Tulum and Cobá

On Friday the 10th, I got up early to go to Cobá for a look around and reached the stop for the colectivo that went to the Cobá archaeological zone (entry 100 pesos). It was 8:30 am, but when I got there the driver told me it was early and that it should only leave around 9:30 am, when it had a minimum of 8 people, and that the fare was 80 pesos.

I decided to go and have a cappuccino, 70 pesos, on the terrace of a café next door, from where I had a view of the bus. It was already past 9 am and I saw there were already 6 people with me for the bus. I went back to the driver and asked if we could go now, but he said he still needed 2 people, but I negotiated with him and the others and they agreed, instead of paying 80, to pay 100 pesos, another €1, and we set off right away and that was that.

On the way, we introduced ourselves and there were 2 Italian friends, a couple (he French and she Portuguese, from Baião) and a Polish woman called Marta, who was also travelling alone. When we arrived the Italians went off on their own and the other 4 of us stayed together.

Once inside the archaeological zone, and after walking around, the French couple decided to rent some bikes to finish seeing the site, and we agreed to meet at the exit, at reception. But at the very next pyramid we bumped into the French couple, who arrived some time after us. The French had rented the bike to go around the archaeological site, but it wasn't necessary at all. The Mexicans, to justify the rental, had made their own paths just for the bikes, which made them go on a big loop, when in reality the places to visit were all close to each other. When they got to where we were it was hilarious when they told us about the big loop they had done and how they'd seen nothing, and I even asked them if they had paid for the car park where they'd had to leave the bike to come and see the pyramid.

Inside, among other things, I saw 2 pyramids side by side with a circle on top of each, which were used for a ball game that little is known about.

After finishing the visit and going to reception with Marta, we waited for the French couple, but they never showed up. Marta and I were already making up stories and laughing about what could have happened to them. Maybe they had a flat tyre on the bike or maybe they'd had some accident and had to stay inside sorting out the insurance paperwork.

Since we couldn't go back in and as we hadn't found the French, we decided that the 2 of us would go to a cenote in the area that we were told was about 2/3 km away, but that it was better to go by bike, and so we did, we rented a bike for 80 pesos and set off on an adventure. After about 500 metres we saw a sign saying Cenote Choo Ha 5km and we started laughing. This time it was the other way round, they told us it was near but it was actually further, but off we went and, after about 20/25 min of pedalling under intense heat and a few hills, on old, heavy bikes with no gears, we reached the cenote.

From outside you could only see a small opening, the cenote was about 20 metres underground, and we had to go down some wooden stairs to get there. In this southern part of Mexico there are more than 20 thousand freshwater cenotes, all connected to each other.

Marta had come with a bag ready for the water, with a bikini, towel and flip-flops. I was in the clothes I stood up in, I had only come for a walk and to see the ruins, so once again off I went into the water in my undies and how good it felt, after the bike ride, to take a dip in that fresh water.

After enjoying the cenote and taking the usual photos, we headed back to Cobá. On the way back I took the chance to put my undies out to dry in the bike basket and Marta was already asking me how long we'd be waiting for the bus back to Tulum and I told her that I was usually lucky and that we'd get there and catch the bus back right away.

When we got to reception at the archaeological zone, where we'd rented the bikes and left a message to give to the French when they saw them pass, we returned the bikes and asked about the French, but they were still missing. We went looking for the colectivo bus back to Tulum, already expecting that we might have another long wait to get back, but no.

I was in a shop asking when the next colectivo went and the woman was saying one had just left and, between the round trip to Tulum and the waits for the bus to fill up, we'd only have the next colectivo back in 2/3 hours and that's that, off you go. When suddenly a 50-seat bus went past behind me and the woman said to me: “that one goes to Tulum too”. I shot out and ran gesticulating after the bus and it saw me and stopped and Marta and I headed back to Tulum.

When we got to Tulum the bus stopped in front of Taqueria Maya, where I'd had lunch the day before, and I invited Marta to have lunch there, it was about 4 pm and we were both starving. Then we went by my hostel, which was nearby, to pick up my bag with the towel and swimsuit and went to the beach in the hotel zone, the expensive part of town, where we stayed until the end of the day recovering our energy from the long adventure before each going our own way.

In the evening, around 9:30 pm, I had just had a shower and was finishing packing my bag to move on to Bacalar the next day, when Lorena, the girl from the museum reception, called me to ask how my day had been and where I was. I told her I was at the hostel and about to go out for dinner. She had just finished work and asked if I wanted to have dinner with her and said she had a car and would pick me up. Coincidence: her house was just around the corner, 2 streets down from my hostel, and, when she arrived, she asked me if I wanted to go to her house to eat Bacalao a la Vizcaína. I started laughing and said: a Portuguese man comes to Mexico to eat Bacalao. I accepted the invitation and off we went to have dinner, the two of us, and carry on our conversation, which had been very pleasant the day before at the museum.

Bacalao a la Vizcaína is shredded and fried and comes with colorado and spice, olives and peppers.