Merida, Travel Diary

As usual we caught a night bus that took us from Palenque to Merida in about nine hours. We arrived at our destination around six thirty in the morning, with our minds already made up about the hostel where we would stay. Our plans, however, went up in smoke when a white-haired gentleman who spoke excellent English appeared before us: he was the owner of another hostel located right in the historic centre, which was even cheaper than the one we had identified. We were too tired to refuse his offer, and so we climbed into his extremely beat-up car and arrived at our new lodgings. Although the bus journey had turned out to be more comfortable than the previous ones, we were dead tired and after a light breakfast we ended up sprawled on the bed.

Having woken up in the early afternoon, after getting a map of the city, we headed towards the central square with the intention of visiting the splendid cathedral. As soon as we set foot in the centre, we were stopped by a slim Mexican who spoke fluent Italian and, after bombarding us with a series of information about the city and its surroundings, escorted us to a Maya crafts shop. Here we were welcomed by another strapping young man who launched into a very long explanation about Maya traditions and the making of handicrafts, and in particular about hammocks and Panama hats. Obviously his aim was to sell us something, unaware of our precarious financial situation. As was obvious, we bought nothing, and it was not at all easy to get out of that shop: we made up a string of lies so we could shake that individual off.

By now we had been drained of all energy when we finally headed back towards the cathedral. Barely had we set foot in the main square when once again a fat gentleman charged at us, speaking good Italian and passing himself off as an employee of the municipal tourist office. After an avalanche of chatter he got to the point: he was proposing a visit to the one true and only Maya crafts shop, claiming that all the others offered nothing but banal imitations. The whole thing was starting to smell fishy to us, but the persuasive power of certain people is incredible... in next to no time and almost without realising it, we were in another shop that was again offering us hammocks. If the first time we had been patient and courteous, this time we were fed up to the back teeth and freed ourselves from the nuisance without too many qualms.

Back towards the cathedral and once again stopped by yet another peddler of hot air... this time it was really too much; we didn't even speak to him and with our heads down we slipped into the cathedral. Even in the peace of the church, we were afraid that at any moment yet another peddler of hot air would pop out from behind a column or from inside a confessional. Fortunately they seem to have a certain aversion to consecrated places and we managed to enjoy the interior of the cathedral in blessed peace. By the time we came out darkness had already fallen and we headed off to take a shower. After a quick dinner we slipped into bed to recover from the exhaustion of the journey to Merida.

The following day, after a breakfast of bread and jam, we spent it wandering around the city, between the market, the most characteristic alleys, and the town hall, from which one could enjoy a superb view of the main square. We returned to the hostel fairly early and got to know a strange character who was staying with us. Even though he too was Mexican, he handled our language very well, and so, between one chat and another, we discovered that this little man had spent more than half his life as a street artist travelling around the world, without of course neglecting our beautiful country, where he spent seven years and left behind a son. Apart from this chit-chat, he also gave us some valuable information about the places to visit around the city, singling out Celestun and Cuzama, destinations we absolutely could not let slip away.

In the evening we headed out to have dinner in one of the many little restaurants that populated the centre... thanks to the insistence of a bold young man named Ulisse, we enjoyed a delicious and extremely hearty little dinner. But good Ulisse's insistence had not ended with dinner: once the meal was over, in fact, he wanted to take us at all costs to a disco where he worked. We had to decline the invitation because the following day we had a super excursion to Cuzama waiting for us, but with the promise that we would see each other again the following evening.

No sooner said than done: the next morning we were already on a truck that in about an hour would take us to Cuzama. The time has come for us to explain what on earth there is to see in this little town; in truth the town has nothing to offer, just a few houses among cacti and stones, but it is precisely from this town that an interesting route departs, one that took us to visit the famous "cenotes", natural freshwater pools hidden beneath the immense Mexican desert. Another interesting and at the very least characteristic thing was the way of reaching these spectacular cavities: it is a primitive railway built long ago for the harvesting and transport of a plant (whose name we don't remember) from which juice is extracted (which gives rise to tequila) and from whose fibres the famous hammocks and countless objects for daily life are produced.

And so we boarded a makeshift little cart that, instead of rubber wheels, had iron wheels that rested on the rickety rails. In place of the locomotive there was a restless mule that from time to time threw tantrums and went off on its own, promptly whipped by the driver. The "cenotes" are simply marvellous: long metal ladders lead down to a depth ranging from fifteen to thirty metres, and there a crystalline water in which it is even possible to dive and swim to find relief from the suffocating heat on the surface. The visit included three stops at as many "cenotes", in which we certainly did not miss the chance to take a swim. Truly incredible, how beneath a hostile, desert-like surface these natural oases can hide, oases that for centuries have guaranteed the survival of the local population.

The whole thing lasted a good three hours, after which we returned to the starting point, from where we caught the last bus back to Merida. Back at base and after a shower, we treated ourselves to the luxury of a pizza of questionable taste, after which, as promised the previous evening, we met up with Ulisse for a night out in one of the many local venues. It was a sort of disco crowded with young Mexicans who were writhing to the sound of typical local music and the most danceable international hits. We tried not to stay up too late since the following day we had decided to leave Merida for Celestum. With backpacks on our shoulders, we headed to the station, from where we took the bus to the coast. We had been away from the sea for quite a while and the desire for a dip was beginning to become irresistible.

Unfortunately, however, once we arrived we realised that what we had in front of us was not exactly the Caribbean sea we had in mind. No matter, our visit to Celestum had another purpose: a tour of the lagoon (a nature reserve) in which it was possible to do some bird watching. As soon as we got off the bus, we went to drop our backpacks at the only hostel in town and then went to watch the decisive match for the awarding of the tricolour scudetto: Milan-Juventus. On the advice of the hostel owner, we went to the only venue where it was possible to watch the match, a "dive" on the oceanfront crowded with locals intent on drinking beer and gulping down devilish concoctions made from fish innards. The atmosphere was certainly typical and characteristic... perhaps too much so! From the speakers came deafening music that completely prevented us from hearing the match.

As soon as the match ended, we paid and cleared out, heading to our room, where we ate a dinner prepared for us by two girls we had met at the hostel: thanks Daniela!

Having woken up early, we boarded one of the many small boats to head toward the lagoon; the tour wound between colonies of cormorants, flamingos, and pelicans, without neglecting an interesting excursion through a lush forest of mangroves and trees petrified by the effect of salt. After two hours we were already on our way back, just the time for a snack to once again catch the bus to Merida, a mandatory solution for reaching Cancun.