After a couple of weeks in the interior of the Yucatan, where everyone comes up to my shoulder, Cancun was a bit of a shock. Enormous people everywhere, strolling hand in hand, necking on the beach, clambering on and off buses.
Category: Mexico
Winding (and wearing) down
Although I don't leave for another five days, I'm getting to that point in the trip where everything starts accelerating--pretty much all my reservations are arranged for the remaining nights, and my list of things to do is very small and manageable.
Merida
I saw two more clowns. One was just waiting for the bus, with little rainbow tears on his cheeks.
Ha.
Funny: a lobby full of clowns in a hotel I passed earlier today here in Merida--clowns at rest, chatting, smoking cigarettes, puffing up their orange Afros.
Driving
I've almost cleared the 1000-kilometre mark, and about 300km of that I did today, driving UP and DOWN and all over the central and northern coast, so that after the eighth cute plaza with a little (or big) old church and pretty painted arcades, I was a little dazed.
Fleeing
Just for the record, I'm in Mexico again. Neatly avoiding all post-election fallout. Dodging trauma by driving fast and not looking at headlines.
Banh Mi, but Don’t Blame Me
Last week, as I was stuffing the world's best snack, the banh mi, the Vietnamese sandwich specifically from the dark little hole under the Manhattan bridge that's open only five hours a day, down my gullet in a frenzied urge to maximize the sweet-hot-crispy-gooey-meaty-veggie taste sensation, I was also contemplating how it is that I'm chronically late.
Panuchos
The best road food ever: a panucho from the bus station in Felipe Carrillo Puerto.
Winding down
Tonight's my last night--back in the old favorite Playa del Carmen. Not the greatest beach town, but certainly not the worst, and the array of the Italian tourists' bathing suit styles and depths of tans is quite impressive.
Not dead. Just dead tired.
My pants smell like old plush bus seat--I know you know what I'm talking about.