The plane could not get me there fast enough. Non-stop from Newark to Cancún, by myself. No child, no man, just freedom. And adventure. I had not reserved a hotel room. I did not speak a lot of Spanish. But I would get by, I knew. And I would avoid the Hotel Zone at all cost.
From the airport, I took the bus downtown. It only took a couple of stops; then the little bus was crowded with Mexicans going home from work. On Avenida Sayil, a woman with her two children got on, and the children stared at my long curly blond hair. Their big eyes got even bigger when I spoke to them in Spanish. A minute later, the little girl combed my hair with her fingers. We smiled at each other.
I got off at the traffic circle by the bus station downtown. Then, strolling along Avenida Tulum and making a right onto Avenida Tulipanes, I searched for a small hotel. I did not have to search for long. As I checked in, the tall man next to me followed my conversation with the hotel manager with interest. I tried my best to explain in Spanish that I did not need air conditioning and that I wanted a lower rate than the one he offered me.
After a few minutes of talking back and forth and not getting anywhere, Mr. Silent next to me said a few words in Spanish to the manager, and just like that I got a 15% discount – with air conditioning. I was too tired to say more than 'Thank you!' to my tall helper. I carried my bag upstairs, took a shower, turned on the fan instead of the air conditioner, and went to bed.
The bus for Mérida did not leave until 9am. I did not know what possessed me but I was too excited to stay in bed any longer than 6am. And so I broke my vow to not go near Cancún's Hotel Zone and took the bus from Avenida Tulum to Zona Hotelera and got off at the next best hotel. Walking through the impressive foyer, I felt like a thief trying to steal a piece of ocean view. And what a nice view it was. And the color of the water seemed too blue to be true. And the best was the totally empty beach. It was serene; silent except for the gentle waves splashing across the white sand. Stripping down to my blue bikini, I dove right in.
A couple of hours later, I had just enough time to take a shower before I left for the bus station. Standing in line at the ticket booth, I looked over my shoulder only to see Mr. Tall and Silent from last night standing behind me. 'Chichén Itzá?' he asked, smiling. His dark complexion made his white teeth even more impressive. I shook my head. 'No, Mérida!' He raised one eyebrow slightly. Then, he looked me up and down as if my clothes gave some sort of clue as to why I would not stop to see the famous Mayan site most tourists went to, coming in busloads from Cancún, unless they were too content partying in their resort hotels.
'You are not interested in Mayan architecture?' he asked, and I had to smile at his polite question. 'I want to see the ruins in Palenque first,' I said, moving forward in line and paying for my ticket. As I stepped aside, I had a minute to check him out. He was handsome, no doubt. I could not quite decide on his nationality. He was tall and had short black hair. His dark complexion made me think he was Hispanic. But the only thing I knew for certain was that he was neither Mexican nor Puerto Rican. When he paid, I noticed his strong hands which were obviously used to hard work. For some reason, that excited me, and I quickly looked at my ticket before he could catch me checking him out. 'Let's get going!' he said nonchalantly as he passed me. And just like that I was traveling with company.
From my travel book I knew that Mérida is about 320 km away from Cancún. I had read other things about Mérida but my new companion provided me with a lot more facts of the Capital of the Yucatán than I could have found in any travel book. The ride ended up being a little over five hours, but it seemed much less than that.
His name was David, and he was an excellent story-teller. After a while, I closed my eyes, leaned back comfortably in my seat and listened to his deep voice while taking in the very faint scent of the perfume he was wearing. After the first hour on the bus I knew that David was very well educated, quite polite, funny with a dry sense of humor, charming, and entertaining. After two hours more I knew that he was thirty-five years old, five years older than me, had an American mother and a Colombian father, taught History at NYU in New York City, had been divorced for four years, had no children, and came to Mexico at least once a year.
When we got off the bus and got our bags, I was surprised to feel at a loss for words. It was time to say good-bye and head my way, and yet the words did not come out. This trip represented so much independence to me that it was hard to admit to myself that not only had I enjoyed this man's company but that I also wanted to spend some more time with him.
A little uneasy, my eyes met his as people around us slowly walked out of the bus station. 'I would like to show you around,' he offered. 'Today is Sunday. At the Palacio Municipal, Mayan children and teenagers will wear traditional costumes and show a mestizo wedding. You would like it!' There was a pause in which I was torn between exploring on my own and enjoying his company. He could sense my hesitation. 'I tell you what: The show starts at 6pm. Let's just meet on the front steps of the cathedral a little before six and we watch the show together.' I smiled. 'Ok!'
