Spring Break in Mexico

In March, Jenny and I secured a pair of $300 round-trip tickets from Chicago (mean temperature of 11 degrees) to Cancun (mean temperature of 78 degrees). With a gaudy timeshare unit available, Jenny and I were easily coaxed into taking a spring break excursion south of the border.

My commentary starts not on the Yucatan, but at Chicago Midway Airport. Jenny and I sleepily waded through the security line which, due to other spring break travelers, was bloated even at the ungodly hour of 5 a.m. On my right, I noticed a security line cordoned off for "Expert Travelers Only". The expert walkway was virtually empty, and disappeared around a corner. Was "Expert Traveler" an objective category that required special certification, or was it purely subjective?

"I've been around", I thought. "I pack light." Ever open to a good deal, I thought about ducking under the ropes. Hesitant to breach airport policy, however, I waited and observed several of the expert travelers making their way down the line and around the corner: A Disneyworld-bound family of five with parents yelling at each other to the vexation of the entire bloated, non-expert security line; an old Asian couple, walking delicately arm in arm; a single, big-bellied, Scotch-Irish guy who clearly shopped in the far back of the "big-n-tall" stores.

"If they're expert travelers, I'm George Clooney." Just as we were about to abandon our non-expert neighbors, we came within view of the corner, where the full extent of the expert line unfolded. The line ran on for 200-300 feet, and was even more swollen than its non-expert counterpart. Some of the experts turned around and sheepishly made their way back to the non-expert line. Others pinched their foreheads and remained. The whole experience still seems a little bizarre - some kind of Confucian parable. I guess it doesn't always pay to say you're an expert.

White sands, green jungles, grey ruins, and blue skies...

We rented a car (not the one pictured above) and drove from the Riviera Maya region down to Tulum and up to Valladolid, a colonial town near Chichen Itza. I still can't decide if the town is authentically colonial or if it is just painted to look that way in order to draw more Chichen-bound tourists (ala Jaipur, Pioneer Village, etc.). Either way, Valladolid had a pretty cool Latin American vibe, similar to that in areas of Brazil, with brightly "painted" buildings (pictured above and below) and plenty going on into the night.

Jenny and I wandered around the town, past clothing stores, barber shops, and auto body garages. We walked to the outskirts of the town where we found an old spanish mission named San Bernadito.

As it was getting dark, we went back to the center of town to eat at a bazaar near the main plaza. We slept that night at a hostel, which featured a political rally in the adjacent park. The politician chanted "Si se puede" off and on for an hour, which, roughly translated is "Yes we can".The next morning we walked around town before breakfast. A man swept the ground in front of his restaurant, and the sound echoed off the cathedral and around the main plaza. Walking back to our hostel, we took pictures of all the classically Latin American painted walls.After breakfast, we drove the hour or so out to Chichen Itza. Eager to beat the crowds, we arrived at 8:00 a.m. Sure enough, we beat just about everybody. We had the whole place to ourselves for almost an hour. Highlights included the main edifice (El Castillo???), the ball court, the sacrificial sink hole, and the many incricate engravings. The ball court was the most unexpected surprise. I had heard about Mayan sports, but the court and the 15-foot-high "hoops" looked more imposing than anything we have today. The fact that one team was sacrificed at the end of the game added to the mystique.

As the crowds started to show up, Jenny and I headed for the car. We drove back towards Tulum, stopping in Valladolid for lunch. We ate at a restaurant on the same plaza that hosted the political rally. An afternoon folk dance festival was taking place, and we watched before and during our meal. After lunch, we drove to a "cenote" or sink hole, and the ruins of Coba. The sink holes on the Yucatan are basically little Timpanogos Caves with lakes inside: lots of stalactites and rock formations, etc. At Coba, we climbed to the top of the ruins, walked along the sandy roads between the complexes, and admired the ball courts, which were different from those at Chichen Itza, just 60 miles away.

We spent the night in Tulum, where we stayed in a hip, young hotel owned by an American. The Secret Garden had a large open area between the two rows of rooms, dotted with shady trees, torch lights, and chaise lounge chairs. Ambient Latin music played in the background. After our long day, Jenny and I bypassed the garden area and took a long siesta in our room. That night we went out to dinner and played pool at a nearby club. Jenny gave me a run for my money, but let's be honest, I don't lose unless it's to Drury on an off night. We had a couple of virgin Pina Coladas before calling it a night.The next morning we were off again, bright and early, to see the ruins of Tulum. This group of Mayans knew what they were doing - building a fortress on the most picturesque slice of beach in Latin America.After seeing the ruins, and once again escaping the crowds, Jenny and I had breakfast at a German/Mexican bistro that blew my mind. Fresh squeezed OJ, wurst, mashed potatoes, fruit, bacon, salsa, toast, and hot chocolate. Good, German hot chocolate. From there, we made our way down to the Sian Kaan Biosphere, a nature reserve just south of Tulum.

Tulum is known for two things: ruins and beaches. Apparently, the beaches gained popularity with the yoga/free spirit crowd of the 60's. Today, hotels try to imitate that free spirit yoga vibe. Cabanas line the beach from the town all the way down to the biosphere, 7 miles south. While the pricey cabanas now attract the offspring of those 1960's hippees (i.e. the socially liberal investment banker turned eco-entrepreneur whose wife lines up in the expert yoga line and possibly the expert traveler line as well), the biosphere still attracts the hippees themselves. Why am I saying this? Because just as Jenny and I were finding our place on the perfectly empty white beach, a pair of naked 60-year-old hippees bounded out from behind a palm tree. They settled into a casual stroll southward, leaving all their worldly possessions strewn around the tree. I really hadn't planned on that, and it was disconcerting to say the least.

Jenny and I stayed on the beach for a couple of hours, walking out into the water occasionally. There really can't be more peaceful water than that of the Carribean: turquoise, 84 degrees, shallow.

After getting our fill of solitude, we drove North toward the cabanas. We ducked inside one of the resorts, and gained entry to the really nice beaches, which are normally closed to everyone but guests. We walked along the beach for a couple of miles, before grabbing a lunch of guacamole, chicken quesadillas and virgin pina colada at a cabana.

From Tulum, we drove North towards our resort, stopping in Playa del Carmen to stock up on trash: Oreos, lime potato chips, Coke, Fanta, and chocolate. We were limited due to the lack of a fridge at the resort. We did, however, pick up a half dozen apples and some bananas.

Earlier this year, my parents said they had an extra timeshare week that they weren't going to be able to use. When everything else fit, we jumped at the opportunity to use it. There was one unit open at the resort we wanted, and it happened to fit perfectly into the dates we needed. The grounds and rooms at the resort were among the best we've ever stayed at (reminiscient of Marriott's Thailand property which is also on this blog): multiple infinity pools, a beautiful golf course, white-sand beach with volleyball nets and a long pier, canopied palapas dotting the resort, and a small flamingo reserve.

Unfortunately, the food at the resort was not that awesome. In fact it was pretty bad. Fortunately, Puerto Morelos, the culinary mecca of the Yucatan, was just up the freeway. Jenny and I had some pretty outstanding meals in Puerto Morelos, including homemade sticky buns, huevos rancheros, grilled shrimp with fettucini, and the best ravioli I've ever had at a Canadian-owned restaurant called L'Oazis, which opened out onto the town plaza.

Jenny is a self-proclaimed relaxation expert. I readily concede that I am not as proficient at relaxing (my dabblings with mild road rage, unrealistically ambitious traveling agendas, and cooking overdrive are material for other posts). Jenny made me promise her at least one day of relaxation by the pool or beach. In exchange for our promise to spend at least $35 at the poolside restaurant, we were able to secure a canopied, poolside palapa, complete with pillows and a plush cushion. We lounged for 7 hours by the pool, playing cards, reading books and magazines, and people-watching. We ordered virgin strawberry daquiris, pina colada, cobb salad, and other resort fare. Jenny and I broke up our day with a few games of beach volleyball. Jenny sat out to watch and involuntarily made a male friend in the process. If you're interested you can ask her about it...

We spent the next day in Cancun, where we planned to visit an art museum that received great reviews. After discovering that the museum had been closed down a month earlier, we went to the movies. Jenny and I have a tradition of always seeing at least one movie when we are on vacation. Our trips to the movies have turned out to be among the most culturally rewarding travel experiences. We have discovered that Thais sing their national anthem before movies, and Indians have intermission. In Cancun, we went to the "Cine VIP" theater at the local mall, and we were pleasantly surprised by the offerings. For $8 we watched Blindside (not my choice) in fully-reclining leather Lay-z-boys, with virgin margaritas and popcorn. The deal was so good that we decided to see two movies. After Blindside we stuck around for Shutter Island, which was a little more up my alley.

Other activities at and around our resort included snorkelling off the beach near Puerto Morelos (best snorkeling I've ever done - barracudas, huge reef, colorful brain coral, etc.), observing the wildlife around our resort, and playing a round of 18 holes on the resort's golf course. Jenny proudly beat me on the links, but only by 5 strokes. Neither of us played admirably, though. She shot a 43 over, and I a 48 over on a par 54. We're learning.

I always thought that the Yucatan was just Cancun, spring break parties, and the occasional Mayan ruin. But the region had a lot more to offer than we had anticipated, and we plan to return before too long.