On our second full day, we woke up and decided we no longer had any excuse not to leave the resort, so we went for a ‘little stroll’ down the main road. It was blisteringly hot, but pleasant walking under the shade of palm trees, often showered with droplets from a hotel sprinkler. The hotels in Cancun are HUGE – I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s how I imagine Las Vegas to be – just one sprawling complex after another, all beautiful and grand, lined with palm trees. It’s really pretty.
However, it’s also really tiring, and we didn’t particularly know where we were going. I started to get grumpy, craving the pool and a cold diet coke, so after we’d stopped to pick up yet another pack of Pringles (why do foreign countries do so many nicer flavours of Pringles? I’d swap Ready Salted for ‘Spicy Chicken Wings’ or ‘Pizza’ flavour any day) we decided to head back. Not by foot though. We got the bus.
The bus experience confirmed my belief that certain countries should perhaps not have been allowed access to motor vehicles. Firstly, the bus itself appeared to be held together with duct tape – the petrol cap swung open merrily, the exhaust pipe clattered along the dry, dusty road and smoke billowed from some anonymous source worryingly near the engine. We got on dubiously, Ian in front of me holding out the money. The bus driver frowned, looked down and searched for change – but this didn’t stop him from kicking the bus into life. We lurched forward into traffic before the door had even shut behind me – I flew into a seat, not entirely of my own accord, and Ian hurriedly followed me, choosing life over his change. The bus driver raced another bus down the two lane road, overtaking, then changing his mind and swinging across into the left lane, stopping so sharply that I nearly fell off my seat.
This, it turned out, was a standard Mexican bus experience. The bus drivers appeared uninterested in how much the journey cost and simply took whatever you gave them. On a number of occasions the buses we took seemed to break down, but were kicked back to life by their ineffable drivers and puffed their way to their destination. It was…an experience!
Once home, somewhat traumatised and exhausted, we thought we'd have a quick swim before lunch to wash the dust off.
A really friendly American woman offered to take a photograph of the two of us - something I also think should be more prevalent in the UK!
Afterwards, we decided to order lunch – just a small snack, we thought. We ordered chicken wings and nachos from the starter menu, and some chips as a side…and this is what arrived.
Just a small mountain of nachos, ten chicken wings, more nachos, salsa, a bucket of chips and some gravy boats filled with sauce. YUM.
We spent the afternoon recovering happily on the beach. The hotel staff were so friendly and happy to bring drinks to our loungers.
We even took a dip in the sea (although the waves somewhat defeated me, which amused Ian!)
Finally that evening we caught a taxi (we’d had enough buses for one day) to the part of Cancun that houses it’s famous bars and restaurants. We ate in Chilli’s – huge portions again of quesadillas, in my opinion the greatest food invented – and had a few drinks, before heading to a local bar.
Where they appeared to have replaced traditional drink options with washing machines filled with cocktails!
We had a few drinks before things started to get a bit blurry!
It was an amazing day and we still had so many more to come… look out for part 3 tomorrow!