We arrived back in Cancun and picked up our bags. The next stop was to collect the hire car. My booking confirmation advised that the car had a stand opposite the baggage claim among all the other car so it should be easy to find. It was, only our car was the only one whos stand was closed and instead presented us with a mobile number to call in place of a representative. Call the phone number and our representative with advise you further. I waited on hold for about fifteen minutes before giving up and we decided to leave the airport to see what the crack was outside.
Fortunately for us, in the distance, beyond the small army of taxi drivers and across the road, was a small industrial building with the car logo on it, so we headed there.
Soon enough, after signing all the documents, which I can only trust were in my best interests, we had adopted a small (brand new might I add) Volkswagen Polo for the rest of our travels.
It was kind of an upgrade I suppose. Id booked to rent an old Nissan Micra. Id rather an old Nissan Micra. I have the money in the bank to replace an old Nissan Micra without crying should it end up on its roof. Replacing a Volkswagen would make me cry an awful lot, which is why I dont own such a thing at home. Not only was this an upgrade of luxury, it was one of responsibility too. A responsibility I was still shitting myself about taking on having seen what appeared to be absolute chaos on the streets of Mexico city.
During the joint inspection while handing the car over I noticed the car had only done 3000 miles and it had already been pranged twice. Few. The shine has already been taken off it, and it wasnt by me.
The Marriott we were staying the night in was only a few miles up the road from the airport so that should be an easy drive, or so I thought.
Roadworks everywhere. It was dark, 11pm at this point. Im on the wrong side of the car. The windows were steaming up, traffic everywhere,
satnav going bezerk as junction after junction was closed. Absolute carnage. Bad words were being thrown about and everything. My world might as well have to and end basically.
We did eventually make it and parked the stupid car up at the stupid Marriott where I forgot about it for the next eight hours.
I woke up the next morning to a lovely hotel room, sun bursting through the curtains, a skip in my step on the way to the loo even, that was until I remember I had to battle the Mexico traffic shortly.
I ate my breakfast as slow a possible to try and delay the inevitable. The 100 mile drive to anytime now.
Turns out, in the day time when the windows arent uncontrollably steaming up, when there arent roadworks everywhere, and you get used to the car a bit, driving in Mexico is actually easy enough. The drive to Valladolid was a breeze and went without a hitch. The toll was a bit dear on the motorway though, about £14.
the car outside the hotel and went to check in. After receiving the key to the room we headed through a straight path which passed through what could pass as a botanical garden inside the hotel. As we passed through a flurry of moths of all sizes burst out from all the bushes. One of them was the size of a bird! Tina was traumatised by this for the rest of the stay and this path became a gauntlet for her when trying to get back to the hotel room.
We dumped our bags we headed into town. Our first stop was the cenote in the middle of the town. A cenote is a natural pit or sinkhole full of water, which sounds horrible but you can go for a swim in them and all that, and theyre quite nice looking. We tried anyway, but it was closed due to COVID? Refurbishment? Not sure, bummer.
So, plan B. After going back to hotel and picking the brains of the chap on the desk we jumped in the car and headed to a cenote to the south of Valladolid. It was about 30 minutes away. Once we arrived we
were presented with almost a dozen coaches spilling out tourists who were also there to visit. Maybe not then.
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