YUCATAN PENINSULA, MEXICO - "Avoiding the plague"

Mexico. I had feelings of both child-like excitement and dread, in regards to heading south of the border. I winced at the thought of MTV spring breakers and khaki-short tourists ordering Budweisers and nachos at that bar with the creepy peeping Tom amphibian. I was disgusted by the media's depiction of Mexico as a lawless place of drug trade beheadings and a source of "foreigners that threaten our way of life." However, I was obsessed with visions of Mayan ruins gazing eastward over the pastel blue waters of the Gulf. I heard that Chichen Itza had been a recent addition to one of the many versions of the 7 Wonders of the World. Beyond all, I wanted to cut through the bullshit and experience Mexico on my own terms. I wasn't quite sure what that might entail, but I was certain it didn't include Senior Mickey Frog's place. My plan: fly to Cancun, immediately get in a rental car and quickly drive south before I could heed the hotel strip's evil siren calls of "all-inclusive."

My first stop was in the beach town of Playa del Carmen. While walking along the white sandy beach and down Quinto Avenida (5th Ave.), I noticed that Playa was full of tourists avoiding the "other" tourists that go to Cancun. Okay, I suppose I was just another one of those "too cool for Cancun" tourists. Despite the Mexican wrestler masks, sombreros, tequila bottles, and other tourist trophies, Playa still managed to grow on me. Perhaps it was the vibrant colored rainbow over the ocean following an afternoon rain shower. Maybe it was while I hung in a hammock and listened to palm frawns applaud as the ocean breeze passed through them. Or maybe it was the occasional drop of kerosene that splattered against my face as I sat 3 feet away from fire show performers on the beach.

Fire Show on the beach

I suppose Playa is just another playground for adults. I mean, it's got all the basics: a big ole' white sandbox, an aqua blue pool framing the horizon, and a bunch of adult-aged kids on swings that fringe every bar top. It was on the swings at a beach bar that I met fellow travelers. We shared a few "free" stories (except one guy who charged $3), some excellent food, grooves at a local club, and countless buckets of Sol, a refreshing and dangerously tasty Mexican beer. Although I enjoyed my time in Playa, I didn't feel that it was quite the "Mexican" experience for which I searched. Early the next morning, I hopped in my rental car and continued heading south.

I arrived at the entrance to the Mayan ruins at Tulum just before its 8AM opening. I was the first gringo there, and after paying $51 pesos (just over $4USD), I had the entire place to myself. For about an hour, it was just me, some sunning iguanas, and the jagged cliffs that elevated the ruins from the crashing ocean below. I felt like a little kid that snuck into an amusement park before opening and could ride all the rides without having to wait in line or deal with the hoards of other visitors. After trotting around the ruins, I brought my hunger pains to a funky artsy restaurant called Charlie's in the small town of Tulum. My pains were pleasantly satiated by a generously stuffed problano pepper served with smoky black beans, tender rice, hearty tortilla chips, a mild garden fresh salsa, and a sweat-inducing habanero green salsa. After the flatbed wrecker showed up to remove me from the restaurant, I was on my way to check out my digs for the night; the electricity-free ocean-side Copal Cabanas.

First stop after check-in, the beach bar. A full-bodied malty Leon quenched my thirst as I tranquilly stared out at the ocean before me. That's when I noticed the naked bodies jogging, swimming, and sunbathing on the beach. I'm certainly not one to be a closed-minded puritan, so I tried to play it cool, as if "oh yeah, clothing optional beach; of course!" However, I found it impossible to not think of all the places that sand would take up residence after a naked day at the beach. Cue the hairy naked husky man allowing the waves to crash against his well-fed body in the shallow surf. Oh, and the thought of the sunburns to one's bits and pieces was too much.

Copal Cabanas

Later that evening I found my beachside cabana to be cozy, clean, and a bit Crusoe bathed in the candlelight. That's when I heard a slight rustle in the thatched roof. I immediately whipped out my mini-Maglite to investigate. Flitter-flitter, whoosh, as a finger-sized grasshopper flew at me from the roof. Perhaps a short reflexive squeal escaped me. However, my primal instincts took over, and I determined that this invader must perish by the sole of my hiking boot. Hiking boot in one hand, Maglite in the other, I cornered the beast and dispatched him without mercy. I made sure that his days of squatting would end, with multiple post-mortem strikes with my boot. Although the sound of the ocean lulled me to bed, the breezes required me to wear multiple layers. I slept with good conscience despite the brutal bloodshed earlier in the evening.

The next couple days included jaunts to some of the most impressive Mayan ruins in Mexico; Coba, Ek Balam, and Chichen Itza. The Coba ruins lie secluded within the jungle and include the Nohoch Mul temple, the highest Mayan structure in the Yucatan, towering 140-feet above the jungle floor. Ek Balam is the most recently excavated site and boasts the most impressive and best preserved temple carvings; including a 5-meter high jaguar's mouth that serves as the temple entrance. The largest complex was Chichen Itza, deservingly deemed one of the 7 Wonders of the World. It includes the largest Mayan ball court discovered to date, as well as the ingeniously designed El Castillo; which was designed to create an optical illusion of a serpent slithering down the side of the temple as the sun moves through the sky during the spring and autumn equinox. The basic takeaways from experiencing these ruins are the Mayans' proficiency with architectural design and time, as well as their belief in pleasing the gods with numerous sacrifices.

Chichen Itza

As I sat in the Cancun airport waiting to fly back to the USA, I reflected upon my trip. Can the pressures of a tourist economy be balanced with the roots of cultural tradition? How does one allow the locusts to descend upon the land, without destroying all that made the land worth visiting in the first place? I realized that I had already found the answer as I drove through the countryside of the Yucatan.

Speed bumps, or "topes," take the place of traffic cops in the Yucatan. They're fricken huge; you don't want to mess around with these bad boys. You could be going 110 km/hr, but if you see a sign for "topes," you best take heed and slow your roll! The topes stand guard throughout every little town across the country serving as a nuisance to drivers.

At one point during my drive through the Yucatan, I was barreling down the road at 120 km/h. The radio had been repeatedly cycling through the radio spectrum for 30 minutes searching for a viable radio station. All of a sudden, I heard broken sound bites of Quiet Riot's, "Come on Feel the Noise" swim through the radio static and battle against the pulsing accordions of some traditional Mexican polka music. I chuckled to myself as to the randomness and had to immediately slam on the brakes when I noticed the infamous topes quickly approaching. As I gingerly drove over the series of topes through the small village, Quiet Riot was drowned out by the static and overtaken by accordions and a joyous "aaahhh haaaaa." It was then that I realized that the topes not only serve as safe traffic flow devices, but they have a higher purpose to slow progress from barreling through the culture of the country. It's almost to say, "You can have Cancun, but you'll never take Mexico! ...well, at least quickly..." Perhaps it's Mexico's nod to the Mayans; sacrifice a few cities to save the country. As tourists flood the "exotic" all-inclusive corporate resorts of Mexico, it makes you wonder who should claim that "foreigners threaten our way of life." Speed bumps never seemed so important, and I'm happy to slow my roll out of respect.

-Don

Tulum Ruins