Yucatan Adventure: Getting in Cars with Strangers

I didn't sleep much my first night in Tulum. Some people, like my sister, love that oppressive heat layering on top of you like a hot summer night. Too bad the humidity feels more like a wet armpit hug, which happens to me far too often, being only 5'2". I tossed and turned and woke to the relentless tropical storm which had followed me. It's the curse of my birthday; no matter where I am, it will always rain on my birthday. I drifted in and and out, praying for a small reprieve in the morning, so that I could swim with turtles in Akumal Bay.

I thought a loud storm klaxonned me awake, but it was really just my señora making a smoothie. At 6:30 in the morning. But okay. I dressed for the beach, slung my snorkel gear over my head, and readied myself for morning politesse, only to be greeted by the small Mayan woman who has breakfast waiting for me at the table, and was in the process of squeezing fresh grapefruit juice for me.

Maria, my AirBnb hostess, was a short Mayan woman of indeterminable older age. She had a grown son who looked to be in his 40's, due to perhaps extreme sun and drugs, but also had a daughter who looked to be 13 (I find out later that she was 19).Her naturally tanned skin contrasted with her spotless all white outfits, which while reminiscent of the traditional huipiles of Mayan women, had more of the hippy beach vibe instead. Her startling bright white hair hung in a single plait down her back as she moved silently throughout the kitchen, bringing me two more beverages.

The blender had been going on for me. She roasts her own cacao, and makes a breakfast shake of cacao, oats, and almonds, sweetened with a piloncillo simple syrup she made, and has ready in a jar in the fridge. A bowl of cut guava and bananas, along with a stack of toasted homemade whole wheat bread, I received a cup of tea, the breakfast shake, and the aforementioned grapefruit juice.

As excited as I was to see this spread, my plans for breakfast tacos were dashed. It's okay, I wasn't too bummed, if you couldn't tell. I will say this, American grapefruits suck. We clearly have not been importing the right ones. This juice tasted like it smells, which is what always threw me off about grapefruits; intoxicating smell, disgusting bitter taste.

So if you've been to Tulum, and stayed in Tulum Pueblo, which is the village, and not the beach, you will know there's not much there. Where I chose to stay, well, let's just say it's still got a few more years before this part becomes a real part of town. Regardless, when I booked it, I thought, well, a 30 minute walk, isn't that bad. I forgot to add the 90 degree heat, the thunderstorms, the dark, and lack of street lights.

So in the Yucatán, there are collective mini-vans that go from A to B with certain stops. They either complement, or replace the local bus system. I understood the basics, that so long as I stood on the side of the road, any driver in a white van with room would slow down for and stop for you. You told the driver your destination, took your seat, and prayed that he would remember you and stop. At the stop, you pay the amount he said, and off you went.*

I can never get my lefts and rights down in any language, and despite having GPS on my phone, I couldn't make it the 200 feet to my colectivo stop that my señora told me was just outside her house at the roundabout. Soaked through after walking not 3 minutes out of the gates, I saw a white van round the corner from where I was coming from. Stupid me, thought I had already made the right and the left I needed to, and assumed this was the colectivo van. I steeled my nerves, and flagged the van down.

Let's just say this was not a colectivo van. This was just a white van. Who pulled over for me. And beckoned me to get in.

That's right, a man in a white van pulled up besides me and I got in.

I think I was too full from breakfast to ask him if he had any candy for me.

Juan was not a colectivo driver. I realized this when he turned left instead of right. I mean, after I replayed our conversation, and he waved me off when I asked how much was the fare into town was. And after he said he needed pick up his "friend" first.

Briefly, I heard my mother yelling in my head. "This is exactly what I thought would happen to you! I knew this was how you would get killed!!!"

But my spidey sense did not tingle. The rain had stopped, and he was driving slow enough that I was confident I could jump out of the moving van if I needed to. So, I just decided to go along for the ride.

We picked up the friend, who wasn't as taken aback that a random chinita was siting in the back as I still was that I'm in a random van with now two strange men. We finally made that right, into the direction that Google told me was the main road (oh thank goodness for Google and GPS), when Juan had to make a U-turn. Another slight heart palpitation occurred as he got out of the van, and opened my door to reach for me....

Well, reach for the bag of clothes on for floor by my feet, because we were at his laundry guy's place, and he wanted to drop off his clothes.

By this time, I know where we are, and I know he's heading in the direction I need to him to, and he just smiled so sweetly and apologetically about the minor pit stop to drop off his laundry, all fears had left me and I started to enjoy my first time accidentally hitchhiking.

I got out earlier than I intended, after seeing my bank on the main road. I thanked the kind man who picked me up on the side of the road with no questions, and wished him a happy new year.

The sun came out and I didn't get murdered after accidentally hitchhiking. But let's not tell my mom about the hitchhiking, okay?

I was early for my 9 AM meeting with another stranger, Kelsey. Kelsey the Canadian Couch Surfer, who also posted she was going to be Tulum on New Years' Eve, and was traveling by herself. Kelsey, who actually got stranded at Dulles, and was 20 minutes from my location in Virginia the day before, so it was almost like our paths were meant to cross. Kelsey, the girl I suspected was going to be late, who ended up being late, and whose lateness nearly gave me a heart attack 2 weeks later in Mérida. Yes, now you know Kelsey as well as I do.

There's not much more to our initial meeting other than the fact that yes, she was late, but my willingness to wait 15 minutes for me, and her ability to be ready in 15 minutes changed the course of my trip.

Boarding the actual colectivo was nowhere near as exciting the hour that lead up to it. I followed the advice on the road. I looked for a white van, which wouldn't you know, says "Colectivo" on it, waved my hand, and it magically stopped for us. And off we went to Akumal.

Here's a preview of one of my new friends. No, this isn't Kelsey.

Just keep swimming!

*Advice about fares, bargaining, and the whole system are abundant on the internet, and I'll blog a how-to once I commit the memories down. If you are curious though, from Tulum to Akumal was 35 pesos, which is about a 25 minute ride, and came out to $1.50 USD.