Intermezzo
Dear Reader,
Have you enjoyed The Overpacker and want more? If so, you’re in luck! I’m producing content again, sometimes even writing over at Culture Slash.
Culture Slash is The Overpacker evolved. Mostly, it’ll be home to a podcast about American culture where I’ll take what I learned traveling and apply it to uncovering American culture. The show is distributed via iTunes, Stitcher, TuneIn, Tumblr, and directly on the Culture Slash website.
I continue to explore what fascinates me most: how people from different cultures relate to each other and how what feels “normal” can be so different from person to person. I hope you’ll visit Culture Slash; I think you’ll like it.
Regardless, I’m grateful you’ve taken time enjoy my work here. A writer without readers is just a loner scratching out marks that mean nothing to no one. Thanks for saving me from that fate!
If I don’t see you at Culture Slash, perhaps I’ll see you elsewhere, and that hopefully soon.
Many thanks,
Location: Cozumel, Quintana Roo, Mexico
Date: Saturday, June 11, 2011
This morning Belinda–my Aussie travel companion–and I rented a motorbike to explore Cozumel. Under ping pong ball shaped helmets we dodged through traffic on our way out of San Pablo wind in our hair and wheels pointed south.
My fondness for motorbikes is well-documented. They provide the mobility and in-the-wind openness of bicycles, but without all that pedaling crap. The latter is especially useful when navigating tropical heat. It also doesn’t hurt that motorbikes cost less to rent than cars. What can I say? I’m cheap.
A few miles out of town, we stopped at one of the numerous beach clubs that line the western (read: tourist) side of Cozumel. We parked our ride in the crowded parking lot just as a group of college students hopped out of a jeep. They called to each other in the way people do when they’re used to getting what they want. Here, it was pretty clear that what they wanted was a good time. Read more…
Location: Cozumel, Quintana Roo, Mexico
Date: Friday, June 10, 2011
You come to Cozumel to dive the phenomenal reefs—reefs so close to shore that if you have your own gear and a well-maintained cardiovascular system, you can suit up on a beach and swim there. My heart and lungs, unfortunately, have been subjected to too many chocolate bananas and other earthly delights–I took a boat.
Belinda–my Aussie travel buddy–and I spent yesterday walking the sun soaked streets of San Miguel, a town built to tourist tastes but whose heart still beats Mexican–the mercado, michoacanas, and posters for upcoming lucha libre made this undeniably Tierra Azteca. As we searched for the right (read: cheapest) dive shop we couldn’t help but notice that most were run by Mexicans.
And so it came to pass that, for the first time, I hired a wholly locally owned and operated dive shop instead of a place run by gringos or farang or any-other-mildly-dismissive-term-for-foreigners. But I’ve been traveling and diving for over a year–how can locally owned dive shops be so rare? Read more…
Day 242 – A Taste of Home (Cozumel)
Location: Cozumel, Quintana Roo, Mexico
Date: Thursday, June 9, 2011
I’ve come to the resort island of Cozumel because I want to relax and scuba dive. I am also here because Harry, a former investment banker who’s driving around the world in a Land Cruiser (seriously), was kind enough to give Belinda and me a ride to Playa del Carmen so we could catch a ferry to Cozumel. On the drive, Harry tells us about sleeping on the roof of his car, using his military-grade, dashboard mounted satellite tracking system to maneuver through unpaved parts of the world, and his weakness for buying cheesy tourist T-Shirts (e.g., Belize it or not!). He started over a year ago in London, drove through Europe, the Middle East, Russia, and Asia, shipping the car whenever he hit an ocean. He gave up corporate life right before the crash, which means he’s a lot like me except with 100x more money. (Big bucks guys like Harry paid guys like me.) It just goes to show that even when it comes to slacking off, there’s always someone doing it better than you. Harry has shown me that I’ve underachieved at laziness.
After quick goodbyes, Belinda and I hopped the next boat to Cozumel, an island that’s secretly gone a bit Filipino. There are Filipino divemasters, Filipino workers, and even a Filipino restaurant. A restaurant! Compare that to San Francisco which has tons of Filipinos but has hardly any Filipino restaurants to its name (you have to trek south to the less expensive Daly City to get your Fil-food fix). The question is: what are a bunch of Filipinos doing on an island in Mexico? Read more…
Day 241 – Life’s A Beach (Tulum Ruins)
Location: Tulum Ruins, Quintana Roo, Mexico
Date: Wednesday, June 8, 2011
As I walked the long, shadeless path to the ancient walled city of Tulum, paid my entrance to the site, weaved through the throngs of tour groups, and picked past the mundane ruins, there was nothing to suggest Tulum was special. The ruins are not well-preserved nor are they impressive. The buildings and temples are not architecturally significant nor are they religious icons that merit pilgrimage. It does not have a climbing, feathered serpent during the equinox nor does it boast a towering pyramid to the gods. Once I reached the cliffs, though, I discovered that what Tulum does have are the mystical three “L’s”: location, location, location.
If these ruins were in the middle of the jungle, no one would visit. However, here, on the shores of an electric turquoise ocean, Tulum is special. A description of the site read like a real estate ad. “The former City of the Dawn is a beachfront, Caribbean fixer-upper. Only two hours south of Cancun. Original stone counters, walls, and foundation. Custom sculptures and murals throughout. Unimpeded views of sunrise. Includes two private, cliff-bound beaches!” Read more…
Location: Cenotes Calavara and Dos Ojos outside of Tulum, Quintana Roo, Mexico
Date: Tuesday, June 7 2011
We are following a madman and we have paid him to lead. He is Charlie, our Polish guide, and he brings scuba divers through cenotes, the water filled underground caves that dot the Yucatan peninsula.
“This cenote is Calavera. It means ‘skull.’ Iz because the entrance has three holes, a big one like a mouth and two small ones like eyes. Iz amazing,” Charlie says snuffing out a last minute cigarette. “Iz vehry vehry cooool,” he adds, rolling the “R’s” and clipping the end of the “L.”
I know it’s cool. I’ve been told. I also know that it’s vehry vehry dangerous. The backpackers that enthusiastically recommended this dive didn’t call it Calavera, though. They called it by its gringo name: Temple of Doom.
We are standing in a dirt parking lot, squinting in the tropical glare off Charlie’s beat up SUV. I wriggle into my wetsuit, shoulder 50 pounds (23 kilos) of tank, hoses, and fins and start to walk down the jungle path towards the cenote entrance. The full body neoprene pulls on my already sweaty skin. The humidity isn’t doing me any favors. At least the suit protects me from the mosquitoes.
Charlie continues, hands in a flurry. “I do not always take people here. Sometimes the cave is too much. Deep in the cave they freak out,” nodding in the direction of The Skull. “Also, to enter, you must jump 5 meters (15 feet) to the water. Don’t worry, though. You will be fine. You are rescue diver. You dive good.” He’s right. I am and I do. And I will not freak out. I think. Read more…
Location: Mahahual, Mexico
Date: Wednesday, June 1 through Monday, June 6, 2011
“I’m an Emergency Responder. Would you like me to help you?”
According to Emergency Response guidelines, the preceding is what you’re supposed to say to a victim before you render aid.
I blame America. Or the American legal system. Or, to co-opt the “Guns don’t kill people. . .” argument—the humans who use the American legal system. The point is, nowadays, you can’t just help someone without wondering if they’ll sue you. Thus, you must recite the disclaimer.
There are, however, exceptions. In a water emergency, for example, the conversation usually goes one of two ways. The Rescuer, swimming towards the troubled scuba diver and asks, “Troubled Diver, are you in trouble? Would you like me to. . .”
Whereupon the victim responds, either:
Victim: [screaming, thrashing] “Gurrggle. . .*coough*. . .*gag*”
OR,
Victim: . . . [face down in water]
No need for the full disclaimer there. The lawyers say that in those cases the victim has given “implied consent” and thus has fulfilled the Slimy Douchebag Rule of “She didn’t say, ‘No,’ so I took it as a, ‘Yes.’” Read more…
Day 233 – The Way to Mahahual
Location: Mahahual, Mexico
Date: Tuesday, May 31, 2011
There are many ways to get to Mahahual. My way:
· Bus from Valladolid to Tulum (2 hours): The trip from Yucatan to the neighboring state of Quintana Roo is all tropical—outside the bus. Inside, though, is like being a Freeze Pop that’s traveling in an ice cream truck in Antarctica. One girl wraps herself in a blanket and wears a hat. I shipped all my winter gear home after Patagonia. I’m wearing flip flops. I wonder what it would be like to die of hypothermia in the Caribbean. Read more…
Day 232 – Chichen Itza Is the Future
Location: Ruins of Chichen Itza, Mexico
Date: Monday, May 30, 2011
Chichen Itza is one of the modern seven wonders of the world. At least that’s what some Canadian-Swiss guy says; he conducted a worldwide vote where Machu Picchu, The Great Wall of China, and a giant Jesus also made it into the top seven.
The vote reportedly was the largest Internet poll at the time. It was, to put it another way, a popularity contest within the elite group of people who could afford a computer, had an internet connection, and knew there was a “Seven Wonders” election going on. A decided advantage went to some sites. For example, Peru and Brazil’s governments begged their citizens to vote. Mexican celebrities lobbied their countrymen for Chichen Itza. Read more…
Location: Ruins of Ek’ Balam and Dzitnup Cenotes, Mexico
Date: Sunday, May 29, 2011
As a foodie, you’re supposed to take the taco truck over Del Taco. As a man, you should choose Scarface over Bridget Jones’s Diary. And real music connoisseurs choose Velvet Underground over Kelly Clarkson.
Me. I can’t help it. Sometimes, I’d rather curl up on the couch with a Del Classic Chicken Burrito and be “Alllll by mysellllllllffff!”. Ain’t no one can tell me different.
For example: As a backpacker I’m supposed to love ancient ruins. They’re “real.” They’re culture. They allow me to experience “the other.”
Moreover, a real backpacker should shun the gentrification, the Disneyfication, the cheesification of any natural wonder. Who–in God’s name–wants to visit Yosemite and be subjected to El Capitan: The Laser Show or dive the depths of The Great Barrier Reef and be bombarded by The Britney Spears Underwater Sound Extravaganza (sponsored by Pepsi)?
Don’t laser it up. Don’t paint it orange. Don’t pump in panpipe. Don’t hang a flat panel with a cartoon tour guide. “You’re taking away from my moment of Zen!” cries the traveler (who loathes being called a “tourist”).
But what if you can’t help it? What if you’d discover you prefer cheesy pop over ancient culture? Read more…
Day 230 – Unpronounceable (Valladolid)
Location: Valladolid, Mexico
Date: Saturday, May 28, 2011
I cannot say “Valladolid.” Oh, I know how it’s pronounced (Vaya-doe-lid). I just can’t remember the word without looking at it. Vadallolid?
Which is unfortunate because Vallalad is a nice, quaint town. It lacks the rich cultural scene of Merida, but it makes up for it with small town charm. Furthermore, it serves as a less touristed base to visit the surrounding ruins (foremost: Chichen Itza) and cenotes (sink holes).
The streets are richly colored. There’s even a historic monastery that happens to share the name of the largest county in the United States (San Bernardino, if you care). Much like Guanajuato, Valadollid has chosen to douse its historic street in garish colors. Against the unreal jungle blue sky, it works. Read more…
Day 229 – Why Visit the Ancient Mayan City of Uxmal?
Location: Uxmal and Kabah ruins, outside Merida, Mexico
Date: Friday, May 27, 2011
The Yucatan peninsula is strewn with ruins. So many, in fact, that it’s easy to get burned out. One magical monument blends into another. After your third site, it feels like you’ve seen that rectangular rock somewhere before. Was it in Chichen Itza, Teotihuacan, or Zkhmyprppppk? The question becomes, which ruins should I see?
Allow me to help. Here are a few reasons to see the ancient Mayan city of Uxmal, a set of ruins outside Merida. If these aren’t your bag, skip it and see something else. There’s plenty more where Uxmal came from. Read more…
Day 228 – Merida Bus Tour
Location: Merida, Mexico
Date: Thursday, May 26, 2011
I have mostly avoided the city tour bus. You know the one. Sometimes it’s a double-decker with an open roof. Sometimes it’s a caricature of some local icon (in San Francisco, it’s cable cars). In others it’s those open top vehicles that can go on land and water.
Every single one, though, has that taped or microphone-in-the-mouth voice droning on about this bit of architecture or the city’s average rainfall or just how many ice cream stands there are in town.
As a local watching one of these go by you can feel a range of emotions. Sometimes it’s a shrug (“Eh”). Other times it’s a flash of projected embarrassment (“Don’t they know everyone down here’s staring at them?”). Sometimes it’s that feeling you got when you were invited into the cool kids circle in high school and the nerds walked by (“Poor you, but yes, continue to wish you were part of this like me”). Often, though, there’s an into the looking glass moment—while the tourists gawk at wherever you’re at, you stare back and say, “Wait. . .what could they possibly be looking at in this part of town?” As the bus drifts off and the droning tour guide fades into the distance you catch yourself saying, “Wait! Come back! Tell me what’s so cool about being here!” It’s a moment of symmetry. The tourist and the local invade each other’s world and for an instant each wonders at how strangely the other lives. Read more…
Location: Puerto Vallarta, Mexico
Date: Friday, May 20 – Wednesday, May 25, 2011
This week my cousin got married in Puerto Vallarta. I grew up with her like a sister and I had to attend the wedding (no man wants to suffer the wrath of a sister, even a pseudo one).
I kid, of course. I’m thrilled for my cousin and wouldn’t have missed it for all the tacos in Mexico. Plus, I got to welcome a new member into our family. (No. She wasn’t pregnant. I’m talking about her new husband.) Read more…
Day 221 – Bike Tour of Poop (Guadalajara)
Location: Guadalajara, Mexico
Date: Thursday, May 19, 2011
Sometimes you want to love a place but one rude resident ruins the whole place for you. Guadalajara, unfortunately, was that place for me.
My goal was to take a quick bike tour of the city before hopping a bus to Puerto Vallarta. Everything started fine. I traded my ID for a bike from the hostel, grabbed a map, then headed out on a loop around the city’s sites. I had plenty of time for a leisurely bike ride.
Guadalajara is big. It’s Mexico’s second largest city. Biking it is not some leisurely tour through a pueblito. It’s a journey through busy city streets.
Which is fine. I dodged my way through traffic to the old city center which has all the museums, old churches, and principal plaza. There’s a lot of open space and pedestrian and bike only areas. It’s lovely. I was admiring architecture and enjoying the breeze of a freewheeling bike when I stopped to take a picture up the main pedestrian stretch. Read more…
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