I've said it before and I'll say it again. Never trust a Mexican. And the first morning of my mini-tour of Mexico proved this again, without a doubt. Not long after our guide had explained that Mexico wasn't a dangerous place, just be careful of your belongings, we wheeled our suitcases to the nearby bus station and had 2 phones pickpocketed just minutes later while buying snacks. At this rate, there'll be nothing much left to steal!
We boarded the bus to Chichen Itza, I almost got left behind at the in-between stop as I gazed out into nothing in particular at the bus station, but J ran out and got me. The bus was actually pulling out, bastard bus driver. Whatever I ate at the bus stop disagreed with me and by the end of the day I was dashing for the loo. Gross.
We dragged our luggage off the bus and into the storage at Chichen Izta (some of the oldest ruins of their kind in the world), before heading in for a tour with Julian. He was quite good actually, explaining all about his heritage with the Iztans etc etc (obviously I didn't listen THAT well)... and we learnt how anyone born between 6 and 10 August was marked as a sacrificial child. They drugged them to make them less scared and I guess slit their throats before tossing their jewel-laden little bodies into the pond of death (the Itzan name was much more impressive had I remembered it). Anyway, that was my main memory of that tour. Little sacrificial bodies.
I managed to practise my Spanish with Julian a bit more, Mexican Spanish is not that hard to understand (unlike Cuban) and T and I explored the markets - a good decision in hindsight, they were the best markets for souvenir shopping I saw in all of Mexico. I bought a beautiful handmade Mexican style dress, which I planned to wear that night. Of course for this we were late, running for the group who were already halfway through their lunch. Which meant we had to cram some hideous thing into our mouths to catch up - I think mine was meant to be pizza.
We continued to Merida in a private mini-coach, which I slept most of the way on (I'm becoming quite the pro at sleeping in transit), and arrived at our (nicer) hotel with the sun still blazing. J took us for an orientation walk of Merida, the "home of the hammock" apparently. She got one of the street vendors to demonstrate how they work, the best way to sit in them and signs of a well-made hammock. They were quite nice, to be honest, but I already have a hammock so no purchases for me.
We freshened up for dinner and met at Panchos, a restaurant owned by a Cuban therefore with speciality for good cocktails. We got right into the happy hour situation, getting our first taste of cheap cocktails (about $2.50 each) made just right. You'd wanna hope so, since you had to wait about 10 minutes for each drink! I made friends with a beautiful Italian lady sitting by herself at the bar - had I been travelling solo, we would've been dancing on the tables 2 hours later. Alas, I had other people to entertain.
Dinner was good, again a hearty mix of tortillas in various stages of the life cycle, the first of many shouts by the tour company - gotta love being an agent! Some of the group retired to the hotel afterwards, the rest of us moved to a table at the top bar that sheltered us from the rain. Happy hour started up again randomly, so the cheap drinks came thick n fast. Mojitos were the speciality. Then they closed up, telling us that they were the only place really open on a Monday night.
Liars! As soon as T, E and I walked out the door, we heard music playing a couple of doors down. It was a locals bar, exactly what we wanted as I was getting a little edgy playing it safe with these tourist-friendly bars. There was a live band, lots of short, happy Mexicans bouncing about on the dance floor. The bar had countless bottles of alcohol stacked up behind it, all wearing teensy little sombreros - ever so cute. The staff fawned over the foreigners with the cash dowla - I think we were the only ones who got table service.
Of course people stared, and pointed, and tried to make conversation. To be expected. Then they started asking for photos with us, but mainly with T. Something about her fair-skinned, brunette body that they really took a shine to. Me and the pretty little blonde English girl next to me - couldn't give a rats. We had 1 quick dance with the locals, but my partner was pretty wasted and at the point where he took my hands and placed them on his chest (expecting me to.. rub him??), I called it quits.
A couple of cheap cocktails later, we headed back to the hotel, bracing for another big day of sightseeing and cocktail-drinking tomorrow.
We boarded the bus to Chichen Itza, I almost got left behind at the in-between stop as I gazed out into nothing in particular at the bus station, but J ran out and got me. The bus was actually pulling out, bastard bus driver. Whatever I ate at the bus stop disagreed with me and by the end of the day I was dashing for the loo. Gross.
We dragged our luggage off the bus and into the storage at Chichen Izta (some of the oldest ruins of their kind in the world), before heading in for a tour with Julian. He was quite good actually, explaining all about his heritage with the Iztans etc etc (obviously I didn't listen THAT well)... and we learnt how anyone born between 6 and 10 August was marked as a sacrificial child. They drugged them to make them less scared and I guess slit their throats before tossing their jewel-laden little bodies into the pond of death (the Itzan name was much more impressive had I remembered it). Anyway, that was my main memory of that tour. Little sacrificial bodies.
I managed to practise my Spanish with Julian a bit more, Mexican Spanish is not that hard to understand (unlike Cuban) and T and I explored the markets - a good decision in hindsight, they were the best markets for souvenir shopping I saw in all of Mexico. I bought a beautiful handmade Mexican style dress, which I planned to wear that night. Of course for this we were late, running for the group who were already halfway through their lunch. Which meant we had to cram some hideous thing into our mouths to catch up - I think mine was meant to be pizza.
We continued to Merida in a private mini-coach, which I slept most of the way on (I'm becoming quite the pro at sleeping in transit), and arrived at our (nicer) hotel with the sun still blazing. J took us for an orientation walk of Merida, the "home of the hammock" apparently. She got one of the street vendors to demonstrate how they work, the best way to sit in them and signs of a well-made hammock. They were quite nice, to be honest, but I already have a hammock so no purchases for me.
We freshened up for dinner and met at Panchos, a restaurant owned by a Cuban therefore with speciality for good cocktails. We got right into the happy hour situation, getting our first taste of cheap cocktails (about $2.50 each) made just right. You'd wanna hope so, since you had to wait about 10 minutes for each drink! I made friends with a beautiful Italian lady sitting by herself at the bar - had I been travelling solo, we would've been dancing on the tables 2 hours later. Alas, I had other people to entertain.
Dinner was good, again a hearty mix of tortillas in various stages of the life cycle, the first of many shouts by the tour company - gotta love being an agent! Some of the group retired to the hotel afterwards, the rest of us moved to a table at the top bar that sheltered us from the rain. Happy hour started up again randomly, so the cheap drinks came thick n fast. Mojitos were the speciality. Then they closed up, telling us that they were the only place really open on a Monday night.
Liars! As soon as T, E and I walked out the door, we heard music playing a couple of doors down. It was a locals bar, exactly what we wanted as I was getting a little edgy playing it safe with these tourist-friendly bars. There was a live band, lots of short, happy Mexicans bouncing about on the dance floor. The bar had countless bottles of alcohol stacked up behind it, all wearing teensy little sombreros - ever so cute. The staff fawned over the foreigners with the cash dowla - I think we were the only ones who got table service.
Of course people stared, and pointed, and tried to make conversation. To be expected. Then they started asking for photos with us, but mainly with T. Something about her fair-skinned, brunette body that they really took a shine to. Me and the pretty little blonde English girl next to me - couldn't give a rats. We had 1 quick dance with the locals, but my partner was pretty wasted and at the point where he took my hands and placed them on his chest (expecting me to.. rub him??), I called it quits.
A couple of cheap cocktails later, we headed back to the hotel, bracing for another big day of sightseeing and cocktail-drinking tomorrow.
