jaguar magic cenote cenote cenote

So c has become addicted to cenotes. We have been to 5 in two days and like people, each have  a personality. Some are open to the sky others a dark cave with only a small lamp and a frightening rickety ladder to get you down the 2 or more stories to the water. One we were at was the sight of religious and domestic ceremonies from neolithic times as evidenced by the hand prints in one section high on the walls.

No gringos in sight. Just laughing playing mexicans and maya.

Today we ran the collective, a shared van, to a village near to our newest cenote. An interesting try although c had to sit next to elderly typhoid Mary who kept coughing into clothe like she was losing a lung only to then repeatedly hoark,  out the window and barf sputum.  The rather weird thing is that she had a cell phone that went off about 5 times during the 30  minute ride which she had to answer and discuss.  The image of a sick and elderly maya woman hoarking, out a window while fielding multiple calls just left me confused. But this is the land of cenotes, gateways to another world.

The world of strange chatting old women, moto taxis basically a homemade  platform with a bench strapped to the front of a motorbike. I am not sure how describe how dangerous it is.  First the crate on two wheels with then a small sofa. The driver on the back straps on some sad head safety gear, a broken bicycle helmet or an old football hat.

You at the front, on your sofa bench, are then the first in line by gravity  should the taxi crash, stop suddenly or hit a pero.

And , and the nicest people we have ever met.

the day previous we hired a taxi to take us all day to remote cenotes. Maya, who have very little income wait  roadside to tell drivers and taxis that they must guide to the cenotes  at an exorbitant price.

I can hear the driver angry with the Mayan kid who  in spanish  tells the driver he has not had work in weeks. Give him a propina, a tip, the kid is a heart break story.  Taxi driver angry as the kid forced himself into the cab by guilt.

but he was great and sweet, a wonderful diver and I think quite a thinker profundo.  A Shaman to be perhaps.^

the next day we were told that getting to the next cenote by collective would be a piece  of cake. Not so. We wandered lining up only to be told no this is NOT the collective although everyone had different ideas of what collective to take

A punk 50 woman with huge slash scars on her arm and a tattoo in English block letters all over them read FROM  A LIFE I HATE  took control. Perfect English she talked to a the drivers and got us on the right collectives a d told us how to moto to the cenote.

the cenote an aquamarine world of fishes, lily pads and crystal water.

we swam with some Frenchman that had relocated to merida and we're filming the cenotes depth with waterproof cameras.

we swam with a group of gay men from Winnipeg

At the end of the day, the sun going down and alone in nowhere a Mexican maya woman offered us a lift to the town with the collective.  We declined thanking her profusely  as we hoped a moto would come back.  It never did and when she came back and beeped Ola I asked her if we could take her up on her previous offer.

She hesitated said yes and drove us to the stand apologizing that gringos had to see street dogs and would think badly of Mexico.

How can you think badly of a much needed lift and mutual pity for street dogs.

Then we got the bad collective draw , worried as it was past 5 pm and the sun  was setting  we took the first vehicle we saw, the worst dirty broken down chicken bus ever.

but as the bus toiled on its slow stop every corner route, 10 20 s 30 of maya, poor, laborers got on stop after stop until the bus was bursting out its seams. All to be dropped at Centro merida.  Newest tourist destination on the places to be.

watch them trundle
 off to work and look at the many sapado, shops. One pair of sandals  for 25 pesos.

cenotes are magical, actually quite profound to quote jack Hawkins from  Ben hur.

Sometimes things are best kept secret, not shared.