I thankfully managed to sleep late. My first memorable dream of the trip. Something bizzarre involving my Dad with the barge. Inner worry squeezing out.

Breakfast was superb. A big bowl of fruit and chocolate banana crepes. Loads and loads, very full! The Israli couple joined me and we broke the silence for the first time. Their English is great and it turns out they are students on their honeymoon!

We all leave for the sort walk to the Tulum Mayan site. My first Mayan encounter.

So here Isit as write this. In front of me is the Carribean sea; the sound of it pounding tickles my ears. To the left is the center piece of this wall fortified site. The only Mayan city built on the coast. Being one of the sallest sites and having stood the test of time; what remains is in comparision humble; but awe inspiring all the same. Modern day burocracy stops me from getting very close. However I can feel and see how things would of have been if thousands of years had’nt past.


On one bulding I could see tiny remains of pigment; the burgundy that would have enclosed the building. Carvings inside and out depict Mayan knowledge beyond ours; to us presently lost. This city was dedicated to the planet venus. A deity with a dual nature that of the morning and evening star. The descending god symbolised by the setting sun is closely releated to venus. So it can be said that the evening star was worshipped at Tulum.

Around the site sitting in the grass are thousands of large flying crickets. I romantise at the possibility of the Maya ascending to a higher level of consciouness without mater. Then choosing to return here as guardians or spectators, no longer living in fear.

I cannot help but be humbled as I head through the gardens of the town. A people who left this foot print, but remain in essance unknown. I can feel myself getting closer to being; closer to living in now. The energy of this place quietens my noisey mind. An experience from the past that is far more impressive than anything modern humans might call amazing or vast.

After looking around the ruins I went down the steps to the beach below. Tying my boots to my camera bag I walked to the end where few people were. Here was an enclosed cave with the roof blown off. The sea had pounded and broken it and as it washed in it frothed, splashed and continued to erode the rock. I swam in the sea and sat in this natural jacuzzi for what must have been around 2 hours.


I returned to the hostel showered changed and got a lift with the Isralei couple to Tulum. Tonight was Fiesta!

We walked through the street markets in an area of Tulum I did´nt know exsisted. Gone was the peaceful tourist friendly strip. Here small rikashay (I cant spell this) bicycles sold everything from ice cream to a strange drink that looked like it contained gravel. We arrived into a square where lots of people were gathering. There was a fence surrounded by people and inside a skinny great white bull tied to a post. I had lost Atoro earlier that day but predictably there he was with a bike and a new Spanish friend.


The proceedings started with ignition of a long reel of bangers all around the arena. The sound was so loud everyone held their ears. I presume this was to scare the bull. Next after sinking lots of beers various men messed around tying the bull in various ways, making it fall over and such. Then it appeared they had made a reign. They tied its legs to make it fall over then a fat Mexican guy sat on its back. They untied it and started hitting the bull to make it angry. The mans rodeo moment lasted for about 5 seconds.

After some more running around the bull playing feable matadors they tied it again this time to a tree. One man was shouting a name and looking to the crowd. No one appeared. Eventually a guy wielding a knive walked into the arena. He proceeded to lightly stab the bull in the side. Following this he forced its head down and stabed behind its head. I thought he was trying to make it angry; but this was clearly not his intent. I watched as the knife went deeper. The next thing you know the bull is lying dead its thoat slit guts spilt on the floor.

Next 3 mexican cowboys arrive on horseback and tie the horse. It takes them a good 10 minutes or more until they have successfully dragged the bull out of the arena, down the street and around the corner. Atoro had backed off right at the start. His digust and embarresment at this in his own country was strongly voiced. After a few more minutes small children and men started appearing with hacked up parts of the bull in their arms and on their shoulders. The children excitedly ran off to get more. I turned around and realised I was stood in front of a pick up truck. On the back of the truck was large wooden bench saw. The type you´d use for cutting large lengths of timber. A crazed mexican on the back was cutting the bits of bull into fine segments. In the arena they were now chasing a baby bull, thankfully they did´nt kill it!

We left and headed for some food. Atoro had eaten so he sat with me and shared a bucket of beers. At the end we had some left, they would not let us take them. Atoro argued with the Argentinan owner he was having nothing of it. In the end I gave them to another couple and we left.

Atoro needed to return his bike. We walked for a while looking for a small house on the side of a rental place. It was dark and this proved difficult. After some time a guy called Hasus who we had met on our arrival appeared to save us from the bad taste Tulum was leaving in our mouths. He showed us the place and I discovered he worked for the tourist board. He looked like a street beggar but it turned out he just did´nt like the office. He warned me of many things told of many places around the world he had lived and much more. As my embassador of Mexico I left feeling positive once more.