Mexico's Yucatan - Trouble in Paradise?

You’re hot, really hot. Oh wait we did this last time…well it’s still fricken’ hot! Now we don’t know what the official definition of an oven is; but if it has four thick walls, a roof, no ventilation and is used to roast organic matter, all our hostel rooms thus far fit the bill. You might think that, given the buildings are all constructed in pill-box like concrete fashion, you would be insulated from the heat. You would be wrong. The thick concrete acts as a residual heat sink, almost spitefully soaking up the hot sun during the day only to pump it out at thermonuclear temperatures just when you’re trying to go to sleep.

When you’re lying in a pool of sweat, gasping for water, the last thing you need is a stream of cars slowly driving past your open window with loud speakers strapped to the roof blaring songs that consist entirely of “I love Salsa, I love Salsa, I love Salsa, I love Salsa….etc”. But that’s all part of the wonderful cultural experience that is Mexico.

It is always interesting going to a place that you have no preconceptions of. Sitting on the plane flying to Cancun we racked our brains for anything we knew about Mexico, and came up with very little…Sambreros, tequlia and afternoon siestas. It is one of the most rewarding ways to travel, being constantly surprised by what you find around the corner. Little street stalls selling tacos, families playing in large open squares to the sound of Mariachi bands, little old ladies selling homemade goods, and always a friendly smile. Everything’s colourful, even the bunker style buildings made of solid concrete. Where a white picket fence might suffice in Australia, in Mexico if your wall is less than 1ft thick you will get strange looks from the neighbours.

Our first stop, Cancun, felt a little like an appendage of the United States. The ‘hotel zone’ is overrun with truly massive hotels, expensive restaurants and gimmicky tourist traps. It is a playground for overworked, rich Americans with little time to spare, and even less patience. Thankfully, our hostel was in the downtown area which was far removed from this opulence. We took a local bus to the main hotel strip to have a look at the beach and got off at the Ritz Carlton, as the only way to see the beach was through the hotels. Extravagant would be the understatement of the century – huge crystal chandeliers, massive archways, enormous pools and men dressed in white ready to cater to your every need. Although it was luxurious, we felt like we were in a cultural vacuum. It would be easy to spend an entire holiday here and never leave the hotel. We were happy to get back to the hustle and bustle of downtown.

We spent the next week on Isla Mujeres, a small island about 30km off the coast. The beach was spectacular. Beautiful turquoise blue and green water lapping on long stretches of fine white sand, with coconut and palm trees lining the shore. In the 70s Isla was a hippy hangout, and it still had some of its laidback feel. We hired a motorbike and cruised around the island for a day, and spent many days lazing on the beach reading novels and sun-tanning. Tough life. But the best thing by far was the scuba diving.

Still a little unsure of ourselves after our near death experience at HMAS Adelaide last year, we jumped into the deep end by booking another deep wreck dive…smart. The descent felt a little claustrophobic - in the strong current and pitching swells, both of us couldn’t help but reminisce of the time we ran out of air at 35m deep with zero visibility. However, once the wreck came into view we relaxed and had an awesome time swimming through it. At one point there was an air pocket inside the cabin that you could stick your head into and talk to one another, 30m beneath the ocean, pretty cool.

We also dived down to the sea floor where they have sunk about 200 concrete statues of people in different positions and stages of life. We aren’t sure of the origin behind Mexico’s fascination with skeletons, but they seem to be everywhere, and viewing a concrete skeleton 15m deep with algae for hair and eyeless sockets boring into you is a little eerie.

The best dive on Isla was a drift dive around the tip of the island. Picture a cross between finding Nemo and Superman. The current was so strong that it rocketed you along at the pace of a fast run. Literally flying through underwater canyons and coral outcrops, past a huge sunken anchor, it was surreal. About 15 massive sea turtles shared our journey, moseying along at their own pace and completely unafraid. Getting a ride on the back of a sea turtle completed the Finding Nemo experience.

Isla Mujeres was beautiful, but we can’t help but think that we arrived 30 years too late. Already it is becoming a mini Cancun as the pace of building new condos and hotels goes on unabated. We journeyed south in search of less tourists, to Tulum.

Thinking that our diving budget had been expended for the next few months, we were ready to settle into a cheaper lifestyle. However when we heard about the possibilities for Cenote diving around Tulum, we couldn’t help ourselves. Cenotes are fresh water sink holes that lead into underground river systems and caves. The entire Yucatan peninsular has no above ground rivers, and the slightly acidic rainwater has created this incredible and extensive underwater river system. Every Mayan ruin is situated next to a Cenote, signifying how important they were for everyday life. We booked a dive for the following day into the ominously named Cenote, ‘the Pit’, and got another sweaty night’s sleep.

The next day we got to the dive shop and were packed into a rickety old four wheel drive, owned by our diving instructor, Mark. The thing had so many air tanks in the back that its clapped our suspension left us pretty much dragging on the ground. 20 minutes down the highway we turned off a narrow dirt road and paid an entry fee to the nature park. After that, we were glad for the four wheel drive, the roads steadily deteriorated as we bounced along through the jungle. When you’re diving to 45m in a cave in relative darkness, deeper than you’ve ever been, it’s a little disconcerting to drive kilometre after kilometre into remote and inaccessible jungle. There is no escape. The Pit was starting to sound more ominous by the minute.

Thoroughly disoriented by the drive, Mark threw us further in the deep end by making us set up our own gear, a task we usually lazily surrender to the tour operators we dive with. This equipment is the only thing that is going to keep you alive. Don’t fuck it up. After some extensive buddy checks, we walked to the edge of the Cenote. The Pit is an apt description; a diamond shaped hole about 30m wide with a 5 meter drop to the water below. Its full depth has only been recently recorded as over 120 meters, but it goes for hundreds of kilometres underground, never seeing the light of day.

We jumped in and started our descent. Deeper….deeper….deeper. The water is crystal clear in every sense of the word. Filtered over millions of years through limestone, it is so clear that you literally can’t see a speck in the water. The sensation is like floating mid air, if it weren’t for our bubbles rising to the surface, we could have believed it. About 14 meters depth we passed through an Hallocline; where salt water from ocean and fresh water mix. The effect is like a heat haze coming off the road on a hot summer’s day; blurry and warped. One second you’re looking through crystal clear water at your dive partner, and the next you can barely see their distorted form only a few meters away. We continued our descent into salt water towards a sulphuric acid cloud at about 30 meters.

The acid cloud is caused by plant matter falling in and slowly rotting in water that has almost zero oxygen. The effect is a weird, yellow mist, floating because of its density at around 30 meters. Rotting trees jut out through the haze, and a pungent odour of rotting eggs can be smelt even through your mask. If you’ve ever seen the movie ‘The Mist’…that’s what it felt like. It wasn’t hard to imagine creepy creatures in the mist as it wafted around the dead trees.

Going into the sulphur cloud was even creepier – the little light that filtered in from the surface slowly drained away. Even the orientation that you get from the surrounding rock walls disappeared. You became completely enveloped, unable to tell up from down or left from right. Even the diving gages became incredibly hard to read. You begin to feel the weight of the 40 tonnes of water above you as it presses on your lungs; this deep, one breath uses four times as much air as on the surface. Not only the depth, but the million tonnes of rock hanging over your head also play on your mind. It was a relief to pass through the sulphur into the darkness below, at least there it was possible to tell in which direction you were going, and how fast you were descending. From there, it was all torch light, as all natural light drifted away. Descending further through the narrowing passage to 45 meters, there was human remains from the Mayan times. It was a truly humbling experience and felt like being on the moon…so far away from help and so far underwater, your life is completely in your own hands.

We’re loving Mexico, both above and below the ground. The food is incredible, the Pina Coladas are cheap and Coronas…Coronas are everywhere. Today we bought a whole spicy roasted chicken from a street stall, complete with salad, soup, rice and sauces, all for $4. One lesson we learnt quickly is to taste test the vast array of chilli sauces on display at street stalls before drowning your food in them…they can vary from mild to ‘get me to a hospital!’ The people are always friendly and welcoming and, despite the bad rap, we haven’t felt unsafe here once.

That said, there is a pervasive tension in the air. Mexico’s drug war is in full swing. Police check points are everywhere, with each packing massive fire power and fortifications lining the road. You can’t drive more than 15km without a police or military checkpoint, although they usually leave tourists alone. Flashing police cars constantly pass you on the road. The media here is unabashed, every day graphic pictures of dead bodies are splashed over the front page of the newspaper. Yesterday there was a full page picture of a guy who was burnt to death while trying to escape a blazing car.

Much of the violence is drug related, and despite all the bluster, road blocks, guns and tough talk, most of it is just for show. The Zeta cartel has taken complete control over much of the East coast, including Cancun. Pressure from Governments on the police force to reduce violence, coupled with low wages, has lead to rampant corruption. So much so that our hostel in Cancun quietly admitted to having cocaine delivered by the police each week. The police have fought the war, and largely lost. Now, in order to keep the violence off the streets and keep the tourism industry alive, it is in everyone’s interest to keep it under the table. Despite political statements from some leaders, we can’t help but reflect that the ‘war on drugs’ has failed and perhaps a different approach is required.

There are whispers of legalisation and decriminalisation sweeping the region, as other Central and South American Governments have similar thoughts. The region is fighting a war not of their own choosing or making, supplying a relentless demand in the United States and across the world. With a total estimated death toll nearing 50,000 and an estimated revenue of between $25 and $50 BILLION each year made by the cartels, is it any wonder?

Surely there’s another way.