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Published: October 29th 2011
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View from our hotel
Our room didn't face the ocean but it wasn't long of a walk! After a trying night full of tedious back-and-forth about hostel/hotel rooms (overbooking plus power outages caused by the carnival rides in the square), we wound up at true hotel (no hostel) that seems to be managed mostly by folks our age. We finally got to collapse in a room that faced away from the ocean…only to be woken up by a bellowing rooster somewhere directly below us. We search for it, and missiles, but never see it so we leave off and walk out to the beach, directly outside our hotel.
Saturday is a lazy relaxation day. We spend some time in the water, some time in the sun, a good amount of time eating under one of the many canopies provided by the multitude of beach-front restaurants. Now we are on the Gulf of Mexico side of the Peninsula, where the waters are still warm but the blues are muddied by sediment. Celestun is far less posh than Holbox. No beach bars, no graceful hotels, the centro has less restaurants and more taqueria-type places. There are a good number of tourists here, mostly from Merida, who are determined to enjoy their beach weekend, even when it starts raining after
Beach sunset
The only thing that can beat a beach sunset is a desert one. This was after the rains had stopped but clouds still hung heavy. lunch. There is no mass or even small run for cover. The families (there’s at least one reunion going on) keep eating, gabbing, and swimming. The vendors take a breather though from selling their floaties or Chiapas region clothes. Kurt and I take a long walk down the beach, past where the mid-range hotels and restaurants cluster. The townscape quickly thins out leaving just a few ritzy hotels and then some walled-in homes, one that even comes with a 20ft stone wall and an electrified fence ringing the perimeter. We can’t figure out who would need so much protection in this little beach town, especially in such an unattractive, barren-landscaped home….
We prowl the centro that evening for food and people-watching. The carnival games are going full-force and the ladies and men (mostly younger than us) are all fancied up with high-heels, short skirts, and slicked-back hair. It’s much more of a scene than even Holbox was (a see-and-be-seen scene). Part of the centro has been closed off to leave space for a concert and the workers are hurriedly erecting all the sound and light equipment since their schedule was blown off course by the rain. We walk around
Manglares (mangroves)
The start of our eco-tour and around the centro, waiting for the concert to begin and for the people-watching to ramp up. But alas, the DJ starts spinning and NO ONE goes in the fenced off area. The music bumps us all the way back to our hotel after we finally give up on waiting for interesting social dynamics to get going.
Manglares
Our last remaining goal is to get inside the mangrove forest and do some bird-watching. Okay, I’m really the one who wants to do the bird-watching but Kurt is down for some nature time as well. We find in the guidebook a description of an eco-tour that involves kayaking, canoeing, and biking. The tour headquarters are a long ways from the beach but we finally arrive, sweaty and slapping mosquitoes. We only have time for a morning tour and we quickly find out, from the guide and our own eyes, that this is not the time for bird-watching. The guide tells us that with all the rain from yesterday, the water is up and the mosquitoes are out, annoying the birds to the extent that practically none want to stay in the swampier mangrove forests. Well, dang.
We walk
along a boardwalk for a short while and then enter the darkened canopy of the mangrove forest to where the canoes rest. Turns out we will not be canoeing alongside our guide. He does it for us which is not what we had bargained for but does provide for a more relaxed tour. There are four mangrove species in this one area and that’s the majority of larger plant life. The roots are smooth and cage-like, interlocking with each other and their neighbors all around. A sudden splash ahead of us signals the quick dive of a caiman but it’s too quickly gone for a real glimpse. Our guide expertly poles us between the mangrove trees and then out into the more open waters (water meadows between the mangrove forest patches). The water is shallow everywhere, no more than three feet at this tide-level so we are poled around all over. We pass a roosting area (large wooden posts set up for birds to perch on) but only a few cormorants and a frigatebird are taking their leisure there. He pulls up to another dock and we walk past an active mangrove restoration area, where they were killed off by
excessive salt during a flood and see some roseate spoonbills. A splash of vibrant, wild color. After a quick hop on the “mountain” bikes, we’re back to the start. Though pleasant, I would imagine that tour would have been much more interesting with a few more birds! Well, dang.
We decide to grab the next bus to Merida so we have plenty of time to get settled in to our conference hotel. After a quick run to the hotel to pack up and a bite to eat at the hotel restaurant, we’re off again. Our week-long sojourn in the Yucutan Peninsula has wound gently down. Looking back, I know it was a great trip because I felt the days were packed to the brim but I had time to enjoy all the details, soak in the experiences. Kurt and I even ended up doing everything we’d talked about which is rather amazing in retrospect. Few vacation-adventures leave space and time for that.
Go well and be well, Yucatan. I’ll be back one day.
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