You start in Playa del Carmen on the Caribbean coast in the wonderfully named state of Quintana Roo (because, of course, you are determined to avoid Cancún at all costs). Like so much around here, it was once a small fishing village that quickly became another satellite town of the American tourism empire. The air is hot, the sun is fading. You walk down La Quinta Avenida for cheap "tequila", pharmacies advertising viagra and oral steroids, fast food restaurants, and touts galore. You try the cochinita pibil, or Yucatan-style pulled pork, and decide that it's the only ingestible product this particular part of Mexico specialises in. And what a shame! Many cuisines do pulled pork much better, you muse. You take a tour of the Tulum Archaeological Zone. It's picturesque, what with the morose iguanas and the pristine ocean backdrop. But it's sizzling at midday. You listen to your tour guide drone on about the intricately carved ruins but sadly don't catch much. It's so sweltering. The Mayans were the best thing to ever rock up to the Yucatan Peninsula. Until they weren’t. That's all you manage to pick up. It's very, very warm and you need to lie down. But hurrah, salvation is indeed at hand. Your tour visits some private cenotes, natural sinkholes that are formed from collapsed limestone. You dip into the cold crystal-clear water and your mind goes momentarily blank. A bat flies overhead and you think about how the coronavirus pandemic, which ruined all travel plans of yesteryears, was like a bad dream, one that happened a lifetime ago. Another day passes and you visit another Mesoamerican marvel. Chichén Itzá! Once the greatest city in the Mayan world, it was abandoned to the savage overgrowths of time until it was rediscovered by Spanish explorers stomping through the rainforest in the 16th century. You stare at the iconic Temple of Kukulcán, so iconic that you thought it would be overrated. Overrated in that way that any over-embarked, over-photographed place would be. The Eiffel Tower... The Colosseum... Those other pyramids in Egypt... But no, it is genuinely impressive. A Yucatec castle of fierce grandeur. You enjoy strolling around the site, daydreaming about the majestic and sophisticated brutality of such a civilisation that build these stone structures and spilt so much blood atop them. A civilisation not that unlike your own, only less depressing. You stare into the vividly green maw of the Sacred Cenote at Chichén Itzá. That's what the name of this place is: “at the mouth of the well of the Itza”. And it was in this well that these god-fearing people threw in warriors, maidens, and children; dropped in ceramics, jade, and gold. Such a hungry, infernal mouth. As with your Tulum tour, this tour ends with a visit to a cenote. This one is more touristy, more resorty, and yet somehow more impressive. The water is cool and as you float with your head gazing up out of the limestone window, with its jungle drapes, into the sky, you think everything is going to be alright. You end your days in the Yucatán Peninsula on the island of Cozumel. You drink cocktails, you scuba dive the coral reefs, and you bicycle up and down its lazy streets. Such pleasure. You think you are happy. You think your life is like a balloon, that your heart, your mind, your soul are like spheres of helium, sealed and secure and ascendant after such a successful journey to Mexico. But you don't realise that you are utterly mistaken. You don't realise that when you return to Australia your life is going to change forever. That you're going to break something both within and without. That things are never going to be the same again.
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AuthorMing is an economist, traveller, and creative writer from Melbourne, Australia. He’s a nebulous collection of particles on the lookout for a good corner to sit with a book and a cup of coffee. Archives
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