3: whale sharks

We decided on the spur of the moment last night to book a trip on to the whale shark trip running today. Accompanying us were Scott, Matt (Arnie) and Joe and Nisha, who Clare knew from a few nights earlier when they had stayed at the hostel.

We travelled on the small motor boat towards Isla de Mujeres to pick up lunch and stopped off to see a fishing boat that had just come in with a catch of small bull sharks. I expressed a bit of horror at this and our captain told us that they use the whole shark (although I wasn't clear on how, exactly) - which seemed a little more acceptable than what we hear about live sharks having their fins cut off and dumped back in the sea.

The little boat picked up speed and we bombed for some time into the open sea ("how many heavy smacks into the waves will this take until the boat breaks in half?"). The waves were truly massive but nothing according to Joe and Nisha, who went out on a trip a few days beforehand in waves "twice the size" and saw nothing. Nisha and I took travel sickness pills but due to the speed of the boat and the intensity it hit the waves, sickness didn't seem to touch me.

We motored for quite a long time in a convoy of various similar boats to some indistinguishable destination in the middle of the water. We couldn't see land on any side, and just kept going. I trailed my hand in the sea and the water was the temperature of a bath. Everyone was completely soaked but the air was warm despite the cloudy skies - clearly my excellent and even tan could only be improved in these conditions?!

Our captain pointed out a turtle which I totally missed, and said he saw a fin but no sign of a pod. We got word from one of the other boats that three miles ahead was a large group and eventually saw the other boats gathered on the horizon. As we slowed I wasn't sure what to expect, but suddenly there was the first whale shark, surfacing with its big gaping mouth skimming the top of the water, its dorsal flopping to one side, before slowly disappearing underneath. "Who's first? - When I say go, you jump!" said our Captain, and despite being confident that they were big cows I hesitated due to the conversation the night before about being sucked to death by one of them. Scott used to be a fisherman and his fear was "I have killed their people - I should not get in". However by this time the huge rolling waves were starting to hit me and turning into waves of nausea, and at that stage the only answer is to get in. So in we jumped, Clare and I, and it was "swim swim swim!".

The sharks seem to move so slowly but in reality they are moving at pace and it's impossible to keep up. I can't really describe how I felt swimming with them; I can't say they were gentle but just felt overwhelmed by their size and beauty. The captain picked up my hand and pushed it towards a tailfin where it brushed against me, surprisingly soft. While the vis wasn't perfect the water was very blue and light and as one of them descended you would frequently turn to see another approaching you, mouth gaping (it looked more ominous from further away!).

Whale shark gliding by

In the sea by the boat

We had about three or four goes each in total at entering the water but sadly the rolling waves took their toll on me and I was soon puking up in the water and over the side of the boat. Needless to say I was less jolly on the way back and had to go into emergency puke prevention meditation, which involved laying down on the seat and allowing my head to be smacked against the boat with each wave with the internal "do not puke" mantra. This worked well until we stopped at Isla de Mujeres where we (they) sat in the chest-height water drinking Sols and eating pickled prawns and mustard sandwiches... I think I need say no more? Despite the lack of lunch, and realisation that I hadn't put enough sunscreen on (again) it was a fab afternoon and this evening I am happy. And pink.

2: acquaintance with the beach

Scott filming from the beach

After the long day previously we took it easy in the morning and grabbed a cab with Scott to the beach along the hotel strip. We had to walk through the Hilton in a purposeful and confident manner to get there. The beach itself was nice enough but as it was along the Zona Hotelera  it was surrounded by massive high rises and my idea of a boutique beach hut atmosphere was dashed. We had about 20 minutes of sitting on the beach before a massive storm blew in and gave us an enforced exfoliation.

The colour of the sky versus the sea was amazing - the change between bright sun and howling rain was so swift we barely had time to make it back up to the hotel, by which time we were pretty much soaked through. The rain went on for a bit so we decided to head to the mall and get some lunch until it had passed by. The mall was very Americanised; it was a bit like wandering through a theme park. We decided on some local cuisine and went for Johnny Rocket's diner where we had burgers and milkshake. Scott decided he needed to get some flip flops. He is doing a masters in Art in LA and had come to Mexico with the purpose of making a film on Super 8 as part of his course; however had come with jeans, boots and shoes, which we thought was very funny. We spent an inordinate amount of time taking the piss out of him for being American and also writing down English placenames (Worcestershire is a great one) and asking him to tell us how they should be pronounced. Our brutality seems to have been appreciated as he hasn't run away yet.

After lunch we mucked around in the rain and went to the Aquarium to poke nurse sharks and see the Dolphin show, which was fun in a sort of 'we're not sure if we really like dolphins being enclosed' sort of way - although in general the place seemed well kept and all the fish looked pretty healthy. They had a massive shark tank containing bull sharks, lemon sharks, sand sharks and black tips - all pretty small but impressive nonetheless.

Isla de Mujeres

The next day Clare and I got a ferry to Isla de Mujeres (25 mins away), a much more laid back place with beach bars where everyone drove round in golf carts. The island held a dolphin encounter place and a turtle farm (where they were in season and laying lots of eggs), but Clare and I only made it as far as the beach where we drank beer and I sunburnt my arse. We had spent quite a long time chatting to a Devon girl in a diveshop nearby; she had been living in Mexico for the last four years and was now a dive instructor (despite only having learned about three years previously). She had been off the island only twice in the preceding six months and said the biggest problem is boredom. We all agreed the grass is always greener!

1: Chichén Itzá, Ek Balam and Cancún

There was a point when I thought the flight to Mexico was never going to be over. On the Dallas leg, I was cramped up between an American teenage boy and a professor of DNA on his way to visit relatives in Las Vegas (he drank four small bottles of white wine during the trip). The films were average and mind numbing, and eating the food was like committing carbicide: lunch of pasta with three cheese sauce plus white bread, followed by biscuits, then a snack of pizza. By the time I got to Dallas I felt like I'd swallowed a brick.

At the beginning and end of the flight they gave completely contradictory instructions on what to do with bags, so after going through immigration I hung around wondering whether I should wait to pick it up or if it would go straight through. The Americans didn't seem to know ("it might go straight but maybe stay here for a bit and see if it comes out") but were very helpful in communicating that they didn't know anything, and did so with a smile. I decided to wait, and luckily so, as out the bag popped. I transported it about 50 metres only to recheck it on the other side of customs.

Clare greeted me with a big hug in Mexico and was very happy that I had brought her Grazia and two massive bars of Fruit and Nut. The hostel was very welcoming and we went straight up to the roof terrace to have frozen margaritas; they'd saved some food for me and despite it being my eighth meal of the day, it was lovely. Carbohydrate number 8: tortilla chips, bread and rice. Yum!

The pyramid at Chichén Itzá

We decided to dive in at the deep end and booked on to the tour going inland to the Mayan ruins of Chichén Itzá and Ek Balam. I forced myself to stay up until about 11.30pm (5.30am UK time) and chatted with the other guys at the hostel: two Aussie blokes, a German who looked weirdly like a cross between Elliot Cowan and Arnie (and sounded like the latter), two American girls, a Geordie called Rachel, a doctor called Richard and some others (I think I'm going to have to get better at learning names).

An iguana at Chichén Itzá

The bus journey to Chichén Itzá took a good couple of hours between bursts of hot sun and hosing rain. You are not allowed to climb the temples (or enter them) but the sights were pretty impressive. The Castillo (the central pyramid) represents the Mayan calendar and its points are precisely aligned to North, South, East and West. There is a weird echo that sounds like an Eagle if you stand directly in front of the steps and clap loudly. There is also a ball court where the losers (or winners - nobody seems to know which) were decapitated as a sacrificial offering: these were represented by carvings on the side of the ball court. As Clare pointed out though, it may be that these carvings had about as much truth as a Batman comic, so who knows really. The others walked to the Cenote (a big sinkhole full of water) but Clare and I wandered through the shade and looked at some of the less crowded areas.

A swim in the cenote

We then journeyed to another Cenote where we had a swim - it was basically like walking down and swimming in a cave. There were little black catfish in the (very clear) water and birds that looked like house martins zooming around on the roof. From above it looked like a load of people jumping into water at the bottom of a bucket, but once you were down there it was very atmospheric. There were vines dangling down from the edges and tiny waterfalls cascading down  through the vines. The water was cool but fresh and very clean. Clare had an underwater camera (not good for diving but fine up to 3m) so lots of stupid videos of the boys diving in from the ledges were taken and some very amusing underwater poses that I won't post!

The view across Ek Balam

Unlike Chichén Itzá, Ek Balam was comparatively quiet, and the land around it had not been cleared to the same extent. It was like being Indy and coming across ruins in the jungle. Massive parasitical orchids grew on the trees and everywhere was the plant I've been trying to save in my living room. I've no idea what it's called (Tom didn't know either, when we bought it) but it is green on the top of the leaf and deep purple on the underside. The ones growing in the ground looked a bit happier than mine! There was a soft cacophany of birds and insects emanating from the trees, but nothing you could actually see. From the top of one of the smaller temples you could see the ruins of a much larger one with, approximately a million steps. In adventure mode, I said: that must be climbed. Some of the others seemed doubtful but with only 25 minutes until the site closed I trapsed across the wet grass and tackled the steps.

It was worth it. The view from the top was amazing; the land was flat and jungle-fied as far as you could see and the rest of the temple complex stood out splendidly. Clare got to the top soon after me and shortly followed the others. Arnie (apparently the fittest of all of us, I thought, due to the astonishing size of his muscles) reached the top and sounded as though he might die, possibly due to the fact he'd been drinking beer at 8.45 and his continual fag habit.

Ek Balam

So that was day 1 of my trip.