This was waiting on our bed this morning after room service had passed through… he started with animals earlier in the week. I’m scared about how this would end up if we weren’t moving on tomorrow…
Awesome or Creepy?
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Chicken Hell
Our random patches of sunburn were looking worse this morning. Think uncomfortable-looking white and red dappled pandas and you get the idea. Copious amounts of aftersun were applied to try and belatedly make up for our sun transgressions yesterday. The weather outside had changed yet again, and there were blue skies overhead. Damn. An overcast day would have been nice this once. Before our tour started we ran out to the nearest ATM to stock up on pesos. When we left ITour, all was quiet and peaceful. During the few minutes we were gone a plague of vans descended upon the place and random tourists were swarming like ants around the small coffee and pastry counter. We had to fight our way through for our free breakfast. The hotel is conveniently located at the junction at the start of town, where all vans heading south from Playa del Carmen must turn west towards the inland tourist attractions. For this reason it’s a convenient breakfast stop for some company fleets. Including our tour van for the day. Our driver called Lee’s surname on his way out the door, and then promptly disappeared somewhere outside amongst all the virtually identical vans. Awesome – we hadn’t even left our accommodation yet and we had already been left behind.
With some assistance we eventually located the driver across the road. Last in, we got the uncomfortable front seats with our uncommunicative driver. Thus started a hair-raising 3 hour journey. Our driver drove like he was in a grand prix race. God forbid that any other vehicle might be ahead of him. He drove right up their asses until there was maybe enough space to squeeze past against oncoming traffic. My vantage point was far too good for witnessing his maneuvers as we diced with death every few minutes. Mexico has three types of obstacles that you need to avoid on the road. First is every other car, obviously. Second is the abundance of speed ramps in all shapes and sizes. From those you can see a mile away, to others you’d never notice if you weren’t expecting them. Even then you’d need to drive cautiously, squinting to watch for a faint sliver of a black line across the road ahead. The third is somewhat related… constant checkpoints that feature yet more make-shift ramps made of heavy rope across the road. Stern guys dressed in navy leaned against their cars and eyed us up as we crawled past. Generally they didn’t seem interested in stopping any tourist traffic. Just the poor locals hauling along goods in their man-powered modes of transport. Speeding and dangerous overtaking seems to be fair game. It’s just up to you not to get totalled by oncoming traffic or upended by a surprise ramp. Thankfully our driver did at least seem to know his ramp locations.
Finally we arrived at the infamous Chichen Itza and joined the mass of people waiting outside for the next batch of tours to start. We were separated according to language and tickets were distributed. Then we were left to chase after an English-speaking guide as he went through his paces around the site. He was an experienced guide and had a lot of information about the site and the Mayan people who once lived in the area. The only criticism was that he liked to elaborate on interesting points while standing out in the baking heat, far away from any shade. We started wrapping any extra material we had in our bags around our necks, arms… focusing on any area where we’d already been burnt the day before. It wasn’t long before the sun seemed to be searing us through our clothes. By the time we’d circled the main sites we were completely overheated. It’s a fascinating historical site, but terribly uncomfortable in the intense heat and with all the crowds following the same routes. The first thing we did when it was over was knock back a couple of litres of water. At this point it had been six hours since our very small breakfast.
But wait, there’s more. A lot more. We were only starting the tour at this point. Next up on the intinerary was a cenote. A cenote is a natural sink hole in the ground. This one (of many in these parts) was a pool of water with no roof. You could climb down into the cave below and then up onto a platform to dive bomb into the water from a height. After an hours stop there for anyone who wanted to partake in the fun, we were loaded back into the van and taken to a large establishment where a loud band started up music as we were escorted into a big dining hall set out for a buffet. We were only the first ones in. Hundreds more arrived in tour buses, greeted every time by another burst of music. The buffet was included in the tour ticket price, drinks were not – so obviously the tourists were being plied with drinks as much as possible. Entertainment was provided by the band who paraded amongst the tables following a guy with a fake pigs head held aloft. Then there was dancing with beer bottles (filled with water) on the dancers’ heads. This was definitely the most touristy thing we’d done since arriving in Mexico, and we were not feeling proud of ourselves. But we still had another stop to make in Valladolid – a colonial town. We spent our time there, not admiring the history and culture. Instead Lee was in a desperate search for a non-existent toilet, before we had to climb back into the front of the van for another bumpy and life-threatening high speed chase back to our accommodation.
By now our heat exhaustion levels were high.
We made the executive decision to dial back down our activities for the next couple of days and give ourselves a change to hopefully rehydrate before we got too much more sun. We took ourselves off to El Asadero for a huge plate of steak and headed for bed. We plan to undertake a trip to the Mayan ruins in Tulum in the morning – hopefully before the sun comes out in force.
Dolphintastic
Our first ever experience of travelling via a ‘colectivo’ in Mexico went surprisingly smoothly. This was our mode of transport to a hotel resort further up the coast where we were due to partake in a dolphin ‘Trainer for a Day’ program. A colectivo is one of the small buses that frequently journey between Playa del Carmen and Tulum, picking up and depositing passengers along the way. Locals generally use them to get to work etc. It’s a cheap way of getting from one point to another, provided you’re travelling along a busy route where they run. You simply stand at one of the shelters along the side of the road. If a bus is passing that has room for you, then the driver will flash his lights at you. You frantically gesticulate that you’re interested in getting onboard, and he pulls in. 30 minutes later we got deposited outside the hotel and handed over a mere 50 pesos… which we could have got change from. Not a bad way of travelling and avoiding expensive taxi fares.
We wandered into the resort and eventually found our way to the correct hotel. We made the mistake of asking at the reception about where the Dolphinaris was located. On learning that we were not, in fact, guests of the establishment, the staff mobilised into action to ensure we would not run amok enjoying their facilities. We were quarantined to one side while they rustled up a cart to take us to where we were supposed to be. Lee was tempted to make a run for it. I estimated our chances of escape were minimal when they already knew what direction we would be heading in. When they finally got around to moving us, a security escort came along for the ride, just to look after us of course. It was an extra insult to them that we also did not speak Spanish. The garbage collectors now had a higher status than us. A raft of instructions were given to one of the staff members at the Dolphinaris where we were deposited, no doubt warning of the dire consequences if we escaped observation for too long. Then the security guy stalked off to attend to more important matters. The staff at the Dolphinaris weren’t as concerned about where we were or weren’t supposed to be though, and left us roaming freely for the rest of the day.
The Dolphinaris is situated on the grounds of a hotel. It’s one of a chain that operates in the region. There were five dolphins there, each with a trainer responsible for them. The daily routine starts with a thorough inspection and teeth cleaning for each animal. The feeding process starts then too. It took most of the day to feed each dolphin its daily quota of fish. Every couple of hours there’s a ‘show’ when the trainers put the dolphins through their paces, making sure they get plenty of exercise (and obviously earning some cash to feed them from the tourists partaking in the experience). The dolphins seem reasonably well cared for. Some of them display old wounds from sharks or boats that probably would have been a death sentence in the wild, and took years to heal since they were rescued. But it’s hard not to feel that they would be better off with a larger area to live in.
The trainer program included a tour of the facilities and plenty of information about the dolphins. We were also in and out of the water participating in what was being done with them. There was an abundance of petting them and sending them off to leap and jump, or hit some kind of target. They’re obviously intelligent animals, and much loved by their trainers. It’s great to have the opportunity to actually touch them up close and interact with them. Any time we’ve previously seen dolphins it’s been from a bigger distance. The feel is rubbery on the outside. The fins and tail are harder than they look. The power and strength the animals display is amazing. The speed with which they’d return to their trainer from doing something on the other side of the pool, and then brake themselves with a masterful flip of their tail was very impressive. Many of them relish being stroked along their back or belly, or having their throat rubbed. The whole idea of dolphins in captivity is a controversial subject though, and this visit didn’t really make up my mind either way on the subject other than that better regulation is needed by experts in the field to make sure that any animals in captivity have a reasonable quality of life. Something that it’s hard for us to assess without any real understanding of the important issues around caring for these creatures.
Once our day was over we somehow were left free to wander back off the hotel property without a security escort. We did have to get through the ‘photo and video room’ sales pitch first. A number of staff are dedicated to capturing images of tourists with or near the dolphins and to then try and sell them for as much as possible. The prices are completely extortionate. There were a handful of decent photos of us, but nothing that would motivate us to hand over extra cash for them. Once we exited the area we were followed with decreasing offers that would give us not just a couple of the photos, but everything – video and all. The final offer was actually quite good, but it’s debatable whether we really needed photographs beyond the two they’d presented us with as part of the package, so we decided to go on our way empty-handed, to the photographer’s absolute disgust.
The reliable colectivo service saw us safely back to Tulum. By this stage we were really starting to suffer with sunburn. You’re not supposed to wear suncream when you’re around dolphins, although the trainers wear some on their faces and had given approval for us to do the same. We’d covered our faces reasonably well and worn t-shirts in the pool… but it was inevitable that our necks and arms would suffer from the sun. Ironically, the constant in-and-out of the water had left us freezing cold a lot of the time, but the sun had still relentlessly burned what it could reach. We got busy applying aftersun in a futile attempt to make up for the scorching. Just as we set out to try a new restaurant the weather reverted to its rainy state of the previous night. It’s almost impossible to walk around Tulum when there’s torrential rain, so we hopped in a taxi. Only to find the restaurant that had been recommended to us was already closing up (at 8.30pm!). We gave up and returned to ITour and went next door for a bit of Italian food instead. We then signed up for a tour to Chichen Itza in the morning – we would not need good weather for that… in fact some rainy weather might be welcome!
Rain, rain go away.
We spend our last morning in Cozumel packing and attempting to clean. With no basic cleaning equipment provided, we have limited success. We don’t even attempt to do anything with the anthill which is still thriving. It’s a little dull outside, but has brightened up by the time I spot our host’s head bobbing around outside the window. He’s a bit early, so this is his subtle way of announcing his presence. Lee jams our suitcases into the boot of the car – which is probably worth less than the cases alone. Then we’re off on another surreal journey punctuated by broken English conversation. The car sputters to a stop at the ferry port and we wave goodbye. The next ferry won’t actually sail for another two hours, but we plan to cross the square and pay a last visit to Wet Wendy’s – this time I have a strawberry/basil margarita and Lee tries peach and mango.
Our waiter is full of the joys of his job, flitting about to regale each table with some witty commentary. We enjoy his tale of how he was so nervous on his first day in the job (two years ago) that he dropped an entire tray with $150 worth of lobster on it. It’s all very amusing until a few minutes later when there’s a loud crash at the table where he’s serving drinks. He doesn’t even look sheepish as he runs off to procure a sweeping brush to clean up the carnage he’s just wrought. By the time we’ve done some damage to our drinks the food is long gone and ominous clouds are lurking above. We check in early at the ferry port to wait. Within minutes a torrential rain starts beating down. Much of it going sideways under the shelter. The views of the island shores disappear in a thick fog. More and more scantily-dressed tourists appear, dripping a trail in through the doors. Looks like the party is over for today. It’s a very crowded ferry that finally departs into the stormy seas and we’re treated to a rollercoaster journey back to the mainland.
There’s still no sign of the rain abating when we disembark and start the miserable trek up the road towards the bus station where we hope to find a bus going our way. It’s hard to run through the rain dragging heavy luggage, so we settle for a brisk walk instead. Unfortunately it’s not quite brisk enough to take us past the waiting taxi drivers unscathed. One doggedly keeps following Lee all the way up the road, then gets in his way several times offering a good price to the airport although Lee tells him repeatedly that we don’t want a taxi as we’re taking a bus. Finally Lee shouts loud enough for the whole street to hear that we are NOT GOING TO THE AIRPORT, WE ARE TAKING A BUS – WILL YOU TAKE ME TO TULUM FOR 60 PESOS? YOU WILL NOT! SO GO AWAY! His harrasser jumps back, looking less sure of his god-given right to take advantage of tourists when possible. Sometimes tourists fight back! This time the message is finally understood; we’re left in peace to continue dodging slow-moving tourists waddling along under umbrellas.
It’s absolute chaos at the bus station. Constantly growing lines of tourists queue for the next airport bus. Locals and tourists alike push through to ticket booths, then mill about looking for the right bus, getting hemmed in by each other like a big game of snake. No one seems to know where they should go. We eventually get our bags onto a smaller green-striped bus that might be going to Tulum. It’s now a question of whether we can board the bus before all the seats fill up. Yes we can, but the only remaining option available to me is a seat being blocked by someone’s granny and she’s determined not to budge more than an inch. She’s sprawled across the bags between her and the window and is acting unaware of all the people who are now cramming into the aisle for the journey. I make it clear that I am sitting and I will not be getting up again, even if it means sitting on her. As the bus finally takes off she begrudgingly shifts enough for me to gain an extra millimeter of what should be my seat, then promptly stretches out for a good sleep.
The journey down the coast is slow and it’s hard to keep track of where we are through the sheets of rain. It’s end of the world weather. We pass a huge lorry that appears to have driven straight off the side of the road and overturned for no obvious reason. Part of its cargo stays blocking the road pointing the way to the slanted cab resting in the bushes. Blurry signposts fly by, obscured by condensation on the window and passengers in the aisle. It’s like a mirage when ITour Mexico materialises at the corner of a junction at the start of Tullem pueblo. This is our accommodation for the next few nights. A couple of blocks pass by before the bus stops, however. With the torrential rain and lack of useable footpaths, we are two very wet and mud-spattered creatures when we wash up on the doorstep. We must look as miserable as we feel because check-in is skipped, and we’re promptly installed in our (wrestling-themed) room to clean ourselves up. A while later a slightly cleaner version of ourselves emerges, ready to beg some information from our friendly local Italian hosts. Both the guys and Trip Advisor are recommending El Asadero for some good food. So we swim our way a couple of blocks down the road and find ourselves eating some tasty mexican food at the cost of a small number of pesos.
The rain has literally not stopped for over 12 hours now. There’s no sign of that changing as we return to our accommodation, dry off again, and crawl into bed hoping that eventually the weather will have to improve.
Sailing the Seas
This morning we set out on what google maps (probably unreliably) claimed was a 4.5 km trek to the meeting point for our sailing excursion. We’re not complete gluttons for punishment, so our first detour was into the supermarket for fresh breakfast donuts. We knew that we would pass the only branch of Starbucks around the halfway mark at Punta Langosta, but we weren’t quite prepared for the cruise crowds that had descended upon the place. Happily it wasn’t too hot for a change and we were quite comfortable sitting out in the shade with our respective caffeine and sugar hits, watching the crowds trundle past. Many Americans helpfully converse at a level that makes it easy to follow what’s going on from a distance. As everyone assumes you’re also passengers (no one actually _stays_ on the island obviously), we were privy to hearing all about the trials and tribulations of different people. From the couple who texted their friends who live in Mexico that morning only to find that they were in Florida (but we just came from there!) to the group discussing how it sucks to be married to a lawyer (they have support groups for divorcees of lawyers that go cruising together now?) whose motto was ‘be a lawyer, don’t marry one’.
We performed another cursory search for somewhere that might sell a basic beach towel that isn’t priced as if it’s diamond-encrusted. No such luck. However a little further south was a monster store which seemed to sell a bit of everything. No mosquito nets that we could find, but pretty much everything else you could think of from sleeping bags to trampolines. Armed with our new towels, we had just about enough time to race down to the beach club and meet our crew for the day. We spent the next few hours out on a small catamaran with 3 crew and 20 passengers. We took a slow and steady route out around all the docked ferries while receiving advice and lectures about respecting the coral reefs and how to effectively snorkel. The most important instructions were on how to not be a pain to the crew who expect that if you claim you know how to snorkel already, then you won’t panic on hitting the water and suddenly remember that you don’t actually know how to swim either as you disappear beneath the waves… (true story apparently!).
We first hit Paradise cove where we spent 30 minutes clustered around our dive master flag. There were plenty of fish to see, but limited elbow space in the water. After a short break we then went into the deeper Chankanaab reef. We were already feeling chilly, and there was less to see here – especially with the many groups of divers below sending up bubble clouds. Initially it’s fun to burst a few of these expanding air bubbles as they ascend, but it doesn’t do much for visibility in the water. The biggest concern for me was the stinging sensation on various bits of exposed skin that started shortly after getting into the water. Lee looked confused as I complained of being stung all over. He pondered my sanity for a moment. However the group of snorkellers just behind us knew what I was talking about. Minutes later Lee was yelping and clutching his wrist too. Mini jelly fish were lurking in the water and stinging the unsuspecting snorkellers. The little gits were persistent and contributed greatly to a speedy departure back to the safety of the boat where fresh guacamole and strong margaritas were waiting for us. While we dutifully polished these off and drip-dried on the deck, the sail was hoisted and we took a roundabout route back to the dock. These trips all have to cater to the short schedules of the cruise ship passengers so they don’t go on for too long. It was nice to relax out on the sea for a few hours without getting roasted by the sun too much.
Once the trip was over that left us with another long trek back for a fresh shower before our last meal on the island. Obviously it was back to Del Sur Argentina Empanadas for a last steak meal. Not quite as good as the first night, but still some wonderful food. Hopefully not the last we would see on our Mexican trip. Next up – Tulum, of which I have only heard good things.
Segways and Snorkelling
The first tour we book in Cozumel is a Segway and Snorkel tour. Since our first segway experience in Mauritius, Lee has been keen to get back on one again. We had booked an early slot, but our tour time has changed – obviously to facilitate one of the many cruise ships that are now docked at different ports. It’s going to be a good day for tourist income on the island! This later time actually suits us, but highlights how dependent the island is on the regular influxes of cash-laden tourists. Every activity is geared to suit the ship schedules. The holy grail for a tour operator is to get added to the activity list on one of the ships and watch the money roll in. When no ships are in port, many streets are completely deserted. You can tell that there’s at least one lurking about somewhere when the main square is busy and music is pumping out of the clubs. Small shops stay open late into the night hoping to profit. All the storefronts along the shore, or close to the main square, peddle an odd mix of items designed to appeal to the average American tourists they can expect to see visiting for a few short hours. The market ranges from high end shops, to cheap flea markets – all in close proximity to the cruise piers. The glut of ‘silver shops’ are generally guarded with at least one machine-gun-wielding security guard lurking outside, or just across the street. It doesn’t look like they expect to see a lot of action, but it seems to be a prerequisite to prove you’re a serious upmarket place. There’s also a mix of Tequila and Cuban cigar shops. And let’s not forget the shops hawking nothing but Texan boots for the discerning customer. Few electronic devices feature in the stores, but watches, jewellery and perfumes are popular too.
Our tour meeting point brings us further south to the biggest pier, where the towering bulk of a Royal Carribean cruise ship waits, a steady stream of occupants spilling out onto the streets to spend some cash on having a good time. Today a group of them are joining us on our excursion. We pile into a bus with our guide and travel a short distance down the road to a centre where a pile of Segways lie out in rows under the sun. During a short toilet break we witness a show of the Flying Men dance which is a regular occurrence in these parts. The usual intro and demo of how the Segways function is given, and then the group are individually assisted with mounting the beasts for a trial spin. We circle around repeatedly until even the most unstable person has gained enough confidence to start feeling bored. We are sternly told throughout the excursion that any mounting or dismounting is to be done with assistance. There are to be no high jinks or anything more complicated than a bunch of people travelling single file, right hand side – or the culprits get banned from the Segways and put in the truck! This makes good sense as we’re about to take to the roads with actual traffic careering past at any time. It’s a far cry from our Mauritius Segway Safari though, where the Segways were bigger and heavier, and the terrain was varied with various forms of wildlife and rocks/ditches to navigate. There anything went… one of the guys would just come along and pick you up again if your misadventure involved being unable to get mobile again for too long. In Cozumel, once the group is ready to go our bags are loaded into an open back truck which follows along behind us, furiously tooting its horn as advance warning of any overtaking traffic approaching from the rear.
We sedately stay in line while the group trundles along the coast road heading further south. We pass by numerous hotels and clubs, all overlooking clear blue skies and calm seas of cobalt and turquoise waters. After about 30 minutes we reach a small beach club where we have 75 minutes to avail of the facilities. Most people obtain snorkelling gear from our guides and head for the water. The reefs around Cozumel have a good reputation. The waters are crystal clear and our masks are in good condition, so visibility is excellent. The variety of fish is limited, but there’s definitely plenty to see close to shore. The water is luke warm and inviting. A nice change for anyone used to the grim Irish waters. Added bonus – fresh water showers afterwards to wash that nasty salty layer from your skin before embarking on the return Segway journey which goes by a little faster. It’s a nice way to spend a day, and a great way to see a bit of the coast.
We decide to walk the 5.5 kilometers back to ‘home’ It’s a fair distance, but there are plenty of beach clubs dotted along the coast to take advantage of the visiting cruise hordes. We stop off for cocktails and french fries overlooking the water. At the next pier Lee can’t resist the lure of Starbucks, so we both get a caffeine fix to keep us going through downtown San Miguel, and out to our pink Casa. For dinner we make the wise decision to return to Del Sur Argentina Empanadas and try their grilled fish – best fish I’ve ever had. Lightly seasoned and perfectly cooked. Along with more delicious empanadas. Can’t recommend the place highly enough. A wonderful way to end your day. Tomorrow we’re back to the beautiful waters for some sailing and more snorkelling. It’s our last day in Cozumel before we move on to see another side of Mexico.
Go Slow
Too much travel combined with doing a lot of activities makes you feel weary of the world very fast. We know that from exerience, so we had no real intentions of doing much in our first couple of days in Cozumel… unless cabin fever set in early. So we went with a boring and easy daily routine initially – visit the nearby supermarket in the morning for some pastries for breakfast, and bread for a sandwich later. Laze about all day reading and availing of the wifi. Then venture out for dinner in the cooler evenings. The second evening we ate at Casa Mission which had the highest Trip Advisor rating – a large restaurant complete with Mariachi band and very posh service. We had a good lime soup. Lee had surf and turf, and I had fresh fish. It was all very nice, but nothing to write home about compared to the previous night. We watched others being served the trademark ‘sexy coffee’ (coffee liqueur poured out while on fire), but neither of us fancied drinking one ourselves. Overall we weren’t very impressed. This is the problem with recommendations – what pleases the majority won’t necessarily fit in with what you like. But it does beat the risky approach of complete random selection.
During the days I ploughed through some books, and looked up potential excursions for us to consider once we got sick of doing very little. Lee read the entire Internet (in between repeated cursing and ranting at the clunky kindle fire browser that failed horribly on most gaming sites) and embarked on a one-man crusade against all mosquitos that entered the house. As it happens, mexican mosquitoes *love* Lee. His blood is like catnip to them. They started the war the first night with a fierce biting foray that escalated into a major assault on his face. This was too big an insult. The only appropriate thing to do was take extreme measures and try to eliminate every last one of them, regardless of guilt or innocence. I, however, needed no insect repellent while I slept so long as Lee was nearby. After the first night it looked like Lee’s face had got into a fight with a wall and lost. They then favoured his right arm which also started to swell in patches. This was not a good holiday experience, or look. Typically this was the only time recently where we didn’t bring a mosquito net on holidays. Usually it doesn’t get used. Lesson is most definitely now learnt.
I didn’t feel too left out of the wildlife interaction, as the ant army invading the main room was out to get me.
24 hours after our arrival a mound of excavated material started building on the tiled floor in the main living area. Slowly I start developing small red spots on my legs and arms. It was hot and humid inside, and the insects gave no respite. We decided it might be time to start getting out and about before one or other species involved ended up getting completely exterminated.
We wandered along the seafront mingling with the cruise crowds. The Disney Magic was docked in port, and the nearby streets were busier than we’d seen them before. We had a few forgotten items to pick up before going out and doing any tours for the rest of the week so we joined the crowds of shoppers. We got some bits and pieces and also treated ourselves to new sunglasses. It took some effort to find suitable ones. It was a close call as to whether we or the shop assistant would run out of patience first; every pair you wanted to try on had to be taken out of a display case by them. We rewarded ourselves for a successful shopping expedition with Margaritas at Wet Wendy’s Margarita bar, which funnily enough, specialises in Margaritas. The friendly waiter shared with us his two favourites – I had the chocolate mint, and Lee got melon chilli. They might just have been the most disgusting cocktails I have ever seen, melting into piles of sludge, but they were very tasty. We had burritos and tostadas to go with the drinks which were also good. It was time for an early night then. We had our first tour booked for the next day. We wandered home through a refreshing mist of rain and once Lee finished a final mosquito revenge rampage, it was lights out.
Hola Mexico
It’s an extremely early start to the day for us; a cold morning dash up the road to Penn Station dragging our luggage behind us. Then a busy commuter train as far as the airport, where we queue and get screened a few more times for good measure. As we wait for the plane, a guy discusses with anyone nearby in the line about how he’s looking for his medication, but it’s in another bag. Judging by his manner this is some kind of psychiatric medication. I’m sure whoever sits next to him is really going to enjoy the flight. I’m not looking forward to it much either. I wasn’t too well the night before. My stomach is still unhappy, and not too impressed at the offer of nothing but intermittent airline snacks for most of the day. The layover in Atlanta is too short to do very much other then get to the next departure gate, so proper food will have to wait until we reach Mexico.
Once we finally arrive at Cancun airport we’re delayed by more endless immigration and customs queues full of very loud people. Each time we get past one check, we find another waiting around the corner – generally with very few staff to cater to the volume of traffic trying to get through. We finally escape the bowels of the airport to be accosted by the usual chaos of taxi drivers and touts outside, desperately trying to funnel people into their taxis. We opt for the simple and effective airport bus which takes you to Playa del Carmen in about an hour for a reasonable fare. We pass numerous exclusive resorts on the way, dripping in wealth and privilege. However our accommodation for this trip is far more budget-friendly. We’re heading for a holiday rental villa on the island of Cozumel.
The closest port to Cozumel is at Playa del Carmen, where ferries regularly run back and forth between the two. Playa del Carmen is a bustling place. Crowds of tourists wandering the streets and sprawled out on the beaches. It also has all the sideshows that go along with the tourism industry – taxis, shops, tour operators and fast food. Definitely not a very authentic Mexican experience. We grab some unappetising congealed pizza slices to keep us going just before boarding the ferry, hoping to reach our ultimate destination before it gets too dark. It takes almost an hour before the coastline disappears behind us and we finish the docking procedure at Cozumel ferry port. There they search my bag once more, just for fun. The sun is below the horizon when we finally exit the port, hoping our guide to the accommodation will be there and save us the effort of finding our way through unfamiliar streets in the approaching evening gloom.
He’s there alright, an elderly Mexican waving a mis-spelt sign and brandishing a walking stick. He can barely walk, yet seems happy to drive us in a car that has definitely seen better days. “Just two of you? Just two bags?” Where he would fit more people or bags I don’t actually know. There’s little space left in the beat up car once our cases are jammed in. We spend what seems to be a long time driving up one way streets, and then back along others, before reaching our accommodation for the next few days. Our driver maintains a friendly patter for the duration of the trip. ”You want to rent a car?” Not so much if this is what a typical driver on the island is like on the roads! He then proceeds to give us a lengthy description of all his family members through each generation (though just the males of course). We’re starting to run out of appropriate responses by the time the car creaks to a halt. Despite the length of the car journey, we’re located only a 15 minute walk from the town centre where all the action takes place. Our holiday home is one of three colourful villas situated in a less affluent, but fairly quiet neighbourhood. Although the combined stench of freshener, disinfectant and bug spray permeates everything (including our clothes after a couple of days), the rooms are spacious and relatively clean. After freshening up we go in search of our first proper meal of the day.
Cozumel is a reasonably big island just off the east coast of Mexico that is extremely popular with the cruise lines. The main town is a bit smaller and homelier than Playa del Carmen seemed to be. The residential streets are quiet, although the main roads are clogged with traffic at times. At this time of year the town centre is peaceful, unless there’s a cruise ship docked nearby. There are no queues for the plentiful restaurants, although most seem to be doing some trade. We bring our business to Del Sur Argentina Empanadas. It’s currently in second place at the top of the Trip Advisor list of Cozumel restaurants. We later find that Trip Advisor is the primary means of advertising to tourists visiting these parts. Signs adorn most eating establishments and the tour operators ask for any positive comments to be added there to help drive more future business to them. Assuming that a highly recommended establishment won’t disappoint too much, we opt for checking it out.
We find ourselves in a clean and cosy place. Apart from the main courses of grilled meat and fish, the restaurant specialises in empanadas. These are pastries that can contain savoury or sweet fillings. We share a chicken empanada for a starter, and it’s pretty good. We risk the steak for mains. Although the waiter smirks a little when I say I want mine well done, he insists we cut the meat he brings to the table to make sure it’s cooked as each of us wanted. The meat is served in just its own juices. Mine is a little pink in places, but definitely cooked. Both are juicy and cooked beautifully. The side salad has a lovely vinagrette that isn’t too sharp, yet has a tasty kick. Some fresh bread and garlic butter round things off nicely. This is a very impressive dinner so far. We can’t resist trying a dessert. My apple and cinnamon empanada is delicious, and Lee loves his caramel empanada too. If this is the typical quality of the food we’re going to be having in Mexico, then we’re going to be very happy here.
A New York Day
Morning finds us awake much earlier than expected. We fight our way through the masses downstairs for what is ultimately an unsatisfying breakfast that really isn’t worth the effort of fighting for. The breakfast area is unfortunately very short on space, and is completely unable to cope with more than a small number of guests at the one time. It’s absolute pandemonium as tidal waves of guests attempt to reach some food. We decide to get out of the hotel for a bit, and head back to Time Square to check out watches in the Fossil shop. There’s one we’ve been trying unsuccessfully to get for Lee in Ireland. Finding it amongst the selection of watches on display in this store is an overwhelming task. Virtually identical watches are spread out across the store making it hard to tell the differences. Ultimately we find what we’re looking for and Lee gets a slightly different colour. I pick up a replacement for my own battered watch so we’re both very happy with ourselves. We have just enough time left after our retail therapy session to hightail it up to the entrance of Central Park where we spent a lot of time on our previous visit. This time the trees are barren of leaves and the landscape is quite stark. It’s nice to see it in a different season.
After a quick glance around we jump on the nearest subway to get back to the hotel in time to meet Aoife and Barry, who recently relocated to the area. We all go for brunch in a typical American diner that serves massive portions of breakfast food. Suitably fortified with this second attempt at breakfast, we travel south in a probably futile attempt to catch the next ferry to Staten Island. Time is completely against us, and we’re too late to do this. So we stop off for a coffee and then trek halfway across The Brooklyn bridge for some great views of the city. This is well worth doing to give a bit of perspective which you lose when you’re walking through the streets at the feet of towering blocks of metal and struggling to see the sky. By now it’s time for our appointment to see the 9/11 memorial so we don’t continue to the far side of the bridge. It’s only when we’re queuing for the memorial that I realise we forgot to bring our ids with us. Oops. Thankfully, despite a thorough bag screening, no one asks us for any form of id in the end. The site itself has two tasteful pools marking the spots where the towers once stood. Names of the fallen are inscribed around the rim. The new towers are about halfway up now, we think. They’re possibly more impressive as they currently stand, reaching halfway up into the skies with cranes circling. Some surrounding buildings are also getting a facelift; gaping holes where the uppermost windows haven’t been replaced yet. It’s a big change from the massive hole in the ground we passed by on our last visit here.
We return to the original plan and manage to catch the Staten island ferry this time. I’ve heard it gives a good view of the Statue of Liberty on the way past. We’ve never made the tourist trek out to Liberty Island to see it properly. Happily the ferry proves to give a pretty good view on the way past, and an even better view of the city skyline from the sea. There are obviously plenty of other tourists also availing of the free view on the ferry. And plenty of locals, one of whom starts accusing a tourist of standing in her space while everyone queues to exit the ferry at the end. She spends several minutes detailing in a loud voice how she could easily stab him because she doesn’t know who he is, and he was standing too close when she bent over to tie her lace or something. Err, okay. Close proximity to others is usually an expected hazard of any public transport. The poor guy looks desperate to get away from her. When we finally disembark and start circling around to re-board we pass by her again (obviously giving her a wide berth to ensure no encroachment of personal space). She’s carrying on a full scale conversation with herself now.
The return journey back treats us to a beautiful view as the last rays of light from the sun reflect off windows and the city lights start to power on. Not too bad for a free round trip. We’re hungry by this stage so we return, yet again, to Time Square and go to an Italian restaurant close by for some food and drinks. The kitchen staff manage to lose our order for a while, so we benefit from a free round of beer and 
cocktails. After a hearty meal we move on to a sports bar for a few more drinks before it’s time for everyone to call it quits. We have an early start in the morning and warmer climates to visit. For now, it’s time to say goodbye to New York once more.
Flying West
The process of clearing airport US security checks has not improved at all since the last time I had the pleasure of being interrogated by them. Earning the privilege of passing through American territory just to get to another destination is an arduous process. If anything, the officials are becoming more surly, abrupt and downright rude. The sickly-sweet American customer service patter is nowhere in sight. Perhaps it’s the idea of working a job where there’s no way around the moral complications of accepting tips. In any case, they’re not a good example of enjoying your job (though looking at some of the imbeciles holding up the procedure in front of us, it’s not too surprising that tempers are already frayed 10 minutes after the lines first opened). As a result, despite arriving at the airport hours early, we barely have any spare time between the check-in and boarding the plane. On the plus side, Delta provides a good selection of in-flight entertainment. We enjoyed Moneyball. I suffered through half of Crazy Stupid Love before switching to Contagion, which was an enjoyable romp. According to Lee I didn´t miss out anything by changing my choice. That left us with the start of some mindless rom com to take us down to land.
Now we just had to navigate our way into the Big Apple itself. The process is quite easy, but the signs aren’t very clear for anyone not familiar with How Things Work. Our first attempt to pass from airtrain to train station saw our tickets rejected. Despite the impression the ticket machine had given, we actually needed another ticket just to exit first. While we figured that out we witnessed the face-off between an irate Jamaican gentleman and an airport official who was clearly spoiling for a fight with someone. The crux of the confrontation was that there’s no clear signs on the airtrain to indicate which journeys are free to other terminals, and which involve a fare to exit the station at the end. The elderly gentleman was incensed at being told there was now a fee to be paid in order to pass. “This is America!”, the official shrieked at him. “Nothing is free!!!” She then proceeded to threaten to take off her uniform right there and then to teach him a lesson. He seemed to be up for this despite the weight disadvantage. Other officials began to congregate at the turnstile, making it clear that there was no way he’d get past all of them, though he was welcome to try. As we left for the train platform the old man was still oscillating back and forth between the relative safety of retreating back towards the airtrain and the temptation to take on the burly army at the turnstile.
After a short train journey we checked into our room at the Holiday Inn around the corner from Penn Station. It’s a great location, though not cheap until you compare it to the extortionate prices of lodging in New York in general. Within minutes of getting to our room our friends Craig and Liz arrived, fresh from a disappointing visit to the sex museum. Apparently even less interesting than it had sounded on the website. So cross that one off your bucket list. We were extra happy to see them as they brought with them two Kindle Fires we’d previously had posted to their address. After a hearty dinner while we caught up on what´s been happening since our paths last crossed in Niagara, we roamed the streets of New York, taking in the sights and valiantly fighting the jetlag. The weather was pleasantly mild as we sampled hot drinks in a Christmas market or joined the throngs in Time Square. The last time we were in New York, Time Square looked quite differerent. The pedestrian sections give a different feel to the place. As your eyes become accustomed to the barrage of bright displays there’s a bit of space now to look around without getting jostled into the path of a yellow cab. The vinegary smell from the street vendor stalls watered my eyes as we pushed through crowds and on past endless groups of people hawking tickets to yet another comedy show. There’s always something to go see or do here.
When we’d had our fill of bright lights and the big cityscape we made our way to Grand Central station for the others to catch their train home. By this time in the evening there was little to see other than closed shops and restaurants beneath the massive central arches. Here and there a homeless person posed like a statue in the middle of the crowds, or jerkily stumbled in a circle while speaking in tongues (which effectively cleared a lot of space around them). It seemed like most ‘normal’ people had gone home for the night – a sign for us that it might be time to give in to the jet lag. We took a pleasant walk back to our hotel where sleep anxiously beckoned.