Ditching Cuba and stealing as many 3 peso notes as I could (the only banknote to feature Che Guevara) I aimed my weary soul for the ‘Land of the Taco’ – Mexico.
Arriving in the wanky, tourist mecca of Cancun I immediately set to work buying a bike so I could hit the road and explore the epic Mayan archaeological zones scattered about this magical land. I found a bright yellow 150cc ‘Italika’ motorcycle for $800 US/14 thousand Pesos. I have decided to call her ‘Bumblebee’.
This was a bit expensive for my cheap-ass budget, but I was able to hook up a buyer straight away, who worked at the hostel I was staying in. Plus it was practically brand new and had only five thousand km on the clock. Apparently an old lady “Only rode it to church once a week” explained the heavily tattooed, bandanna-clad Amigo as he grabbed my wad of cash and ran off as soon as he heard a police siren wailing in the distance.
I fired up my obviously recently stolen Bumblebee and fled with one wheel in the air followed by a thick cloud of burning rubber. I screamed through Cancun, running over as many obnoxiously loud American tourists as I could and headed south for two weeks of diving and drinking at Cozumel.
And where were all the sombreros? No one seems to be wearing any? Damn you Cancun for rising above stereotypical Mexican fashion and depriving me of touristy, generic, photographic material! And Mexicans love their tacos! Every second store sells them. If you go into the bank you will come out with a fistful of cash in one hand and a taco in the other.
Even swimming at the beach I noticed Mexicans treading water with one hand in the air, so as to not get their tacos wet. If you happen to go scuba diving, you will notice that fish in the Caribbean Sea near Mexico have evolved tiny arms to grasp hold of their tacos as they swim along the coast.
Stuffing my taco into my mouth and spilling it down the front of my white shirt I flew through the jungle, running over hidden, ancient Mayan statues and headed towards Playa Del Carmen, that seedy town where the tequila is cheap and the girls look expensive. Driving on the roads here is like playing Russian roulette with your life. To get a license in Mexico all you have to do is sit a written test and pay 30 bucks.
That’s it. Sometimes you don’t even have to do the test. So basically everyone can’t fucking drive very well and road rules/common sense seems to be fairly lax. People stop at roundabouts and intersections and seem to hover there, not quite knowing how to give way. To avoid this, most people just keep on going without looking and hope for the best.
*Sigh* Sometimes I wonder if I am even going to survive this trip!
Inflating my tyres to maximum pressure, I flew off the jetty at Playa Del carmen and rode over the water to the magical island of Cozumel, where the sunsets are never-ending and the oceans are teeming with life. I stopped halfway, stole a taco off a passing fish then continued on to paradise. These next few weeks are sure going to be a lot of fun.
- Kilometres travelled– 17 500km
- Flat tyres– 9 and ½ (haven’t had one for a while actually)
- Incarcerations– 0
- Taco shops in Cancun– at least 5 million
Cancun to Cozumel