Right. Apologies for the behind-ness. Everywhere we were going we spent a night there so it was crucial to actually see the place we were in... and not spend hours in internet cafes.
Last post was Number 50. But it was pitiful, so this one kinda is.
APOLOGIES for writing so much pointless crap, but I want to remember it ALL but can{t be assed writing in a diary. It is probs just my Ma and Pa reading this still so no wuz cuz.
But now, my brain is scattered and full. Apologies about no photos... I thought it would be easy to attach them... try it on Mexico Comps.
We headed from Palenque to Merida on an overnight bus - funny thing by the way: Palenque did not have an ATM for my bank so my Irish parents had to pay my way. I actually feel like they are parents... they have these trips planned out and I just follow them wherever they go. Now they were also shelling out for meals, a la Gary. Actually, Roisin finds it hard to like people - like my real life mum. She also walks very fast like her too.
The bus ride was cold, as always, but I managed to sleep for most of it. As the bus pulled into the station I did a last min toilet dash (while gratis aka free) barefoot. I contemplated ´putting on my crocs but in classic naive fashion thought *What could possibly go wrong?*
I will tell you what could go wrong - these damn doors are REALLY hard to open, because they can{t be swinging about over bumpy roads. I thought someone was in it originally, but since the bus only consisted of my Irish parents, a French hippy girl, a Mexican man in the back and a Mexican couple (who potentially were on their first bus trip as they wandered the bus trying to work out where they were supposed to sit. They asked the French girl who helpfully said [Up there somewhere* so I offered to help. They were seats 9 and 10, right infront of me..I am sure you were dying to know). Anyways, a quick scan of the automobil accounted for all people.
Tried the door. Really tried the 2nd time. On the third I yanked SO hard.. third time lucky.
Or Unlucky.
I whacked the BEJEEZUS out of my toe. As I may have mentioned, I have broken both large toes... and they have never fully healed. I whack them and there is instant pain and this time.. a lot of blood.
What I only learnt later when the immense pain had not departed, I had actually cut it open AND ripped the toenail half up. Sorry for that detail.. but that is obviously the story.
So that explains why I was hopping around like a crazy, mime-Screaming.
I should have recognised the signs because this is exactly what happened to my teacher, Mr Cross, on form one camp when we all attacked him with a waterfight. But he hopped around like crazy and mime-Swore.
Anways, that was - and still is - painfull. Could not see too much of what was happening originally, due to my stylish silver with pink-purple glitter nailpolish (When in Mexico...), but it is quite demented. I will spare the gory details, but I would have liked this injury had a better story come with it.
The hostel in Merida was beautiful. It had a nice terrace area with tables and was painted all my faves - mainly yellow with some red, blue and green too. And it had a big ass pool. I didn{t want to leave... still sad I have really. Although there was nothing much happening in Merida - was still awesome. The first morning I sat nursing my toe as I talked with a nice British couple about Flight of the Conchords for about 2 hours.
So I wandered the town on the first day - eating at a place with the Meal-of-the-day for $38 pesos, good deal - and the locals were swarming the place.
Tostado (type of corn chips really... but not made from corn?) with hot hot salsa and a fabulous vege soup. Enchilladas for the main.. I skipped on the chick so beans, vege and salad filled my tortillas. The drink was Jamaica. Have I mentioned this drink (pronounced Ha-my-ka)? Obviously the name of the Rasta country, but also dried habiscus flowers boiled with water. It is apparently really good for you.. it comes out purple and with sugar tastes like Ribena. Probs has more vitamin C too (BURN).
I was heading for the town centre when I saw a theatre with a local comedy with it{s opening night that night (15th) and thought I{d go. *It has been a while since I saw theatre* Thought I.
Well, go to theatre I did... but not that show. Unfortunately for those cheap $20 peso thespians, I found a better $75 peso offer. So for the price of a kids movie ticket at our local State theatre, I watched an enthusiastic team put on SPRAY (aka HAIRSPRAY aka the musical) with the tag line {No puedo parar] - I can not stop... I recognised this and the design and picture on the poster as the beloved musical.
Despite work getting done onthe theatre so it was filled with thick dust, I sacrificed a clear throat for my high class ticket, then hurried back to the hostel to get changed.
No time to eat, as the show started at 7pm. But it did not - I never know when Mexican time aplies and when it doesn{t. There have been awkward tours where I have held up everyone, thinking the oposite would happen so just pottering around wasting time. Just the other day at Chichen Itza, I split from the parents who wanted a tour.. then they waited for me for an hour!
Back to business: The show curtain raised at about 7:40 pm. I have found Mexican audiences don{t take theatre particularly seriously. For starters: there was hardly anyone there. For seconds - the people who were there were all part of large family-contingents bearing flowers.. so were forced there by a cast member. People slept, talked, ate and texted during the show and no one seemed to care. The biggest laughs came with technical difficulties, everyone loved when the set guys came on, because the lights were always up.
I sat with the other 30 odd people (In Teatro Merida, which can hold 100s), thinking about the lack of funds our theatre groups have... and how could they afford the rights to a big Broadway musical like this.... Again, the *Is Mexico 3rd world or 1st world* argument played itself out and I realised that this show was more 3rd world than 1st.. no rights had been purchased, but rather a burnt-subtitled-copy of the 2007 film starring John Travolta as Edna Turnblad. The dance moves, jokes and styles were all direct copíes, I learnt early on. This worked in my favour, as most the time I didn{t know what they were saying, but did from knowing the movie.
The cast were REALLY good. Very over the top, but I have watched Mexican TV so expected nothing less. All the actors playing the African-American parts (a vital part of the show, set in Civil Rights movement) were literally painted black. At first I was a bit shocked, but nothing harsh was meant from it.
The next day we missioned to this attraction that the Conchord{s fans spoke of. There are these things called CENOTES, which are literally waterholes underground. The town we visited... we think the whole town survives off this tourism.. we took a local bus (aka a white van) to the town, from their they take you in a cart on the front of your motorscooter to the *trucks*.
The trucks are carts which are on train tracks, pulled with a horse and a driver steering. So fabulously old times... I loved it - something uninfluenced. What was best is that we had the oldest driver, Abuela aka Grandfather, he even had his name painted on the cart, all the other drivers really respected him.
There was only one path (and four people max to a cart) and carts coming two ways so they had to stop, let their horse eat grass and physically lift their cart off the tracks, one side at a time. Paudraic kept trying to proove his manhood and help - but just got in the way. BORED YET?
These Cenotes... holy... one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen - National Geographic stuff. We walked down some VERY dodgy stairs to get to them.. the first were concrete, the largest.. leading to a beautiful large cave all with Stalictite (spelling? my crappy St Joes Science just taught me the name) decor. The water is AMAZING shades of blue.. will look up a photo to try and post from the internet. The second and third had other unmarked holes on the surface, where someone could accidentally plummet to their death. We swam in all 3, but it was always hard to get back up once in the water because the wooden made ladders were all broken (one missing about 8 planks.. only having one at the top). To get into the third cenote we had to take a vertical ladder for every slippery, mossy, branch step. It was a terrifying 31... felt like 100. They werent in line, some fixed on with crappy wire. But we made it down, and it was stunning. Those deadly holes provided beautiful light.. it really can{t be described unfortunately!
On the way back the leader man charged us double what he originally quoted, which pissed us off, but hey - third world sign. On returning home we had a meal, me again with Meal of the day which again was glorious... Paudric got a food point for having Fajitas (although hasn{t earnt one in a while because he has only ordered Fajitas ever since) and Roisin got minus one for ordering the caeser salad for the second night in a row. She doesn{t understand why Mexicans put Avacado on everything. I don{t understand why she doesn{t always want Mexican food.. what will I do in NZ.. all I can think of good there right now is Haven Road fish and chips, NZ dairy products, bbq kettles, cookie times and my mums baking... next bus I take will be one way to Obesityville.
Anyways, we headed for a bus to Valladolid, a random town that most tourists do not hit, but we did to get close to the new 7th wonder of the world (meaning not in the original 7.. only recently this happened... unfortunately meaning you can not walk up any of it.. which is actually good now with the 1000s of daily visitors. Our bus to Valladolid was hilARious. We took a 2nd class this time (1st class usually equals tourist with tv etc.. although vaires state to state) because it was to be half the price and was only a few hours.
We were assigned seats but I mentioned to my Irish parents that there were definatly more people getting on than there were seats (we were at the back of the line.. the only with luggage).
Sure enough, we found ourselves standing right beside the door, which turned into us sitting on the steps. Until the first stop, where they let on about 6 new men.. two of which were VERY drunk. Guess which 2 I somehow got sandwiched in between?
One was dropping his hotdog on the elderly man sitting below him( and calling me Tall Gringo aka whitey), the other trying to talk to me although failing to produce words of a Spanish or English nature, so only making elaborate hand gestures - which meant letting go of the railing, which meant falling on the teenage girl below him. The Mexican women around were all unimpressed, snapping at them in fiesty latina Spanish from time to time. It was a big pantomime really.
More people wanted to get on the bus (explanation.. the bus stops every town from Merida to Villadolid... so the peeps were coming home from work or returning after a week of work.. it was 7pm on a Saturday night), but no one was moving back (there was still room for about 15 more). I tried to rouse them by yelling in broken spanish things like *We need more space* and *a lot more people*.. everyone stared at me, most with shocked expressions. I felt on stage.
Most of them felt obliged to move after my performance, but a few who didn}t let the whole team down. There was only space for about 3 more and the others were told to wait an HOUR!
Once I got a seat I talked to a very nice Mexican man, who told me of how he has the best cook in the world as a wife, his twin sons and daughter and how he thought NZ was in Europe and Lord of the Rings was filmed on the computer. I missed some of what he was saying, all in very quick Spanish, but got most jists. It was the first real spanish I had attempted for a while.. my brain has appreciated the break.
The hostel in Valladolid was also a stunner, because of the beautiful outdoors area... with an outdoor kitchen, hammocks, bathrooms, painted yellow and blue and pink. The rooms aren{t much, and found myself cold once more in the night.... dang, we in the hot now! We get a van-bus in the morning, to Chichen Itza.. the man pulled the classic - we are leaving in 15 minutes but didn{t return for another 45... classic Mexicano. He was trying to round up a few more passengers, failed - it is low season, although it didn{t look that way at CI.
Well our student ids got us free entry, once again - this was a real score due to the $18 NZ entry free now it}s all a world wonder and that.
An American (or brit?) bought the land the Mayan ruins are on in 1900 for $75 USD... little did he know what he would find! now it actually felt less like traditional ruins, more like a field with 100s of locals selling goods (saying Nearly free), with a few old stone buildings put there.
There were SO Many people... hoards of tours. People just jump in with them free, as there are about 50 tours all with about 50 people. The irish went off for one... I found myself in the middle od one with Japanese retirees for a while.. stuck with it for the novelty... I was obviously the odd one out but I did, like all of them, have my umbrella raised. One of the ladies kept looking at me with a really serious/disgusted face.. like I had come to take her children away.. or attack her.
The highlight for me was the $5 buffet I had afterwards. Although I went nuts with the green salsa (only one there so thought it was mild.. salsa vedre I thought, aka green salsa) but it shred my mouth apart. I stood up thinking - this is kind of hot, I should invest in a drink - then moved into the cafe to the juice man saying Coke, kind of choking.. he pointed me to another lady.. by the time I reached her tears were streaming down my face. She pointed me to the bar, but I was intercepted by the hostess who saw my urgency but felt the need to ask me what type I wanted [Normal, normal] I squeeked, while trying to control my eyes and now running nose.
That first sip of Coke (not a fan of coke btw, especially their exploits of Mexicans...) was the only good, non Vanilla sip I have ever had.
We caught the bus to where we are now, TULUM. This is a town South of Cancun where the American{s and hotel chains haven{t reached. The long stretch of beach/es is BEAUT.I:FUL. We are at the CARRIBEAN! I was waiting for this moment... and I can confirm, photoshopping does not take place with these kids - this ocean means business. The hostel is CRAP but free bikes so I spent all day biking and stopping every 2 mins to take 100 photos of the same thing. I swam about 5 times too. The water is crystal clear, then light blue, then bright blue further out!
I rode my bike (with Orange fluro vest a la Gary Williams) happily for hours on the highway, then on the road, until I rode into a National park... so then rode for hours in between the clay gravel potholes until I had a 3 km stretch of beach to myself. So the day in the whole... rode bike, photos, swim. Repeat x 10. I now feel I know the Carribean... if the Pacific ever lets me down, I know where to come.
No comments:
Post a Comment