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The Shadow of Tulum

Tulum ruins viewed from the beach.
Tulum ruins viewed from the beach.

The Yucatan sun sears the pavement, and every moment of open exposure further scorches the already-burnt skin. It’s no wonder the local Mayan descendants wear a golden ebony complexion. Although life surrounding Tulum is crucially associated with the tourist trail, the predominant local culture yet tinges the surrounding region with an aura of a quintessential sleepy feel of a typical Mexican town.

Perhaps the slowness of life is a bit infectious as I, too, lingered much longer than expected. Further, pleasant encounters with other travelers only added to the enjoyable stay. Today’s happy occasions involved pooling money to rent a van; thereafter we all went snorkel at Playa Akumal with giant sea turtles off the reefs; followed by a swim in the aquamarine waters of Casa Cenote; a visit to the soft sands of the local beach concluded the day. Our group then rounded a few more backpackers (more and more resembling the United Nations) for authentic street food from makeshift carts before concluding with some love music at a mojito bar. Indeed, pleasant time with pleasant company.

Alas, all things must pass on and each person eventually must go their separate ways. Come tomorrow the seating sun will be another memory so I’ll revisit the freezing temperatures of New England.

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Chasing the Winter Sun Southwards

The splendid beauty of this earth splayed at sunset in Bufadora, Mexico.

The slinking autumn sun culminates lower along the meridian with each passing day. In the little time I have on this short break, I follow it’s steady course south in search of warmer coastal climate. From Playa Rosarito, I wound along the toll road a bit, stopping by even sleepier coastal  towns that hardly register on most maps. Near La Mission, I strayed inland from the main coastal highway for a closer look at untouristed parts of Mexico. As with much of Latin America, there are shanty towns here and there, makeshift shacks dot the landscape; however, unlike any other part of Central or South America, this region of Mexico seem to have many abandoned mobile homes littering the landscape. One can only assume these were left behind by many an American who came to escape their past or simply to drop off radar. Certainly, it’s not out of the realm of possibility that they are drug related.

With each winding turn down a lone country road, I drove closer until I edged near the bluffs of La Bufadora. This place would not even be on the map were it not for its namesake: the world’s largest “blowhole” that frequently spouts water 100 feet above sealevel. Unfortunately, the visit was anticlimactic as I happened to arrive during slack tide. Fortunately enough, the outing offered one spectacular sunset over the calm Pacific and numerous opportunity to nibble at local cuisine.