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We had been psychologically preparing for Mayan ruins for most of a week in Mexico before we actually saw one, so when we finally arrived in Palenque as part of a bandit-proof convoy of tour buses, MC and I were both at high pitch of excitement. It was torture then when, rather than heading straight to the ruins, we had to endure a lunch with our tour group at a nearby hotel, al fresco by a pool in tropical humidity, ambience provided by two musicians playing an excessively loud xylophone.
After that rather irritating interlude, we finally arrived at the ruins proper, and along with the only other two English speakers hired a guide. We emerged from a path in the jungle into a large grass courtyard framed by pyramids. Palenque's special atmosphere derives from being nestled in the middle of dense jungle. Some buildings were in a near perfect state of preservation, others crumbling, and many others remain untouched, having been submerged by jungle centuries ago. Our guide was middle-aged with a Mayan complexion, wearing a loose white linen shirt. He was super-cool and could answer difficult questions and moronic ones with aplomb. I could imagine him having mystical
conversations under the influence of wild-growing herbs or questionable mushrooms.
Palenque town was dire. Our morale hit a low ebb when our night bus to Cancun was almost two hours late, knowing we were many hours and miles away from a shower and a fresh change of clothes. After a sleep and watching an ACDC concert on the bus TV, we were deposited us back in Cancun and we swiftly left again, now in a hire car. In this particularly generic white Chevrolet we headed west to the drier, hotter side of the Yucatan Peninsula. We opted for the toll highway; we were the only ones, so we had mile after mile of scrubby jungle pass by with only the odd freight truck as company.
Our first stop was Valladolid, which worked its charms on us straight away. The main square had a formal garden and a big church on one side (i.e. the same as every other colonial town in Latin America). It was a sleepy mid-afternoon and the square was filled with laid-back looking locals. Down a side street we chanced upon a tequila shop where the lady proprietor was so nice and so professional we
ended up "going large" buying tequilas and mescals. Basically she was the female, Mexican, tequila-selling version of me. (Note to strangers: I am male, New Zealander and wine-selling).
Before we left Valladolid we had one of those situations with which any hardened traveller will be familiar. If you see a cart making street food with a long queue of determined locals, there is only one thing to do: join the queue. What the locals were waiting for ended up being MC's favourite meal of the entire Mexico holiday: the
cochinita (a pulled pork and sweet pickle sandwich) was nigh on perfect. We had fallen in love with a sandwich.
A little further down the road was Merida where we stayed for two nights. The largest town in the Yucatan, excellent for seeing Mexicans being Mexican. We stayed in a very cool hotel with rooms surrounding a funky pool. It was uncannily similar to the apartment complex in the TV show Melrose Place. We had an incident when we had to call a locksmith to break into the boot of our hire car to retrieve the keys which I thought I'd locked inside. In fact I had left the
MC and Chichen Itza
Our one precious photo of this world class site!keys by the basin when I had gone to the bathroom. Still, that was a cheaper mistake than the second time our car was broken into some days later - which we hadn't asked for - where rather than a small fee, the intruders took my camera and MC's phone.
It was in Merida that things got a bit sketchy for me in the gastric department. In this state I couldn't really stand food that included beans or corn. In Mexico that doesn't leave many options.
When we left the city we headed for our second set of Mayan ruins, Uxmal. Here was a monolitic pyramid called the Temple of the Magician, plus a beautiful courtyard and various other buildings. I was in a weakened state and was conscious that the further we walked into the site, the further we were from easy access to a toilet. We climbed one particular pyramid which was steep with tiny little steps. It was easy enough on the way up - on the way down again it was a different story. The angle of the steps made it seem like you were trying to walk down a sheer cliff - UK
Uxmal
Of the many photos taken at Uxmal all were lost when my camera was stolen except two taken on MC's phone. Fortunately this one was my favourite anyway! Health and Safety would have had a field day. I can only imagine how many tourists had taken a nasty tumble down these steps, although with MC carefully managing her vertigo and me managing my stomach and bowels, we managed not to become another statistic.
The roads we were driving through were filled with beautiful colonial Haciendas: elaborate stone farm houses and factories built in the early 20th century when there was a boom in rope-making using a local scrub. We visited two haciendas that have been turned into posh hotels, another into a museum, and through many villages where the haciendas have become beautiful ruins in front of which boys played football in the early evening.
We had been warned not to speed as some policemen regard tourists as an easy way of supplementing their income extorting bribes. We had no problems with them. In fact the biggest hazard was the speed bumps. Tiny towns seemed to consider it a mark of pride to have as many of these bumps, called topes, as possible. Small and high, I needed to drive at a near standstill to save the car tires from destruction. On one day we had
to cross at least sixty.
We visited Celestun on the Western, Gulf of Mexico side of the Peninsula. This is a place where Mexicans go on holiday - not so many gringos - which has a shabby retro chic. After sleeping in an unbelievably cheap hotel we walked few steps down the beach and found some boatmen. Along with a few other tourists we took a boat along the coast, saw a fishing village filled with pelicans, and then ventured into an estuary filled with mangrove forest where we saw several hundred pink flamingos. At one point the boat turned towards the mangrove itself - it seemed like we were going to crash into it but there was an obscured opening and we were riding through a tunnel of mangroves. We stopped at a spring with impossibly clear water. When I took a swim I did a double-take (and felt like Gollum) when I spotted a gold ring at the bottom! It had a message of love on the inside written in Spanish. There was no way of finding the owner, so I took it. MC didn't like the style, so a couple of weeks later back in London
I took it to a "We Buy Gold" store. My game plan was to act sadly but resolutely, like a man who had offered the ring to a woman only to be rebuffed and heart-broken, hoping that the chap in the store would give me a better price in sympathy. He took a very good look at the ring, asked me where I got it (awkward question), smeared it with some creamy solution and finally gave it back to me saying it wasn't gold - more likely brass!
Back on the road we visited several
cenotes. These are a geological phenomenon unique to the Yucatan: deep caves scattered throughout the peninsula at the bottom of which are pools of clear cool water. We arrived late to two of the most famous ones. We thought 4:30pm was rather early to close a site like this, especially considering the hot weather. What we hadn't realised was how far we still were from the cenotes, and what our means of travel would be. We were put in a cart straddling a dodgy-looking rail line with a driver in front of us who spurred on a bored looking small horse. The other tourists
were finished and heading in the other direction. We transferred to a tuk-tuk, and then on to yet another horse and cart before reaching Cenote No. 1. When we finally got there we were presented with a hole in the ground with a wooden step ladder. At the bottom of the ladder we were in a cave with magical, dark blue water. The only light came from a hole in the cave ceiling, which acted as a spotlight slowly moving according to the movement of the sun. There was one Mexican family sharing the cenote with us, with a teenage boy constantly doing bombs. He was annoying me - killing my vibe - but I must admit that I appreciated his sentiment when he said to his parents in Spanish "Normal swimming pools are rubbish". By comparison they really are.
Despite being the last visitors of the day we pressed on to the second cenote. When Maria Chiara saw the steep ladder heading into the blackness below she refused to go in. I didn't mind, and at the bottom shouted up that the way down hadn't been scary (total lie). I certainly didn't mention the bats. I successfully coaxed
her down. This cenote was even more beautiful than the first, and here we were completely alone, apart from the bats. I had another swim, MC was not so keen. With no-one else around for miles, our guide could have pulled up the step ladder and left us there as a sacrifice to the Mayan gods. Fortunately the guide was happy to let us live, and one tuk-tuk and two more horse rides later we got back to our car just before darkness set in.
Our last Mayan Ruin is the most famous: Chichen Itza. We arrived early in the morning to avoid excessive amounts of gringos. This was the largest network of buildings, with the most fine main pyramid, and a whole lot of iguanas. Thank goodness MC asked me to take a picture of her with her phone, which she messaged to someone. This was the only picture of Chichen Itza that survived our later car theft! Chichen Itza has a large open air cenote, in a deep hole. It acted as a giant well for the Mayan inhabitants and doubled as a perfect spot for human sacrifices. Once the midday heat and tourist buses filled with
gringos rolled in, we rolled out, headed back to the Caribbean.
On the way we visited Vallodolid one more time. It was Sunday and quite late so we weren't confident of success, but yes, my tequila shop was still open, and MC's cart was in operation, so we got to join the queue of locals for a second time and had a valedictory cochinita sandwich. Valladolid didn't let us down!
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Mark/Dad
non-member comment
CRC from NZ
Hi Xave. Thanks for sending the blog. Despite the loss of your camera there were many excellent photos, each one of which told a story. The abandoned cities looked magical - the cenotes inviting and the food mouthwatering. I love your easy-going narrative writing style. Recommendation - There were a few typos that could easily be proof read out.YELF