Mexico, lovely and beloved

mexico, an adventure

Even today, almost nine years later, my two travel companions and I remember the vacation in Mexico as the most exciting and adventurous ever experienced. The adrenaline was so thick you could cut it with a knife, and just mentioning it, Mexico made our eyes light up. We set off truly on an adventure, with the idea of landing in Mexico City, while due to delays in booking we had to get off in Cancun. Well, maybe it went better that way... Arriving at the airport, we booked for the following day a car for our travels; of the aforementioned travels, however, we were completely unaware....

With a collective taxi we had ourselves taken to the hotel that we chose hastily thanks to the advice of an operator, after having explained to him our few demands: needless to say that among all the tourists who got into the taxi we were the last to get off: that is to say that ours was the shabbiest hotel... We didn't waste time though, in the evening, after tidying ourselves up a bit, we went for a little round of tequila before going to sleep...

at chichen itza

The following day, bright and early, we left Cancun and continuing along the MEX180 we reached the archaeological site of Chichen Itza, the most important in all of the Yucatan. Once we arrived at our destination, however, we had to abandon our intentions of being good tourists, because a violent downpour prevented a visit worthy of the name; disconsolate, we therefore headed to the first hotel (hotel...) we found on the road. An excellent choice also as far as the view was concerned, straight onto the town cemetery. At Chichen Itza we had our first encounter with the children who assail foreigners offering for a few coins any dust-collector their little hands can hold; yes, even our hearts opened up a little and we bought one or two items. I think...

chichen itza

Finally the sunny day with a very blue sky allowed us to visit the ancient city. Strange, though, the impact: a modern structure, complete with bar, restaurant, etc., while in the air spread the notes of Ricchi & Poveri in a Latin version. I hope you understand our shock!!! Visiting Chichen Itza was a strong emotion, also because we had seen El Castillo dozens of times in books or on TV, and finding it first before our eyes, then even under our feet, was a heart-stopping moment. As good Italians we then slipped in behind a group with a guide and listened to the precious information that the paying spectators received... El Castillo, la Plataforma de Los Craneos, the Juego de la Pelota, the sacrificial rites, etc etc.

I won't bore you with things you may already all know; for those instead who have doubts about the possibility of making a trip there, well, I advise you to get it out of your system and leave as soon as possible...

unexpected stop

Bright and early we head towards Merida, but after about sixty kilometres we find on our route a junction with signs for Izamal. I quickly read in our guidebook what kind of place it is and, from the few notes, I become intrigued; so we decide to make this detour, even if only for a few hours. The few hours would then turn into a day and a half, enchanted right away by the splendid and scenic avenue leading into the city: its ochre-yellow walls, with white borders, making a wonderful contrast with a sky that is truly hard to see so blue. The centre has a single crossroads, traffic is limited to four or five cars and a few horse-drawn carriages, but there are even two policemen acting, as we would say today, as traffic wardens. We park, and one of them offers to keep an eye on the car (left open) with our suitcases so as to allow us to do a quick tour.

We like the place, it preserves the spirit we had imagined finding in our dreamed-of Mexico. We return to the car, give the policeman a tip and unload the suitcases at Luis's hotel, for the sum of 1,300 lire each. The room has all the comforts: two mattresses resting on a concrete structure, no wardrobe but a nail as a coat rack between the two beds, the bathroom in the room separated from the bedroom by fly-screen curtains. To guarantee us coolness, a fan that misses a turn every two. But never mind, we have never been so well. We still have time to visit the convent; an obliging guard accompanies us on a visit, until we discover where the Madonna is kept, patroness of the Yucatan, who is carried in procession during the celebrations dedicated to her. He also explains that in 1993 John Paul II celebrated a Mass here, during his trip to Mexico.

The convent is Franciscan, it presents an extraordinary sight thanks to its endless portico, the stained-glass windows are precious and depict the Virgin and some scenes from the life of the Saint. In the evening a pianist performs a concert, which we cannot miss, also because it is the only social event scheduled; we are also lucky, the restaurant we chose for dinner (where we ate deliciously) stayed open late precisely to allow the maestro and the organisers of the event to refresh themselves.

Merida

In the morning we enjoy another fresh squeezed juice, take a quick tour of the market (but all that fish covered in flies did not attract us at all) and go to visit what remains of what was probably the most important archaeological site in the Yucatan after Chichen Itza: the pyramid of Kinik Kak Moo is not in an excellent state of conservation, yet what remains gives an idea of the civilisation unfortunately buried by the arrival of the Catholics. We then set off towards Merida, the capital of the state that overlooks the Gulf of Mexico. The arrival is devastating: chaotic, disorderly traffic, made even more confusing by the presence of the market.

After looking for a parking space and a hotel for the evening, on foot we can finally admire its beautiful historic centre in colonial style; the government palace preserves a series of paintings that evoke the history of the State, while a few steps away the cathedral is decorated for its first 400 years. In the square we notice the numerous presence of shoe-shiners, our old sciuscia'; what for us could be a humiliating job instead appears an activity like any other; many people stop to have their shoes cleaned, and the skill and the dignity that is recognised and paid to them makes that all-European shadow we had towards them disappear. In the evening we return to our respectable hotel and plan the journey towards Palenque.

Palenque

The journey towards Palenque is long but wonderful; on this stretch I drive, in our precise and respected tour over that we have set for ourselves. While my two travel companions doze off, I cannot help but enjoy the silence and solitude of a route that, along this sun-drenched strip of asphalt, besides us expects encounters with few trucks, a few cars and nothing more, even beyond the road. Before reaching Palenque we are surprised by a posada a stone's throw from the sea, with a small bridge from which the fishermen probably set off in search of fortune in the water. We stop and have a meal based on fish, in the most absolute peace and quiet.

We look at each other contented: isn't it wonderful? We set off again and, after getting past with no small difficulty the siege of the mosquitoes in the early hours of the evening, we arrive at Palenque: a roundabout with the head of an indigenous man at its centre (in plaster...) welcomes us, and a few hundred metres away, in the city centre, we find a hotel, also this one we would say respectable, where we decide to spend the night. After dinner we venture into the market; there is a bit of everything, the atmosphere is calm, despite the late hour no one bothers us for being tourists, on the contrary, we feel protected.

archaeological site visit

The day is dedicated to the archaeological site of Palenque, a city excellently preserved immersed in the forest, which seems still alive, or at least just abandoned by its inhabitants shortly before our arrival. El Palacio is truly in excellent state of conservation, as are most of the other buildings; it is explained to us that its use is not certain, whether it was a residential centre or whether it served particular functions. It appears however quite clear that the city lived on three dimensions: that of power, that of the people and that of the divinities, all concentrated in an urban environment of remarkable evocative beauty.

Its magical flavour is then enhanced by the presence, inside the Tempio delle Iscrizioni, of the tomb of Pakal, considered one of the greatest Maya kings of Palenque: surprising how impossible it is not to liken this burial practice to the one in vogue among the ancient Egyptians. As we move away we are however called: it is the group of Tuscan girls and a boyfriend of one of them, whom we had met at the airport; how strange to find ourselves in the same place, 500 km away! We exchange a few words and ask ourselves whether we might see each other again at Playa del Carmen at the end of our holiday. Who knows, but it will be hard anyway; it was not yet the era of mobile phones. Pleasant prehistory!

san cristobal de las casas

We leave Palenque and venture into the woods of Chiapas, after a short stop at the Agua Azul waterfalls; unfortunately the water is not crystal clear as we expected, in August, in full rainy season, it carries mud and silt that make it brown. With our entry into Chiapas we get excited with one another, no one hides their emotion. After all we are real idiots, yet this continuous and natural charge we have in our bodies is something that perhaps at departure we had not foreseen. We had not even foreseen risking running out of petrol on the last climb which then, having reached its peak, sends the road plunging straight down towards the first lights of San Cristobal. Mea culpa, I had not wanted to spend more money to fill up the car, considering that the remaining fuel would have been more than enough to complete the journey. Instead, due to some of our inexperience...

we are down to the last drops and no kid comes near to offer us a miserable canister... In any case we make it, it is almost night, it will be 9 pm when we manage to reach the first petrol station of the city. I refresh myself with a couple of sweets that a woman sells to motorists. Later we find accommodation in a hotel opposite the bus station. In San Cristobal it is cool, we are at 2,200 metres above sea level, and even the hotel rooms recall mountain dwellings: the bed is in wrought iron and there are thick coloured blankets to guarantee us a warm rest.

san cristobal

A day entirely dedicated to San Cristobal. In the town hall square we witness a military parade; they explain to us that the anniversary of the dropping of the atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki is being remembered. Along the whole portico of the municipal building a myriad of stalls offer sweets of every kind. The strong sugary smell however also attracts numerous bees, which we find inside the cannoli, drowned in the cream... As we walk along the city streets an unknown student slips copies of the anti-government newspaper under our arm; no wonder here we are in the land of subcomandante Marcos; signs of struggle against central power persist also in the cathedral square. There are evident traces of a sit-in claiming the rights of the campesinos.

San Cristobal on this cool and sunny day reveals itself in all its beauty, with the colours of its colonial buildings, its markets rich in wool that somewhat also make one think of Peruvian lands, its women wrapped around children with red cheeks. A short distance away there is the very famous church of San Juan Chamul, inaccessible to tourists, who are also forbidden to photograph that little of the interior that can be glimpsed by peering from the doorway. Here too one breathes a strong mystical breath. In the afternoon we approach a travel agency and book for the following day an excursion along the Canyon del Sumidero.

canyon del sumidero

We find ourselves in the town hall square early in the morning, a jeep from the travel agency picks us up to take us to the Sumidero Canyon. After a short journey we arrive at our destination; we board a launch along with other tourists and begin to travel along this river that divides the rocky walls like a Grand Canyon straight out of the Old West. Our guide pauses at the most spectacular points and lets us admire and photograph nature's creations, including a niche in which an obligatory statue of the Madonna has been placed. On the way back, a tip for the "sea captain" is a must, then a stop at a rest area (lunch is included in the price), complete with mariachi to liven up the meal. The occasion allows us to meet two guys from Puglia, with whom we then spend the evening and the following half-day.

With them we treat ourselves to a luxury dinner at the restaurant right in the town hall square and a couple of hours of chatting along the avenues of San Cristobal, a place it seems hard for us to tear ourselves away from...

heading back

Today the return journey begins, I have to be back in Italy within a few days, while my two travelling companions will stay a week (according to their plans, but the rest is another story...) in Cuba. We leave early in the morning from San Cristobal, it's Roberto's turn to drive today but, as soon as we start descending the steep roads that lead from San Cristobal back to Palenque, Roberto is struck by severe stomach ache and has to hand me the wheel: minor mishaps caused not so much by the food as by the "unconditionally" used air conditioning in the "luxury" restaurant where we said goodbye to our friends from Puglia. The journey is long, we stop at Emiliano Zapata, drawn by the name of the illustrious revolutionary, but the town disappoints us: the museum with the relics of the illustrious guerrilla fighter, the only attraction, is closed.

On the other hand we are attacked by millions of mosquitoes hungry for European blood and, after seeking refreshment in the worst granita ever tasted (I hadn't been to Gallipoli yet...), we continued on our way until we reached Francisco Escarcega. In this case too it's an anonymous town, the only restaurant that seemed worthy of consideration, the "Titanic" (!!) closed its kitchen at 9 pm, so we settled for a perro caliente por la calle... By 11 pm we were already in bed...

puerto morelos - playa del carmen

Our journey continues to Puerto Morelos for a short stop and then straight to the snow-white beaches of Playa del Carmen. Once here, we decide that for our last Mexican days we don't want to hear any more about archaeological remains or Zapatistas, but we intend to enjoy this splendid sun and a beach on which you could die. We find an excellent hotel, at the time, newly built, for which we paid 30,000 lire each. In the evening many venues organise events with music and cervesa on the beach

reunion

After spending the day doing nothing on the beach and stuffing ourselves at the restaurant, in the evening we meet up again with the Tuscans. Incredibly and without having arranged a specific meeting, we are together again. Eight of us in our little jeep speed up and down across Playa del Carmen, an oasis of fun, at the time still far from the American excesses of Cancun...

running on fumes

For me this is the last full day in Mexico; with the Tuscans we treat ourselves to another day of pure relaxation, shopping and a few sips of tequila. We're not even ashamed to choose an Italian restaurant for lunch and order spaghetti alla puttanesca, just to taste the flavours of home again!!!! In the evening Playa del Carmen comes alive with a market, which allows us to buy the classic last-minute gifts...

to the very end

Having packed our bags and left the hotel, I don't resign myself, I've arranged to be able to have one last swim in these crystal-clear waters and to have lunch in complete calm a stone's throw from the sea. The Tuscans and I will then head to Cancun airport, we in fact have the same flight, while Enzo and Roberto will set off for another destination... It's really the case to say it!!!!