Home » Los Colores del Mexico

Accustomed to the small distances and cosy neighbourly European way, I was in no way prepared for what Mexico had to offer. Cities were countries away and as if I were chasing light, they looked like they belonged about a century in the past.

 

To ease into the cultural clash I started my Central American journey in Playa del Carmen - a place where touristic madness met tranquility and was actually, surprisingly, quite a pleasant place to be. Playa is a sensational beach resort; teaming azure skies with high-end shopping - where heaven on earth met Dolce and Gabbana. If you will, the latin equivalent of our Rivierahousehold name: St.Tropez. The streets were prettily lit with fairy lights by night, when not warmed by the midday sun, and if, for the day, you wished to see just beach and ruins, a morning bus to Tulum was just your ticket to an incantation at sunrise.

 

No trip to Mexico would be quite complete without the Spring Break weekend experience. Sheer and utter insanity. Steer well clear of Cancun centre, but opt instead for the youthful buzz at the beautiful coastline, where the water sports were a plenty and partying began by 10am. The nightlife was a lot more theatrical than any I had experienced closer to home - with performances and bigger, brighter and more extravagant light displays. The open bar, too, was just a notch above what I was used to. There were no restrictions on type or quantity of drinks, and the kind chicos behind the bar were more than happy to make it stronger.

 

A handful of sleepless nights (and the 'I'm never drinking again' headache) after, I voyaged to Merida - a very cool Cuban-style hub of laid-back evenings and low-cost dining. During the day, a well-worth trip to take is to the Meridian cenote sink holes, where you'll dive into the bluest water you will have ever seen. Due to their location, the only real transport available to them is by horse-pulled carriage, and it can be quite a tempermental ride! Merida has a wealth of aged character, demonstrated perfectly by its choice of hotels. One chain converted old contemporary art galleries into bed and breakfasts and I can say staying there did not fail to stun, disgust or amuse me!

 

Out of the city and into the Jungle, Palenque was a welcome change of scenery. I stayed in a Jungle resort on the border of the national park that is home to some of the most frequented ruins in the region, and was at once devoured by the bohemian atmosphere amidst the lustrous green. This place gave you the real sense of being a traveller - it was basic but it was wonderfully relaxed and led its life at its own pace with nothing in the world to rush it. At night, the merry shrill of the rainforest insects was an interesting lullably to sing you to sleep.

 

The next pair of stops were San Cristobal de las Casas and Tequila and Mextcal capital - Oaxaca. The first was the perfect size and its potent military and cultural history could be absorbed just by taking a stroll across the main square. It would be an interesting and worth-while thing to do to stop at one of the small cinema houses tucked away in the centre to watch San Cristobal's documentary on the conflicts so recent and so penetrating to the identity of the city.

 

Oaxaca was a step up from its significantly smaller brother, with a nerve-centre of tourists frequenting it on a daily basis. The square is home of many large banks and restaurants and a brisk, short walk up one of the streets will take you to many an art gallery, museum, or book market. The 'Petrified' Waterfalls (no water, just calcium) were an awesome sight in the Mexican sunshine, but in no way as authentic or as challenging to the health and safety regulations we love so dearly in this part of the world, as the ride up the mountain to get there. Hoarded, much like cattle, into the back of a white trailer van and off we went, swinging round the barrierless contours at what felt like high speed, I held my breath at every bend and never once stopped praying.

 

But nothing that I had seen so far on my adventure was as impressive or moreish as the capital city itself - Mexico City. In all its glory, it was truly a place I would strongly consider living in, what with its vibrant creative edge and quirky, coffee-house compartmentalised districts, where the budding poets and writers can sit and watch and flow. I love people, and for that very basic reason I loved the city; it was full of people. Remarkably, however, the colossal population of the city was never readily apparent but instead quite well disguised for walking along the wide pavements you never felt crowded or rushed. There was enough space for everyone. And, by night, Mexico's own take on the Empire State building delivered breath-taking views of the glowing cosmopolitan cross-roads; you could sit there for hours and watch as millions of unknowing individuals ran in and out of the heart of the city, each leading their own lives and minding their own business.

 

No travel guide or anything remotely akin to one, for sure, but I preserve that all I have written is fact and, if in any case I have made an error, it would only be on not doing this country's wicked personality justice. Upon arriving home, I reflected on what I had seen and the people I had met, and all in one, I knew I'd seen the best, the worst, the rich and the poor, and now knew better how to view and approach my coming days.