Chichen Itza Blues
It was a Mexican roadside toilet. I thought, "What could possibly go wrong?"
Actually, the toilet wasn't too bad. The bus tour to the ancient Mayan ruin complex at Chichen Itza involved far more crap. It started out when we the coach bus arrived at the meeting point (an hour late, but that's expected), and it turned out that there were far too many people to fit, so we hung around while they got a mini-bus for us. Got on with a group of about 12 fellow touristas, and headed off... but not to the ruins. Oh, no. Of course not. Who goes on a tour to see the ruins? You must be far more interested seeing this crappy, overpriced market full of mass-produced, cheesy rubbish! And after that, you must surely want to come to this big hole in the ground for which you will be charged a small fee! (And if you don't feel like paying, you are welcome to stay in the hot bus and wait!)
Joseph and I made a quick recce of the market and found that there was a little stall tucked away at the back with cold bottles of local beer for 20 pesos. We got four each.
Fortunately, we were not alone in our frustration, and being part of a small group proved very advantageous in our negotiations. No-one on our bus wanted to pay extra to see the sink-hole, so our disappointed guide took us directly to the lunch buffet, hosted at a nasty little back-street cantina built from cinder-blocks and tin sheets. We were scheduled to be there for an hour and a half. Eating took ten minutes.
Let's evaluate this situation for a second: we're about to spend the next hour and twenty minutes sitting on a bare concrete porch examining our toes and staring vacantly into space, while, no more than a couple of kilometres away, sits a magnificent spectacle from the ancient world. A spectacle which we have paid dearly to come and see, and which was the purpose of our entire trip.
Personally, I've spent enough time staring vacantly into space when I could have been doing something more interesting. I took a quick survey of the other travellers to make sure we all felt the same, and then went off and tracked down our driver. After a few minutes of complaining about how he was just doing his job, and they had to stick to a schedule, and he wasn't even supposed to be working today, and something about his boss being the real person I had to speak to, he eventually gave in and took us to the ruins.
Which were magnificent.
Stunning, awesome, spectacular, and definitely worth waiting for. We went straight up the main pyramid to soak up the splendid view and get a sense of perspective on the temple complex. There is truly nothing like sitting on top of an ancient Mayan pyramid in the middle of the Yucatan jungle, drinking a couple of cold beers while a three-foot iguana suns itself on the warm stones nearby. (Yes, we took beers up to the top. I highly recommend it, but be careful climbing down afterwards).
The next few hours were spent in an unbroken state of awe as we wandered among the ruins. At one point as we followed the path through the trees to Platformas de las Tumbas (roughly translated as, "The Platform of the Tumbas"), a small Mexican boy came up to us and started chattering excitedly in Spanish. He was gesturing insistently for us to follow him down a side path to a small and dingy cave, but it was too dark to see whether the cave held a makeshift souvenir store or the boy's eight large and unfriendly brothers. We declined his invitation.
That evening, back in Cancun, we repaired to another street restaurant for restorative beers and tortillas. We sat outside and watched the passing crowd - mostly tourists, but also indigenous women in ethnic dress selling hand-woven bracelets. One had her infant daughter tied to her back with a blanket as the trawled up and down the street. She didn't seem to be selling very much, though. Across from the restaurant, a lady was showing off her two pet monkeys, and offering tourists the chance to have their pictures taken with them.
She was doing better business.
Actually, the toilet wasn't too bad. The bus tour to the ancient Mayan ruin complex at Chichen Itza involved far more crap. It started out when we the coach bus arrived at the meeting point (an hour late, but that's expected), and it turned out that there were far too many people to fit, so we hung around while they got a mini-bus for us. Got on with a group of about 12 fellow touristas, and headed off... but not to the ruins. Oh, no. Of course not. Who goes on a tour to see the ruins? You must be far more interested seeing this crappy, overpriced market full of mass-produced, cheesy rubbish! And after that, you must surely want to come to this big hole in the ground for which you will be charged a small fee! (And if you don't feel like paying, you are welcome to stay in the hot bus and wait!)
Joseph and I made a quick recce of the market and found that there was a little stall tucked away at the back with cold bottles of local beer for 20 pesos. We got four each.
Fortunately, we were not alone in our frustration, and being part of a small group proved very advantageous in our negotiations. No-one on our bus wanted to pay extra to see the sink-hole, so our disappointed guide took us directly to the lunch buffet, hosted at a nasty little back-street cantina built from cinder-blocks and tin sheets. We were scheduled to be there for an hour and a half. Eating took ten minutes.
Let's evaluate this situation for a second: we're about to spend the next hour and twenty minutes sitting on a bare concrete porch examining our toes and staring vacantly into space, while, no more than a couple of kilometres away, sits a magnificent spectacle from the ancient world. A spectacle which we have paid dearly to come and see, and which was the purpose of our entire trip.
Personally, I've spent enough time staring vacantly into space when I could have been doing something more interesting. I took a quick survey of the other travellers to make sure we all felt the same, and then went off and tracked down our driver. After a few minutes of complaining about how he was just doing his job, and they had to stick to a schedule, and he wasn't even supposed to be working today, and something about his boss being the real person I had to speak to, he eventually gave in and took us to the ruins.
Which were magnificent.
Stunning, awesome, spectacular, and definitely worth waiting for. We went straight up the main pyramid to soak up the splendid view and get a sense of perspective on the temple complex. There is truly nothing like sitting on top of an ancient Mayan pyramid in the middle of the Yucatan jungle, drinking a couple of cold beers while a three-foot iguana suns itself on the warm stones nearby. (Yes, we took beers up to the top. I highly recommend it, but be careful climbing down afterwards).
The next few hours were spent in an unbroken state of awe as we wandered among the ruins. At one point as we followed the path through the trees to Platformas de las Tumbas (roughly translated as, "The Platform of the Tumbas"), a small Mexican boy came up to us and started chattering excitedly in Spanish. He was gesturing insistently for us to follow him down a side path to a small and dingy cave, but it was too dark to see whether the cave held a makeshift souvenir store or the boy's eight large and unfriendly brothers. We declined his invitation.
That evening, back in Cancun, we repaired to another street restaurant for restorative beers and tortillas. We sat outside and watched the passing crowd - mostly tourists, but also indigenous women in ethnic dress selling hand-woven bracelets. One had her infant daughter tied to her back with a blanket as the trawled up and down the street. She didn't seem to be selling very much, though. Across from the restaurant, a lady was showing off her two pet monkeys, and offering tourists the chance to have their pictures taken with them.
She was doing better business.
posted by Sentinel at
6:56 AM
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