Mexico: Completing the Loop

March 15, 2025March 15, 2025 Marie Noonanchichen-itza, mexico, travel, valladolid, Yucatan1 Comment

**Our Big Loop, starting and ending in Cancun**

Time in Mexico flew by and we found ourselves back in the Yucatan driving away from the Gulf of Mexico (definitely still called that), heading inland towards Cancun to complete the last part of our large loop.

Swallows flew around the quadrangle flanked on all sides by the ruins of ancient monuments. Bats were hanging upside down in the dark recesses of the buildings while giant iguanas snoozed on the hot stones. We were in Uxmal, another archaeological site where most of the buildings dated from the seventh to tenth century AD and were unlike anything that we had seen before now. Many of the buildings were decorated with intricate bas reliefs and were arranged in several quadrangles around immense plazas, some linked by beautiful arched passageways. It had an almost modern feel and was undoubtedly a well-planned city with an orientation along astrological lines.

The massive pyramid, known as the Pyramid of the Magician, was really impressive because of its huge size, considerable height and steep slopes but the myth surrounding it was also pretty interesting. Legend told of a magic dwarf, who hatched from a turtle egg and was raised by a childless witch. Through a series of tasks and challenges, the dwarf outwitted and overthrew the sovereign of Uxmal to become the ruler and used his magic to build the massive pyramid as his palace, building it in one night.

Uxmal is in a dry arid region without rivers or springs so its wasn’t surprising that the most revered god was the rain god, Chaac, often depicted with a human body covered in scales and a fac with protruding fangs, He held both a lightening axe and snakes that he threw at the clouds to bring storm and rain. Apparently he had a voracious appetite but could be appeased in times of drought by human sacrifice. Despite the lurid tales, Uxmal was an interesting and meditative place, relatively quiet with just a few people meandering around.

It was a different story when we visited Chichen Itza the following day. In a country with a plethora of archaeological sites, this is one of the ‘big guns’, an UNESCO heritage sire since 1988 and regarded as one of the world’s best preserved archaeological sites. We had been warned to go early as it was really popular. As we approached the site shortly before eight o clock, we were greeted by the strange sight of a long line of people pushing carts loaded with boxes and bags as if they were refugees, fleeing with all their worldly goods. These were just the stall vendors making their way into Chichen Iza for the 8am opening.

Most of the tour buses hadn’t arrived yet but the queues were long and chaotic and we soon discovered why. The total price was a hefty 671 pesos per person (about €33) but 100 pesos of this was government tax and had to be paid at a separate window which wasn’t clearly marked. Only cash was accepted so people were counting out cash and then leaving the queues to find an ATM when they didn’t have enough.

Chichen Itza was a mixture of fascinating history and commercial tourist trap and definitely the most crowded place that we visited. Hundreds of vendors lined the site selling all sorts of souvenirs, hats, blankets and pyramid replicas as well as jewelry and soft drinks. Just a flicker of an eye in the direction of a stall was enough to make the sellers pounce.

The site was occupied for thousands of years but was a major power between 800 and 1200 AD. The giant pyramid, El Castilla, a huge stepped pyramid dominated the site. At sunrise at the spring and autumn equinox, an interplay of light and shadow gives the impression of the body of a rattlesnake slithering down the giant balustrades of the pyramids, becoming reunited with the stone serpent’s head at the bottom. That must be an extraordinary sight. The Maya were really in tune with the skies, with an extremely accurate solar calendar and their ability to integrate astronomy into the architecture of their temples and monuments.

**Chichen Itza and the Slithering Rattlesnakes**

Sweat was dripping down my back and my left arm was turning a tomato shade of red from the sun as we made our way towards the exit after our three hour visit. My right arm ached from carrying an umbrella for shade. A small umbrella is one of the most useful things I pack when we go away, good for sun or rain but the strong sun in Chichen Itza required the shade of a giant parasol. Pushing against the throngs of people arriving, we were glad we had gone there but absolutely delighted to leave this hot, overcrowded World Heritage site.

We spent our last few nights in Valladolid, a colonial town of churches and history, about a forty-five minute drive from the madness of Chichen Itza, staying on the outskirts of town, in a hacienda which had a swimming pool and even its own chapel on the grounds. This was a perfect place to escape the heat and relax. We tried not to complain too much about the 35C temperatures as we would soon be at home.

**Church on the grounds of the Hacienda**

The walking tour of the Valladolid took us from the church in the main plaza to the Convent of San Bernadino, an imposing structure and one of the oldest examples of colonial heritage in the Yucatan. We sat on the stone wall on a balmy evening watching a sound and light show recreate the history of the building and town in a series of images on the stout walls.

**Convento de San Bernadino, Vallodolid**

Our last night was spent in downtown Cancun. Although we had flown into Cancun almost five weeks previously on a late flight, we had stayed near the airport, which is south of the city, and then continued on further south the following morning. So this was our first visit to Cancun. It was unlike any other place that we had been in Mexico. It was large and sprawling with two distinct areas. A wide six-lane boulevard connected the more traditional downtown with the hotel area (Zona Hotelera,) which looked as if it had been built – or at least expanded – in the last ten years. A long row of palm trees ran down the middle of the boulevard with enormous hotels nestling among trees and flowering bushes on either side. Driving over a causeway, we caught a glimpse of the Caribbean sea and some beaches and understood why it was such a popular destination. The water was a sparkling turquoise and the sand was talcum-powder pale. Rows of gleaming yachts were moored at a jetty. It was a place made for holidaymakers. We stayed in a comfortable but slightly shabby apartment in the downtown area with parking on the street outside and some nice restaurants nearby.

We meet up with a Mexican friend, Diana, who we first met in Colombia this time last year and who visited us in Waterford last July for a few days. It was a lovely evening. Drinking our margaritas and eating our shrimp and veg tacos which were garnished with succulent avocados and sharp limes, in a buzzy local bar, full of noise and music, we knew we were going to miss Mexico.

Our last morning was bright and sunny, another beautiful day. Dropping back the car, we hoped that all would be well. When we had picked up the car, we had gone for the basic mandatory insurance despite the efforts of the person in the Alamo Car Rental Office to persuade us to get a lot more cover. It had been airborne over the dreaded ‘invisible’ speed-bumps a couple of times and it was covered in a fine layer of dust but it passed all checks and our deposit was returned. The cost for thirty-three days was €555 which was pretty good value. We opted for the ‘mystery’ compact model when reserving online and mystery turned out to be a very roomy Nissan X-Trail

The flight from Cancun to Washington was short, less than three hours on United Airways followed by an overnight flight to Dublin, which took about seven hours, arriving on a sunny but cold morning. Five degrees was a shock to our systems.

Thanks to all who came along with us, or dipped in and out….we enjoyed your company.

When we’ve had a chance to think about our dizzying kaleidoscope of memories, I will do another post on the highlights …and low lights ….of our roadtrip around just a small part of this fabulous, energetic country

Chichen Itza Pillars

Mexico: Then and Now

March 1, 2025March 1, 2025 Marie Noonancommunity, eco tourism, hiking, indigenous people, mexico, oaxaca, retirement, scenery, sierre norte, south America, travel, Zapotec2 Comments

**Village of Cuajimoloyas, Sierra Norte @ 3200m**

Inhaling clear air, we felt slightly dizzy from the altitude at 3100m and the breathtaking scenery of pine-clad forests. The distant tinkling of bells, worn around the necks of goats and sheep, drifted upwards on a light breeze. We could have been in some Alpine town in Switzerland but this wasn’t Europe, it was the Sierre Norte, a mountain range in the Oaxaca region of Southern Mexico. The idea to visit this remote village was planted in our minds only two days before when we visited Mount Alban, an impressive archaeological site which overlooked the colonial city of Oaxaca.

Mexico is full of history. There are archeological sites everywhere especially in the southern part of the country in the states of Oaxaca, Chiapas and the Yucatan. Most of these went through the same cycle of growth, decline and abandonment, many becoming ‘lost’ for centuries.

We wondered what happened to the people who built these fabulous monuments as we strolled around the sunbaked ruins of the Zapotec capital at Mount Alban. These were built on the Hill of the Jaguar, a mountaintop that was deliberately flattened to create room for the vast site which kept unfolding and becoming more impressive as we walked. The temple complexes, the enormous Gran Plaza, the mysterious carvings and the extraordinary astronomical observatory told of great wealth, prestige and domination over a huge area but it was abandoned in about 800AD after about 1300 years of occupation.

The Zapotec people hadn’t completely disappeared. The descendants of those who built the metropolis of Mount Alban were living in mountain villages, less than a two hour drive from Oaxaca and so we decided to visit. Travelling into the cloud-forested mountains of the Sierra Norte on a bright sunny morning, we reached the high altitude pueblo of Cuajimoloyas (I still have difficulty pronouncing it) where we were supposed to pick up a guide for a hike in the mountains.

‘You have arrived’ said Goggle. Looking around, we got that sinking feeling. We were outside a boarded up house with no sign of a guide or anyone else and no phone signal to make contact with anyone. The village was larger than expected, sprawling up a hillside with well-kept houses, trimmed verges, flowers and virtually no rubbish . We drove in circles until we spotted an elderly man, leaning on a walking stick who pointed his stick towards the office of Expediciones Sierra Norte, an eco-tourism company which is entirely Zapotec owned and operated. A smiling Andres, a thirty year old who has lived in the village all his life, was sitting on a bench outside the office, not in the least perturbed by our late arrival.

Arrangements for our 2 day hike were made in Oaxaca in the city-centre office of Expediciones Sierra Norte, housed in a shady colonial building. The office was manned by four young women, all charming but there was little bargaining in terms of price. When we discovered that having an English speaking guide doubled the cost of the two day/ one night trip from roughly €230 to over €400, Caoimhin joked with Janet, who was an English speaking guide that he wanted her job. She protested, saying that she didn’t earn that much but only received a amall portion. There weren’t any English speaking guides available anyway for the days we wanted, so we opted for a Spanish -speaking guide.

To our surprise Andres greeted us in English and welcomed us to the village but we soon discovered that that was almost the extent of his English. The village was remote but certainly not primitive. The toilet block opposite the Expediciones Office was new and had a turnstile to get it that required a five peso coin.

Our hike started in the village of Llanes Grande famous for its flowers, especially an abundance of Red Hot Poker flowers. Andres picked up enormous sandwiches stuffed with cheese, tomatoes, cucumbers and black bean paste at one of the little comedors (restaurants) in the village for a picnic on the way. At the beginning we strolled on a soft carpet of pine needles through forests of towering pines, bordered by huge agave plants. Cattle grazed in open meadows and a couple of lakes were full of flickering trout. Andres stopped to explain the medicinal and culinary uses of many of the plants.

Climbing down into a steep gorge, we were dwarfed by walls of rock until we reached the cave known as the La Cuvee de la Iglesia, a mystical place of legends and phantom horses. Andres led us onwards to Cuajimoloyas where Senora Marlen plied us with so much food that we could hardly walk. We devoured fresh vegetable soup, quesadillas (cheese sandwiches), plates of fried potatoes, chilli mushrooms, green beans, frigoles, and tortillas garnished with limes, sliced avocados and picante sauces. The kitchen was lovely with a range of saucepans that were so colourful, I had kitchen utensil envy.

**Brightly coloured pans on a wood burner stove**

We bumped into Janet, the women from the office in Oaxaca, who lived in the village and discovered that Andres, our guide, was her husband. She persuaded him to guide us knowing that he had a few words of English. She invited us into her home and told us a bit more about the eco tourism company, Expediciones Sierra Norte. It began when eight remote Zapotec villages, (collectively called the Pueblos Mancomunados), came together to protect their land against developers and to provide themselves with a living from ecotourism. All profits are divided between the eight villages who decide individually how the money is spent. The idea of ‘service’ (unpaid voluntary work) is paramount to the success of the operation. One member of each family must do ‘service’, which may involve cleaning, painting or being the rotating president, chairperson and secretary which each of the individual villages have. There are rules and a code of practice and quarterly meetings

The village was a lesson on the power of community or what people can do when they come together. The villages, although remote were more prosperous than many others that we have seen in Mexico. There was an air of industry and friendliness and a palpable sense of pulling together.

The idea of community cooperation was not new to the Zapotec in the region. They had set up a logging company years before when developers were sniffing around the forests. It was moderately profitable but the eco-tourism venture has been spectacularly successful. Nowadays, they do not cut down trees but only use the dead wood or whatever falls naturally in the storms. We probed Janet, trying to get her to tell us stories of greed, jealousy and disharmony but she insisted that all was well and that everybody abided by the rules which benefited the whole community.

Our cabin for the night was a surprise, It was on the hill overlooking the town and exceeded our expectations with a fireplace, a comfortable double bed and some bunk beds. Sitting outside in the late afternoon, with sounds of goats and dogs barking floating up from the village below us, it was incredibly peaceful. A retired couple from New York were staying in the cabin next to us and were also really taken by the sense of community in the area.

It got cold in the mountains when the sun went down, dipping to almost zero. The cabin, though comfortable, was not well insulated. There were huge gaps under and over the door and the sides of the windows. After dinner one of the locals came in with an armful of timber logs and lit a huge wood fire in the fireplace using only a natural firelighter to start it (a piece of Colima bark). It was one of those fires where your front was roasting but your back was freezing but at least the bed was piled high with blankets.

Our second day’s hike was the stunning Canon del Coyote which was even more spectacular than the day before, involving a hike through caves and a scramble up on sheer rock to a mirador (a lookout point) with breathtaking views. We listened to an assortment of birds in the forest, hummingbirds, jays and warblers and at the lower levels passed steep fields of sheep and lambs.

The sensible thing to do after our hike would have been to return to Oaxaca city and use a relatively major roads through the valleys to get over the Sierra Juarez mountain range. Of course we didn’t do that. Instead we drove deeper into the mountains, winding our way on dirt roads in remote countryside. A stunning and grueling drive in equal measure, the dirt roads for the first hour passed through gorgeous villages. In one puebla, two of the most enormous turkeys I have ever seen, gobbled at the side of the road while in another an old woman with long plaited hair and no teeth gave us a cheery wave. For the most part, there was little traffic of any kind. We stopped at a Mirador to admire the view of the fluffy clouds laid out beneath us.

We weren’t quite so enamored when we were driving down through them a short while later. Visibility reduced to almost zero and the world became a thick opaque grey. It was almost impossible to distinguish road from verge on the twisty road. Thankfully the surface was reasonable and there wasn’t a lot of traffic. The mist and fog lightened every so often to reveal gigantic ferns and thick moss covered trees and we were fooled into believing that we almost down, only for it to thicken again and plunge us into grey again. It took almost an hour of white-knuckle crawling, but eventually we were below the clouds although we were still in the mountains and the temperatures rose.

After all that excitement and tension, we needed a place to stay. The town of San Juan Bautiste Valle National sounded like a bit of a mouthful but it was relatively close. It wasn’t the sort of place that had anything on Booking.com but it looked big enough on a map to have some hotels. Stopping for an ice cream and a look around, we found a friendly town, very friendly. Lots of men looked like they had been working hard all week in the fields, hadn’t had a shower in a long time and had been on a bender for a least two days. Two guys staggered out of the shop after shaking our hands, carrying bags of clinking cans. One got into a battered pick-up and the other ambled unsteadily to a motorbike. Both drove off, still waving to us. We decided to push on.

A little outside the town, we spotted a sign for Hotel Hniu Li, pointing down a little track off the highway. It looked good, a double story buildings with a breezy balcony on the edge of a field of maize with a few banana trees in front. There was no reception area but an old woman called to us from the doorway of a little shop on the corner. She told us that the room was 500pesos for the night( less than 25 euros), cash, with no signing registers or checking of passport. The room was small bit adequate, spotlessly clean but the bathroom was jaw-droppingly gorgeous, like something out of an upmarket spa, almost as big as the bedroom with polished stone walls and lashings of high-pressure hot water, It was perfect……just what we needed. A dog called Lala befriended us and the woman in the shop who sold beer but didn’t have any cold ones, put two in the freezer for us.

Cheers

Thanks for reading.

Mexico: Gone to the Beach

February 21, 2025February 22, 2025 Marie Noonanbeaches, mazunte, mexico, oaxaca5 Comments

It was the start of a long day, a very long day. It was barely ten degrees, a bright, chilly and pine-scented morning in the gorgeous, mountain-town of San Christobel de Las Casas. Leaving the town behind us with some regret, we travelled on a wide tolled road, the first toll road we have encountered so far. Descending rapidly to the lowlands, the temperature ascended just as rapidly and we were reaching for the car air-con within forty minutes.

We hadn’t a definite destination in mind, just headed in the general direction of the beaches on the Pacific coast of Oaxaca. A French woman we met on a tour of the archaeological ruins at Palenque had raved about the small seaside town of Mazunte so we thought we might go there. The only problem was that it was at least an eight and a half hour drive without breaks. So we drove on, seeing how far we would get.

Stopping for something to eat in the middle of nowhere, the simple family-run restaurant was just a few tables covered in bright tablecloths. An elderly man in a wheelchair and three women of various ages sat watching some soap on the TV when we poked our heads inside the door. It wasn’t obvious whether it was open for business but they all sprang into action and produced a plate of scrambled eggs, some sort of creamed cheese accompanied by a basket of warm tortillas, a tongue-searingly hot sauce and mugs of black coffee.

For the first time since we arrived in the country, the terrain became more typically ‘Mexican’, dry and dusty with scrubby red hills under a blindingly blue sky. Our main problem on this journey was not the speed bumps or the threat of protesters, this time it was the sheer number of pot-holes and craters in some sections. At one stage we were behind a police car which was swerving like a crazy drunk to avoid them with oncoming traffic doing the same dangerous dance.

It was well after 4pm and decision time. Mexico was not a country to be driving around in the dark. With no cafes in sight, we stopped at a ramshackle, roadside shop in a stiflingly hot dusty town to discuss our options. An overweight teenager, swinging in a hammock and playing on his phone, could barely rouse himself to take our money for a Coke and some chocolate. Mazunte was still at least two and half hours away but with sugar rushing through our veins, we decided to press on and booked a place to stay. The online reviews were good, claiming it was a quiet relaxing place between the two beaches on either side of the town.

Descending from the mountains that stretched almost to the coast, we arrived just after sunset. It was already dark and Mazunte was full of gringos, (many of them barefoot and scantily dressed) wandering in the middle of a narrow street full of cafes, restaurants and jewellery stalls. Turning up the unpaved road to our accommodation, pedestrians streamed down the hill and cars abandoned everywhere. The road was so narrow that we had to reverse to allow the traffic that was coming against us to pass. We had arrived, not only at the busiest time of the evening but the busiest time of the week. Weekend crowds were returning after viewing the sunset on the west-facing beach near our accommodation. Thankfully, calm returned within twenty minutes and the traffic disappeared.

Our landlord wasn’t available because of the short notice and our room wasn’t ready either. We whiled away the time, sitting outside the shop next door and drinking cans of ice-cold beers ….probably the nicest and most welcome drink we’d ever had. It was after 7 pm and still thirty degrees.

Mazunte had a holiday, hippy vibe with many vegetarian and vegan eateries, full of ‘cool’ people of all ages…..our kind of place, at least for a few days. Hotels, bungalows and cabanas with thatched roofs stretched up into the hills, half-hidden among the coconut trees and the flowering shrubs. The pace of life was slow here, people ambled around in a heat haze. The cocktails were always on ‘special offer’, the coffee was strong and stands selling coco frio, cold coconut water drunk directly from the shell were everywhere.

The sweet period in Mazunte was early morning from 6am to 9am. After that it was time to look for shade until the late afternoon. It was a few days of sunrise walks, sunset swims and yoga sessions. Practising yoga on a thatched veranda overlooking the beach was like’ hot’ yoga without the need for heaters. Sweat trickled down my face, my hands slipped on the mat and I tried to catch a breeze from the Pacific Ocean. It was 8.30 am and already 29 degrees. Paulo, our instructor was Mexican but had spent five years living in Dublin and still had lots of friends there. On this trip, we have met so many people of different nationalities who have visited Ireland and all have only good things to say about it.

The coast to the east and west of Mazunte was gorgeous, full of beaches with something to suit everyone, some were more suitable for surfing, others were perfect for swimming and snorkelling but all were ideal for lolling around.

It wasn’t just humans that flocked to this dusty, sun-baked stretch of coast. Whales also made their way from the frigid waters of Northern Canada to the warm seas of Mexico’s Pacific coast to breed and nurse their young usually from December to March. Several varieties of turtles laid their eggs on the sandy beaches and there were several turtle research stations in the area.

It was hard for us to believe but it was winter season here, the coolest and driest time of the year. The rainy season is between May and October but the temperatures begins to creep up in March until forty degrees is fairly common. Jonathon, our landlord, pointed out where water runs down the hill between the bungalows and the unpaved road becomes a river. We stayed in a very unusual place, an architecturally designed cabana, angled to catch the breeze and stay cool without air con. It had a series of sliding shutters but was open on all sides so we could hear the squirrels scampering in the trees outside and the sound on the waves breaking on the beach down the road,

After four nights, it was time to go or we might never have left. The city of Oaxaca, about which we had heard so many good things, was calling us. We travelled for about an hour on a highway going towards Acapulco with coconut stalls, cacti, flowering shrubs and bridges over (almost dry) river beds. The song Going Loco in Acapulco was going round and round in my head but soon we turned inland towards the hills, climbing again, ears popping and chewing on the dust that seeped into the car. Huge efforts were in progress to stop the steep mountains from sliding onto the road, There are many tailbacks as rock falls were being cleared. Road workers climbed like abseiling ants in high-vis jackets up the vertical rocky slopes, trying to secure the sides and prevent more erosion.

Oaxaca is in a central valley, at 1550m, ringed by mountains with brightly painted houses sprawling up the hills. The historic centre is an UNESCO World Heritage site, laid out on a grid system with handsome buildings, artisan craft shops and art galleries in sixteenth century buildings with stout walls, shady courtyards and subdued signage.

The centre was full of tree-shaded plazas, a magnificent cathedral made of the local rock which has a green tinge. There were churches and monasteries on almost every corner. The church of San Domingo was the most splendid, a solid baroque exterior with a sumptuous interior of gold, gilt and bas reliefs.

As we wandered around the breezy, cobbled streets under festive buntings, homeless people thrust clinking cups under our noses, begging for change. The stench of urine even in the main plazas was oppressive and one street away from the touristy centre, belching buses and honking taxis destroyed the peace. The shoe shine people, who were mainly weather beaten, middle-aged men, ignored us after glancing at our runners. Oaxaca seemed a beautiful but complex place, with a significant underbelly of deprivation co-existing with the wealth and glamour.

It was a city of music with buskers of every sort and ability, playing and singing all over the place. A small orchestra set up outside the Santa Domingo church and we stumbled across a parade of women in swirling long dresses, dancing to the drumming of a marching band.

Oaxaca is also the culinary capital of Mexico. One of the more unusual ingredients was roasted grasshoppers (chapulines) which were sold in big basins on every street corner and eaten as a snack or as garnish or topping on dishes. They were regarded as a fantastic source of protein and may actually become the food of the future, at least according to our guide on our walking tour of the city. We haven’t tasted them…..yet.

In the botanical gardens which is famous for its huge variety of cacti and local flora from the region, the only available tours were in Spanish as the tours in English had been discontinued. This is admirable in one way but slightly baffling in a city whose income is almost totally derived from tourism. At least half the thirty people on the tour had difficulty understanding the guide. Although we followed some of what he was saying with our rudimentary Spanish, we would have appreciated being able to fully grasp the intricacies of the garden.

Located just a few kilometres from Oaxaca City lies Mount Alban, one of the most impressive archaeological sites in Mexico. It was founded around 500 BC and continued for almost one thousand, three hundred years. It became so influential that it has been called the Rome of the Americas.

The location of Mount Alban was spectacular with views of the valleys and surrounding mountains. Oaxaca was spread out at our feet, looking much bigger than when we were in it. At this time of year, the site was sunbaked and dry with vast open areas between the temple complexes. Shade was at a premium and people huddled under the occasional trees. Just as in Palenque, the museum was excellent in a beautiful modern building.

The ancient Zapotec built these complexes and ruled vast kingdoms. They were known as ‘cloud people’ because they believed they originated from clouds and also because they lived at high altitude in areas that are often shrouded in clouds. Now the descendants of the Zapotec live in villages to the northeast of Oaxaca. It is possible to visit the area and hike from village to village.

We organised a hiking trip in an office in Oaxaca, run entirely by women from the Zapotec. They were helpful and welcoming but drove a hard bargain. Eventually we settled on a price although no English speaking guides were available.

Tomorrow, we head up into the clouds for some high altitude hiking as the villages are at 3200 m…..it should be an interesting breathless challenge

Thanks for reading

Hasta luego, amigos.

Mexico….Ruins and Ruinous Roads

February 15, 2025March 12, 2025 Marie Noonanadventure, archaeology, mexico, road trip. Chiapas, ruins, travel, Yucatan1 Comment

The first rain came in a violent downpour just after Ireland had beaten Scotland in the rugby match which we watched on the laptop in our little apartment in Bacalar, a little town just shy of the Belize border. It was still midmorning as Mexico is five hours behind Ireland. The morning had been warm, about 28^odegrees, but cloudier than usual so we weren’t too surprised when the heavens opened. The rain didn’t last long but increased the humidity.

We love the temperatures here in the Southern Yucatan. Although it can get a little uncomfortable in the afternoon especially if the sun is out, the evenings are gorgeous, long, balmy and perfect for eating outside. Most of the Mexicans especially in the ‘local’ area away from the lake where we were staying, had hammocks, plastic tables and chairs outside their houses, where they socialised in the evenings, usually with a few beers and some music….loud vibrant tunes.

Bacalar Lake is known as the Lagoon of Seven Colours (La Laguna de Los Siete Colores). It’s almost mandatory to take a boat trip out on the lake to fully appreciate it. We chose the sunset tour which was 3 hours on the lake visiting the pirates path, the island of the birds, and cenotes (underwater sinkholes that dramatically changed the colour of the water depending on the depth.) The sun slipped down behind the town, turning the lake-water golden. On the tour, we met three German women in their early seventies who were driving around Mexico for a couple of weeks and having a ball. The only problem they had encountered was a puncture which they acquired when they hit one of those invisible speed bumps. They spent their time on the boat, giggling and trying to get the perfect photos of each other, almost like far younger Instagram influencers.

Although our apartment was in the non-touristy ‘local’ area and a twenty minute walk away from the lake, it included free access to the Bacalar Tropic Beach Club which was one of a series of lakefront hotels and houses on the southern end of town. There was no ‘beach’ but there was a grassy area in front of the hotel with loungers, hammocks, swings and a multicoloured boardwalk – a great place to enjoy the lake.

Both of us lost our wedding rings years ago, Caoimhin’s in a swimming pool in Peru and mine in the sea in Tramore. We kept meaning to replace them but never got around to it. Wandering around the night market in Bacalar, we spotted rings that appealed to both of us, bands of various woods encased in silver. Although they weren’t typical wedding rings and we bought them from a market stall, Caoimhin says that he feels ‘really’ married again after more than thirty years of married life!!!. Our jeweller who was from Uruguay, but living in Mexico, recommended that we go to Palenque in Chiapas State for the scenery and the archaeological ruins. Our trip seemed to be evolving, based on recommendations from people along the way.

So we travelled across the Yucatan Province almost from coast to coast passing numerous roadworks and not much else. Again the road was long, straight in almost completely flat terrain. It was strange to see so many cherry blossom trees in flower especially as it is so much hotter than home. We stopped for an ice-cream at a garage shop but it melted almost before we could eat it.

Hotel Real Primavera Campeste was relatively expensive (€49 for the night) for a hotel that was really in the middle of nowhere but we needed somewhere to break the journey to Palenque. The hotel avenue was long and lined with trees, the gardens were landscaped and the rooms were spotlessly clean. It was a place that could accommodate a crowd but the only other residents were three men driving from Monterey in California to their home to Belize. They were also breaking their journey at the hotel. Apart from us, a flock of long-tailed Grackles made good use of the pool, dipping and diving at dusk

The countryside was still really flat the following morning until we reached Palenque, with its backdrop of mountains and its hilly streets. This time we booked into a hostel, which had a large pool, an outdoor kitchen and a ramshackle garden. Although everything was a little shabby, Alex, the proprietor and his father were friendly and welcomed us to Villas del Carmen Hostal. It was also pretty cheap at €22 a night for an ensuite room. Security seemed to be an issue in the area. We were a bit perplexed when the shop across the road, one of the Six convenience stores that were so common in Mexico, only served customers through shutters passing out the goods through vertical bars. We walked into town at dusk but the lighting was so bad and the pavements so cracked that we got a taxi back to prevent us from falling down a hole by the side of the road.

The Palenque Ruins opened at 8am and we were in the queue shortly afterwards. We paid a fee for the ruins and another to enter the National Park where the ruins were located. English speaking guides were available, most vying for our attention, especially as the number of visitors was quite low. The prices were fluid and bargaining was expected. We settled on Tito, a young Mayan who had good English and a nice manner teamed up with a French mother and son duo who were also looking for an English speaking tour.

This was our first Mayan site in Mexico and it was really impressive, with several clusters of enormous buildings, most of them with almost vertical stairways. The complex was surrounded by cedar, mahogany and sapodilla trees which provided shade for visitors, the locals selling crafts and the many birds. In the jungle beyond, howler monkeys were living up to their names and creating a racket. The site was all the more impressive because all the structures were built about one thousand, five hundred years ago with human sweat alone and without the use of the wheel or with machinery at all. The settlement flourished in the seventh century under the rule of Pakal, who lived until he was eighty years old which was a phenomenal age at the time. We walked around in sunshine listening to the monkeys, and tried to imagine the buildings as they would have been in Pakal’s time when they were painted a blood-red colour with elaborate red and blue stucco details. Magic mushrooms were reserved for the noble classes and we’re used in many Maya ceremonies as a means of communing with the gods and ‘waking up the mind.’ Mayan idea of beauty was totally different to ours, they favoured an elongated head and cross-eyes.

In the excellent museum, we saw a replica of the sarcophagus of the Red Queen which was only discovered in 1994 in a temple beside the large Temple of the Inscriptions where Pakal was laid to rest. The Red Queen is believed to be Pakal’s wife and she got her name because of the bright red dust made of cinnabar (a red mineral made of mercury and sulphur) that covered her skeleton when she was discovered. She was also buried with two servants and copious amounts of jade and pearls.

Despite all the grandeur, the site was abandoned, possibly due to deforestation and feuds with neighbouring tribes, and soon swallowed by the jungle and concealed for centuries. It is entirely probable that many more buildings are still hidden under the rampant growth. In some places away from the main clusters, fallen walls were covered in moss, just like any abandoned cottage in Ireland.

Our next stop was problematic. We wanted to visit Saint Christobel de las Casas, a beautiful colonial town in the mountains about a five and a half hour drive from Palenque but there were worrying reports about the safety of the roads leading to the town especially the Ruta 199 from Palenque. At the ruins, we met a young German couple who travelled in the opposite direction the day before without any hold-ups. Locals also said that the journey was quite safe as long as we drove during daylight hours and we gave ourselves plenty of time. The main risk was road closures. the Zapatistas, an indigenous political activist group in the state of Chiapas sometimes blocked roads to highlight their grievances to the government.

It was a beautiful, sunny morning as we packed up in Palenque and headed for the hills, feeling a little apprehensive. The distance between the towns of Palenque and San Christobell was only 210kms but Goggle Maps was giving us an estimated time of five hours and twenty minutes. At first traffic was heavy and soon we were climbing along winding steeps roads with curving bends in a convoy of trucks, minibuses and motorbikes. There were small herds of cattle grazing in the fields, maize growing everywhere, at the sides of the road and crawling up the vertical mountain sides. Children walked to school and women sat at roadside stalls, selling drums of diesel and petrol as there seemed to be no gas stations. It all seemed very normal, a beautiful drive with stupendous vistas of mountains, houses dotted in the valleys and pretty villages. Soon we relaxed although it was impossible to relax completely…but not because of bandits or protesters.

The biggest danger was the huge number of speed bumps on the roads. The dappled sunlight through the trees cast shadows on the road making it almost impossible to see them and there were very frequent and sometimes on blind bends. It was easier when we were travelling behind a vehicle as we had some warning as they braked.

Soon there was the smell of pine in the air from the towering forests as we approached San Christobel de las Casas. The town sits in a valley in the highlands of Chiapas in the Los Altos region at an altitude of 2200 metres. It was sunny but there was a tinge of coolness in the breeze even in the mid-afternoon which soon had us reaching for our jackets which we haven’t needed since we arrived in Mexico.

San Christobel was entirely different to any other Mexican town we have visited so far with its cobbled streets, pastel coloured houses and refreshing mountain air. There were churches on every corner, a baroque cathedral that was damaged by flood and earthquake, (the most recent earthquake was in 2017). Several long pedestrianised street were full of cafes, restaurants and high-end shops with hardly a broken pavement or litter anywhere.

Chiapas is one of the poorest state in Mexico with the highest concentration of indigenous people, about 40 % of the population being indigenous. Despite their high numbers, they feel marginalized The protests were about inequalities, discriminations, land rights and destruction of the environment . Like most disputes, it was complicated. For example, Coca Cola have a large factory on the outskirts of town but some believe that the production is detrimental to the environment and uses so much water that it changes the natural landscape. But the state of Chiapas drinks more coke than anywhere else on the planet. It is even incorporated into many of the ceremonies and rituals of the indigenous people, taking the place of the local moonshine, a drink called pox (pronounced ‘push’ which means ‘medicine’ in the local language.)

There was no sign of unrest or political activism on Valentine’s day. Love was in the air in the Central Plaza which was festooned with ribbons and hearts to celebrate the day.

We booked into La Estancia, a hotel in a central location. It didn’t look much from the outside, a green door in a low single story building but inside, it opened up into a series of courtyards full of plants, shady sitting areas and lots of rooms with balconies overlooking the courtyards. We were delighted with the luxury, 5 star accommodation at 2 star prices (€40 a night). They also had an offer of 2 cocktails for 140 pesos (about€7) which was something we availed of seeing as it was Valentines Day and we were now wearing matching wedding rings. There are tourists here but many are scared away by the simmering political tensions which probably explains the low prices.

**Our Hotel, San Cristobal de Las Casas**

Our next step will be to the neighbouring region of Oaxaca with beaches, another colonial city and trekking between villages in the mountains, But that’s for tomorrow. In the meantime we are enjoying luxury in the romantic city of San Christobel de las Casas, or San Chris as it’s known locally.

Till next time, thanks for reading.

marienoonanblog

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