Tag: TRAINS

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MEXICOS TRAIN WRECK,TREN MAYA AND XPUJIL.

OR TRAVELLING TO A TOWN THAT’S LOST ITS IDENTITY AND HEART. POOR XPUHIL.

Me praying to the Mayan gods at Calakmul that no more damage would be done to their sacred land

Alert: Latest article about Tren Maya that proves what I say in the below account has turned out right! It’s white elephant era has begun surprisingly quickly! Don’t want to say I told you so but, I told you so he he!!! Apparently it’s being operated by the military? I don’t know about you but a military run tourist route never has left me with a warm and snuggly feeling in my belly as a traveller. Do read the article it’s accidently extremely funny. It also says

“Today, the Maya Train is not a tourist product that can be offered. There are no clear routes, there are no defined prices, not even the schedules are well established,” he commented noting that travel agencies have not yet had any contact regarding train promotion.

“If they had a developed product, they would be here at tourist events, explaining what time it leaves, how much it costs, in what languages it is available. But we don’t know anything, everything remains a mystery,”

In other words it’s a huge cock up!

Good old Trans Siberian Express an iconic train if ever there was one

Alert: Here I mostly ramble on about getting to the prime archaeological sites area and the place I used as a base, Xpujil or Xpuhil. The inner fury I felt upon having seen first hand, Tren Mayas long hard line of destruction and devastation of the area rather overtook my original intention of just writing about the sites that I went to. Mexico generally had been a shocker since my last visit and sadly you can clearly hear my disappointment in a place that just three years ago I had worshipped. If you don’t care then I will publish a post tomorrow about the actual sites I went to while there!

And so back to the post:

The Journey to Xpuhil

Me praying to the Mayan gods at Calakmul that no more damage would be done to their sacred land

Riding on the bus away from beastly Bacalar and started on my real road trip! Hooray I’m leaving and going to revisit Xpuhil to use as a base to visit surrounding archaeological sites that I missed last time. I celebrated on that bus to Chetumal after dragging my case miles from my little pension in the midday sun, and was ready to wait there for a couple of hours to get my connection. So in theory I should arrive at my cabin before it’s too late to feel safe, although it will be dark. Upon my joyous arrival (I had so hated Bacalar that any shit hole was now paradise!) I also found that I could buy an earlier ticket upon arrival the bus station, which was a huge relief, rather than the later one which would have involved me waiting five hours and much sighing and whining. However, I still had over an hour to kill and I was suddenly famished.

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OLD BIRDS FRESH PEEK AT 2022 AND MEMORIES OF THE TRANS SIBERIAN EXPRESS. BRUTUS R.I.P.

OR, MY RIBS ARE NEARLY BETTER AND PREPARING SOME ART WHILE DETOXING.

Alert: Links are where the words are underlined in yellow, just click and you’ll get there!

Writing my journal while gazing over the Gobi Desert speeding by

Tough times last year trying to get out of the UK then trying to get back in, (why I came back I’ll never know, what was the matter with me?) and under terrible vicious conditions manufactured by Doris in his eternal house of horrors. Then after leaving Mexico last year being incarcerated in a ‘Quarantine Hotel’ and nearly having a nervous breakdown. Then our beloved dog Brutus got sick (while I was still imprisoned) and later died despite all our valiant efforts. Amongst the demonstrations against tyranny and usual trials and tribulations about resettling in the UK, (I always get ants in my pants after just a couple of months even in normal times) and general stress (bailiffs and all sorts of shite for nothing) and being homesick for Mexico, it seemed that I was in a dark place. So I started to look at property in Bulgaria to live a simple life off-grid growing my own veg and mushroom hunting while creating a studio to carve sculpture when another disaster befell me, in that suddenly Bulgaria became fascist too. This harsh body blow was followed by my having actual body blows when I dislocated my knee then a couple of weeks later cracked and broke ribs in a series of ludicrous strokes of bad luck. A lot of pain from both and as usual I didn’t do anything except home treatment and physio.

SLIDE SHOW OF OUR LOVELY BRUTUS R.I.P. AND THE ESCAPE IN MEXICO LAST YEAR.

Yeah, bummer finale to 21. A shit sandwich of vast proportions.