OK – I lied. I said my next post would be from Playa del Carmen, but this surprise trip dropped into my lap and it was full of surprises. I’d just finished my three mile walk and was sitting sweaty in the 98% humidity waiting for what has become my favorite breakfast: fresh local fruit, topped with homemade yogurt, honey and granola assembled by the tiny cafe under the hostal. A man walked up and asked what’s good for breakfast and I – of all people – offered with my Spanish. Then another traveler came in and the three of us began comparing notes about the area.
The breakfast seeker was down from New York (Jersey Actually, but has a B&B at the edge of Manhatten) and another who had just walked away from a tennis coach job in Playa and was off for cooler climbs. As the conversation meandered along, the man from Jersey began talking about raising his twin, eleven year old ADD/ODD grandsons! I don’t know many men who would do that as a single grand-parent and I was really taken by his commitment, humility, grace and sense of humor while also running a few businesses. As we talked about ADD, I shared some information from the consulting I used to do and before long he invited me to share a trip to see some Mayan ruins I hadn’t seen, and surely would not ever see without going with someone who has a car.
Instinct told me this was a good guy and I kept telling myself this as I went into Uganda mode and grabbed a sun hat, camera, TP, bug spray, water and a loaf of bread, some ham and mayonnaise to build sandwiches on the way. My steady diet of murder mysteries prompted me to get Alex – the hostal owner – to plug his phone number into my phone and promise to send out the search party if I didn’t come back by bed-time. This precaution was reinforced by remembering what a new friend – a former librarian – told me about the Halloween parties the librarians would throw. Each person came dressed as their favorite Dewey Decimal Number. My friend came dressed as herself, representing 364.1523, because serial killers looked like normal folks…
Since I’ve lived to tell the tale, you can assume he was not of the criminal type. Turns out he was in fact a really nice man and a great travel companion. So engrossed in conversation were we that we managed to miss the (badly marked) dirt road several times. Asking directions from some locals who must have wondered about these Gringos, we managed to bracket a lot of “that-way” hand signals and finally located the small gravel road heading into the j-u-n-g-l-e.
As we headed down the road, we nosed into an offshoot that turned out to be the trail to a small, private landing strip. Realizing our mistake, we backed up and evidently that seemed a little suspicious to the fierce looking occupants of a huge military vehicle, that looked like a tank. Bulging with guys armed with assault rifles literally hanging off the floorboards and bumpers, the tank pulled to the side as we pulled back onto the road. All these big, scary looking men in full camo and decked out for Armageddon jumped off the vehicle and blocked the road with guns at the ready, motioning for us to stop. Simultaneously we said, “This can’t be good…” but considering the lack of alternatives, stop we did. Neither of us had brought passports and the combined pulse rate in the car escalated as fear fogged the windows.
Once stopped with the window obligingly rolled down six enforcer-types clumped our way and were looking way to serious. Oh man – how did I spend all that time in Africa, only to come to Mexico and find trouble? Seems I’d read too many reports of tourists being hauled in at gunpoint, drug deals gone wrong, etc. because these guys just wanted to know where we were going, pointed us down the road and wished us a good day. It was still unnerving and took a while to get back to normal breathing. Seems that a while back, there had been a huge drug-drop at this little landing strip and our brief investigation of the road tweaked their radar. There is still some military presence in the area and they are watching…. I guess we didn’t look like drug smugglers – although we’d have been the perfect disguise: mild older pair posing as tourists… I would have loved a picture, but thought I might be pushing my luck to ask them to pose and say “Queso!”
Propelled forward by the adrenaline rush we proceeded on our way and found the ruins, by which time it had begun to rain – again. Nevertheless, we climbed out and spent the next couple of hours climbing ruins, trudging around in a sprinkle, providing lunch for the mosquitoes and being generally entertained by a local guide. Left is a close-up of a bed carved for the King. You can see the beginnings of Martha Stewart DNA in the use of under-bed storage. It was the main bedroom in an area about 1500 square feet.
Just in case you needed to visit the Underworld, here’s the door on the right. Under the huge platform housing the bedroom and known as The Acropolis, there existed an entire other structure and this creepy little door is part of that earlier city. Apparently this was common practice among the Mayans – to build one city or structures on top of the previous ones.
Among other vegetation in the area, there were Elephant Ear’s big enough to use as a dress, Kapok trees, Bromiliads (?) like the one below and huge trees rooted on top of the ruins, showing how much excavation had to be done to reclaim the ruins from the jungle.
Along the way we’d passed a place named Explorean, a gorgeous all inclusive resort tucked back into the jungle. On the way back, I was treated to a fine lunch in the gorgeous dining room overlooking the pool and the jungle. We met some great folks here from Key West and learned a group from Texas was there doing a conservation study – tagging Jaguars in the area.
Jaguars? Military? Where am I? Ah! Mexico. I love Mexico.
We fared well in all respects. Since the Jaguars are a little further in and we manage not to antagonize them or the men with many guns, we had a great time, a fun excursion and a good lunch. Another lovely friendship was born.
It’ll be hard to leave new friends found in Bacalar. Alex and Veronica, the owners of the hostel are fabulous and make me want to open a hostel down here somewhere. Sorta….. It’s a lot of work of course, but could still be fun.
Can’t wait to see what Playa holds in store!