OR, VIEWING A SELF CONTAINED PARADISE THAT I COULD MAKE MY FOREVER HOME.

Well I stayed on. What could I do, such was my love for my new family and the lush, mellow and inspiring environment.

As soon as Dulce lured me with a suggestion of a birthday party for me then I was convinced that I had to stay for at least that. What would I do? Go sit on my lonesome in some frankly half rate town on my way back to Cancun (sorry Valladolid but you are a bit second rate!) I extended my booking and also in that way had the chance to go with her to view a new enterprise, a living breathing escape plan for the like-minded. An all encompassing plan for the future of those who really want to go off grid on a permanent basis. This was a huge opportunity for me for it had really been the reason for this trip to Mexico. I had spoken to a family member about having a deep search while I was here, which I had been doing but it had become a dismal failure thus far. Here however magic happens and exactly what I was looking for fell into my lap like a plump, fresh, rosy apple just fallen from the tree. Its name being Neekluum. More on that later however, we are just getting to that.

My days there were all birthdays really, lolling around and picking herbs to identify, roaming the fields and ranches around, talking to cows and drinking beer. Dulce and I would gossip idly and I would try to write in a lazy desultory way then rush off up the path to the wilderness for a quick explore and adventure (like meeting a new cow or finding more ruins of old huge ranch houses.)

On my birthday it was the same except for Dulce getting glammed up for the viewing and me starting to whine about when we were going and where could I find tequila for my fucking birthday for gods sake? I was getting princessy and petulant and threatening not to go anywhere if we didn’t go now. Well it was my birthday and I had survived living through the demonic year of being 66. Also I was born on 6/12 so it was all very sixy, too many sixes in other words and I feared that I would die before I saw this satanic age out. I had now hit 67 so it was a huge cause for celebration. I had banged on about it enough ffs. Didn’t they understand my very superstitious numerological stance on this issue?

Of course this was all very easy and the wonderful owner of this new venture picked us up and off we went to have a look at this jungle paradise. Jacqui and I immediately bonded as she explained the concept of this new off grid chance of a new life in this very beautiful part of the Yucatan peninsula. Although at an embryonic stage there were a few intrepid visionaries who had already bought lots and were building their properties, all of which were at different stages. She would show us the plans in the area that had already been assigned as a central meeting area when we arrived.

This gated property is of 250 acres of wild jungle which has been visualised for a community of like minded and only had some vague practical ‘rules’. This was all made clear on the wonderfully grubby set of plans she whacked out on the counter of their open community kitchen. It was huge and much like a village of kinds it had areas for the more social and for us more private creatures who only want to meet up on their terms. There is a large piece of land also allocated to larger creatures such as cows and horses which you couldn’t keep in your back garden, or llamas or whatever you can think of as long as they don’t eat other peoples animals of course, but I digress. There is already an area for chucks and ducks but you can have your own and depending on how many lots you want yo can grow your veg separately from the communal more allotment type area. She also explained the legality of foreigners is covered under a rather neat loophole and basically you get on and make what you will of the area you have bought. The miles of raw track we covered was just to show the various area allocations and I felt that this had been supremely well thought out. She held my heart in her hands when she said this, this was exactly what I yearned for. The red soil along that section was rich and it was a very lush area. The lots all have their little signposts and when you see a drilled borehole you know some lucky bastard has that site and has already drilled down to the substrata to reach the pure clean water below.

Make no mistake, this is not for the faint hearted as it’s raw and brutal in its early stages, a shock to those who lack vision. Clearly this is all organic, no nasties on any level so that freedom to work at one with nature is yours to do what you will with. A lot of relearning and researching the old ways if you don’t already have at least a smattering of that kind of knowledge. Bartering will be encouraged and arts and crafts, evidently not just something to play at, but a necessity so as to allow the place to be self sustaining. Home schooling and the freedom for children to flourish and be children again, for families to be cherished and to be the stable influence that they have ceased to be in this modern blind and ugly world is the basis of the philosophy here. Listening to the birds giving a last hurrah for the day we left watching as the sun set on our way back down the country lanes. We were silent. So much to think about and so much peace for me to see that they did exist dammit, these havens did bloody exist.

THE PARTY.

We couldn’t track down a half bottle of tequila so I just settled for wine, little did I know that particular train would come in later. With the stars out and our little group of revellers assembled, we sat out front with birthday girls tinsel and foolishness surrounding her, wine being slurped and cake and fireworks igniting suddenly and dangerously and all the while some strange mixture of music. Oh and plus the obligatory ‘Happy Birthday’ song all was well with the world and I was enjoying being the centre of attention. This wasn’t to last however when a weird very pissed couple turned up who actually were the proud owners of a huge bottle of tequila. It was an accident waiting to happen, and although we shrieked and said the gods were looking after me when the couple announced we were welcome to share it with them, I did foresee disaster.

First though of course it was all very wonderful and we heard of their road trip so far (the car I noticed was parked precariously, and if I might say, rather to close to us) They already seemed hammered and that was me saying after drinking beer all day and having heavily embarked on the vino tinto. However we knocked those shots back of the very delicious tequila shouting wildly and laughing raucously at nothing in particular, certainly nothing that would be laughed at whilst sober. The girl looked Japanese of origin and he was Mexican but both resided in LA and were techies. They were rubbish drinkers. At some stage she realised that she had locked the keys in the car so had to borrow warm clothes from the ever suffering Dulce. They didn’t seem fazed for they knew a way to break in to the car. This they would do in the morning they slurred confidently. I saw the end of the tequila was in sight so suddenly I found their company less attractive and scuttled off to bed.

I would blearily recall a lot of footfall through the night but nothing that actually interfered with my sleep, my lovely selfish drunken sleep.

The next morning Dulce told me about the dramas of the night. The continuous projectile vomiting all night by the very fucked Mexican. Poor Dulce, as soon as she mopped up one rank acid pool of puke then he would stagger elsewhere to shit and puke copiously. She had to change his bed linen twice and generally it all had become a hideous drama that I thankfully slept through.

Also the breaking in of the car proved impossible and poor Aleph had to drive all the way to Merida to get a new one cut. Talk about above and beyond the call of duty. The key arrived and then that one didn’t actually work. These very irritating people were so entitled that they didn’t even seem bothered, indeed when the car was finally entered (don’t ask me how it had all become extremely boring by then) they decided to go on the cenote tour with a completely exhausted Aleph. I stayed most of the day in bed. I felt dreadful. It would seem that I too should have emptied my stomach so as not to have a very foul tequila hangover. It all reminded me of the drunken Mexican in Punta Allen. (click to see post) and also my stay in Villa Hermosa had had a shooting at the bar over the road with five fatalities which you can find at the end of that post. Seems the Mexicans are really rubbish and dangerous drinkers. It’s no good, they are really pants at having a nice knees up, it never ends well.

OVER AND OUT FROM A FRAGILE OLD BIRD.