In which Roz and Layla swim in a cave, visit some pyramids, and emulate Tarzan

By Roz

Having forced Layla to swim in the dark in the pool by the side of our room - again claiming I couldn't due to my facial burns, we headed out to dinner and found ourselves with the usual conundrum of a Monday night - everywhere we really fancied either didn't have anything vegetarian on the menu or were completely deserted. Meridians, it seems, do not go out to dinner on a Monday. (Later on, doing some research, it seemed that in fact they were all saving themselves for Thursday - the day of the dead.) and so we ended up in the very pleasant restaurant, Amado, where we had guacamole and chips and then a very pleasant meal of fajitas and so forth. And it wasn't deserted which was just as well given that there was a guitar player and I can think of few things more depressing than being that guitar player and just playing to me and Layla.  Not that we didn't enjoy the ambience, but our attention was, perhaps, less than might have been wanted. We then went round the main square and saw a random day of the dead mime performance. It was good, if creepy (presumably the point), and solved the  mystery of where all the Meridians were that night. We wandered home via a quick glance in the bookshop (we both approve of bookshops that are open late in the evenings), having had a very pleasant evening. 

Next morning we were up early for another delicious breakfast (avocado omelette) before getting a bus to a hacienda (basically a rope-making plantation from colonial times). This turned out to be a really fun day. The bus took us through a bit of the city which we hadn't seem before with the odd department store or two which seemed very random. Then I listened to my audiobook The Year of the Flood (which I am completely transfixed by) as we drove through the Yucutan countryside. We arrived at a big house which rather reminded me of the houses that the British built in India during the time of the Raj. We wandered through, listening to a really good guide tell us about the operation of the hacienda when it first opened (unsurprisingly though depressingly, slaves - from South Korea - turned out to feature heavily in the tale) and the export of "green gold" - ropes. From there we saw how the ropes were actually made - and indeed are still being made on this plantation, in small quantity - including a bewildering variety of machines (one of which made Layla scream when it was turned on unexpectedly which was obviously hilarious for me, less so for her). We then got this mad train which was on a railway line, but pulled by a somewhat ambivalent mule. We rattled over the plantation towards and stopped off by an old cottage which housed an elderly man who had worked on the plantation years before and who only spoke Mayan. He showed us around his cottage and then talked us through what his job used to entail, including a demonstration of how to chop off the bit of the plant used to make ropes, This was somewhat peculiar or quite cheery depending on your spin. It was then back on to the train and over to a cenote. This is an underground cave with water in it, which Mexico has in bountiful supply. This one was particularly lovely since there were very few of us (I imagine cenotes are usually overrun by tourists) and it was cool exploring the murky recesses.  Out of the water, we were back on the train and back to the plantation centre, where we had a delightful lunch - probably our best meal so far in Mexico - with all sorts of local delicacies. 

We then got the bus back to Merida and then had a bit of a phaff working out how to get to a famous Mayan archaeological ruin called Chichen Itza, which is some distance away. Our very obliging hotel owner eventually drove us to the second class bus station and we hopped on a very chilly bus that stopped everywhere but was otherwise quite cheery and which took us to 3km from where we wanted to go (much better than the first class option which would have overshot the mark by 45km, and only slightly more alarming). We were eventually deposited in the dark in Piste, a somewhat grim looking town, and quickly decided that - regardless of our enthusiasm for eating in non-touristy venues - this was not the moment to stick to our principles and so got a cab to our hotel, a rather nice one right inside the Chichen Itza grounds. Dinner proved perfectly pleasant and we retired to bed by way of a jacuzzi (steam being good for my burns). 

Next morning we were up slightly earlier than usual to have an early breakfast to ensure that we were at the Chichen Itza ruins first, so we could enjoy the experience before the day tripper crowds descended. Fortunately the ruin management are clearly sleepy types since the gates don't open till 8 (and so it was a far cry from these early starts Layla has occasionally made me have on holiday to see a sunrise at various ruins). We were standing to attention at 7.55 at the gates (conveniently located in the back of the hotel gardens) and were bemused to find only one other person there. We speculated as to whether we had come to the wrong entrance - after all it is one of the 7 wonders of the modern world... It turned out not. Delightfully visitors to Chichen Itza are not early risers and so we had the whole complex to ourselves for pretty much an hour, wandering through jungle clearances to see beautiful structures emerging from the greenery. It was fun to see the giant pyramid in the centre of the ruins, to see the ancient observatory and to wander through the largest ancient ball park in mesoamerica. The latter was particularly curious because apparently the game entailed hitting a 12lb ball through a very inconveniently placed hoop - and could last hours. The winning team - or sometimes the losing team - would be killed at the end of a match which seemed an unfortunate reward for playing a ball game in very humid weather... The first people to join us in the complex were not tourists, but instead people planning to sell tat to tourists. But they were very pleasant at that time of the day, not bothering to try and sell us anything. And it was fun to critique their stalls as they did the set up. From there we stopped off for a small read, where I concluded book number 90 of the year (Tepper Isn't Going Out, set in New York and recommended by Thomas). We then nipped out to buy bus tickets to take us to our next stopping place (where we will remain for the rest of the holiday) and then made our way back to the hotel.

There we checked out and Layla went for a swim (more accurately I checked us out whilst Layla went for a swim) before lunch. After lunch it was horse-riding time! Layla and I occasionally think this is a good idea whilst on holiday (and usually conclude that we should learn to ride properly when we get home) and only remember our incompetence when it comes to the moment of getting on the horse. As it happened, I remembered this time as we travelled in a golf cart over to the horses (I needed something to distract me from the shame of getting in a vehicle I have previously assumed was the preserve of the 90 year old). Nevertheless, we pressed on through the hotel's leafy grounds and soon we were at a road - and at the other side of the road in some bushes were three horses ready (I hoped) for a gentle hack. And so it more or less turned out to be. Sadly I had a somewhat clumsy horse who had an enthusiasm for stumbling - to be fair I share this characteristic. Amusingly Layla had a horse with an enthusiasm for standing still and eating. So one might says we got horses perfectly suited to us. The jungle was fun to ride through - though bizarrely almost English at times despite being very clearly not. We ended up at a clearing after about 40 minutes and the guide told us to get off to see a cenote. Sceptical at first, it was really fun to clamber down into a half cave which then opened up on to a very pretty pool of water, overgrown with jungle greenery (I'm no botanist!). Our guide told us there was an anaconda snake - unclear if he was joking... Our guide enthusiastically then pointed out we could "be" Tarzan and swing through the trees on a vine hanging overhead. He demonstrated perfectly, landing neatly back on his rock. I knew this would be beyond me (partly because I tore a tendon in my shoulder which hasn't really healed, but mainly because I am a wuss). I'm ashamed to say that I persuaded / coerced Layla into doing it. I was impressed by the outcome - she did indeed swing - albeit it wasn't absolutely Tarzan-like. Especially when she fell off. But she wasn't hurt (too much, I hope) and I got a excellent photo which is obviously the main thing. We then headed back to the hotel and I contemplated how we should really learn how to ride properly when we get back to DC...

We then had a quick drink in the hotel, whilst I wrote some of this, and then it was time to get the bus. Pleasingly we managed to avoid anyone stopping us from our plan to retrace our steps through the ruins, and past the pyramid, with our bags in tow, to the bus stop which is just at the front of the main entrance at the other side of the ruins. I very much enjoyed seeing how different the place felt from the morning serenity (I fear the ambience was not enhanced by us with our bags) and am now looking forward to settling down on the first class bus to Tulum with The Year of the Flood: audiobooks really are the way to make me enjoy extended bus travel...