Playa del Carmen, or just Playa, is lovely. Easy to navigate, tourist friendly, party central and of course, beautiful beaches. Originally I had planned to spend a week touring the East coast beaches near Cancún, but Playa is so lovely and I'm tired of moving around all the time. So the new plan is Playa and Cancún after. I'll possibly make some day trips to other beaches and/or ruins but right at this moment, it's seeming more and more unlikely. A few days chilling in paradise is just what the doctor ordered.
I picked an excellent hostel (thanks Hostel World). My only gripe is the crazy shower but given I'm at the beach, this isn't a huge issue. It's a fairly new hostel so facilities are in good condition, it's close to party central but far enough away you can sleep and has a great common area for meeting people.
Day one activities were wandering around to familiarise myself with the area, eating more tacos, bikini shopping, pizza night and most importantly, drinking! The hostel has a one our happy hour every night where you pay not even $4 and drink as much as you can in the hour. It's a dangerous game, especially when you meet four fellow Aussie travellers. Pre-trip my alcohol tolerance was pretty good if I followed some simple rules. However, my drinking over here has been more a social beer or two, a drink with dinner etc. So the moral of this story is that my tolerance is shot. Three drinks in, I already felt extremely tipsy. Did this stop me? Um hello, who are we talking about here? Several drinks later, some at the hostel and some out at a bar where the five of us got a free tequila shot each and then a Corona - 5 for 100 pesos, which is less than $10, amazing! Arriving back at the hostel I go to my room to use the bathroom, sort of lie down on my bed (not sure what the thought process was here) and promptly passed out, waking up at 5am still fully dressed, earrings and all, and only one thong on.
Given my shot tolerance, to say I feel like death is 159% accurate. I change into my PJs, make friends with the toilet and spend the next five hours in that not awake, not asleep hangover agony. It would have been my preference to stay in bed until I felt sort of human, however I booked a spa appointment for 10am. I would have blown it off, but I'd paid a deposit (understand now why they do this) which I didn't want to lose. So at 9.30am I emerged from bed, took a shower, made myself look semi presentable and headed out to the spa, stopping for an all important Gatorade. I was honestly worried that I would need to munt during my appointment but thankfully Gatorade did its job and quelled my nausea enough to make it though. As soon as I'd paid, I headed straight back to the hostel and bed for another hour and a half. Feeling sort of like a human being, and sort of hungry - always a good sign, I emerge to the courtyard. I catch up with the same girls from last night and they look just as I do.
We stroll down to a wall mural on the beach and snap some pictures of the art. Then it's time for the girls to head off to their next destination and I head out for food, feeling faint with hunger. I decide to splurge on a more upmarket restaurant and am glad I do. My chicken fajitas are so filling and hit the spot to making me feel sort of recovered.
The rest of my afternoon and evening is lazy so I won't bore you with those mundane details.
Sunday is spent in a lazy few hours at the beach in a combination of reading, sunbaking and swimming. It's total bliss.
On Monday I take it easy, which is the key idea of PdC for me. Most of the day is spent hanging out at the hostel, only leaving for lunch - veggie burrito, delish! That night the hostel is having a community dinner billed as 'everybody cooks...everybody eats'. Thinking the kitchen will be busy I want to keep my dish simple and opt for an easy salad. It's my usual fare, lettuce (in lieu of rocket), spinach, red, yellow and orange capsicum, tomato, red onion, feta and lime juice. Other options on offer are quesadillas with fresh salsa, guacamole, Chinese food, pizza, noodles and beef jerky. Those of us who cook are rewarded with a free tequila shot. The owner/manager says the maker of the most popular dish will get an hour of free drinks. Through clapping it comes down to the guacamole, quesadillas and my salad. Drum roll please...I am victorious! My salad is nice, but I think most of the excitement over it is because most of South and Central America doesn't know how to make a salad so most of us haven't had a decent salad in a while. Anyhow I have free happy hour to be cashed in tomorrow night!
In what is becoming a far too familiar occurrence on this trip, I find myself chatting with a guy and at some point it shifts and I get the vibe I'm being hit on. I guess suggestions of a day trip together should be a hint, but what if he's just being friendly? I'm not interested but I don't know how to convey this, first without being rude and second without assuming that he is indeed hitting one. All I can try to do is keep my body language neutral, even a little disinterested and hope it works. But as we get up, a hand is upon my lower back and I take that as confirmation I'm right. The lower back is not a friends area. And so I cut my night short and go to bed, just so I don't have to deal with it anymore. Yes, I'm that mature.
And it's at this point where I have my first sort of icky hostel experience. I've been lucky and managed to get through my trip without being witness to sex in dorms, people pissing on beds and vomiting on your stuff. I'm not quite asleep and sense someone near my bunk. First of all I figure it's someone going to bed only they stop moving. I crack my eye open a little and quickly wish I hadn't. Why you ask? Well because I'm 99% sure that I see said guy from above paragraph (we're in the same dorm) jacking off uncomfortably close to my bed. This realization of course cures me of any tiredness yet I want to appear asleep to avoid all awkwardness. Knowing it's like a car crash and I will not be able to not look, I try to roll over as naturally as possible to face the wall. There I can safely peep my eyes open in astonishment (not the good kind) and really, really hope that I saw wrong.
Given the possible events of last night, I'm trying to avoid being alone with said guy. Again, yes I am very mature.
After a lazy morning of reading and finishing my current book, I take a walk and the lure of the beach is too much. I also have a very strong craving for coffee. Given the heat, I opt for a frappuchino from good old capitalist Starbucks and head to the beach afterwards. I enjoy the water for an hour or so before it becomes overcast and I head back to the hostel. Cue more reading and some music suitable for this melancholy weather - the Jezabels in case you were wondering.
I head out in search of a second hand bookshop but the search is fruitless and a little wet as it is now raining. The planned pizza night at the hostel is cancelled so I have another veggie burrito and it is goooood!
Back at the hostel, the miserable weather has killed the party vibe. So instead I pack my bag, working out what clothes will come with me to the States and what's taking a one way express back to Melbourne.
I meet a sweet Israeli girl and we have a good chat before we both give into our tiredness and head to bed.
And at some point in the night I awake to a repeat of last nights 'performance'. Delightful said no one ever.
Mexican delights I've consumed...
1 Tacos.
2 Tortas.
3 Quesadillas.
4 Fajitas.
5 Burritos.
6 Guacamole.
7 Pico de gallo.