I.I.IX.I – Playa del Carmen: Day One to Three
PLAYA DEL CARMEN
I.I.IX.I – DAY ONE TO THREE
02/09/22 – 04/09/22
Turns out, hooking up with a millionaire comes with perks – including a limo ride to my next stop. After getting rid of the stench of greed and money-hunger that oozes from Cancún, I finally moved on to Playa del Carmen; a somewhat toned-down version of the former which feels somewhat more authentic.
Playa del Carmen was definitely a nice change of pace. For starters, it seemed to have everything Cancún had, condensed in one long street that starts from the city centre and extends up to the beach. Adorned with thousands of coloured flags and lightbulbs running from one side to the other, this street had it all – from restaurants, bars and clubs to gift shops, tour agencies and street stalls. As touristic as it is, it certainly didn’t feel as fake and plastic as Cancún does. Perhaps it was the dancing and singing to traditional Mexican music in the middle of the street that gave me such an impression. Or the Great Mayan dance performance at the Parque Los Fundadores; featuring dancers clad in traditional Mayan war costumes dancing over fire with the sea in the background.
Cozumel Island
It was in Playa del Carmen that I met up with Xavier again. He had travelled all the way from Campeche just so we could spend some time together and to show me around.
I gotta admit, it felt really nice to actually look forward to meeting up with someone I knew. Whilst I’m what most would describe as a social butterfly, I love my me-time – nay, I need my me-time. To just be by myself, all alone, without anyone. That was the intention of this solo trip after all. To just do my thing, to be in my own company. But after a month of travelling on my own, it felt good to be with someone. Seeing him again felt as if it were a long-awaited reunion of some sorts, even though we had known each other for just two weeks and we had only spent two days together!
We’d be spending our day together going around a nearby island. A short ferry ride away from Playa del Carmen took us to the tiny island of Cozumel. Tiny in the sense that you can circle its perimeter in an afternoon, not so tiny in the sense that you’d need some sort of vehicle in order to do so. There was one problem with that. Xavier didn’t have a driver’s license and I had sworn I’d never drive whilst abroad. “Why is that?” one might ask. Well, for starters I’m not the best driver in the world. Second, in Malta, much like in the UK, we drive on the left side. Meaning the chances of me screwing up would be multiplied in the order of thousands.
It only took a short pep talk from Xavier to dissuade me from my fears though. “Come on! Cabs are expensive and you’re on a budget – do it! It’d be a pity not to explore the entire island, wouldn’t it?”. And so I gave in. The second we got to Cozumel we headed to the car rental place and there it was – an old, rusty yellow Jeep. I’ve never been a car guy (my mechanic can attest to that), but I had always wanted to drive a Jeep – mostly cause that’s what Lorelai Gilmore drives. Finally, I’d to ride one! I asked the rental guy a thousand and one questions before I found the strength to clutch the keys. I couldn’t quite believe I was gonna do it. And so, with shaky knees and a grinning Xavier, I finally got on it. I took some time to familiarise myself with it, and that was it – I was out on the open road, baby!
For about five damn minutes. That’s how long it took me to run into a taxi’s side mirror and decimate it to bits. Having always driven on the left side made me compensate by instinctively swerving to the right. Most people’s brain tend to rewire and adapt – mine, apparently, doesn’t. “CRAP! What am I gonna do? What the hell am I gonna do?” I yelled out loud. I could feel my heart thumping loudly. Xavier insisted I stop and turn around, and of course, that’s what I’d usually do in the same situation back home. But this wasn’t back home. I was in the middle of a friggin island in friggin Mexico and I kept on driving straight which made me a friggin runaway.
By this time, my heart was in my throat. When I finally calmed down a bit and recomposed myself enough to actually notice the next exit so I could turn back, I heard the police sirens. I’m not gonna say my life flashed right in front of me. That’d be too dramatic. But my future did. And it only featured a steel bed frame with a paper-thin mattress, a steel toilet bowl on the side and a junkie running a spoon over the bars of our cell in it. “I knew I shouldn’t have driven!” I whispered to Xavier, my heart ready to explode from my chest. I parked the Jeep by the side and the police followed suit, the the taxi driver behind them.
The guy was enraged, but the police, quite calmly, explained that what I had done was called a “hit and run” and that it is not just a contravention, it is a crime. A crime punishable by prison. My heart stopped pounding. I might have arrested for just a few seconds. “Can I become a surgeon as a convict? No? Right?”. The policeman could tell how flustered I was, mostly cause I opened my mouth to speak Spanish but only stupid came out. Xavier, thankfully, was way more composed and explained the situation. The cab driver named the price required to assuage his anger and fix his mirror, which, the police failed to notice was extortion and theft, and seemed to be placated the second I whipped up enough Pesos that would have not only replace this mirror, but probably the entire engine of the damned thing. The only thing that seemed to cost more than this was the price to open an insurance claim. Not wanting to cause any more trouble, I quickly dished the money, which also included a ‘tip’ to the police. Tip, bribe, pay-off – potaytoe, potahtoh.
We All Live in the Yellow...
You know what’s worse than a fender bender five minutes into a drive? Having to drive along the perimeter of the entire island after that. From there onwards I drove at a very brisk twenty kilometre per hour with Xavier using his hand as an indicator for when I’d be getting too close to the one side or another. That day, the people of Cozumel, I’m sure, will remember forever. Cars honked, people swore, roads wept. “Chi va piano, va sano e lontano” goes the Italian saying. This literally translates to “One who goes slowly, goes safely and goes far”. And that’s what I did.
Somehow, some way, against all odds, we made it to our first stop – one I had been waiting for since I was still back home, hunched up on my bed, coming up with my itinerary – a ride on a friggin, unquestionably real, submarine! That’s right, a friggin submarine. Who the hell would’ve ever thought I’d ever be riding on a friggin submarine? And yet there I stood, on a boat in the middle of the ocean, jaw to the floor, as I saw the entire thing emerge from the depths of the sea. Just looking at the marvel of human technology was enough of an adventure. So damn cool!
Getting on it was unreal. As I climbed down the ladder it felt as if I was entering a scene that was taken straight out of a movie. The steel interior of the submarine, the twinkling lights, the round windows with shiny blue light passing through them, the waves above, an abyss beneath. Then it was a sergeant major fish peeking through the window. First it was just one, then two, then suddenly, tens of them swam along the windows, accompanying us along our dive. It kinda felt as if we were inside an aquarium – an object of fascination to the fish. It already felt like an unreal experience and we hadn’t even started to go down.
Then the submarine slowly submerged, bubbling as it went down. At first all we could see was more sergeant majors and coral. Being part of the Mesoamerican Reef; the second largest in the world and the largest living one (given that 60% of Australia’s Great Barrier Reef has died), I already knew this would be spectacular. As we started on our journey, with our eyes glued to the windows, the tour director started to explain everything we’d be seeing.
From finger coral to brain coral, from elkhorn coral to vase coral, sea fans to sea whips – everything seemed to belong to a different world. She told us that coral is a living animal that can be either soft or hard due to a shell of calcium carbonate; with that being responsible for forming the reefs. Whilst they are usually colourful, we were told, one cannot appreciate their hues at such depths, given that water absorbs most of the colours in the visible light spectrum the deeper they are found, with red being the first to go and blue the last. Up to a quarter of marine life and half a billion people depend on coral – the former for food and shelter, the latter for food, protection from storms and tides and tourism. Higher water temperatures and ocean acidification contributes to coral bleaching, which, unfortunately, means death to the reefs and to anything depending on it to survive.
After the lesson, we proceeded to submerge deeper and deeper, reaching at least thirty meters in depth. There we could admire more marine creatures such as the southern stingray, grey angelfish, blue chromis, four-eye butterflyfish, yellowtail snappers and eels, as well as a shipwreck that has been donated to the ocean in order to be taken over by coral. ¡Que chido wey!
Going Around...
Our road trip then took us to Playa Palancar; the first of many beach stops. From there we were to go to a couple of other beaches, to visit a lighthouse and some Mayan ruins. A random guy at the beach told us it’d be an excellent plan, were it not for everything having closed an hour beforehand. And so, dejectedly we made our way back.
By that point, I was pretty accustomed to driving the Jeep. In fact, I actually realised that it was the vehicle itself that was swerving to the right – the wheel alignment was all wonky! Around halfway there, as faith would have it, the heavens started to pour down on us. I’m talking ‘no visibility whatsoever’ kinda rain. “Okay Marius, calm down, it’s just driving! You’ve been doing it for years and now you also got used to this system! You’re doing great!” I repeated to myself over and over. “Just turn on the wipers and get on with it”. Only there was one problem with that statement. The car had no wipers. I was on the verge of a mental breakdown. My knees were genuinely shaking. I couldn’t bear it anymore. I drove slower than I would’ve thought possible, asking Xavier whether we were close to the car rental place every minute or so, and finally, after what felt like twenty-three weeks, we got there.
As I handed the keys, the guy told us we could have taken an all-inclusive tour for 10% of what we spent. I murdered him seven times in my head and then moved on with my life. Somehow we had made it. I know it’s not a big deal and I’m describing it as if it were a life-changing trauma, but only very rarely do I get so stressed out!
After yet another spectacular sunset at the island of Cozumel, we headed back to Playa del Carmen where Xavier and I had our final farewell. It felt weird. I had spent a total of three days with this guy, yet somehow it felt as if we had connected on a deeper level. Pretty soon, I’d also be saying goodbye to Mexico; a place I’d grown to love deeply. It felt so bittersweet. To leave him, to meet others. To leave such a place, to encounter more beauty.
Another Goodbye...
With Xavier well on his way back to Campeche and a free day ahead of me, it felt as if I could do whatever the hell I wanted. So, so many possibilities!
I could have gone to Xcaret; a fun park with lots of crazy things to do. I could have gone to the beach. I could have gone anywhere and everywhere. But, I decided I owed myself a day of rest and sloth. I spent my day chilling at the hostel – writing on my very uncomfortable bunk bed, making awkward small talk with other backpackers and conversing with the host – a French entrepreneur who came here to ‘retire’. I didn’t even go out to eat, snacking on some plantains and Doritos I had bought the previous day instead… I gotta admit that even though I wasn’t nearly as burnt out or exhausted as I thought I’d be by this point, it still felt good to laze about doing nothing.
This was my first time staying in a hostel during this trip, albeit in a private room. Once again, as I stood on the terrace sharing a beer and a cigarette with fellow travellers, I felt as if I were missing out on an integral part of travelling – connecting with people. I’d go on tours and meet a few locals here and there, I’d use Tinder to hook up and meet new people, but most of the time, I’d be completely on my own. As fulfilling as that might have been, I figured I could make more of an effort to mingle a bit.