Trek Across the Peninsula: Campeche and Bacalar

Life has definitely slowed down.  To perk things up a bit, I decided I’d take a few days and go to Campeche on the other side of the Peninsula from Bacalar. Having heard it is like going to an old walled-city in Spain, I didn’t want to miss it while I’m down here. So at about noon a couple of weeks back I caught a Colectivo – a taxi carrying several people and charging a fraction of a private taxi – boarded a Primero Clase bus for a six hour ride across the peninsula.   Once there I caught a tiny chartreuse taxi and made my way to Hotel Navigante, there not being but a few hostels in Campeche and none of them discoverable online.   Tucked into a cluster of sherbert-colored houses, I’m glad I picked a hotel in the old historic district. Within this portion, everything is concrete – not a patch of grass anywhere as you can see.

I was relieved to escorted to a big room with a balcony, AC, a deep TUB.  I’m thinking, “boy this is going to be great!”   It was already dusk when I set out to find dinner, but had no idea where to go and the desk clerk was singularly disinterested in helping even when I used my best Spanish.  So I ended up grabbing a yogurt from the little kiosk next door, just as the sky opened up and a heavy rain drenched the city.

Perfect night for taking a long hot bath – right up until I discovered that there was no way to get the shower off and the tub faucet on. So I decided to let the shower fill the tub, left the room and looked up to see to see a river of water cascading out of the bathroom because the shower wasn’t adjusted properly and would require a ladder to reach it.  So much for the bath idea…

Next day, bright and early I went down for breakfast of weak coffee and five different kinds of bread.  Does anyone know how to boil an egg?  OK – I’m being tacky. This is a hotel for chrissake – not a hostel and even hostels usually have a pretty decent breakfast!  The edge of hunger having been softened, I left with map of sorts in hand and went off to explore and find a decent cup of coffee.  My mood improved dramatically when my search was rewarded with frothy cup of cappuccino and a piece of something like apple pie with fresh apples.

Campeche lived up to what I’d been told: it is a classic representation of a old walled Spanish city, which began as a Mayan town and  became a completely walled entity because of it’s constant bombardment by pirates.   The Spanish built an eight sided wall  around the entire  town, which is now just a small part of a pretty decent sized city.  Not much of the wall remains, but the bastions and portals are still pretty much in tact and a lot of restoration is going on.  One of the bastions has been reclaimed as the town’s Botanical Garden and it offered a beautiful place to sit on a hot day.

It is quiet town and within this historic district not much is going on.  Many of the streets are entirely devoid of people or cars and one wonders how it survives.  But it’s pretty with its rows of colonial houses which share walls and are all meticulously kept and freshly painted.  It was amazingly clean – not a speck of litter anywhere, but has a very serious character about it.  In every town I’ve visited in Mexico, people are friendly, say “Hola! Buenas dias!” to passersby or at least respond when spoken to.  No so here.  Very few smiling faces and this was later mentioned by Veronica, one of the hostel owners here in Bacalar.  I don’t know what created such a personality of a town, but this one has it’s own perculiar energy which was not particularly welcoming.

Interesting interface with the Gulf of Mexico though.  There have been so many hurricanes that have hit Campeche that there is no more beach.  It is entirely sea wall, but has a beautifully developed hike and bike trail running the length of the historical area.  There are even stopping points with gym-type equipment to do a workout!   Unlike most beaches I’ve been to the waves run parallel to the beach, and don’t break against the seal wall.  No doubt the geographic configuration of the land, but it’s just a little weird.

There is a stunning Cathedral there and one street closed to to traffic and devoted to extraordinary sculptures. One of the lovely things abut every town I’ve visited is the accessibility of art and it’s inclusion everywhere in public areas. There were a few old colonial homes turned museum that I was able to visit.  Glad I got to see what all the fuss was about, but not particularly captivated by the feel of the place.  Merida held more interest, but nothing so far has compared to Guadalajara.  I will not make it (this trip) to some of the more interior places that I hear people rave about: like San Christobal, San Luis Potasi, Palenque or San Miguel.  But the alur of the Yucatan Peninsula is definitely Mayan Ruins and beaches.

So, time to go back to Bacalar.  The trip back was an hour longer for some reason I never figured out and was made even more interminable by the kicking of my seat by a small child (old enough to know better) sitting behind me with his only slightly older brother.  The mother and the grandmother wisely sat on the other side of the isle. The kicking started before we were even out of the gate and my Spanish dictionary was tucked safely inside my back pack in the baggage compartment when I desperately needed a word for “kick.”  Waiting a while, not wanting to be the ugly American being hateful to a small child, I turned around kneeling in my seat and reached my hand down to try and still his kicking feet and uttered, “Por favor, no.”  Well that earned me a look from the mother – who did nothing to intervene, nor did it impress the kid enough to change his behavior.  Obviously I was too nice… Won’t happen again.

The kicking continued – and having raised two boys with a lot of energy I realized this kid was just bored, but still…  if he was already bored and we hadn’t even gotten on the road, it was going to be a loooong ride.  After three more attempts at being reasonable, I got the mother’s attention and using the only Spanish I could muster for the occasion: pointed at the still swinging feet and said: “Por favor, esto es una problema.”    Would like to have known how to say  “Dammit, stop kicking my seat or I will eviscerate you!”  But that might have created an international incident and I’m not sure my travel dictionary has the word “eviscerate.”  Must learn the word for “kill.”

So!  Back in Bacalar, the tourists have all gone home, the rainy season is creeping in a little early and I like it.   It’s lovely to be back in this sweet little town.  Every morning I walk my three miles and see the same people building a house on the lagoon, setting up to offer tours or just tending to their chickens, riding their bikes or scooters to work.  On the right is the beginning of my route with some of what I see along the way below: gorgeous Bougainvillea, Flame Trees and bits of jungle.

Coral Bouganvillea

The Mayans are very sweet, friendly – always
have a greeting and I love seeing them with their families in the Plaza at night.  The kids are happy and there’s so much family presence.  Have met a few expats living down here, but am not sure I’m ready for that – still need to be more contributive (not sure that’s a word…) than that usually allows. Though this community seems different and more integrated into the regular town and its population than most expat communities.  Houses are tucked in along the way and spread out throughout the area as opposed to being clustered together and a neighborhood unto themselves.

A private path to the lagoon

My free month in a condo a block off the beach in Playa del Carmen is nine days away and I’m soooo excited!  Can’t remember if I mentioned that a woman I met in Merida has gifted me the use of her condo for the entire month of June, my paying only utilities.  She lives in D.C. and the condo has no one scheduled for the month.  I feel like I hit the jackpot and am eternally grateful!

Next post: Playa del Carmen!