It’ s been about two years since I’ve found myself sitting in one of these seats- and much like last time… I’m buzzed. My morning bagel and beer has led a permanent grin upon my face and a judgmental conceded heir towards all the ugly people around me “God is this really America?” Wheelchairs, beer bellies and swarms of army haircuts- and all the women look homeschooled- even the underage girls have nothing going for them. It’s a good thing this beer has kicked in because there is no way I would want to go down with this pathetic group of transients… fuck I need another beer!
Well I just touched down in Atlanta awaiting the jovial arrival of my buddy Pablo. That son of a bitch and I haven’t seen each other since my road trip to Georgia last summer and prior to that our time spent as roommates in Korea.
I’m sitting facing the walkway at a food court surrounded by America’s uncaged offspring who are amassing tons of fast food waste in between each sniffly bite. Burger. Wipe nose. Chew. Snort. Drink. Cough… I can taste it! I’m trapped in a human bacteria breeding ground. I feel as though I’m in a laboratory witnessing a homicidal study. This must be where diseases form. Where else could the avian bird flu have been concocted? No better place than the Heartfield- Jackson Airport.
The word is the bird flu was created when a McChicken was consumed minutes after a Popeye’s drumstick- the two birds duked it out in some poor saps stomach until his excrement dripped down the side of the toilet in gate 16e- and when the next person touched down on that unlucky seat the flu soon became airborne- because of that incident you know see toilet seat covers in all airport restrooms. Knowing this I purposely released my bowels at home- safe in Canada.
I am nervous even bringing my granola bar to my mouth for the sake of catching some awful disease. Perhaps ill grab a drink at one of the overpriced bars and pray the alcohol kills off any unwanted assailants.
I am now three days into my trip sticking out amidst a backdrop of palms. Salsa echoes from the player and is doubled by the owner’s lips. I ordered a doble espresso with tears pinching their way out- I feel extreme bliss. I’ve made my way to Tulum, an aged beach town, though in many respects still a virgin to the tourist world. A 10 minute drive or a 30 minute bike ride will lead you to a strip of the Caribbean Sea that is charted as one of the best in the world- my eyes and feet concurred.
A gecko the size of a… gecko ran up a beam to eat an ant. An older couple chance a detour down a side road to catch the sound of drums; she’s holding a jack and coke at 10:47 am. A loving mother limped her way up the streets with her teets almost skinning the pavement with the biggest dopiest grin upon her face. Cigarettes are borrowed and smoked. Jewellery is fixed and worn. The language of eyes in full effect- we were both left glowing with smiles.
The spitting subsided to open up to sun; Tulum is left refreshed with a cool morning breeze that is seen in the sway in the giant leaves looming over thatched houses.
There is a bakery across from the café and in between street pups paw at tourists- not begging, but at play. Every ounce of Tulum is chill, even the street vendors selling Mexico’s local garb shout “hey dude” as we pass- practicing their tourist equivalency of English on us.
I’m refreshed with tears once again as I envelope this moment. This is life! Only for the moment- but nothing can take this away from me. My longing to be with a woman- passed. My pang of losing weight has been shed. This moment here alone amongst the locals of Tulum is love. When eyes meet- its love. The food- Love. The energy- Love. I’m overflowing.
From Thursday- Sunday each week a market gathers in the town plaza and is home to local and travelling artists. Last night I was introduces to the art of Maxi & his wife. Maxi, an Argentinean law dropout and his wife a gym teacher had packed of their lives to gain one. He wore a shirt that read spring break in Kazakstan… It’s nice! He acquired it from a family that owned a cattle ranch and the wife had gone to town and purchased bags of clothes for mere pesos.
The jewellery they had designed was constructed of stones, beans and Obsidian, which is cooled lava that he had obtained from Chihuahua- a border town along Arizona. He had agreed to have a necklace made for me. I paid him and made plans to meet him tomorrow.
Pablo and I just returned to the café after checking into our new hostel Casa de la Sol and renting fixies this is the description of our ride.
We crossed over the main road of Tulum to the spiraling streets that are constructed like a spider’s web- with the roads closest to Main housing mini supermarkets, toy shops, laundry stations which were nothing more than a pastel shell crammed with humming machines and large white sacks piled to the sky, watch and bike repairs shops (separate, but not of course), chicken shacks, VW bugs chopped and spray painted, hostels and Taco & juice carts.
The cemetery was a playground splashed with a rainbow of sorbet homes fixed with flowers, crosses and candles. A group of men were building a new plot while a family within Tulum's reach was celebrating a life.
In-between shops were a variety of homes that canvassed a mix of hardworking and relaxed Mexicans. Children played behind gates, in alleys, and throughout the streets- all of them casual to our passing.
On our second spiral we turned to find an artist sculpting the serpent king kukulkan upon his house while three guys lazed around smoking a joint. They passed it to us after we stopped and bought some beers in appreciation and we hung under a shaded tree. I cracked the beers with my teeth as a toothless man joked that he wasn’t equipped. He spoke to Pablo as I tackled conversation with a smooth dude and his son. He welcomed me to paradise- I accepted. We road off after the artist offered his house to us any time we were back in his country.
A circus was in town bricked behind four walls that read ‘Los Flamers’. We found an entrance. I first noticed a camel and a llama with buck teeth. In a Ringling brothers-esque cage sat a lackadaisical tiger and jaguar- no words could depict my disgust- we carried on to find a basketball court where I played a few games and arranged to play tomorrow at four.
I just finished my third espresso and I still feel high from the few pulls I had earlier.
The vibe in Tulum is nothing like that of Playa De Carmen. The main street is not home to clubs and corporations; meaning parties and logos. People come to Tulum for the beach, but stay for the feeling of living removed from society- a collection of people passionate about life, art, intense friendship, and solitude. Tulum offers a mix of jungle, Mayan history, beach, local food, and relaxation at a cost that far supersede its value.
I met Alexandra, an ex investigative journalist who bought a piece of jungle, and called Tulum her home for the last nine years. She is an artist. Her latest work is a bracelet of minute silver rings each hand cut and pinched together. She talked and talked as I listened. I had witnessed firsthand the repercussions of having removed oneself from society and the woes of loneliness.
It’s been raining for the last hour.
Pablo and I rode our bikes back to the hostel but stopped for dinner along the way. We ate like kings on a peasant’s budget- filling our faces with huaranches (hand-pressed tortillas), flautus, garnachas and horchata (rice milk with cinnamon). The hostels entrance opened up to a large outdoor kitchen that rested in the middle- surrounded by bunk rooms and the outdoor commons. We threw our bags into our rooms after putting the bikes back and sat in the commons to relax.
We hadn’t been there long before a meeting a crew of world travelers: a guy from France and Israel joined us and they were followed by two chulangas (Mexicans from Mexico City), then Andreas from Germany and finally Thea from Quebec. We played some rummy before we were shushed out of the commons and headed into Tulum to grab a beer.
Thea! What beautiful girl. Playful. Adventurous. Petite & sexy… and her accent… Mmm her accent!
After hitting a corner store for a six pack of local beer we ended flocking to the sounds of funk and swarms of people that had spilled out onto the streets in front of cantina Juan y Jose. I extended my hand- she accepted and I pulled her inside the packed bar as we grazed the band. We spun! Sweat dripped! We shared our first tequila shot together in Mexico…then our first Mojito. We spun around moved as one. I grabbed her in my arms and lifted her… I’ll never forget her gorgeous face!
We left when the band was soaked with sweat and walked back home with Pablo planning to steal the bicycles to ride around town. It was 3 am; young and having fun. Once outside we began to peddle. I showed Thea the cemeteries we saw earlier- though at night and in a ‘so-called’ dangerous Mexico they were still as peaceful as morning. The excitement ran through me as I explored new land with a woman I had just met hours before.
The streets were quite and we didn’t add anything to that but our smiles. Both of us fixed with grins that we would catch when our eyes met. She was gorgeous and her accent drove me wild- along with her sense of adventure. We peddled through the streets- I led.
Arriving at the circus the 4am moon hung above our crowns. We entered and made our way to the preliminary fence that housed the circus trucks, big top, and cages. The cages which had struck me with disgust earlier continued to do so and we bent the fence and crept through.
I’m sure the jaguar and tiger sensed us before we had entered the gates, but they made no attempt to alert the carnies. We inched ourselves until we were flush with their confinement apparatus- now dopey eyed and fixed with rage I calmed my aggression to appreciate this moment with these stunning creatures.
Thea had made her way to the tiger’s cage and swore they had a moment. The tiger had a double cage and lounged from one to the other making no big roar about our presence. I had knelt down now with my face breaths apart from the jaguar- sensing its docile mood I bent my finger and stuck my knuckle into one of the diamond shaped holes. This triggered the jaguar to flare its mouth in a half yawn- half unassuming bite and come up short. I sensed no hostility in its nature only playfulness. Just then we heard a door open and something of a step or two down a corrugated step. We shuffled and hid behind the end of the set of cages as their shuffling grew closer. I grabbed Thea, lifting her over the six foot fence and went back to hiding. She whispered into the black night “he’s coming… he’s coming”- which forced my loss of interest in my hidden approach and sent me throwing my body over the fence in a bunch of clangs. We ran back to our bikes as we saw the careless carnie strolling about feigning no interest in our presence.
Carrying on we ended up in the yard of a church that sat behind the town plaza. We gave our bikes a rest as we excitedly engaged about our recent encounter- I put my weight on my handlebars and reached over to kiss her. I felt young and excited- she was so beautiful and mine, even if only for the moment. Our kiss ended and I knew I wanted more- we got back on our bikes and kept peddling.
The rest of the ride intertwined through the pipe work of Tulum as we made our way onto a high school campus and a soccer field and back to our hostel. Thea was leaving for Merida the next morning – Pablo and I were planning to the day after- so we made plans to meet in the new city.
Today is Sunday and I’m back at Ki Bok café after ordering a Chevrolet Chevy from Hertz. We are just waiting for the car to be driven down from Playa Del Carmen and it should be here in an hour. We have already eaten breakfast at the taco truck and washed it down with horchata. Finally the car arrived and we hopped in with nothing more than my camera, a bottle of water and a banana. The Mayan ruins along Tulum beach were mystical. The ruins were once used as a port for transporting goods all across the Yucatan Peninsula- the walled city boasts unbelievable views that surround the Caribbean Sea.
We left after scouring the grounds and trying to edit out all of the tourists from our photos. We drove up the coast a little bit before finding an entrance to Tulum’s beach and jumped in.
We left the beach and grabbed some lunch in town off a pork spit- it was my second time having meat in 3 months. The reason for renting the car was to head to Coba which was another ruin about 45 km away from the coast. We got there minutes late and turned around to check out a cenote (sink hole) which we had passed on the way to Coba only to find out that it was closed as well.
It was our last night in Tulum and the past two nights had rained leaving me unable to meet up with Maxi. I cruised the streets with Pablo in search and ended up at the café, now with pangs in my stomach assumingly from the tainted pork, or due to the fact that stomach and meat have not gotten over their past feud- either way I was beginning to feel real sick.
I recognized Maxi’s wife when I stepped out of the car and she greeted me in Spanish which I understood only in context. Maxi was out searching for me on the streets- I went to get a coke to settle my stomach and used that as an excuse to search for Maxi. The jaunt turned out to be fruitful as I found him crossing the street with myself now half-coke in hand. We greeted each other and walked back to the café where he brought out two necklaces he had made for me. I chose one and thanked him incredibly for his honor and love for art. We wished each other well along our travels while Pablo had arrived from returning our car. We walked home where I spent the rest of the evening with my toothbrush down my throat and my head in the toilet- after nine and a half pukes, six hours of chills, and a restless painful sleep I awoke to a new day and a new adventure. We were Merida bound.
The bus ride to Merida was 3:30 hours and filled with Don Cheedle, blueberry muffins and a tossing sleep. Stepping off the bus and into the humid tropic sun was my first true taste of Mexico. We passed through two plazas that I would later discover on our trek to Nomadas Youth Hostel.
Nomadas' pool was closed so we showered and journeyed about the grid work of Merida’s pastel city. The picture perfect blue sky dotted with pillow-like clouds gave the streets such a vibrant feel. In the major town centre locals took up the majority of the seats that perimeter the entire park while two giant architectural peaks loom over Zocalo square in the form of Cathedral of San Idelfonso. Amazingly enough this is one of the oldest cathedrals in America having been built by the Spaniards after dismantling old Mayan temples for their stones in 1598.
After walking through Merida’s shopping district I ended up with two baker’s hats and a baguette. The baguette was for the pigeons (palomas) so we sat in the square and fed them waiting to meet up with Thea. At 6:30 we approached her hostel to see her gorgeous energetic self waiting out front for us. Mmm she excites me! The three of us with Pablo, retraced our steps around the town and found ourselves back in an indoor market where a group of men tried to sell us a chihuahua for 500 Pesos (39 bucks) - we reluctantly refused.
Back at Zocalo square they were setting up chairs for an intimate evening of Mayan dance. We sat beside a group of Korean missionaries that had settled in Mexico ten years ago and watched the show. It was a colorful display of Mexican history as couples danced in unison with white smiles to a wonderful Latin band that was set up on the steps of some government building.
Following the show we found ourselves set up on a terrace overlooking the square at Mr. Banaderas having a couple drinks. We ordered French fries and with it came an extremely drunk and touchy Mexican. Half way into his 30 minute drunken debauchery at our table he went quite, threw his hand down on Pablo’s shoulder and pointed fiercely at me before shouting “NICHOLAS CAGE MANGGG!!” I immediately burst out laughing having been idolized as Nicholas Cage my entire stint in Korea. Well anyways this interaction led to photos, more touching and 100 apologies for the touching. We snuck out and ran down the stairs when he went back to his table.
That night Thea walked home with us to Nomadas. We found a nook in the back of the grounds and laid in each other’s arms in a hammock underneath the stars. We struggled to get comfortable in our hammock. It was funny, but we finally managed after I exchanged it for a larger one. We were alone and I finally had her back to myself and I didn’t want to let her go. We kissed- and it was not any ordinary kiss, but a kiss that couldn’t have been planned any more perfectly. Two strangers meeting by chance in a foreign country-both of us excited to be travelling and to have met someone to share such an intense connection. That night we made plans for me to switch to her hostel in the main square so we could be together. My heart is happy!
The next morning we woke after having moved to my shared room in the middle of the night and left to book a new room together in her hostel Zocalo. The hostel was an ancient building along the perimeter of the square that had rooms with chair & table terraces that hung-out overlooking the bustle. One was available- our excitement grew! We were led to a room with a ceiling that hung at least 25 feet above our heads. In the centre a giant pole that was fastened to a fan cooled the room. Two statuesque wooden doors which could have been used as an entrance to a castle were the gate keepers of our desired terrace- we opened them and giggled at the beauty- a giggle that would remain in our throats for the rest of our stay. With the giant doors open I began to undress her nervous body. It was a sexy nervous- one where we were foreign to each other’s touch and excited with anticipation. I can still feel her body shaking and hear her short gasps that followed each spasm. She then undressed me and began kissing my entire body. We were very much alike. Aside from being unbelievably gorgeous she too was unbelievably funny. Climbing off of me she joyfully said “Je fait un pip o Mexic- I’m the coolest”. After she translated, I wiped the thousand tears from my laughing eyes and said “I just got a pip in Mexic- I’m the coolest”.
We unpacked, bagged our laundry (that desperately needed to be done) and took showers.
We left the hostel to grab some veggie sandwiches at a popular restaurant. We went back to the baguette shop and loaded up to spend the afternoon feeding paloma’s once again. Pablo met us with pigeons at our feet- Frisbee ensued.
Thea and I walked to a grocery store to pick up some alcohol to have her friends Amar & Thomes over to hang out on the terrace. Pablo joined shortly after and the five of us drank and made plans to go to Chichen Itza the next morning.
That night when everyone left- Thea and I were alone. I woke up the next morning next to the most beautiful woman with the biggest smile on my face. We ate, packed our bags and caught a bus with the gang. Thea stretched out with her head across my lap and as I spent the bus ride thinking naughty thoughts.
I wish I could say that the Mayan ruins at Chichen Itza were breathtaking but the 500 stalls selling the same Mayan crap (jaguar whistles, Hard Rock Café Chichen Itza T- shirts, hammocks and skulls and so on) stall after stall after stall after stall completely ruined the atmosphere (no pun intended) of a place that I could only imagine was once magical.
Aside from the stalls I managed to join a tour as a guide schooled us on one of the temples in our presence. He explained that when Cortez came over from Spain he noticed crosses everywhere and thought that it would be easy for him to convert the Mayans to Christianity. What Cortez didn’t know was that the crosses were the symbol of north, south, east and west. So when the Mayans didn’t show interest in Christianity he grew increasingly annoyed. Another interesting fact was that the Mayans used the symbol of a snake to decorate their temples and homes- the snake represented the earth. When Cortez saw snakes sculpted on the temples he assumed that the Mayans were devil worshippers, because the snake in Christianity is a symbol of the devil. Instead of taking the time to understand a foreign culture the Spaniards pillaged the ruins burning all but five (they had almost 5000) of the remaining books the Mayans had amassed about their culture. Their temples were destroyed and the stones were used to build churches for the Spanish. The same church that I would saw standing in Zocalo’s main square in Merida.
We left the ruins to saddle up on another bus to find a room in Cancun for the night before having to depart in the morning. Thea’s friends had found a place in a travel guide but it turned out to be expensive. Pablo and I doubled back to where a woman had promised us a room cheaper than anywhere else in town. We had passed her half assuming a ruse, because people promise you the world along travels, but she turned out to be a straight shooter. I ran back to get the gang and we all booked rooms at this new hostel.
After Thea and I threw our bags in our room we met everyone minutes later and went on an adventure for dinner. Our hike led us to a restaurant called Israel’s where we had average tacos and then next door to Pescadito’s for our second dinner.
When we got back to the hostel everyone had backed out on an adventure to the beach- except for Thea, so the two of sat outside and waited for a bus that didn’t arrive. We hopped in the nearest taxi and ended up at Tortoise beach. It was our last night together after having spent the past three days inseparable. We laid a towel out feet from the Sea of Cancun and stared at each other excitedly, knowing in the back of our minds that we were hours away of parting (hopefully not forever)- we eased the moment by making plans to meet in the future, which I hold her to dearlyJ
The crashing of the waves drew our attention further down the shoreline to a long legged heron- we got up to get a closer look. The sheer stillness of the heron had me second guess its realness until its head turned to gaze at us intruders. We left it in peace and hopped up onto a condominiums raised patio that boasted a pool and lounge chairs. I pulled the two chairs together to the edge of the embankment- soon Thea was out of hers and lying on top of me and in my arms.
I never had any interest in visiting Cancun prior to this moment and there I was in paradise with the girl of my dreams head on my chest with the rolling waves at our feet and a dark sky littered with alternate worlds whizzing above.
That night Thea and I caught a taxi back to our hostel. Along the cruise the driver showed us his albums of postcards he had received from his patrons over the last 17 years in his field- they spanned all across Canada and the world. He handed me a business card with his address to send him a postcard if I was interested… I lost interest when he overcharged us for our ride.
The hotel was silent. The doorman slept at his desk. We made eyes as we entered the room. The fan above our heads violently roared in its place. Alone in our room we undressed each other to the streetlight that snuck onto the bed. We kissed. I bit her shoulder gently and ran my hands all the way down her body. I soon followed. I can still feel her shivers.
At five am, like a movie, I crawled out of bed and dressed. I went to the washroom to wash up for my long day of travel back to my homeland. I wrote Thea a letter. It was light hearted. I got back in bed and cuddled until I heard Pablo’s knock. I woke her with a kiss goodbye.
It is said that one should not buy stuff to make oneself happy…one should buy experiences. I will never forget Mexico and I will definitely never forget Thea.
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