OR LAST TERRIBLE PUSH BEFORE HOME.

This post is months late due to a particularly chaotic patch in my life (yes, more than normal!) I’m back on course now so here we go with last of Mexico posts and a follow up with my floods, buggered back, wonderful acupuncture with my old Chinese professor and a dreadful trip to Spain!

It was no good, I was running out of time. I had stayed many days in Homun and spent many happy hours understanding what your best life can be like and it definitely was here. After my birthday and the visit to Neekluum followed by a massive hangover, I started to feel the call of the road again. I would need to go back to Merida by the collectivo then go on to catch an ADO to Valladolid, there I would spend the night and then go on to Cancun for some beach before leaving to London. It was a boring awkward trip and I managed to fuck it up and hate it in equal proportions.

Obviously leaving my new family was awkward and traumatic. As all solo travellers will know, when you bond on the road it’s surprisingly difficult saying your goodbyes. The flowing conversation evaporates and foolish clichés creep in to the stilted conversation and dragging silences. That’s why I always plump for a rapid running away with just a shout over my shoulder of ‘tata, love you!’ and just my vague outline scurrying off in a dust cloud that envelopes me. This was impossible with Dulce and Aleph as they were giving me a lift in the bicycle taxi to the town centre and Dulce was dragging her heels having got more maudlin and glum than me if that’s possible. We cuddled and whimpered and went to do another unnecessary task before repeating the hugging. It was truly awful and terribly upsetting even when I wrote obscenities in their guest book at their childlike request. ‘Say that thing you said about that man with the tequila!’ they implored. I looked at them doubtfully ‘With all the swearing ?’ I asked nervously. Yes yes they wanted that. They looked at me with joyful expectant faces so I wrote some foul language about the poor fellow (did we hate him that much?) . Then I had to write a list of silly Spanish expressions that I had used ad nauseum that they loved. With eyes sparking they revelled in those along with the initial loving comments I had made about their lovely little homestead business. Yeah, yeah that was all very well but they wanted all the potty mouth things that I said in English too and my mean comments about other innocent yet irritating guests. This filled up a good amount of time as they would remember other things that must go in, dodgy anecdotes et al, and would drag me back to scribble more.

Finally this distraction completed we did finally leave, all of us silent and moody. I was dropped off and more photos were demanded, more hugs and more silence until finally it was time to go, and very gut wrenching it was too to leave my paradise and Mexican family. I won’t bore you with my snivelling on the trip back to Merida and my boring trip to V. Neither will I impress again that your hotel always looks much closer to the bus station than it actually is on their silly colonial quadrants set up by the Spaniards all those centuries ago. They are long and too narrow for the numbers of people and traffic that they contain these days. Rushing to my hotel was again a trauma of kinds and especially as there was yet another fiesta for some goddam bloody reason. I was tired and grumpy and extremely hungry. The hotel though adequate was not the oasis portrayed on Booking.com. The photos admitted were grossly edited to finally be of little likeness to the actual place now. More like how it had been years previously (when it comes to the rooms) and heavily photoshopped exterior shot which made the pool look expansive when in fact a goldfish would become bored in it. It’s a terrible shame but certainly in Mexico now the photos and descriptions are a joke or maybe just wishful thinking. Booking should really sort this.

BACK IN CANCUN AFTER A MONTH ON THE ROAD.

Anyhoo, I digress, I won’t bother you with my sweaty and ungrateful arrival or my overpriced steak that I had been lusting for. I won’t grumble that the few things that I might have wanted to do now all seemed too far and too silly and that I had a terrible homesickness for Oro Verde and it’s gentle and mischievous owners. I won’t bother with the hysteria on the main plaza for this oncoming festival of god knows what, and the tourists pretending to like this town that was a copy of Merida but with less to do and inferior food. Indeed I won’t make you tut tut about my awful sleep and boring trip the next morning on my final ADO bus to Cancun and the rude staff at the V bus station which was small and very tatty. I’ll just get you to Cancun with me for another abysmal booking at a particularly foul crappy house rental with the most horrible hosts that I have ever come across in a very shitty part of Cancun. Hold on to your hats but first a top tip.

Top Tip: Although it used to happen it’s much more prevalent now, don’t trust the hype on Booking.com , Expedia and whatever app you use because I cross checked and they all seemed to be doing the same thing. In the past you could more or less trust the pics and description of accommodation, now you can’t. I don’t know how they all became so sloppy but it feels like part of the general malaise these days, hosts can lie through their teeth and misrepresent places with images so distorted or old that they bear no resemblance to your expectations. Old birds, you must leave more time to investigate your bookings and not just do them on the hoof like has been the luxury in previous years. Avoid the more remote places just because they are a bit cheaper and the ones that are new. New seems to mean now hovels that unscrupulous people are pretending are cosy houses, and watch out for hotels next to bars or main roads if they are cheapos, you’ll be stung and stung real bad. There is no honour now and the arseholes running them are likely to be really unpleasant as there are few repercussions due to high turnover. When you are travelling alone this is something that can really break you and make you miserable. Telephone first to check , you might want to ask what the sheets are made of for example? I was horrified in a couple of places for dark navy nylon sheets to be used on dirty mattresses. This would never have happened a couple of years back. Check they will be there for checking in time, I was left roasting outside waiting for the owners to come back from the beach to let me in despite promising a time and actually blaming me for not calling them (I had used the message service and we had established their very narrow window of 3/5. It was a lie much as the description of the hovel that they finally let me into. You must establish your area, check on the map for problem bars and roads and question the basic cleanliness of the place. Things have changed out there my friends, book with care!!!

So anyway, I arrived ! So the usual ritual ensued, drinks and the search for more remote hostels. It went as follows.

I couldn’t find my place for love nor money. I had arrived off the bus walked to the landmarks I knew then had to go into a part of Cancun that I had never ventured into despite being stuck here previously in my efforts to get back into England after fat boy Johnson turned Mexico red in 21.

I had a quick beer and although the staff tried to help there was a big market area that was in my way and that I didn’t want to get lost in. I finally got a cab in desperation and seeing that the cab driver didn’t know the road either I knew that I was doomed. Finally we got to what had looked like a lovely easy place to reside I found myself in a remote tatty street and the owners wouldn’t be there for another hour for check in. Long story short I was left roasting outside as finally they were over two hours late to let me into their hovel like place. Rude and unhelpful I felt absolutely desperate but had prepaid although it said pay at premises on Booking. These are times in solo travel that you despair and also feel very unsafe. The house was half let to a couple on a long term basis who I later would learn had been treated abysmally by the landlord. It was also in an area that simply felt unsafe and so, as it was so late by then, I tolerated it for the night wearing clothes to bed , lying on those tacky nylon sheets and feeling very freaked out. When the girl came home and I found out the extent of my folly in booking this shithole, I wept silently in bed that night . During the day the ‘hotel’ next door had an Indian couple who took pity on me and also recounted their very similar experience at that place. They were forced to stay as they had prepaid before a family wedding there. Poor bastards, I told them that I would be leaving the following day for a more reputable hotel near the centre and bus station for my return to London in two days. They were envious. It would seem that daylight robbery is the norm there now which is such a shame and left a very bitter taste in my mouth.

The next day I left my packed stuff outside my upstairs neighbours door and left for the beach before I went mad. It was a fair walk to the bus stop and just showed me what a grim area that I was in. Waved down a collective and then after a few minutes was in the Cancun I recognised. The place that I had been trapped in and finally on the avenue that I’d been up and down countless times to either the various beaches or the cursed covid ‘test’ centre, my bete noir and place of misery. However today I was going to the more distant beach of many happier memories, the aquamarine sea and white sandy beach. All would be well surely? I would swim and sunbathe like a normal person on holiday? Wrong. After my hour journey looked down upon the magnificent beach just to see red flags all along and indeed even the coffee bar was closed, gimme a break. Nor were their any friends to make on that relatively hostile day of high winds and a terribly beautiful but perilous sea. I tried the water just to my ankles and was nearly dragged to my death just attempting that. Sitting down I realised that no swimming and enjoying the froth for me just stickily getting sand all over me and biding my time until my return to move to my new decent hotel. Why did they have such bloody late check ins?

The journey back seemed long despite my post mediation overlooking that broiling and crashing blue blue sea. When finally I picked up my case and immediately left the hellhole chucking the keys over the fence as instructed (fucking horrible man) and found an amazingly direct route to the new central hotel and was very pleased at its quirkiness. I left my bags with them and at last had my steak

The waiter was impeccable and the place very ranchero. One minute from the hotel and sheer luxury. They clustered around me anxiously as I was in the quiet time it would seem. Chilled beer and a decision of their finest steak will a pepper sauce. Now as you know I’m very fussy about food provenance and the cooking of it. I consider myself an excellent cook and only have organic food cooked properly hence no restaurants in most places nowadays which is hugely distressing for me but necessary for my life ethos. Back to the grub. Along came a primus stove with the ingredients chef would be using. I was presented the raw finely hung piece of meat for my approval before the show started. They were all so happy and proud, and indeed the meat would prove to be excellent, but that jacket potato turned up in tin foil a definite no no to any use of tin foil especially in any contact with food. Also what’s wrong with that crunchy skin and soft fluffy interior soaked with butter? Steaming and delicious with a little rock salt? S the spud and veg were of course disappointing which is such a shame as the meat was deliciouso.

Replete with the excellent wine and meat, and having made tenuous friends with the staff, I waddled back to my hotel to finally check in and have a siesta, a much needed one in a room very far from reception which usually is a bad sign and yes it was indeed. Beautiful room with bright orange and white, with dark wood beams. I unpacked and had a lovely rest on crisp white cotton sheets. All was well with the world and only another night left, damn you optimism damn you. That night I would have levels of noise I’ve never dreamt of. I slept little , cursed a lot and cried bitter tears my only consolation was I was leaving Cancun the next day.

JOURNEY HOME ANOTHER NIGHTMARE.

I know I do my fair share of moaning but really? After a sleepless night, I had a truly disgusting breakfast and then the heavens opened in a spectacular way. I was kicked out of my room quite early seeing as check in was three nearly everywhere. Had sat by the pool and had a couple of beers and fags the previous night as other people had said it was fine they were all doing it! However that was all the use I had from it to relax a bit before going to the airport. These stupid stinky late flights, the bane of my life. I decided that I wouldn’t hang around but just go to the airport stupidly early and so went to the bus station, by then it was torrential rain and bleakly miserable. I was glad I did it however as the roads were chocka and various cars had broken down on the highway, it would seem Mexican cars don’t want to go out if it’s raining!

It took forever and security was nonchalant so I whizzed through. On getting through it was very empty too so with my lack of sleep it all seemed dreamlike and weird. Even buying duty frees was fast, I couldn’t believe it I now had hours to kill. There was a mirage though in this desolate place , I saw a smoking sign and followed it to an American style restaurant and bar with external terrace and big umbrellas against the rain which had calmed a little by then. Yankee beer in one hand and a ciggy in the other I suddenly felt all was not lost and I settled in chatting to various American tourists. All in all a much better airport experience than normal.

However all good things must come to an end and I trundled off and got on the long miserable flight home. BA is no longer a good experience with its tight legroom , terrible food and glum crew, what a shame.

I’m finishing this months later as everything has been blocking me to do lovely positive things. I had a rude awakening with most of my old haunts in Mexicos Yucatan Peninsula being so changed but finally I had found what I went out there to do, and found a Utopia in Homun as in my previous post. There really is still a pocket of paradise there that I hope to be going back to in the near future.

That also is a reminder that one should never go back to fondly remembered places which by now generally have changed and not in a good way…..

OVER AND OUT FROM A WEARY OLD BIRD!