive but boring behind the decks off and there is an awful lot of Top Gun towel slapping bravado.
Early on, a few of us opted for a boat party complete with free booze and naff music. It was one of the finest afternoons I have spent full stop, let alone in the short time I have been in Mexico.
Meanwhile, Steve had been busy... he was recommended a dive instructor who would take us out to his personal favourite cenotes. For those who are still in the dark re cenotes, they are sunken caves, found in the jungle. The caves collapse and create big old holes which fill with water and allow divers and snorkellers alike to have a jolly good time.
Our instructor's name was Marco and he runs a one man business called Rock n Dive. We arranged to meet him on Monday 25th April at 8.15am. He rocked up about 15 mins late, driving massive Chevvy pick up, blasting Metallica. Me and Steve were pretty dazed with the earliness and the prospect of the dive. He'd explained to Steve the day before that the dive would be deep, going down to 45m,and that it was extremely important that we follow him
closely at all times. The pit is shaped as such that the entrance is small whilst the cenote itself open out like bowl. This means at points, divers are unable to ascend directly upwards towards the surface. Pretty extreme stuff. Anyway, as we got closer to the cenote, so the road became more rugged until we stopped in the middle of a dirt track. 'This is the part you need to video, man' said Marco before shifting in to a very low gear four wheel drive, blasting 'Iron Man' by Ozzie Osborne and hanging a direct right where a totally rocky track carved its way through the jungle. It was truly an exhilarating moment. But not as exhilarating as when we finally drew to a halt and got out to see the cenotes itself. The water was 6 metres down from the edge of the pit. We decided to be all out hardcore and don all our equipment, including weights, before jumping in the maw. Steve managed this with an air of nonplussedness but my vertigo stalled me slightly. But only for a moment because I jumped in with Aplomb*. An amazing achievement for me and a memorable one at
that. We descended diagonally down head first straight to 45 metres. It was dark and strange down there but it got weirder. Not only was I experiencing nitrogen narcosis due to the depth, but we swam up through a layer of cloud. Underwater quickly became flying in the air above some kind of medieval post apocalyptic wasteland, dotted with peaks and smothered in low lying cloud. As we circled, slowly rising, we became aware of the brilliants shafts of sunlight slicing blue through the gloom. Looking up from 30m, we could see the green leaves on the trees surrounding the entrance. It was a completely different otherworldliness to ocean diving.
We arranged another cenotes dive, this time to even darker and eerier depths of Angelita. This cenote has 2m thick cloud of hydrogen sulphate (a result of the decomposition of the plant life which has fallen in the hole) at 30m. We were advised that many divers panic because, swimming down through it, you can see absolutely nothing. Steve and I managed it and what we witnessed was breathtaking. Once we re-emerged from the cloud, we could see long ago fallen trees jutting out of the fog. Sheer, craggy
walls surrounded us in a massive, broad circle. It was one of the best dives I have ever, ever done.
We had all moved down to Tulum at this point. It is a much quieter town than Playa Del Carmen though much more spaced out; you need cabs or bike hire to get around. All this considered, it is a beautifully chilled, if not entirely untouristy place to visit. The beach is wonderful too. We all soothed our weary bones and livers and enjoyed each other's company at a slower pace.
All good things must end. Many of us had met and made friends in Cancun merely a fortnight ago and a lot had happened. Out of all those people, four of us had remained enjoying each other’s company. One of those four was Stacey who had been my companion and guide whilst exploring Mexico’s culture in the Yucatan. We waved a very fond farewell to her on the 26th as she goes on to become a social worker back in Canada. It was the beginning of the end of our time together and we have felt her departure keenly.
The three of us remain until Steve
travels back up North, slowly, to finally get his plane back to Missouri. Jennie will be leaving on the 29th to meet a friend in Playa Del Carmen before taking a tour across to the Yucatan. She’ll eventually fly back from Mexico City in about a month’s time. And me? My path leads South to Belize where, amongst other things, I intend to dive the ocean cenote: The Big Blue Hole…
*See ‘Julian Hawkins, father of John, and his Hares’, p792, Chapter 8 of ‘Pinning it Down – The Excellence of John Hawkins’
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