Mexico 2010

Aside from the standard and oh-so-predictable 2 week long post-holiday stomach issues, was an amazing place, though 1 week was enough for me. Not to mention the horrific journey, an ambitious road trip from Devon to Birmingham to see Bad Company (on the way getting a flat tyre and paying out the nose for a quick new one) and a speedy sleepy journey Birmingham to Gatwick to catch the very bumpy 10 hour flight.

The hotels stood alone on a long sandy stretch of beaches, each out doing each other with their entrances, who could have the most elaborate archway, who had the most outstanding water feature or the biggest armed guard. So as we rolled up to our fairly understated plain, painted concrete not so much an archway as a wall, I did have a moment of mild panic.

Luckily enough the hotel was lovely (ish) and as an extra treat we were nestled sweetly next door to an 'au naturale' resort. That was splendid. Especially when coming back from any mass excursion on a coach and hearing the rest of the coach mutter "au naturale, does that mean they walk around naked?" It was quite liberating.


Never the pair to sit on a beach and do nothing for long, we booked up our weekly plan in advance to make sure we got to see as much as we could possible cram into 7 days. In result of this, all I was reminded of was how much I hate package holiday and package tours. Being stuck next to mind numblingly annoying/boring people, or at one point a t-total preachy American who frowned upon us on choosing beer as our 11:30 complimentary refreshment. He did however give us a patronising nod of approval when we decline to buy our own bottle of tequilla, genuine tequilla with our faces on...you can't buy that class.






We got stuck on cramped coach tours and in retrospect I wish I had rented a car and got hopelessly lost than be stuck, during my Easter Holidays, on a coach full of children asking who I was, where I was from and consolidating my belief that children can locate a primary school teacher within 5 miles and attach themselves to them, in the innocent persuasion that at all times we just love talking to children. This is not the case. At all.
Chicten Itza.
Was the day I expired. Managing the heat with dodgy illness, dehydration and 30 + heat with little or no shade...I went a strange shade of purple by the time we reached the observatory.

As much as I loved the expanse of Chichen Itza and in particular the platforms where decapitions were peformed and displayed, it just didn't touch upon the sheer enchantment of Tulum. Perched on a cliff edge, pure azure water lapping a white sand beach where ruins spilled out half entangled with jungle!

We concluded the trip with various tourist haunts such as Xel Ha and a stroll up and down Playa de Carmen - during Spring Break, which is an experience I don't care to repeat. As tacky as Ayia Napa - free shots for pole dancing and all the likes. If I hear one more "Woooooo, Spring Break" I will not be responsible for my actions.

It was a shame how over touristy Mexico was, there was just no heart. Even visiting the Mayan Villages there was a sense of holding on to tradition for the sake of the visitors rather than because of their own respect for their heritage. I felt uncomfortable getting sheparded into a little Mayan Village and looking at a big TV snuggled nicely amongst a stereo in a no-doored house of sticks, next door to a concrete hurricane proof house. The schools were run down, the children were happy but there was a constant reminded of the huge financial divide in the country, and I just couldn't stomach being told that the Mayan people had no wish for monetary goods when DVDs were thrust between the symbolic 3 stone cooking hearths.













Just observe the sheer job satisfaction...