Yucatan

I arrived in Campeche at 6am. Its a UNESCO world heritage site so I was looking forward to it. I walked into town, but the hostel was not open yet so I decided to wander around the town. It kind of reminded me of a Mexican flavoured Charleston. You enter the old town through gates in the wall and then its just cobbled quiet streets. All of the houses are painted various different hues and c olours and it is very peaceful to stroll around in. I walked with my full backpack around the malecon, the waterfront and all through the old town. Very pretty and yet it seemd to lack life. I figured that I had seen the best bits and with Merida a better base for Uxmal I decided to push on to that city. At this point I was feeling a bit minging as I had just taken a night bus and not showered since San Cristobal. The bus staion did not help my mood. Instead of queueing for a ticket like normal they have implemented one of those ticket systems like they have in shoe shops, where you take the ticket and you wait your turn. Of course this means a lot of people miss their bus and a lot of people get upset. Luckily mine was late so I was just frustrated for having to wait for it. I hopped the bus to Merida and checked into the hostel for 3 nights. Having walked around I realised Campeche is prettier and less hustle and bustle. Traffic was problem in this city. In the hostel I met a couple of Canadians and spent the night drinking with them. There were also some other odd Canadians who were from Saskatchewan and really annoying. Including one who kept referring to to the English as 'you people' and 'your land' because she was frustrated other the partition of Pakistan and India. On this holiday I seem to be being blamed for all our hisotyr that happened before I was born. Conversation seemed to range from pissing outdoors, to underwear, to strange cross dressing Phillipinos. Interesting night. I kept smacking my head on everything in this city as well, whcih was frustrating. It was this evening that I was struck down with sickness from the bad melon I had eaten. I was pissing brown water out of my arse for days as my stomach rotted. I had to disappear to the bathroom every hour in agony and I am sure it annoyed my roommates. It also meant I did not sleep and so I abandoned my plans for Uxmal the next day.



I slept and rested into the afternoon. I had made myself forcibly sick the night before and what came out was black so that was not good. I was bad the next day, but at least I could move around by the afternoon. Later that day I went out to the mall on the outskirts of town to meet Ekatherina (a half Mexican/half Ukrainian couchsurfer). I thought she had said the mall was on calle 58 so ended up walking there for ages before I realised the bus was on this route, not the mall. She was cute and fun, with a good charismatic personality. We went back to her place and I met her family. They were nice and the nan cooked me some Ukrainian soup, though I could not eat too much due to my bad stomach. We then went and played pool and had some drinks (joking about her killing me and breaking my nose with a pool cue). We then met her friend and went to see a tribute band to the Beatles in the local theatre. Was good, though them singing with a Mexican accent was a bit odd at first. They missed off Come Together, Norwegian Wood, Eleanor Rigby, While My Guitar Gently Weeps and Strawberry Fields (The first 4 are my favourite 4 songs so that sucked a little). I think the Beatles are loved more outisde of England than in it and slowly the world is converting me to them. I am still clearly a Rolling Stones man though. The friendJavier drove an old school volkswagen beetle and that was cool, because you still twiddled a knob to move the windscreen wipers. We drove out to a house party on the outskirts of town and it was a cool crowd. I am still spreading the gospel of the holy four British comedys (Black Adder, Red Dwarf, Spaced and Garth Mareghi's Darkplace. Father Ted is next), because everyone seems to love them but never watch the best stuff. Ekatherina said she really wanted to meet up again and I did too. So it was kind of odd that I did not hear from her until ironically just now as I am writing these sentences. Fate has a funny trajectory. Seemd like a waste and I had already extended my stay to a fourth night in anticipation of catching up. Shame.



The next day I got up and walked to the plaza to meet the Canadians as we had arranged. I wanted to head out to the Cenotes and you need a group to barter down the price of the horse pulled rail carriage. Having not seen them I decided instead to do Uxmal, which I had planned on doing the day before. Merida was a city with a lot of fitness, including the cute desk operator at the other hostel. This almost seems obsolete now given Puerto Ricos locals, but still by Mexican standards it was a cute city.



At the bus station they sold me a ticket for a bus. This bus did not exist and we were informed over the tannoy in Spanish that there was a change. I did not hear it and probably would not have understood it anyway. So I find out half an hour later (I waited expecting it to be late) that it is not running and have to exchange my ticket. I had to pay an additional 21 pesos (half the ticket or so they claimed. The ticket was 41 originally, so it should be 20.50 and that sloppiness annoyed me more than it should, because I was pissed off at their skankiness and wanted to get rid of my useless 50 cent coin). Ah man I am getting tired typing this, my back hurts and the alcohol is wearing off. Also the kayboard just decided to turn my type italic. I was still crapping brown water and when I finished the site I was forced to wait ages for a return bus and pay a premium. All things considered you may as well take a tour. I saved around 10 pesos and inherited a lot of problems and stresses.



Uxmal itself was really pretty. I had been told by some people that it was the best of the Mayan sites. I disagree, I think its Tikal, but if you had come from the tourist fleapit that is Chitchen Itza then I can understand how this would be a great antidote. The ruins are made form pink rock on the whole which makes them different, they are well preserved (though you can't walk on a few of them) and they are crawling with large iguana style lizards that rustle away over the rocks. There was one scary climb up the only building you can really ascend, but I made it and this conquering of fear stuff was going really well. I think I was slowly becoming fearless and beginning to understand how over time you can develop fearlessnes. It made the clinmbers in 'Touching the Void' seem a little less nuts. There are also paths off into the middle of nowhere and you can wander through thr jungle vegetation to areas that not many tourists seem to head to. They are off the tours and deserted, though some water bottle suggest some other had passed through there. When I got back I witnessed the gayest boy band style preening in the main square, as seemingly a band of Mexican Cristiano Ronaldos gyrated and wiggled to the Backstreet Boys' 'Everybody Backstreets Back'. Ok it was better dancing than my effort on youtube, but we look less gay. Back in the hostel was an odd crowd, where I met a Finnish guy who I had met in Mexico City and was part of the group who went to see Ska-P. There was also an Aussie girl who had been diving over on the Mayan Riviera for her masters in marine biology. Was some odd conversation and then I turfed in.



In the morning I got up and the borwn water had been joined by atrocious gas problems. My bowls were like Chenobyl and in total meltdown. It was still strange, sad and annoying that I had not heard from Ekatherina and so I decided to head off and do the cenotes on my own. I had been assured by the Canadians that this was possible but hard. The slow pace at which all of the locals walked was still continuing to piss me off. I managed to grab a combi from just south of the market out to the nearby town for 14 pesos. I had heard that the trail was 10km over whcih the train cart ran and that it was 4km up to the entrance. The bicycle taxi man told me it was dangerous to walk alone and that it would cost 40 pesos to go the 4km. I laughed and ignored him. If a local says its dangerous I now see this as code for 'I am going to rip you off'. I walked up. Don't be fooled (I sound like a Denver road sign) by the sign for cenotes halfway up as its just a driveway into someones house. Not sure what they would attempt to sell me, but it seemed 'Deliverence' esque. Some locals then stopped me for directions. My chameleonic looks were working and Ekhaterina's family had noted how I could pass for local in a lot of places. Ah I am just coming back to this thing, sans beer and many weeks later. Now where was I. Some man offered me a random horse and when you eventually get to the village you have to hook a right to find the trail. If you are just following the railway tracks (makes sense) just head down the one that disappears into the wilderness. Another guy told me it was too dangerous as I set off the track, so I ognored him as well. Now its a 10km walk in each direction to the last of the cenotes but its a pleasant walk. The rail track is quite narrow and at some points too narrow for you to walk down at the same time as the horse carriages. I figured they must walk the horses through here, esepcially as they appeared to be not much bigger than ponies. Not so. They come steaming (well trotting) down the track pulling this antiquated old trailer thing. Its a bit like a cross between those old mining ore carts and one of those bicycle taxis you get in third world countries. Walking up these tracks ilicited murmurs from the drivers (I can only assume they were calling me a gypo in Spanish) and caused some of the horses to get startled (obviously not expecting some random fool to be walking down the tracks). Now the path is quite scenic, but I kept wondering whether I could find the exit for the cenotes myself. There was no need to worry as they are clearly demarcated and you can´t miss them. The cenotes are big holes in the ground caused by meteorites smacking into the earth´s surface. One of them is even believed to possibly be the cause for the extinction of the dinosaurs (not one of these ones though as they were small). Walking on your own instead of with one of the carts meant that I could spend as long as I wanted to at the pools. The guides usually give you around 15 minutes a hole. It also meant that I had a lot of the pools to myself. Most are descended from rickety wooden ladders into cool pools under the cavern roofs. Although one you can leap into. The first two were practically deserted and I could swim and float in these ethereal pools, bathing in the water and streaks of light that sliced through the cavern ceiling like lasers. After I had been to the first two there is a narrow gorge and I had to leap from the top at one point to avoid an incoming horse. A bit like Indiana Jones, only far less impressive. At the final hole I was looking forward to seeing the big one, but the place was crammed by about 2 million people. Me and this family sat at the top of an ultra rickety ladder while we watched about 60 people stream out of the hole. Most of them thoroughly incapable of the hand eye coordination necessary to utilise a ladder. Glad I was not down there with them and their inflatable crocodiles. When it eventually became my turn to descent, I scuttled down trying not to stand on the head of the kid in front. Suddenly a bang came from above as a video camera ricocheted off the rocks, missed my heads and plunged into the pool. An expensive fumble. It was just me and the family in the cenote. Me and one of the women from the family swam out all over the cave and to the beam of light at the far end. If you swam into it the cave lost light, but you were suddenyl bathed in a beautiful white light. It was cool to float around on your back here and although you can cave dive some of these in Tulum, my lack of a dive licence meant I had to enjoy the experience of swimming alone. I completed my long walk back, refreshed from the cooling water. A random woman offered me a shotgun ride on her motorbike, but I opted out. Having been on the back of Sean´s bike (a man whose crashed a lot of vehicles) and survived, I had realised that I only liked to ride if I was in control of the vehicle.

When I arrived back in the hostel that evening I met Peter again randomly in the kitchen. I knew there was a reasonable chance we would bump into each other here, but was surprised all the same. We went out and grabbed a cheap pizza, while we caught up on each others travels for the past 3 weeks. He confirmed I had not missed loads in Campeche and had also been invited to host a radio show in Bogota when he got there. Would be good to catch his tail again by then, as should make for an interesting story. I should mention here that I had abandoned my hiking shoes in Palenque and I was now left with only my battered trainers (need to change them up in Canada, or so I thought). The soul had completely disconnected from the rest of the shoes, as had the heel and the sorry shoes that Sergio had photographed finally gave up the ghost. In the morning I was up early and said goodbye to Peter over some weird toast, before grabbing a bus to Chitzen Itza. It was cross country sprint day.

The second class bus was rammed to the rafters and I realised I was going to have an uncomfortable second half to this journey. My preconceptions were that this would be good but overcrowded. Yet it surpassed on one and underperformed on the other. The frieses at Chitzen Itza were nice, but the place is spoilt somewhat by having all the ruins fenced off. I suppose it protects them, but it felt to me like I was on the ´baby teeth´ruins. Fuck me were their crowds though. The place was heaving and almost exclusively with tour groups. You can wander from the back of one to another and pick up snippets of the history. Having said that, there were an awful lot of very good looking tourists (beach worshippers on their requisite cultural experience) and the people watching was almost better than the ruins. At times all the crowds and the roped off areas felt like you were a sheep in 'One Man and his Dog' (to all you non Brits, thats a program where shepherds compete to see whose dog herds sheep into a pen best. Yeah its as exciting as it sounds). People everywhere were trying to sell me useless shit. 'Ten pesos or one dollar' is like the modern equivalent of those ancient Mayan chants. I am not buying any item for one dollar. If you can sell it for one dollar and make a profit it must be extremely crap. There is a really cool cenote here as well. Its about 10 times the size of the ones I was in the day before, actually maybe 20, but you cant swim in it, so its less cool. I grabbed a collectivo to the town of Valladolid to avoid the crowds. I had seen some German girls in Chitzen Itza waiting for a bus and saw them again as I boarded the bus in Valladolid. I had beat them to the town, but luckily still managed to get a seat. I would even see them again at the bus station and again in a restaurant. I think I was being stalked by these Germans, but they did not appear to be headed for the airport. Quickly logging in at a prohibitively expensive internet cafe where half the computers did not work (it had not occured to me until I had the same problem in Puerto Rico that some of the mice were set up for left handers) and learnt that Ollie had been on a wine tasting tour with the guy I hated most at school (Mr Nick Boyes). Though I am sure he´s improved a lot and that he seems to have a cool job as a tour organiser now. Still thats a weird twist of coincidence. I got to Cancun airport and noone appeared to be sleeping on the floor. Shit. I was not even sure if the airport was going to stay open all night, so I tried to look natural while scrunching into a fetus shape on the benches. I got limited sleep. Only in the middle of the night did I realise that my flight was going from an alternative terminal and I scooted across there to sleep rough as there appeared to be no guards around. In the morning I sorted out the formalities and for a trip that was to include no planes I was now flying to Miami on christmas eve.