Walden World

The wacky and wonderful tales of Beth's and Catherine's global adventures. And all things Walden too.

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Beautiful Laguana Bacalar

We arrived last night quite late in chetumal hoping a hotel with no working phone or any email address would keep our room until 11 pm or more.  Bacalar is 30 km from chetumal  and our bus was as slow getting  into the main town as the proverbial molasses in January.

After the worst toilet in the world ...chetumal depot...I scurried out only to resemble Carrie.

People, who in this region don't see a lot of gringos, looked at me in terror. I return to catherine who is consulting a god send of a tourist desk man who is telling catherine  how we can taxi to the town of bacalar.

The hotel guy actually looked at me and let out a small scream..

I looked at my hand and I was covered in blood. My face, my hands, my arms covered with dripping blood.


Then I figured out that  in my haste to flee the worst toilet ever, I cut my finger on the strange water dispenser they have in bathrooms here. Now i am  convinced I have some horrid blood born infection from the filthy water thingy.

I think they should have paid ME to use the toilets.

then to bacalar

When writers said you have never seen such a brilliant shade of blue, now blue green now aquamarine, they were right.

a crystalline lake of delicate but sticky white sand that is an absolutely purida.

we swam all day in the Azul waters watching maya and their kids playing and teaching them from infancy how to swim or at least get used to the water.  I find that most Yucatan people love water but don't know how to swim.

All day swimming in resplendent waters, reading spanish. Sipping on cervazas.

watching one or two Norte mexicans trying black flipping off the dock.

an American fulbright, fluent in spanish and over beers talking about our mutual travels in Guatemala.

of all the times catherine and I love, it is at deep sunset in Latin America.  The sun goes down so early but the beautiful fugue between the  blazing daylight warmth and the slow pink coolness.

dogs wake up, the insects begin to chant and for a while I always feel like it's Christmas and time stands while everyone greats each other and there is a sunset the colour of the pink of a conch shell.

then dark, fire,  the town dagger dogs, insectivos.

Slight lights and futbol. Hammocks and then to bed.


Lou Reed. You talked about a perfect day.



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