The all inclusive/gorge on food and beverage day at Xhela

A few people warned me that XelHa was not much more than a tourist trap but I didn't listen. And I'm glad. Considering that 11 bucks bought me a tiny omelette on two pieces of Bimbo white bread with a flavorless cup of coffee and no refills on the beach where I was staying, I made the admission price back on the all inclusive food and beverage I consumed. High end stuff. Smoked salmon for breakfast. Steak for lunch. It might have lacked rugged backpacker cool but I enjoyed a day of luxury with no shame.



Lots of cenotes to check out. Mostly, it was all about the snorkelling.

I've never had very good luck snorkeling before and I chalked it up to all the years of heavy smoking destroying my lung capacity. I could never get enough air through that straw called a snorkel. Inevitably I'd get a mouthful of water and panic - "Ah! I'm drowning. Get me out of here!"- yanking my head out of the water, ripping the mask out of my way. That all changed after Xhela when an American lady taught me the secret. "Just bite down on the snorkel. I don't know why it works but it does. It sort of focuses your breathing." By golly, it worked. I ended up spending hours out there on the lake. Snorkelling is such a blast and it works up a great appetite for the buffet. I got to keep the snorkel as a souvenir. I think I'll invest in a pair of flippers since I'll be spending a year in Beachland.
I wonder why no one told me this before. Did they have poor communication skills or was I just not listening? This woman changed my life. I returned the favor by warning her about the moray eel I'd seen poking it's snout out from under a rock in the Mayan cave. You can see it for yourself in the video.

It was a park alright but it still had authentic underwater wildlife and the "Don't touch the fish" signs should be the order of the day; not just for the sake of the fish but yourself. For example, I wouldn't have dreamed of touching the stingray on the sandy lake bottom. It's not like these are tamed domestic sea critters.





I still had the waterproof camera bag from Carribean Bay in Korea and put it to good use, snapping pictures of everything. I couldn't see much through the view finder but a lot of pictures turned out very well. I kept seeing so much incredible stuff long after the batteries died.

Tulum. Brought to you by....

Everyone takes the same pictures at all the major vacation destinations like Tulum. These are mine.




Check out this vandalized banner outside the entrance for a big corporate whore house in Playa del Carmen. Either somebody felt morally affronted by the sleazery or a local competitor wanted to lower the profile.

There were giant "Welcome to Tulum" signs with bigger than life pictures of Dos Equis beer and none of the ruins. How does a brewery fit in here? Anybody?


I don't get quite as excited about ruins as some people. I like beaches and my favorite thing about the ruins of Tulum is that they come with a nice sandy cove.



Here's the beach on the west side of the ruins, about 3 km long, way better than the one by Hotel Papaya Playa.


The cabanas were more upscale and in much better shape. Guess what? They were all cheaper too at 200 pesos instead of 300. Ignore that guy at the bus station and ask the taxi driver to take you to Diamante or Azul Kim or grab a tourist map and pick a place at a random. You'll probably do better than I did.

Market of Terror II: Escape From Chichitenango

The rain came down hard. We were both soaked before taking a sheltered table in the courtyard of the one beautiful hotel in town where they had hot coffee and yummy food and we could watch the rain pouring on to the lush garden courtyard. I was cold but happy. A marimba band started playing from an upper balcony. A much nicer place to be.



All good things must come to an end and the rain eventually stopped. Back to the market. Carina hadn't seen enough. I didn't try to reason with her. There was only a bit more than an hour left before we had to catch the last bus out of town. I knew I could make it. The rain had driven off a lot of people and it wasn't as jammed as before.

I know Carina must have thought it was totally wimpy but she humored me when I insisted on taking a nice comfy shuttle bus for the return trip.

Those who know me best know what a hardass I can be when it comes to beggars. Back in Toronto, we all know perfectly well that no matter what they say, the money is always going for crack, crystal meth or booze. In places like these, I know parents send their children out looking as pitiful as possible to collect cash and if they do a real good job and turn into little cash machines, that's going to be their career and they'll never have a chance at going to school. Too much kindness from strangers can destroy their futures. But while we waited in the van with the door wide open, I was confronted with the plaintive voice of a small child futilely calling "Una quetzal." I caved.

Please don't judge me too harshly. You had to be there. It was miserable and cold up there. She must have been 7 years old. She had a little five year old brother beside her and a lumpy baby on her back. I knew it had been one long suffering day for the little waifs. No one was giving them anything. We all knew better. Anyone reading this would have done the same. I was leaving in a comfy van. They were staying.

Now, I'm not looking to make anyone cry but I got the sweetest "Gracias." for my pitiful useless offering. She walked away a few steps and then backed up so the little baby could tell me "Gracias." too. I wanted out of there so bad. Later, I saw her still at it, still not having any luck. The quetzal and a half I'd given her had already been spent on a little snack. The baby was taking care of it, pulling it up out of the little fold in the blanket she was wrapped in while the big sister kept trying gently to push it back out of sight until later. No, life isn't fair.

Meanwhile, across the street, an absolutely wretched old beggar woman with no legs wailed helplessly while tickytok cabs kept passing her by. I suppose none of them wanted the job of lifting her into the cab. Eventually a nice young man did. He had no easy job.

We finally made it out of there. It was so good to be back to Panajachel. Our driver stopped at some nice lookout points and we all got much better shots of the lake from high than I did through the dirty wet window of the chicken bus. And then it was dinner and happy hour at the rock 'n' roll bar. A nice end to an interesting day.