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Trip Reviews, Ratings and Comments - Trip Review - Club Oasis Akumal 4d
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OUR AKUMAL ADVENTURE, PART 4d
Thursday, 6/22/00, Day “5” continued
As we drove the short distance from Chichén Itzá to the Pueblo Maya Restaurant, more mundane thoughts began to surface, as in, “It’s been hours since we’ve eaten and we’re starving!” Steve was really feeling bad, both from his cold and the lack of food. He did so want to see Chichén Itzá, and I’m sure he would have enjoyed it much more if he hadn’t been ill.
We arrived at the restaurant, which we were assured used purified water to wash all their fruits and vegetables, and stood about while Manuel got our tickets. Well, the food was delicious. I had some wonderful guacamole, quesadillas, chips, frijoles, and taquitos. Steve ate chicken and shredded pork on a freshly made tortilla. We each had a Leon beer, which is dark and pretty good. I had carried my water bottle in, since the one drink included was water, juice, beer, etc., and I sure didn’t want to waste it on water. We both went back for seconds.
Shortly after we arrived, Paul showed up with the strays and went to eat with the other tour people in the back area. I greeted him warmly as he entered, saying, “Well, you made it!”
As we ate, we were treated to a folklórico type of show, with various dances, including more dancing with bottles and trays on the head. Then a couple of guitarists roamed the tables, singing different songs. At our table they sang a lovely ballad about Chichén Itzá, the only part of which I can remember now is something about the silence of the ruins in the night.
The people next to us asked the waiter about the plastic bags of water hanging from the beams under the palapa. Just the thing Steve and I had been wondering about. We had come up with holding down the roof or cheap lighting effects. The waiter said it was to keep the flies out, something about the reflection that deterred them. As the umpteenth fly buzzed by us, we decided that it did not work very well!
People began to get finished and wander out into the gift shop, where I had previously noted more glass pyramids and other sundry craft and tourist items. I had another Leon for 20 pesos and ended up guzzling the rest of it (I hate that!) when Steve thought it was time to meet the bus. (Not by my watch, but anyway.) I did my usual ranking of the baño (nice again) and went outside. No bus. (And I guzzled the rest of my beer, *&%#*.)
As we waited for the bus to return, children, some accompanied by adults, hawked their wares aggressively at the edge of the parking lot. Apparently they are forbidden to trespass, which is a good thing, but they were loud enough to be heard a mile away. This is perhaps the one thing I detest the most about third-world countries (and I apologize if I offend anyone, but Mexico is still considered third-world, under the glitter of the tourist buck), children being used to supplement the family income, essentially prostituting themselves for an income that would be so much greater if they stayed in school instead. I realize it’s a two-edged sword—if the market weren’t there, neither would they be. Several of them shouted at me, but I just sat down on the concrete curb and waved my hand dismissively. They got the point.
The bus arrived, we loaded up, and ventured off to Ik-Kil Cenote. Ik-Kil means “the place of the winds.” This is a gorgeous place, the water in the cenote clear and deep, cascades of water flowing down the walls, vines and roots seeking moisture from the depths. The flora was lovely, banana trees and hibiscus and spider lilies. Various hues of green and a rainbow of other colors abounded. I’m afraid, however, that Chip and Judy described it much better than I in their Playa del Carmen Trip Report (day6). And even their photos do not really do the place justice. (See http://www.wohlmut.com/Maya/Ik-Kil.htm for Ik-Kil’s Website.)
Admission was included in our tour price. If you wanted to swim in the cenote, you could rent a towel for $10, deposit of $40. I believe that was U.S. dollars, but I’m not sure. The bathrooms were spacious and once again clean and functional.
I got three postcards at the gift shop for 5 pesos each. Those turned out to be the only ones I got, and I sent only one, to my cyber-friend Michael in Germany. We brought the other two home with us.
As we wandered the grounds, the skies were growing ominous, and, sure enough, as we left Ik-Kil it began to rain hard. We took the old toll road back, the one that drops into 307 just below Tulum. Paul put in an interesting tape on Mexican sites and culture, but then swapped it out for a movie. (I wish he’d left the other in!) This was new for me—I’d never seen a movie on a bus. It was “Never Been Kissed,” which was quite cute. Funnily enough, as I watched it, I found myself reading the Spanish subtitles rather than listening to the dialogue. (Language immersion strikes again.)
I split my attention between the movie and the small Mayan pueblos we drove through, seeing again the mode of bicycle transportation I mentioned earlier. At some point, we ran out of Corona and water. Paul had Dionisio stop in one of the villages to pick up some water. Steve was very grateful for that.
We got back to COA about 7:20 p.m., a full 12-hour day but well worth the time. We swung by the Crab Bar and had a drink, Corona for me and rum and Pepsi for Steve, then went to our room. We divested ourselves of all the stuff we’d been schlepping around all day and went to dinner. I ate lightly, Steve attacked some chicken. (Note: Chicken is one of the four major food groups for him!)
After dinner, we made our way to the Akumal Bar, where once again Gaby and Johnny were the evening entertainment. Again, they sat and chatted with us on their break, and we told them all about our day’s adventures.
As we sat and had our margaritas (Steve) and Coronas (me), Juan Jose, our bartender, kept running over to the table and telling me Mayan words, which I dutifully wrote down in my notebook. I am probably one of the few visitors they have ever had who showed the slightest interest in the language, and it seemed to tickle them to death.
We finally got a couple para el caminero and came back to the room to sit on the balcony. Steve hit the hay, I sat some more, listening to that wonderful sound of the waves and watching my Kukulcán palm tree. This was a palm tree right outside our balcony, whose fronds in the night breeze moved like serpent heads chastising each other. (I got Steve to film it on another night.) It was a most interesting phenomenon.
I went to bed around 11 and immediately fell asleep, but not for long…
(Note: Please check out our albums at http://www.photopoint.com/index.html under dragon5@fullnet.net to see photos accompanying not only Chichén Itzá but the rest of our vacation as well.)
Submitted by: D. Stevens -- dragon5@fullnet.net
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