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December 31st, 2004: Quintana Roo

The border crossing from Belize to Mexico is straightforward. Everywhere in the customs offices hang announcements that paying an official in cash is an illegal act. It seems to be respected. Our Landcruiser passes a thorough but friendly military check for drugs, guns, and the like. The military are genuinely interested in our equipment, particularly puzzled by the roof tent.

We stop in Chetumal for supplies and a third party liability insurance which is not obligatory but we feel better having one in the heavy traffic. Unlike the small shop economies in Central America, Mexican cities shop in hypermarkets and are visibly more consumption orientated than the southern neigbours. The choice is large, and particularly the quantity of food people buy is impressive. The ice cream is sold in buckets which in Europe are used for selling paint, the steaks are huge, the minimal quantity of eggs one can buy is a dozen.

We drive to the Bacalar Lagoon with its fantastic colors. The last meal of the year is a three centimeters thick T-bone steak.

After the rain in Belize, we spend the first few days in Mexico just soaking up the sun rays on the Xcalak Peninsula and later in the Sian Ka'an Reserve. The road to Sian Ka'an Reserve leads through endless mangrove swamps before it enters dry subtropical jungle.



We crowl through the jungle to the "private" sections of the 100 kilometers long strand of the protected area. The northern part of Yucatan faces the world's second largest chain of coral reef where several colorful coral gardens nestle. Jean Cocteau made the area a pilgrimage place for divers and snorkelers. Right in front of us the coral is mostly rosa and violet. We see small fish and shrimp enjoying the clear blue-green Carribean waters.



Next, we find a kite spot near Akumal. As the sun ball rises, the side-on shore wind promisses a nice experience.





A good training for the Americas Cup (;)



Playa Morelos further north turns out to be the sweetest kite spot. Long, gleaming white powder strand, constant wind, nice temperature, iridescent blues of the Carribean..



The second evening, I have the sourest muscles since the beginning of the last ski season. I read David Landes "The Wealth and Poverty of Nations".



On Friday, we join the four million tourists that visit Cancun every year. Back in 1841, explorer John Stephens described the place a "barren strip of land with sand hills where swarms of mosquitos pursued us with a bloodthirsty spirit". In 1967, the Mexican government conducted a study to find the best spot to build a megaresort and selected Cancun. Hordes of workmen were sent to conquer the jungle and pave six-line roads. By 1971, the first hotel was built. Thirty years later, the twenty-two kilometers long sand bank is packed with hotels with more or less tasteless architecture, gourmet restaurants, salsa bars, and plenty of infrastructure for the shopaholics and wild night life. The building craze still continues both north and south of Cancun. Everything is mass tourism orientated and rather spoiled. The local police stops drivers with charges of disrespect of invisible signs. The fines are negotiable..

As we arrive at Isla Blancas, which is supposed to be a nice flat water kite spot, it starts bucketing. These are the remainders of the hurrican visiting from Florida. Deep in the dark storm, it feels like in a mine field. Suddenly, it flashes right through our car. The thunder bolt decided to ruin our radio antenna.



From locals, we hear that the best sea food is to be found in the fisher village of Chiquila. The drive to Chiquila takes leads through well kept thached-roof Maya villages.







In Chiquila, we fail to find the seafood restaurant the locals were talking about but there is wonderful fresh fish on offer. The cleaning service tactfully waits in the mangroves.



We follow the local cabs out of the village.

January 11th, 2005: State of Yucatan

We continue to El Cuyo. After dark, the villages on the way wake up. In the lively central park of Tizimin, youngsters play basketball and the moon smiles.



In El Cuyo, we enter the birds' paradise. Yucatan is home to about 140 species of birds, some migratory, many permanent. It is not about spoting a bird here and there. In Yucatan, thousands of birds live in colonies. El Cuyo is the colonial town of brown, white, and black pelicans with a seagull and other minorities.





Driving to the National Park Rio Lagartos, we are overtaken by duck swarms that flew in from Canada at 80 kilometers per hour. We cross Rio Lagartos and discover a region of exceptional beauty.



First, the road snakes through enormous salt fields that greet with rosa violet.



Later, the fields take on a distinct red, and then a dark blue color.



The shiny white salt foam boards the salt fields, flies in the air, and in places covers the road.



Finally, a lagoon appears. The colors are unlikely. The red, green, and yellow of the vegetation contrast with jade and mint green of the water.





In places, the landscape reminds of a desert.



Minuscule white, rosa, and grey shelves cover small islands on which grow perfect bonsai trees.





The mangroves board the lagoon on the other side. A red line formed in front of the mangroves. Hundreds of Carribean flamingos.



The red army is coming closer until we hear it quacking. After a while, the flamingos come to the very board we are sitting at.



We eat a fish soup and watch the elegant birds feed on the rich plankton which will give them their typical salmon-peach-rosa color. The flamingos keep their head under water for minutes. Every now and then, a small group takes off.



The flying costs a lot of effort as the wings are small relative to the body.

In the fisher port of Rio Lagartos, the pelicans are busy chasing. They are incredibly efficient hunters. They rest on a fisher boat until the prey swims by.



Then they open their big beak and swallow hard.



Alternatively, the pelicans have fun in the thermic wind. When they spot fine fish, they dive with a surprising speed, enjoy the meal, and take off again.







Kiting in the chaotic waves of the green Carribean in Rio Lagartos National Park is demanding when combined with somewhat gusty, more onshore than sideshore wind.



The turtle beach offers opportunities for endless jogging.



We drive along the coastline towards Merida and stop in the palm forest near Telchac. The coco nuts fall around us as we drink our coffee. The herons walk for kilometers along the beach, one after the other. The palms show the direction the wind usually blows. It starts blowing and we are ready to have fun.



When I start my kite, a group of curious albatrosses come to see the strange big bird called Tacoon. The albatrosses hang in the air and observe the kite. I hope they do not decide to puncture the front tube (;))

We visit the town of Merida. When the Spaniards arrived here in 1542, Merida was a large Mayan city known as T'ho. The Spanish dismantled all the pyramids and used the huge stones as the foundation for the Cathedral of Idelfonso, the oldest cathedral on the American continent.



Nowadays, Merida is a cosmopolitan city of one million inhabitants. It has four universities and a rich cultural life. The University radio is a refreshing alternative to the sentimental stations playing exclusively songs of unconditional love. Despite the size, the city feels relaxed, the people are very hospitable and in a good mood. We go for a pleasent stroll from park to park.



In the meantime, our Landcruiser has a complete revision of the breaks done. Four hours of quality work, rectification of the disks, and blocks replacement, for ... a hundred dollars!

The next day, we depart for a trip full of culture, driving from Merida to Izamal, and then through Hoctun, Xocchel, Hocaba, Acaneh, Tecoh, Telchaquillo, and Mama to Mani.

Izamal is the oldest city of Yucatan and a jewel of colonial architecture. The Franciscan monk, Fray Diego, founded a large monastery that was built over a Mayan pyramid. He burned all the Indian scripts, but then, probably feeling remorse for what he had done, he tried to rewrite all he could remember of the ways of the Indians.

We arrive in Izamal after dark. In the illuminated courtyard of the cloister, the stained glass window of St. Francis of Asissi, portraying the Immaculated Virgin, inspires admiration.



In the church, the altarpiece and the statues along the walls are beautifly restored. Unfortunately, not all the paintings could be entirely saved.



The walls built using the blocks of the Maya pyramid look very solid.



We pay another visit to the monastery in the morning. The ambiance changed. The egg-yolk yellow of the buildings shine against the blue of the sky.







We hear a choir singing. The Room of the Mary is being quietly arranged for a marriage celebration.



We walk out to the rush of the city that has been built around the monastery. The city is almost entirely painted in yellow with the exception of some houses the facades of which are covered with small stones and a Maya pyramid that has survived the monk Fray Diego.







Between Izamal and Mani, every village boasts a nice church from the 16th or 17th century, some with adjacent monasteries.













The churches are frequented mainly by Maya who adopted elements of Christian religion while retaining elements of their old faith. The altars portray multiple saints.



The colors have a Mayan symbolic. Red for blood, yellow for the bipolar universe of good and bad, blue for the upper world. The central personality is not Jesus but a woman that the locals call Virgin of Guadalupe. The Virgin of Guadalupe is believed to have appeared near the shrine of the Maya Godess Tonantzin..

The local guide says that the region is also great for "people watching"! In any case, the traditional clothes, the colorful markets, and the jokes in Maya are eye- and ear-catching.









The Yucatan peninsula is a very old porous limestone shelf that boasts no aboveground water systems. The rainwater snakes through the pores underground where it forms rivers, lakes, and impressive caves. In places the limestone shelf cracked and formed sinkholes, so called cenotes. In Yucatan, there are some 3'000 cenotes, some of them underground, surrounded by stalactites and stalagmites, others at land levels like a lake or a pond, several are open wells.





Some cenotes are fairly deep. The Cenote Zaci is as deep as 80 meters. The water in cenotes can take different color depending on depth, light coming in, presence of minerals etc. The water in the cenotes near Cuzama is incredibly blue and clear. The nicest of the three visitable cenotes, Chelentun, is 24 meters deep, and one sees right to the botom where the black eyeless fish know as lub feel comfortable.



The water has the perfect temperature for a swim. The waves I produce break against the stalagmites and play music that echoes through the cave.



The monsters are a legend.

January 26th, 2005: Campeche

The port town of Campeche, the capital of the province of the same name, was created around the third century of our era. It used to be the principal town of the Mayan province Ah Kim Pech until the Spaniards landed here. The Campechan coast is rocky, and the Spaniards had troubles accessing the city. In 1541, Francisco de Montejo finally conquered the town and the activity at the port started to boom. The rich port used to ship silver and gold to Spain always attracted pirates. In addition, the city suffered from tenstions and wars between France, England, and Holland with Spain and Portugal that were all trying to build their colonial empires. By 1685, the Campechanos found the means to fortify their city to protect it.



Today, Campeche is one of the most sleepy regional capitals of Mexico. Most of the inner city has been, with the help of UNESCO, nicely restored.







In the churches around the city, pure gold was recently discovered under the thick layers of paint that were hiding the precious metal from thieves for centuries.