Incidental Tourists

On Tuesday, our second day in the country, we headed to the largest archaeological site in spitting distance of Merida: Chichen-Itza. I was skeptical about dragging the kids around a ruin in 95 degree heat, but as neither our children nor the weather showed any signs of changing, we figured there was no reason to delay. We rented a car the night before so we could leave at 6:30 am and beat the heat and crowds.

I was also skeptical about driving in Mexico, but it was liberating to have our own wheels and not be subject to the schedule or tariff of a tour company. The little Chevy “Spark” had little pick-up, but handled well enough. When we arrived at the ruins the parking lot was practically empty. We loaded up on sunscreen and bug spray and, armed with sun hats and water bottles, headed inside to meet our guide (as arranged by a colleague of Peter’s).

Vendors crowded the entrance and lined every path inside the park. They sold identical wares: hats, embroidered shirts and dressed, Mayan calendars and carvings, t-shirts, silver jewelry. At first their presence was jarring, lending the feeling more of a shopping mall than an archaeological site. However, Chichen-Itza was a bustling metropolis with more than 50,000 inhabitants in its heyday. It made sense for the grounds to be crowded and complicated by commerce.

Our guide was unfathomably knowledgeable, rattling off facts and statistics faster than any of us could follow. Josie declared early on, “I just don’t understand any of this!” and settled in to counting iguanas and complaining in the shade. Jasper tried his best to follow along, until the heat eventually got to him as well and he devoted his energy to throwing rocks at targets. Peter and I took turns paying attention to the guide or the children alternately.

By the time we got to the main pyramid, the complex was teeming with tourists. Flocks of teenagers and families in matching t-shirts, groups carrying matching neon colored umbrellas, couples sporting matching wicker sombreros and sunburns. To cross from one site to the next required strategy and patience, as we attempted to navigate through the crowds without getting in the way of someone’s snap shot.  

The kids had been remarkably patient all considering, so on the way out I consented to forking over 100 pesos for some trinkets (a ceramic toy that imitates the call of a Jaguar for Jasper, and a silver bracelet for Josie which she lost by the end of the day). After paying nearly US$8.00 for sunscreen at the door, and another 100 pesos for two popsicles and a soda, I nearly ran out of the park lest the rest of my money evaporate in the heat. The parking lot was now filled bumper to bumper with tour buses, most of which advertised an affinity with Cancun or some cruise line. We couldn’t leave fast enough.

Next stop was the Cenote Ikkil. Just a few kilometers down the road from the ruins, it has also been highly developed for tourists. Once again, we arrived to a nearly empty parking lot and a tranquil setting. The grounds were scattered with a gift shop, restaurant, snack bar, bathrooms and showers, with only a few people in each, almost all speaking Spanish. After changing into our suits, we headed down the long winding staircase to the cenote. A cenote is a circular sink hole, a body of fresh water of varying size and remarkable depth carved into the limestone over millions of years. They sometimes form on the surface of the land, and sometimes are only accessible by descending into a cylindrical cave. There were 15 cenotes on the Chichen-Itza site that the Mayans used for drinking water (Ikkil was one of them). They have found human remains and treasure at the bottom of many cenotes, indicating that the Mayans used them for ritual burials and sacrifices to Cha’ac, the rain god. Some of these reservoirs extend so far they eventually terminate in the Gulf of Mexico.

Ikkil is over 43 meters deep, and the surface is 30 meters down from the rim. The roots of strangler figs and epiphytes descend down to the bright green pool below. Birds nest in the limestone walls and stalactites of the cave. Dark catfish swim lazily in the clear water. There are wooden ladders to assist bathers with entry to and exit from the pool, designated places for jumping, and one disinterested life guard standing on the water’s edge. You can rent a life preserver for 30 pesos if you wish, but there are no signs indicating specific rules or requirements. Only one sign says, “Swim at your own risk.” Good luck, and have fun.

 

When we first arrived we had the cenote nearly to ourselves. Jasper leaped in right away, doggy paddling quickly back to the ladder in an exhilarated panic, but proud. Josie crept down the ladder carefully into papa’s arms. At first she refused to wear a life preserver, insisting that she could swim (which she can, barely). But as soon as she saw the water she zipped one on without protest. Thank god. Peter and I took turns jumping in from the higher platforms and swimming out to the waterfalls and root tendrils with the kids. It was tiring, but immensely satisfying. After less than a half hour the deck of the cenote began to fill up, so we gathered our things and headed to the café for lunch. While drinking our beers and lemonades we watched as the sleepy resort turned into a bustling theme park. The buses had arrived. Tourists lined up for the showers, the gift shop, the cenote itself. We had trouble finding our tiny rental car among the buses in the parking lot, and felt relieved to distance ourselves from the squall of gringos on our way back to our little casita in Merida.

In the next six weeks we will doubtlessly throw ourselves into the throngs of tourism again as we continue to check off our bucket list of must-see destinations and activities, but we hope to steer clear whenever possible. We will always be gringos, and tourists ourselves, but we will all be better off if we can keep at least one foot off the beaten path.