I’ve got to the stage in my travels now where living out of a back-pack is absolutely driving me nuts. Therefore before I write any more tonight I’m just going to vent my spleen about that! I think there must be some kind of black-hole out there into which travellers’ belongings mysteriously get sucked. I usually consider myself a fairly organised and tidy person but so far the vortex has claimed my favourite bra, my most useful hairclip, and now my comb - grrr! A variety of other items have pulled themselves back from the brink of total lostness over the past few weeks - but only after I have spent ages huffing and puffing, unpacking and repacking, eventually finding them scrunched up in the corner of my bag, or hidden in the folds of some other item of clothing. It is totally exasperating - who would have thought one of the things I miss most about home would be a chest of drawers and a wardrobe?!
Anyway, having had a little rant about that, onto Cancun and Isla Mujeres, which is where I’m now stationed (in a laid back campsite/hang-out called Poc-Na). Isla is a bit of a breath of fresh air from Cancun, which didn’t leave a great impression on me yesterday, but I’m kind of glad I saw it for what it was. I stayed in the rather scruffy and nondescript ‘downtown’ area, but took a bus to the beach/’zona hoteleria’ last night to go for a run. That is when it hit me full on and I really think I got a taste of what Cancun is all about - ‘Hooters’ and ‘Hard Rock Café’, drinks promos and discos, waddling American tourists in garish Hawaiian shirts... The ‘playa’ itself is like the result of a megalomaniac playing giant Monopoly and dumping all of their shockingly ostentatious hotels on the beach. They just go on for miles and miles - huge concrete edifices, some of them very luxurious and inviting, others soulless and over the top, like huge Barbie dollshouses. Running along the strip was nice, though, and, as the sun went down, it seemed the right time to take all of it in (avoiding the heat of the day and also the rowdiness of night-time when all the bars and clubs get going). Of course, I’d had a taste of this kind of ‘holiday resort’ Mexicana in Acapulco, but somehow Cancun is missing the old-world glamour that made Acapulco more palatable. For me, it’s just too vast – and it made me kind of appreciate the typically British traits of modesty and understatement, as far as architecture and town planning are concerned! Our seaside towns tend to crumble and bumble along (and some of them are quite frankly depressing), but I think I prefer that to all the sprawl and imposition that I have seen here.
Anyway, after showering and spending some time in an internet café last night (the Wi-fi was down, amongst other things, in the rather rubbish ‘Weary Traveller Hostel’ where I was staying), I went out for tacos in one of the less touristy areas nearby. This allowed me to spend some useful time chatting with the waiter in Spanish, getting some conversation practice in. I didn’t really meet any party-people in my hostel so I just made quite a quiet evening of it really, returning at about 10.00pm to go to bed. Sleeping in close proximity to the hostel’s electricity generator, with the refrains of bad karaoke from local bars in my ears didn’t make for a restful night, though, and I indeed felt quite weary when I woke up this morning in the aptly named establishment. I think the heat has a lot to do with it – it really is so humid and sticky here (another sudden climate change). My hair is fuzzing out all over the place and I just feel sweaty and gross all the time, which is a recipe for grumpiness with me. Oh gosh, and it is only going to get stickier I think, the further south I travel…
So this morning I got on the ferry to Isla Mujeres and, with grey clouds hanging in the sky (as my pictures will show), if it wasn’t for the heat, I could almost have been crossing the solent to the Isle of Wight. Luckily once I’d made my way over to the island and checked into Poc-Na, the clouds shifted and I decided to hire a bike and do some exploring. This was a real joy as it felt like the first time in ages that I’d been able to travel without feeling cooped up or restrained. As I rode around the island (which is only about 8 km long) with the warm wind blowing through my hair, and the sun on my back, I certainly felt contented. I had no idea where I was going – I was just following the coastal road, along with lots of other tourists in golf buggies, or on mopeds. Apparently Isla Mujeres used to be a real alternative hippy hang-out back in the 70s, but now it has morphed into a tourist destination for day-trippers from Cancun, and Americans and Europeans who see it as a holiday destination in itself. As a result, around the ferry-port there are pricy theme restaurants and pushy touts, and in the more secluded areas there are exclusive spa resorts and places offering select fusion-cuisine. Somewhere in between, though, there is some sort of normal Mexican workaday life on the island. Once I had cycled round for a couple of hours and worked up an appetite, I found a little grill restaurant on the roadside where I bought a late lunch of ‘poc-chuc’ – a Yucatecan speciality of spiced grilled pork served up with rice, beans, tortillas and salad. It seemed to be a bit of a local haunt, which was nice, and the chefs let me go and wash my hands in the kitchen before eating as they were all dirty and sweaty from the cycling. Again, it was a good opportunity to practice my Spanish, which has perhaps fallen by the wayside a bit recently.
As the afternoon wore on I cycled up to ‘Playa Norte’ – apparently the best place on Isla Mujeres to watch the sun go down. This really was superb – a long white stretch of Caribbean beach with palm trees and clear aquamarine waters as warm as bathwater. I chained my bike up, went for a dip and, it was as I was basking around with the setting sun beginning to cast its orangey glow over the horizon, that I heard the unmistakable refrains of ‘here comes the bride’. A couple were actually getting married just a couple of yards away on the beach! Whereas in the past, I had thought the whole ‘getting married on a remote Caribbean beach’ idea a bit cheesy, the sunset and clement breeze awakened something soppy in me and I couldn’t take my eyes of the whole spectacle, suddenly finding it incredibly romantic.
So that’s how my day ended – I’m not quite sure what I’ll do tonight, probably just see what’s going on in the hostel and who my new roommates are. There’ll be more from me later in the week - I’ve confirmed my travel plans for the week ahead with Bambabus and tomorrow it’s off to Playa Del Carmen.
Oh, by the way, I don’t think I got round to writing about it, but in Merida a few weeks ago I met a super-friendly and very interesting American couple called Bruce and Mary who have retired to Merida, and who are considering setting up a hotel or B&B here. Bruce has featured a link to my blog on his (having become a fan!) and I promised I would reciprocate the favour and give his a name check – www.setfreeinmexico.com . Have a peek (especially if the idea of retiring out here grabs you – as I imagine it might me when the time comes!)… Bruce has co-authored a book about retiring in Merida and has given me some helpful tips about getting into travel writing, which I really hope to be able to follow up. In the meantime, while I wait to become an acclaimed travel-author (dreaming ever on…), you lot remain my faithful audience – keep reading, and keep letting me know what’s going on at home, as I miss you all lots and am thinking of you.
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