Comitán

Although most tourists don't visit Comitán we decided to spend a few nights there after recommendations from my Spanish teachers in San Cristobal. It is a 'Pueblo Mágico', making it a recommended tourist destination by the Mexican tourist board.

We did not like Comitán. We were the only people in our hotel, and although it was a nice room, it all felt a little creepy and desolate.

The historical center was pretty but very small and empty, and the most redeeming feature, the square, was closed, due to covid. There are only a few restaurants around the square which are touristic and pretty terrible. And other than the restaurants there really wasn't much else to explore. 

The best part of Comitán was the proximity to amazing natural attractions in the region.

So the next day we set off to the Casadas El Chiflón. Surprisingly there seemed to be no tour agents in Comitán so we had to walk to the outskirts of the town and take a Collectivo to the waterfalls, which was an adventure in itself. 

The waterfalls were undeniably beautiful, there are 5 in total all at different levels leading up a mountain. We swam at the base of the waterfalls in crystal clear waters (the only place available for swimming) and then hiked to the very top of the mountain to the final waterfall to admired the stunning scenery.

There are three ziplines between the waterfalls, we decided to do just one. We flew over the forest below which was incredible and terrifying all at the same time.

We returned to Comitan by Collectivo, only to have another depressing dinner around the square.

We had intended to stay another two nights to visit the Lagunas de Montebellos National Park the next day. But at 10pm, while tucked up in bed, we decided we couldn't possibly stay another night in Comitán. So we took out the laptop to assess our options and it seems the only realistic plan for our remaining time would mean getting on a flight the next morning at 11am from Tuxuala. So we booked a 5am bus out of Comitán and prayed it would run on time.

San Cristobal de las Casas

Our next destination was high in the mountains of the state of Chapias, called San Cristóbal de las Casas. We took a 9 hour overnight bus, on my birthday, to get there. Although most of Chapias is humid and warm, San Cristobal sits at an altitude of 2,200m which gives it a much cooler climate. Night and early morning felt positively freezing in comparison to Mazunte, but in reality was about 9 degrees. We bought scarves and jumpers from the numerous street sellers, and wrapped ourselves in as many layers as possible come nightfall. 

Our first day in Chapias was a slow one, while most people won't feel much from an altitude of 2,200m I am in the unfortunate 20% of people who do. Luckily I didn't experience anything like my time in La Paz (4500m) some years ago, instead it was mostly tiredness, lack of appetite, some headaches and beautiful bloodyshot eyes which lasted our whole time there.

Jonny threw me an adorable birthday party for two in our amazing airbnb, and we wandered the adorable colourful streets of San Cristóbal to get ourselves acquainted. It's a small pretty city and everywhere is easily accessible by foot. It's a popular tourist destination for Europeans and Mexicans as it oozes culture and character. Chapias has a rich indigenous community and San Cristobal is where all these communities come together. It's wonderful to see different communities in the streets, each with their own unique costume. Many come from the surrounding villages to sell their handicrafts and textiles to the many tourists. 

And many tourists there were, the narrow streets were incredibly busy. Perhaps because Chapias has enjoyed a low level of restrictions for much of the pandemic due to low covid numbers. While we were there it was coded 'yellow' the lowest in Mexico at the time, but has recently been at 'green', meaning no restrictions. From speaking with locals, they did not feel that they had less covid, just less reporting of it. Given the large indigenous communities throughout the state who rely on traditional medicines and rarely if ever

 attend hospitals this seemed very likely.

 Chapias is the poorest state in Mexico. Little old ladies and young children street sellers fill the tourist streets. Eating at a table outside can be heartbreaking as children approach trying to sell small braids or wooden toys but always look longingly at the meal in front of you. Given the public primary schools have been closed since the start of the pandemic (and will be until August) it's hard to know what the situation is usually like.

But the south of Mexico has the lowest minimum wage in the country at just €10 a day so its easy to imagine why children are encouraged to start working young. 

While in San Cristóbal I went to spanish classes at San Cris Language school for four hours in the morning while Jonny worked. The mornings were grammar classes and afternoons conversation skills with Sofie who could speak zero English which surprisingly was no longer necessary for me. All the classes were one on one but there were plenty of other students, some who had months in San Cristóbal and the language school.

To my surprise there was another Irish student called Stephen who also had a pretty good level of Spanish. He'd been traveling Mexico for four months and had a house in my beloved Stoneybatter. He was a data analyst but had quit to travel.

San Cristobal is the kind of city where you continously bump into the same people, which is exactly what happened on our first weekend. Nightlife in San Cristobal was buzzing while we were there, plenty of pox bars (Chapias local liquor, made out of corn prenounced Posh) and live music bars. We bumped into Stephen in a tacqueria with a friend from Slovakia. They told us of a bar they'd be going to where a Balkan band would be later playing and we arranged to meet them later, amused at the prospect of seeing our balkan music for the first time, in Mexico.

 First we went for some Pox and then onto Revolution, a Cuban bar with a lively dj rapper set.

We then went onto to El Paliacate. When we arrived the big sliding metal door closed but we could hear people inside. We knocked and were hurriedly ushered in by a bouncer. Apparently there was supposed to be a 10pm curfew at venues because of covid restrictions, but clearly it wasn't being very well policed. El Palicate was absolutely packed, and had a cool underground vibe, a small low stage with the audience gathered around both sitting on the floor and on seats. To my absolute joy there was some boylesque performances and the crowd were going wild. After the full Balkan brass band came out and played an amazing set, meeting our new slovik friends standards.

After we wandered to another music bar to just catch the end of another Mexican rock band before hitting the hay. We had ended up on a pub crawl with live music at every venue! 

San Cristobal was quickly turning into our kind of place and so we decided it best to change our plans and route once again to extend our time there. 

On Sunday we did a tour to two neighbouring villages. The first was Zinacantan a village famous for their flower growing industry and as a result the towns native clothing are made from a purple linens covered in embroidered flowers. To have and to wear the traditional dress is a source of great pride for villages, particularly because they are not cheap. A full outfit coasts about €400 and yet most people in the village we saw were wearing them. We visited a locals house and business, where we encouraged to drink pox on arrivals. Masks are not worn in the villages, in fact they think masks a ridiculous idea for stopping a virus. Instead they drink pox every morning, as the believe it purifying and a preventative to catching any disease or sickness. We had incredibly delicious  tacos made for us at the home and were shown the workshop where clothing is embroidered. 

Next we went to the village of San Juan Chamula. Because it was Sunday there was a market and it was full of locals doing their weekly shop. They wear incredible sheepskin skirts and waist jackets, because the traditional trade of the village is sheep. We were warned not to take any photos of people in the village as we would face large fines for being disrespectful. The prominent members of the village (all men) were gathered in the square, ready to hear any issues in the village and to pass judgment and instruction. 

We made our way to the villages church. From the outside it looked like any other small 15th century colonial church. But inside was one of the most culturally shocking experiences I had had on my many travels. The village incorporates native pagan believes with Catholic ones, and the result is fascinating. Inside the church was empty of the usual pews or alter, the walls lined with small cabinets each with its own Saint heavily decorated with flowers. The prominent families in the village are given the great honour of being given a Saint to maintain, but they often spend thousands of euro ending up in debt buying flowers for their saints. The floor of the church is covered in straw and candles with groups of families huddled around the candles on the floor. To get to the top of the church we had to weave between the groups, carefully avoiding candles. Families also burn incense as an offering so between that and the air is thick and smokey. They also offer pox and coca cola and drink them on the floor together. 

If someone has a problem, a shaman is brought into the ritual. The shaman will pray with the family or person who needs help and brings with her live chickens which she or he will rub over the person who needs help. She or he will burp loudly (thanks to the coca cola) to help expel evil spirits. The chicken will at somepoint be killed as a sacrifice. 

 We also were keen to visit the Zapatistas village but due to covid they are not accepting tourists at the time. The Zapatistas are a rebellious force for the indigenous people who fought against the marginalisation by the Mexican Government. In 1994 they coordinated a 12 day uprising which centered around San Cristobal. They still have alot of support in San Cristobal and throughout Chapias. The rebellion died down when the Mexican government promised to grant some autonomy to the Zapatistas. Sadly to date they have not kept to this promise. 

Another tour we did from San Cristóbal was to Cañon del Sumidero. It is a 30 minute drive from Cristóbal as it's all down hill has a scorching climate compared to the cool San Cristobal. We sailed down the river surrounded by the canyon which feels exactly like something from 'The Land Before Time', and although there were no dinosaurs there were plenty of alligators. 

The scenery was truly stunning. 

After traveling all the way through the canyon and back, we switched to our mini bus and drove to various viewing points from above to look down to the winding River. 

While we were in San Cristóbal, the state run museums were sadly closed due to covid restrictions so we spent our afternoons wandering to the amazing textile shops, drinking hot chocolate and eating in the amazing variety of international cuisine. People from all over the world had fallen in love with San Cristobal and made it their home. One evening in a tapas wine bar we got chatting to an Irish couple who had been living in Canada. They had thought about returning to Ireland for a while but after a two week visit at Christmas they decided not to, telling us how terrible the lockdown there was. They said lockdown in Canada wasn't as difficult as the Irish lockdowns.

On Saturday night we invited Brendan and Andrea over to our Airbnb for drinks as well as Matt from the UK who was in my Spanish school. We had a few drinks before heading to a famous rave we had been hearing whispers about from fellow tourists. It was situated just outside of the city in a skate park, beside a local market. 

The Mexican doorman told us his girlfriend was from Dublin and he'd be moving there this summer!

Downstairs was the skate park, almost empty of people but upstairs was a large  room with a bar and dj box full of people dancing to the Russian DJ who had flown in especially for the gig. We danced all night long, meeting people from all over the world, including a from Ballymun in Dublin and a girl living in San Cristóbal who was originally from Armagh. We had met more Irish people in one night than our entire trip of Mexico! 

Knowing the night couldn't be topped we decided to leave San Cristobal two days later for the town or Comitán. 

Mazunte and San Agustinillo

Just 40 minute drive from Puerto Escondido is the adorable village of Mazunte. Along this stretch of the Oaxaca coast are three fantastic beach towns, San Agustinillo, Mazunte and Zipolite, all in close proximity to each other. San Agustinillo, the smallist, is just a fifteen minute walk from Mazunte and Zipolite, the largest, is just twenty minute truck ride.

 We initially picked Mazunte as it seemed to promise the best WiFi which Jonny would need to work and WiFi was becoming increasingly sparse as we ventured further from the Yucatan. If you had time and no WiFi commitments, spending time in each of these towns would be highly recommended.

Mazunte is how I had expected Tulum to be, small, full of hippies, beautiful beaches, dirt roads, no English and scorching sun. It was also as if covid didn't exist, we didn't see a mask or hand sanitiser during our time there. Mazunte is the type of place you can't sanitise. Everything was organic, the buildings were wooden with palm thatched roofs. The electricity would sometimes flick off and on at night time. International hippies had made it there home but spoke Spanish to one another, never wore shoes and played drums, flutes, violins or accordions in the streets to try and raise money from passing tourists, others made hand made jewellery, or offered reki or tarot reading.

Mazunte felt timeless, it could easily pass for 1960 if it weren't for the odd truck, though even they weren't so modern.

The locals were as laid back as the hippies who had invaded, seemingly accepting of their presence and not phased by the fact their drinking rituals started at 10am outside the local corner stores.

I loved everything about Mazunte. It had a magical and peaceful atmosphere and it felt a million miles away from the rest of the world and all its problems.

Jonny, however, could not stand the hippies. His unexplainable hatred would case him to curse them under his breath in the street and privately verbalise his distain to me but could never fully explain what it was exactly about them that brought about his very real fury. It became an ongoing source of amusement during our stay.

Our Mexican routine kicked in, I found a language school behind the village up some dirt roads on a hill, where I would attend spanish lessons every morning while Jonny worked. The school offered a cheaper rate if you agreed to be paired with another student, so I did. I can only hope they made the pairings based on convenience rather than ability. I was paired with a Californian called Keith. He was tall with long unwashed hair and sometimes with a distinct fragrance of body odour. He had been going to the classes for nearly a month and seemed reluctant to utter even a sentence in spanish, or to even attempt it, much to the teachers and my frustrations. 'Just try!' she would plead in spanish, always refusing to speak English with him, but her pleads were usually to no avail.

Our teacher was as hippy as Muzante itself. She had visited from her native Mexico City seven years ago and never left. A story that was a common one for the village. She had a husky voice as though she'd smoked far too much, but was impossible to age. Like everyone in Oaxaca she was short, at 5 foot 1 I had become tall. I liked her, she was enthusiastic but our classes were a struggle because of Keith's unwillingness.

On my first day during our break I asked him about himself, in english. He was traveling with his girlfriend Natalie, who from what I could gather, could already speak Spanish. He'd been in Mexico and Mazunte for 3 months. They had no return flights but he spoke of returning for a job. 'Oh what's the job?' I asked.

He planned on growing and selling weed in California.

 'oh because its legal there now?'  I tentatively asked.

'No, no, illegally, you get more money that way'.

He told me he liked Irish people because he had lived and travelled in his van in the past with an Irish couple from Donegal.

For the afternoons Jonny and I would go to the main beach. It was a beautiful inlet surrounded by cliffs. In the distance you could see whales and dolphins out at sea which was incredible to watch with an evening beer. Mazunte also offered some amazing sunsets. Crowds would gather at Punta Comata, up on the cliff for the occasions, and hippies gathered to play drums and sing as the sun went down. Clever locals would come with gallons of home made Pulpe or Mescal to sell. The sunset and sound of the waves crashing on the cliffs below made the experience truly magical.

Nightlife was fairly tame in Mazunte, day drinking was more the hippies vibe, but there are plenty of incredible restaurants. As well as traditional Mexican, there was an amazing pizza restaurant, run by Italians and a Chinese restaurant run by a Mexican who'd spent years studying in China.

One night which was not so tame was after an afternoon trip to Zipolite. We took a twenty minute ride on the back to a taxi truck (Mazuntes version of a collectivo). Zipolite beach is the only nudist beach in all of Mexico. It is long open and expansive, but not as pretty as the beaches of Mazunte. The town is bigger with more of an evening buzz. We happened to stumble upon an Irish bar called 'The Bar'. We decided to go in for 'just the one'. How wrong we were. The pub was small and dark with a lone tall ginger pale deadlocked man behind the bar, who was unmistakenly Irish. Not only was he Irish, he was from Swinford in Co. Mayo, twenty minute from my hometown. He was beyond thrilled to have two Irish people, and even more thrilled to hear I was from Mayo. I was the first Mayo person he'd had in the bar. He was excited to introduced us to his Mexican girlfriends mother who was working across the road. A bottle of Jameson was taken out, shots poured and we knew were in for a long night. Also perched on the bar was a Danish man, who was an enormous fan of Irish Trad music, to the point that he knew the lyrics to every Irish Trad song we put on, some songs I'd never heard of. The bar filled with people as the night wore on and we had some sing alongs which any pub at home would be jealous of. It was an interesting mix of people, some local expats, one from Australia who claimed to be a retired 'spook' (spy) for the Australian government. He had been working in Turkey after 9/11. Apparently the Turks were very accomodating to the Australians given they had beaten the Australians during WW1. The information he gathered was then passed onto the American government. It's impossible to know if his stories were true but he was very convincing and either way it was entertaining.

 Paul, our mayo barman, at one point decided he didn't want anymore customers because they were only distracting from our conversation and closed the shutters. As people left we were able to find more out about Paul's life in Mexico. He'd been in South America for 8 years, starting in Argentina and had set up the bar three years ago. He wasn't much older than us, his parents had died and he had one sister who lived in the UK. He told us how hard it had been when tourists stopped coming when the pandemic first hit. We asked him why Mexicans seems so unphased by the pandemic, 'because they die every day here, they're used to death'. 

He told us there was no covid in Zipolite. 'Nobody gets it here, of course not!' 

We asked him if he had to pay money to the cartel. No, because they like him, he said. But everyone else did. 

At two in the morning it seemed it might be time to try and get home, something which turned out to be a problem given we were twenty minute drive away. Paul went out to look for a taxi but none could be found. So he said he'd have to drive us. He had had more that a few whiskeys but left with the prospect of sleeping on the bar floor it seemed the best option. Luckily there was no one else on the windy dark road between Zipolite and Mazunte and we made it in one piece. 

While staying Mazunte we decided it best to extend our trip again and changed our flights once more. We kept a keen eye on news at home and in Europe about air travel, there had been announcements about hotel quarantine in Ireland being brought in but was a long, long way off from becoming reality. More disturbing was an unexpected announcement from the French president that flights from outside the EU would no longer be allowed into France. Our return flight transited through Paris. After a weekend of panic, it turned out to me little more than political showboating, flights would not be cancelled, planes would still fly, we would just need to fill out a new form. Which I'm sure was good news for the thousands of french tourists in Mexico.

 With our extra time we decided for more time in Mazunte. However, our hotel was booked out so for a change of scenery we went ten minutes down the road to stay in San Agustinillo. We spent three nights in a fabulous Cabaña on a steep hill which overlooked the sea. San Agustinillo is a slightly fancier Mazunte. We were shocked when one restaurant told us we needed a reservation to dine there and turned us away, despite being half empty. Reservations were unheard of in Mazunte.

 The beaches in San August were fantastic, and much quieter than Mazunte. My favourite thing about the Oaxacan beaches was the late afternoon food sellers. Little old ladies would walk the beach with baskets and bags full of mysterious treats. From Pescititos (mackerel tacos) to chocolate flan for a minimal price. I still think about the chocolate flan we had on San August beach.

We also did a boat tour from San August to see the whales and dolphins which was incredible. We got amazingly close to a humpback whale, so close his giant tail almost hit the front of our boat. Next were the dolphins which swam all around us, one jumped out of the water right beside us to say hi. It was an unbelievable experience. We also saw plenty of Turtles who come to the surface to warm up,  birds often land on the shells for a rest. 

After two incredible weeks on the scorching Oaxacan coast it was time to leave for the state of Chapias.

Puerto Escondido

From Oaxaca City we took a night bus around the mountains to the coastal town of Puerto Escondido (which translates 'Secret Port'). 

Its one of the larger beach towns in Oaxaca, the main beach Zicatela stretching 4km. Unlike the carribean coast this beach has waves and is famed for its surf. However Zicatela beach has a strong current and strong rip and is not recommended for beginners so we gave it a miss. 

Our hotel was nicely situated close to Carrizallio Beach, a beautiful inlet ideal for lounging and swimming.

Although Puerto Escondido is a touristic town it is far less developed than any of the places we visited in Yucatan and as a result was far more pleasant, and cheap. There is more of a laid back vibe, the kind of atmosphere that backpackers and surfers bring. This is not a town that attracts wealthy Americans. Puerto is also hotter than the carribean coast, days hitting up to 34 degrees Celsius while we were there. The sea however was colder but very refreshing given the heat. The coldness of the Irish sea had become unimaginable! Being on the west coast we were now in the perfect position to watch Mexico's stunning sunsets from the beach. 

We only spent five days in Puerto and did very little other than eat swim and learn some Spanish. My teacher was a multi lingual, bubbly Mexican, would wear her mask on the walk to class but take it off for our classes. She warned me that masks had just become obligatory in the town in public places, just for the month. We mused over the pandemic, she found Europe's approach baffling and laughed at how paranoid and depressed the lockdowns were making people in Europe. 'My friends and I think it's because of your climate, if you had sun you would be happier!'

There was a sense of pride amongst her and her friends that people were fleeing to Mexico to escape lockdowns in their own countries. 

'Mexicans know that life is too short!' she told me. 

On Playa Bacocho you can visit a turtle reserve where you can release a baby turtle into sea. Although most will get eaten once they make it to the sea it's incredibly adorable to watch them wriggle their way across the sand.

On our last day in Puerto we also did a day tour to Chacahua. We boated through mangroves and were left for several hours in what can only be described as a shanty town close to Chacahua. We could see Chacahua's beautiful stretch of beach dotted with surfers and it certainly looked amazing. Once night fell we took a boat back through the mangroves in search of bioluminesants but unfortunately due to the almost full moon they weren't visible.

To compensate for the disappointing tour, we had an evening of mescalritas and live Jazz! The thrill of live music still hadn't gotten old! 

Oaxaca City

After Holbox we made our way to Cancun for a brief overnight stay in the unglamorous downtown area, next to the bus station so we could make our escape the next morning to Cancun airport. From there we were able to fly to the city of Oaxaca (WHA-hackaa) .

Oaxaca city is in the state of Oaxaca and is a 2 hour plane ride west of Cancun. Before leaving for Mexico plenty of friends had told me Oaxaca was their favourite city in Mexico, and it was easy to see why.

The city is surrounded by stunning scenery, with mountains everywhere you look. The buildings in Oaxaca are low, one or two story and colonial in style. There are fabulous churches and cathedral dotted around the city as well and beautiful open parks and leafy trees line the streets. Some streets are cobblestoned, there are no street signs and traffic lights are difficult to spot as they've been thoughtfully assimilated into the streetscape. Given its height it is cooler than the coast. The weather while we were there in mid January was similar to an Irish summer, in the low twenties.

On our first day Jonny was already talking about extending our stay he loved it so much, saying it was the first time he felt he was really in Mexico. The people were far more laid back than the Yucatan, nobody hassles you to buy anything which makes for a fair more enjoyable visit. 

Oaxaca city is famous for two things, its food and its street art. Originally artist of the city used it as a form of protest, and still do, but also general social commentary. Unlike other cities, Oaxaceño artists mostly use posters of blown up lino prints to decorate the walls of the city. The city is full of printmaking workshops and galleries where you can view or buy original art.

Oaxacas food also famed to be the best in Mexico, and it certainly was fair superior to the general fair we got in Quintana Roo. There speciality is mole sauce, of which there are seven types. It is a thick brown sauce used as a marinade or a compliment to dishes. They also have a Oaxacan goats cheese, which is rubbery but tasty.

There are many fantastic restaurants to dine in Oaxaca, but almost every evening we frequented them we were practically the only ones there. Oaxaca was quiet, very quiet. It is usually a very popular tourist destination but for some reason has been the quietest destination we've been to in Mexico so far. 

Oaxaca was in Orange for Covid restrictions but we were learning Orange means very different things for each city and town. In Oaxaca this meant alcohol only bars had to close at 6pm and all museums and the botanic gardens were closed, which was very disappointing as Oaxaca is famed for its museums and art.

Now that the honeymoon phase of our trip was over, we decided to adopt more of a 'living' in Mexico approach. We rented a gorgeous airbnb in the city which centered around an open courtyard. We would stay for 10 days and settled into a nice routine. Jonny would get up early and work till the afternoon and I would head off to spanish classes at Becari Language school.

I loved my classes and my two teachers gave me a fascinating insight into life in Oaxaca. Eloy thought me for an hour in the morning, he was an energic, slightly camp, outgoing Oaxeño who loved telling me about his dates and love interests in Oaxaca and around the world. But his heart at the time was taken by a mexican man in Mérida who was currently in another relationship. He said he loved our classes because I was so intelligent, so naturally with praise like that we hit it off.

One day in class Eloy got a phone call from one of his cousins looking for money. He told me his cousin had married young and now had two children they couldn't afford. His cousin was 20 and his wife was just 13 when they married. He told me young marriages were a big problem in Oaxaca state, particularly in the Pueblos (villages) around the city. In Mexico 1 in 4 women marry under the age of 16.

At 26 Eloys family couldn't understand why he didn't have a girlfriend. He laughed light heartedly 'they don't know that I'm the one who's a girlfriend!'.

Alix was an adorable young soft spoken man who on his introduction let me know he goes by the pronoun 'he/him' and was keen to not cause offense during our conversation. He was incredibly sweet and surprised me by telling me at the end of our first class it was his first time teaching in the school. He was an incredible teacher who made up games, played his favourite Spanish songs for me and short cartoons and wouldn't entertain any English in our classes. He was incredibly sweet and told me he was closer to his mother than his father, who was a very traditional violent man. 

In the afternoons Jonny and I would explore the city. Oaxaca is a beautiful city to simply walk around in, the street art makes it a living gallery. There are plenty of small 'Mescalrias' where you can stop to sip a mescal. There's also a great Mirador up what feels like a million steps which overlooks the whole city and is a beautiful view for sunset. 

While up there one evening we got chatting to another group of tourists after Sharif, a lively American offered us a beer. The group included 3 Americans, an English girl, a Welsh girl and a guy from Galway. Philip had only been in Mexico 4 days and already incredibly happy with his decision. He was a smily sweet guy in his early 20's and we compared notes on the horrors of lockdown in Ireland. A photo of him and some friends made front page in his small towns local newspaper when they were celebrating a win for the town in the GAA club finals. The team and some fans, including Philip, had caught covid from the celebrations. His family also ended up catching it but fortunately nobody was particularly sick. 

He brought us and the whole group to a famous street food stand which specialised in another Oaxaca delicacy, the Tlayuda. A Tlayuda is a large tortilla wrap filled with meat, cheese, cream, refried beans, avacado and tortilla is folded once and then charcoal grilled on the outside and is absolutely delish. 

Another popular tourist activity around Oaxaca city is to hike between the Pueblos. However during our stay this wasn't possible because of covid. Understandably these remote and isolated mountain villages decided welcoming tourists in at this time was a bad idea. Instead we did one day hike with a Belgian man who runs a hiking business in the region and local villager who led the way. The hike itself wasn't very interesting, it began promisingly with beautiful views of the mountains but we went down and up the same route, the highlight being our Mexican guides cows which reside at the bottom of the mountain beside a stream.    Stories about previous hiking disasters were however highly entertaining. He'd point out plants to avoid, one which could cause a severe reaction if it brushed against your skin. He gleefully told us of a girl who had a fit during a hike after an encounter. 'What do you do when something like that happens during a hike?!' I asked. 

'Yes, it's not good!' is all he responded and then went onto tell us about a couple he had hiked with on a couple of occasions in Mexico. They had returned to find somewhere to settle in Mexico and he had taken them to the Pacific Coast of Oaxaca (where we would continue onto next). The couple fell in love with the area and were having a lovely trip until the mans heart stopped while out for a swim in the ocean. 'But he died with a smile on his face!' our guide told us. 

But then the circus that is rural Mexico kicked in. By the time they managed to retrieve the mans body from the ocean it had, in our guides words, 'fermented' because of the heat. They then needed a doctor to call the death and make the relivant paper work. It was a small village with only one doctor and nobody knew were the doctor was. Our guide began asking around and eventually someone brought him to the local nighclub where he found the doctor who was very drunk. After some money was exchanged the doctor reluctantly agreed to call the death and sign the paperwork. 

Luckily the deadman had wanted to be cremated, but they would need an undertaker to take care of the body until it could be brought back to Oaxaca City for the cremation. And so a fight broke out between the two Undertakers in the village as to who would get to take the man's body. Of course it being a white dead body they would be able to charge more. The verbal fight quickly turned into a fist fight in the streets!

The winning undertaker assured our guide and the new widow that he had a fridge to store the body in. He would take the body and store it until they could get it to Oaxaca. So he took the body and stored it, but much to the horror of our guide when he brought the new widow to say her final fairwells, the fridge wasn't really a fridge at all. The man's body was put in a lidded box and simple surrounded by a couple of ice cubes. The body had began to decompose and the smell and appearance of the man was quite the horror show. Luckily our Guide discovered this before the wife and stopped her from seeing him one last time.

'Once we got him to Oaxaca it all plain sailing, but I advice you not to die in rural Mexico!' our Guide chuckled to himself.

We also visited the Zapotec ruins of Monte Alban. The ruins are completely breath taking and the most impressive ruins yet, set on top of a mountain to the west of Oaxaca City. Monte Albán is one of the oldest civilisations built in the Meso-Americas and was impressively built no where near a water source so its inhabitants relied on a water reservar in built in the cities center. It is thought that it filled by the seasonal rains but at times people climbed down and up the mountain bringing water from the river below.

 It connected with other civilizations through paved trading routes such as Teotihuacan close to Mexico City. 

Luckily Monte Albán remained undiscovered by the Spanish Conquestadors and so it's remains were well preserved.

After a peaceful few days in the spendid Oaxaca it was time to head for the west coast of Mexico where the country meets the Pacific Ocean. 

Isla Holbox

To get to Isla Holbox we had to take a collectivo from Playa to the small town of where we could catch a ferry across to the island. A Collectivo is a mini van which sort of operates as a shared taxi that only leaves once its full. The driver will do plenty of errands along the way, collecting things in shops from Playa and then dropping them to people in small villages along the way. For that reason it's hard to predict how long a collectivo will take to reach your destination, but ours took two and a half hours which by all accounts wasn't so bad for the distance.

After a quick half hour ferry ride we were at Holbox. Holbox is a narrow and 26 miles long. There are no cars on the island only golf buggies which have had their tyres modified to drive in the sand roads. 75% of the island is natural habitat, consisting of mangroves and long white undeveloped beaches. The beaches are absolutely stunning, and possibly the most beautiful we've seen in all of Mexico. The waters are crystal clear and shallow. The islands main town is adorably quaint and authentic, the locals, the Holboxeños, have fought to keep developers and resorts off the island. It has just enough bars and restaurants to entertain tourists and keeps its natural charm.

There's not much to do on the island, other than relax. Theres no phone signal and the WiFi is almost non existant. The only thing you could maybe complain about is it's a bit on the expensive side, especially for accommodation which is probably down to its limited availability. Our hotel was about a 10 minute walk along unlit sand roads from the islands only town, but was right by the beach.

The island is a home to an incredible amount of birds. From small hummingbirds and colourful parrots to herons, pelicans and cormorants which you could happily watch all day diving for fish in the sea. While on the island we took a boat tour out to three other tiny islands, one which homes a mangrove and hotsprings, and two islands including Isla Pájaros which are solely habitats to birds. At the right time of year flamingos can be found, but we had just missed them, but maybe given my luck with flamingos it wasn't a bad thing! 

After nearly 5 weeks of a solid carnivorous diet, Jonny shocked me by suggesting we dine in the two vegan/vegetarian restaurants in town. Both were excellent but "Náay" in particular offeed amazing Mexican vegetarian flavours.

 I was amazed at how difficult it was to get seafood in the evenings on the island. The seafood restaurants would open during the day but close for nightfall. I could only guess it was due to Mexican eating habits. Most Mexicans typically have 5 meals a day. The earliest around 8am is usually fruit, bread or tacos. At 10.30/11 its a most substantial breakfast usually containing eggs, or chilaquiles (nacho chips/crisps covered in salsa verde or rojo, onions, cheese and cream, delish) or 'hot cakes' which are pancakes but for some reason are called hot cakes and not translated into Spanish. At about 2 they have their main meal of the day, which will usually be meat, rice and beans but varies depending on the region. Around 6pm is a snack which is cake or bread and 10pm another very important meal which is typically tacos or any of the number of variations of soft corn wrap with meat and spicy salsa. Mexicans also drink an incredible amount of Coca Cola, they claim its the national drink. It's such a problem here that it's the only country in the world that managed to convince coca cola to reduce the sugar content in the 'original' version for sale in Mexico. The fact that three quarters of Mexicans are overweight or obese probably has something to do with it. 

Our last day in Holbox was to be out 3rd last night in Mexico. Over the last couple of weeks we'd been reading about the worsing covid situation in Ireland. The Christmas celebration had brought with it an explosion of cases and the country returned into the strictest level 5 lockdown yet, after only three weeks of being open. We decided another few weeks in Mexico would be a good idea and so extended our returning flight! 

Playa Del Carmen

Our aim after Bacalar was to go to Isla Holbox, and island north of Cancun. But there was no direct bus route so we decided to stop in the famous Playa Del Carmen for two nights to break up the journey.

Playa Del Carmen, like Cancun, is not Mexico. Other than the souvenirs, you could easily mistake it for a coast in America. 

The famous tourist road is even called '5th Avenue'. The only 'Avenue' I've come across in all of Mexico. Along this street you'll find every imaginable American chain and franchise, American Eagle, IHOP, Forever 21, Burger King, you name it, Playa has it. It's a long street and outside every shop/restaurant/bar and nightclub someone is shouting at you trying to get you to come in.

The beach in Playa Del Carmen however its beautiful and no doubt what first attracted tourists before it became an over developed playground for unadventurous Americans seeking adventure abroad.

We decided to do the only thing that Playa Del Carmen was good at. Party.

We met up with Kevin, who we'd met in Mérida, he happened to arrive the same day as us. We had a few drinks and recounted our adventurous journey back from the flamingos.

We then went onto Tequilla Bar, which promised girls dancing on table tops. There we bumped into an Irish guy called Sam and his Polish friend Natalie who we'd met briefly in Tulum on News Years night, when Sam approached us looking for his bank card he'd lost. In Playa he told us the next morning he woke to remember he hadn't taken it out with him at all, it had been in his hostel the whole time!

We all ended up in a Nightclub, dancing to terrible but recognisable pop songs, a rarity in Mexico. It was beyond fun, for the simple joy of being able to dance with others. Soon our dance circle had grown to include strangers and locals.

Once that nightclub ended, one of our new local friends took us to another roof top club, where we danced and chatted until the small hours of the morning.

The next day delivered the greatest hangover so far in Mexico. Our plan to visit Isla Cozumel for the day (apparently a very nice island off the coast of Playa) were abandoned.

And that would be enough of Playa Del Carmen!