Tulum

Erin and I arrived at Cancun airport at around 11 am. We planned to arrive in the morning because we knew we wanted to try and get to Tulum the same day and secure a place to sleep before dark. As we were landing, I could see that the region is densely forested in every direction. It is fairly flat with a thick two-story-high web of trees and bushes. I tried to imagine what Mayans did to get through this stuff armed only with machetes.

Tulum, Mexico is a two hour bus ride south from Cancun's main bus station. ADO is the major bus company in that area and has very nice first class buses that will take you down the main highway in style for about $6 USD and plop you right in the middle of the pueblo in Tulum. From there we asked a cab driver to take us to a nice barato cabaña on the beach. You have to take a cab because the beach hotel zone is a couple of miles from town. The beach area is next to a park preserve and is protected from development. Right now that means, no piped in water or electricity (each hotel has to bring its own), and no non-hotel commerce. This makes the beach quiet, quiet, quiet.

After some driving we realized the cabbie might bring us to his buddy's place, so we asked him to stop at a place we'd seen in our guide book, Diamante K. We inquired and found they had a very charming and comfortable cabaña for $40, exactly our budget. For a first try this seemed pretty good. We could scan the area for better deals the next day, but this place seemed really pleasant. Out front, a sign informed us that this hotel was "eco chic". Although I'm not entirely certain what that means, it certainly seemed to fit. This was not the sort of place that just threw together some palapa roof shacks. The cabañas were indeed basic, but I was certain that a real live architect guided the placement, orientation, window positions, materials, furniture, and decor of each individual building. Every window had a postcard perfect view, the wooden doors were hand carved, cool sculptures in the sand perfectly lit at night. There were definitely some pros at work here. With not much more in the rooms than a bed, and only candle light in the shared bathrooms, it felt more like stylish camping than a hotel.

But really, this part of the world is all about the beach. Turquoise 80°F water, fine white powder sand, coconut palms lining the coast. It's jaw dropping. And it's all yours. No crowds, no distractions. Just peace and quiet and perfect beach.

We walked the beach for about a mile or so and decided that we liked our place and we'd stay put for now. But while walking by resort after resort, we could clearly see the vacancy. It did indeed feel a bit like a ghost town. Some beach front restaurants were shut. The empty beach chairs begging the question: Why, on such a perfectly lovely day, would this place (this beautiful place!) be empty?

Abraham, a friendly guy from Oakland that works at the Weary Traveler Hostel in the pueblo answered it the best I think. "Five minutes on CNN." That is all it took. Someone in the media decided the Swine Flu was a hot story. Although after a week it turned out to be a non-story, the news media, with that decision, turned paradise into a ghost town.

You could say, "Great! More Tulum for me." But instead it just seemed sad. Mainly I felt for the locals who depend on the tourism revenue. But also, after about a week of soaking up the sun and natural beauty, I kind of wanted to socialize with some other people. It seemed a shame that all this wasn't being properly enjoyed.

I chatted with some of the few other tourists who were around and we all had the same reaction: Why is this low season anyway? The weather is great. Everything is beautiful. Where is everyone?

Indeed, the heat, which I was most concerned about before our arrival, turned out to be not so bad, especially at the beach. I expected more mosquitoes. There were some. But I've seen much worse.

I'd say the roughest part about staying at the beach is the distance from town. Our hotel had a restaurant, but there weren't really enough customers to keep it open regularly. So they'd open when they felt like it. And when they did, the prices were at least double what you'd find in the pueblo. So we resigned ourselves to cabbing to town twice per day to eat. That wasn't really so bad. The taxis around Tulum are cheap, clean, friendly, and plentiful. A ride one way is 40-45 pesos ($3 USD) which just became part of our meal budget.

My personal favorites in town for food were Don Cafeto, an open air restaurant on the main road. I couldn't stop ordering their delicious garlic fish fillet. After sampling many restaurants, they seemed to have the best food. I also could rarely pass by Pollo Bronco without my mouth watering. It's a mainly take out place with some tables which just grills whole chickens all afternoon. You can get a 1/4 chicken with rice, tortillas, salsa, and lettuce (make your own tacos) for 30 pesos (about $2). It is just plain delicious.

One day, we decided to rent some bikes so we could ride further down the coast and check out some more hotels and see the coastline. We went to Iguana bicycle shop which was recommended by everyone we asked as well as our guide book. We were somewhat surprised to find that renting two bikes for a day costs 200 pesos (about $15 US). I tried to negotiate to no avail. We rode the bikes about 7km down the highway, stopping at the occasional resort to check it out. The paved road ends at the park preserve and turns to dirt. We decided at this point to turn around since it was super hot out and we were going to have to ride all the way back. Just as we started to head back, Erin's chain started to slip. Within about two minutes, the slip turned into complete dysfunction. It wasn't that the chain was loose, it was that something inside the gear assembly had completely broken inside. There was no way to fix it on the road. We'd have to try and start back toward the bike shop to get another bike, but we were miles from the shop. So we McGyver'd together a tow rope out of our two bike lock chains. I towed her behind me. It wasn't all that hard to pedal pulling two bikes. However, keeping control of the bikes and not wiping out was another matter.

We made it about 4km and came across a local policeman. I tried my best in Spanish to tell him what was wrong. I asked him if there is any bus or truck that could take our bikes the rest of the way to town. Just then his supervisor drove by in a large pickup. After some more sign language and pitiful sad faces, they allowed us and our bikes into the bed and drove us back to the shop, probably saving us from heat stroke and/or a more severe roadside wipe out.

At the shop I asked the manager if we could have a few more hours added to our rental period. It seemed reasonable seeing how much of our day had now been spent just tending to this broken bike. But he said "No. It worked when you left with it." He could sense that we were confused and dissatisfied with his refusal, so he continued with something like, "I know that in America when things go wrong, you get some compensation. But not in Mexico. Here people know that sometimes these things happen."

While asking around town for other places we might rent a cheaper bike, our wise old friend Abraham responded, "No, Iguana's the only place. But you know you can rent a car from Alamo for $15 per day, right?"

Now we do.