When Ellie and I awoke to hit Cozumel's downtown (and its only discernible urban buildup), the clouds were on the verge of rain. And no sooner had we left our hostel to find the nearest taxi then it started to rain big, wet, tropical drops. We eventually hailed a cab, but we agreed to rent a car the next day and save ourselves the trouble of finding transportation in inclement weather.
We trudged around the central plaza and the surrounding stores looking for a fabled taco place (I say "trudged" because in some places the water rushed like a brook). The superb taco joint was worth the hike, and I acquainted myself with true Central American fare. We spent a couple hours hoping to wait the out the rain. Unfortunately it only got worse, until the streets of Cozumel resembled the canals of Venice. The water overflowed onto the sidewalk, and Ellie, in sandals, had to jump on my back as I slogged across to our taxi home. I discovered my waterproof hiking shoes fail underwater. Even though everything was closed, dinner was great and the proprietors very friendly.
The next morning (Saturday the 17th), a beautiful, sunshiny day realized our hopes for good weather on Ellie's birthday. After a delicious breakfast of chocolate cereal (we ate almost the entire box), we rented a splendid little green car with a convertible leather roof. In Cozumel, only a US Driver's License is required to rent a vehicle. It only took a few moments to remember how to drive before we were off around the south of the island. The drive was lovely: sun blazing, unspoiled, rocky beaches to the right, blue skies and puffy white clouds above, and wild jungle to the left. Cozumel is strikingly undeveloped- there are very few roads other than the main circuit round the island, and those paths that do wander off lead only to the rest stops or hotels.
After some disappointing Mayan ruins (a gutted rock piling overshadowed by a new Catholic church) and delicious mangoes-on-a-stick (a fantastic treat), we reached the southern tip of the island. The total drive was less than an hour. The southern tip is a large ecological reserve, famed for its crocodiles. It is here we met Manuel (I think- we didn't quite catch his name), a beaming park ranger who spoke only Spanish. He was very friendly- he offered many times to take our photographs and seemed genuinely interested in showing off his park to us. A wooden bridge over the shallows of a lagoon led to a 20 meter high observation post. Manuel gleefully called over the "crocodillos" for us through an extraordinary talent: by simply emitting a loud whistle, he summoned no less than six lazy, crooked-smile crocodiles. He introduced the crocodiles as though they were family members- each had a name, age, length, and personality. Some were photogenic, friendly; others contented themselves in the shade beneath the bridge. Periodically he would call forth more of the family with his piercing whistle.
Eventually we moved on as a large tour group rolled in on dune buggies. Manuel walked us to our car, stopping by a small Mayan ruin. The info plaque was in three languages: English, Spanish, and Mayan. Manuel impressed us by translating the exotic language for us. The pronunciation is beautiful though not intuitive, and explained the origins of some of the more difficult Mexican place names (like Oaxaca).
We continued on to the lighthouse and its maritime museum. From the lighthouse we viewed the lagoon that makes up most of Cozumel's southern tip. The weather, water, and salty breeze were so idyllic- after the winter in Boston and Ankara, the sticky heat and beating sun were refreshing. We ate lunch at a Reggae bar, which to my dismay had no credit card abilities (something common in the region we traveled).
The rest of the drive was unremarkable- more virgin landscapes of surf and tangled growth. That night, we went out to dinner for Ellie's birthday dinner at a very Americanized restaurant next to the sea wall downtown. Travel tip: always say it's your birthday, no matter where you are. The manager himself came out and offered Ellie the choice of a free drink or a piece of cake. Not a bad deal (she took the cake). The only wrinkle in the night was the resumption of the beating rain, which again prevented barhopping and drove us early back to the hostel.
We awoke at 6am the next morning to begin our day of travel to Belize. After a frenzied drive up and down the roads of the downtown, we finally found the rental car store; we only just made our ferry to Playa del Carmen...
28 Mayıs 2010 Cuma
9 Mayıs 2010 Pazar
Turmexilizean Vacation Part 1
The second week of April was TOBB's Spring break- and the vacation I'd been anticipating since February. I was going to visit Ellie for her birthday on Caye Caulker, the tiny island off of Belize where she is volunteering for a high-school of at-risk youth. We were meeting up in Cancun, Mexico first, to spend her birthday weekend on the island of Cozumel. The quintessential travelers, we insisted on spending our time together doing something that was new for the both of us.
On Wednesday, April 14, I left Ankara at midnight and traveled with Jamar, Julia, and Kenzie to Ataturk Airport in Istanbul (they were going to Cairo. Their trip originally was supposed to begin in Cairo and head up the Sinai to Jerusalem, but fighting on the peninsula forced them to reorganize their entire trip- the day before their departure!). At the Airport we lost each other amidst the hour-long passport/ticket check-in lines.
At the Duty-Free, I tried to buy some presents for Ellie- unfortunately, because my final destination was Mexico City, I couldn't buy the goods. So, I went back into the store, got more of the duty-free items, and went to a different ticket counter. When the clerk asked where I was going, I told her Paris, and walked out of the Duty-Free with my last-minute presents in tow.
The first flight to Paris went off without a hitch; however, I did experience severe language confusion at Charles de Gaulle. My brain has been operating in foreign-language mode for the past several months; every time I want to speak Turkish, I have to translate it out of French and then into Turkish (apparently this is a real phenomenon: Sakine, the teacher in my office with a linguistics degree, has done research showing that in people learning a third language, they often use their second language as a template. Therefore, even though Turkish isn't similar to French that part of my brain still is activated whenever I hear Turkish). Once I was in France, my brain suddenly became language-confused as both foreign languages tried to get out, like two people pushing through a doorway; the result was that I couldn't say anything at all to the customs agents! I eventually blurted something out in French (once I made it to Mexico, my language confusion went away).
I was now poised for the most difficult leg of my journey- the 11 hour flight from Paris to Mexico City. This was at 1:30 pm Thursday, April 15. We boarded the plane and then waited an hour for a passenger to arrive (his connector was late). Then, once he was on, the pilot announced that, "Due to a volcanic eruption in Iceland, takeoff would be delayed an hour and 40 minutes." This was a very confusing announcement, especially since 10 minutes later we taxied and took-off!
The flight went by reasonably quickly- I was very excited to see Ellie; as a result, I wasn't the least fatigued. I read all of Kafka's "Metamorphosis" (an easy task considering it's only 60 pages). We passed over Boston- I saw a plane landing at Logan, Northeastern's campus, and the inside of Fenway Park. That was a very, very, very strange experience. It was like going home; or more, it was like a dream of going home. It still doesn't feel real (mercifully, on the way back, clouds obscured the city).
After another transfer flight, I landed in Cancun. I hurried into the bathroom and changed my shirt, put on deodorant, washed my face, and brushed my teeth. I was the last person out of the baggage claim area. To my delight I immediately found Ellie, and we made our way into the city to the bus station (it was midnight in Mexico; 7am on Friday, April 16 Turkish time- a total of 30 hours travel). Since Ellie had needed to leave Belize at 6:30 am in order to reach Cancun, we were both very travel weary.
We had about 6 hours until our bus left for Playa del Carmen, the beach where we would take our ferry to Cozumel. So, we passed the time in an all-night restaurant, fighting fatigue over coffee and crosswords. We caught a bus at 5:30; by 7:00 am we had reached Playa, where we'd planned on splaying out on the beach and napping until noon- we figured we couldn't check in to our hostel before then. Unfortunately, it was raining quite relentlessly- so, we were forced to sleep in the bus station for two hours. This was the most tedious part of the trip, admittedly. The typically teeming Playa was a ghost town of rain and grey clouds. And even when we eventually did get our ferry, the waters were so rough that it was more like a rollercoaster. Many people were sea-sick during the 45 minute trip. At long last we reached our hostel, a house in which a very business-like Swiss woman and her German husband rent out the spacious guest bedrooms. Needless to say, Ellie and I passed out for the rest of the afternoon! When we awoke, we were ready to take on the island!
The first flight to Paris went off without a hitch; however, I did experience severe language confusion at Charles de Gaulle. My brain has been operating in foreign-language mode for the past several months; every time I want to speak Turkish, I have to translate it out of French and then into Turkish (apparently this is a real phenomenon: Sakine, the teacher in my office with a linguistics degree, has done research showing that in people learning a third language, they often use their second language as a template. Therefore, even though Turkish isn't similar to French that part of my brain still is activated whenever I hear Turkish). Once I was in France, my brain suddenly became language-confused as both foreign languages tried to get out, like two people pushing through a doorway; the result was that I couldn't say anything at all to the customs agents! I eventually blurted something out in French (once I made it to Mexico, my language confusion went away).
I was now poised for the most difficult leg of my journey- the 11 hour flight from Paris to Mexico City. This was at 1:30 pm Thursday, April 15. We boarded the plane and then waited an hour for a passenger to arrive (his connector was late). Then, once he was on, the pilot announced that, "Due to a volcanic eruption in Iceland, takeoff would be delayed an hour and 40 minutes." This was a very confusing announcement, especially since 10 minutes later we taxied and took-off!
The flight went by reasonably quickly- I was very excited to see Ellie; as a result, I wasn't the least fatigued. I read all of Kafka's "Metamorphosis" (an easy task considering it's only 60 pages). We passed over Boston- I saw a plane landing at Logan, Northeastern's campus, and the inside of Fenway Park. That was a very, very, very strange experience. It was like going home; or more, it was like a dream of going home. It still doesn't feel real (mercifully, on the way back, clouds obscured the city).
After another transfer flight, I landed in Cancun. I hurried into the bathroom and changed my shirt, put on deodorant, washed my face, and brushed my teeth. I was the last person out of the baggage claim area. To my delight I immediately found Ellie, and we made our way into the city to the bus station (it was midnight in Mexico; 7am on Friday, April 16 Turkish time- a total of 30 hours travel). Since Ellie had needed to leave Belize at 6:30 am in order to reach Cancun, we were both very travel weary.
We had about 6 hours until our bus left for Playa del Carmen, the beach where we would take our ferry to Cozumel. So, we passed the time in an all-night restaurant, fighting fatigue over coffee and crosswords. We caught a bus at 5:30; by 7:00 am we had reached Playa, where we'd planned on splaying out on the beach and napping until noon- we figured we couldn't check in to our hostel before then. Unfortunately, it was raining quite relentlessly- so, we were forced to sleep in the bus station for two hours. This was the most tedious part of the trip, admittedly. The typically teeming Playa was a ghost town of rain and grey clouds. And even when we eventually did get our ferry, the waters were so rough that it was more like a rollercoaster. Many people were sea-sick during the 45 minute trip. At long last we reached our hostel, a house in which a very business-like Swiss woman and her German husband rent out the spacious guest bedrooms. Needless to say, Ellie and I passed out for the rest of the afternoon! When we awoke, we were ready to take on the island!
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