Goodbye Mexico, hello Belize!

Dinner with the newbies seemed to go pretty well and they all seemed to recover quickly from the knowledge that we have two super heroes in our group - also known as Vicki and Jo!

Neil took us to the same restaurant that we had been to the night before; it was nearby and the food was very good. Which really was quite lucky considering the other restaurant close by was the one where TC had politely told the waiter what she thought of him and his service.

Then everyone went off to bed in preparation for Playa Del Carmen the following day; another beach resort, but one that was supposed to be much nicer than Cancun. At least I was hoping that the rumours were true as I will be returning to 'Playa' at the end of the trip for a few days of recouperation before returning to the wet and cold and life back in London Town.

The one and a half hour coach journey wizzed by, despite TC already stressing herself over the 'Chicken Bus' ride that we would be taking in Belize the following day. Actually she had been stressing about it all week. Ok, ok you lot probably know her too well by now, so yes, she had in fact been stressing about it as soon as Neil had mentioned the bus journeys to us on the first day of our tour, two weeks ago! (And she wonders why she has had a permanent stomach problem since then?)

We arrived at our hotel and looked around at the wonderous surroundings that were to be our home for that night. The rooms were bright and cheery with not even a wiff of damp; things were definitely improving.

And so with a skip in our step we launched ourselves down to the beach for a touch of welcomed sunshine. TC, myself and Electra (the Spanish lady that we had already met the night of 'Coco Bongos' and who Anne for some reason kept calling 'Carmen'?!) got settled on the sunbeds. I laid back in mine, stuck in my headphones and tried to listen to some music on my iPod, which ended up interspersed with bits of TC and Electras conversation on either side of me, about life in Spain, life in London, TC's sore belly and her fear of the 'Chicken Bus' journey we were going on the following day.

Within the hour the skies clouded over and so we reluctantly got up and made our way down the main strip for lunch. The various restaurants and shops looked very inviting and I started to work out in my head where I was going to go when I returned next week; generally feeling much better about my decision.

G joined us for lunch at '100% Organic' where the food was absolutely bloody brilliant and free from tacos and refried beans! We sat and chatted for a bit about our thoughts on how Belize would compare with Mexico and TC expressed her concerns about the 'Chicken Bus' ride the following day.

I think at this point I should explain to you, dear reader, that the buses are not literally running chickens in them, far from it. What they actually are, are the old American school buses that have been reconditioned and repainted in all sorts of colourful styles. They are called "Camionetas" or "Collectivos" and run as a normal bus service. The fares are cheap and so you will generally find them crammed tightly with passengers and maybe on the odd occasion a chicken or two - not that we ever saw any!!

But TC for some reason had it in her head that we were going to be hanging off all sides of the crammed bus, with our luggage precariously tied to the roof whilst a whole array of livestock ran loose on board. (And she thinks I have a wild imagination?).

By the time we returned to the hotel later on that afternoon, she had a really bad headache and put herself to bed for the rest of the eve.

The following day was going to be a long one; with 12 hours of travelling, starting at 5:50am and entailing a couple of coach rides, a border crossing, the infamous chicken bus and a speed boat over to Caye Calker.

And so the group (bar TC) met for an early dinner then it was early to bed. I crept back into our hotel room, trying not to disturb TC who was lying in the dark with her head under the covers and I carefully got into my bed and quietly settled under my covers and as I slowly drifted off into sleep I heard a feebled whisper from the other bed, 'I'm still feeling a bit nervous about the chicken run bus tomorrow'.

Cancun - Cannot!

Today is the last day that the group are together, as of tomorrow morning the 'Magical Mexico' tour ends and the 'Quetzal Highway' tour begins ... With a bit of free time in between.

Cancun is a beach resort that's only been in existence since the 1970s, it's a town completely geared up for tourists. The beach stretches for miles with all the beach front hotels claiming their own sections and trying to charge extortionate rates for the use of a sun bed, brolley AND toilet! - though in actual fact this is not completely legal. The main strip where the night clubs are - and The Hard Rock Cafe - looks tired and empty by day but neon lit and packed by night.

Our hotel was a twenty minute bus journey away, closer to the city centre and not a particularly attractive city centre at that ... Though a couple of us now tired of tacos and refried beans were delighted to find Kentucky and The Big Whopper! (Apologies to all you Gastro-snobs, but sometimes only a cheap bag of chips and a chicken burger will do!)

TC and I walked into our hotel room and were immediately hit by the thick smell of damp! Instantly we were both transported back to memories of our second hotel in Kerala (see India blog), wherein order to have a break from the scorching humid heat outside, we sat in our damp room and watched some TV, only to find that after an hour, both of us were looking like throw backs from the 70's because the damp had frizzed our curly hair to maximum intensity!

Back in Cancun, TC looked at me and exclaimed "I have to get out of this room, it's dark, it smells and it's depressing me!' And for once, I actually agreed with her.

We joined Neil and the others for our Orientation walk, after which we decided to go for a quick bowl of soup just to settle our grumbling stomachs and not fill us up too much before meeting up with the group again later that eve for dinner.

We found a little restaurant down one of the side roads and sat down. The service was so bad and the waiters so rude, we ended up having an argument with them, left no tip and returned to our damp, dark, smelly, depressing room where we both laid down on our respective beds in silence, feeling disheartened by Cancun and sad about our new friends leaving the following day and to be honest a little bit jealous.

In short - I hated Cancun!

In order to pep myself up, I Facetimed my housemate Sandie back home in London for a catch up and a laugh, only to find that she had been deeply traumatised by a new client I had referred to her (Sandie is a beauty therapist like me). Apparently this client had asked her for a 'Hollywood' (bikini wax that involves removing all the hair and I mean ALL the hair!) This is not something that she would generally offer, but being the true professional that she is, went ahead with the treatment only to find the new client was not such a clean client, (the Star Trek term "Klingons on the starboard bow" come to mind!). Suffice it to say Sandie was not best pleased with me, especially as the client then bartered her down on the price! However - and please forgive me for sounding a little Schadenfreude - but the story did make me laugh - Mission accomplished!!

That eve TC and I joined everyone for the farewell dinner - yes there were Tacos and refried beans involved! It was two for one on all cocktails so I thought it only right to order a Piña Colada and a Strawberry Daquiri - remember I am a light weight drinker. So by the end of the meal, my mood had definitely pepped up some more and I agreed to go off to Club Coco Bongo with some of the others; Neil could get us a discount on the entrance fee, the drinks were bottomless, the music kitch and the dance shows not to be missed!

Already feeling a bit tipsy I bade my farewells to those not joining us and piled into the bus with Neil, Vikki, Jo, G (short for Geraldine), Anne, Heather and Meegan - TC stayed behind; she wasn't feeling well.

First stop was a bar, where we got our discount after spending 100 pesos (about £5) each, so with another drink down my neck and still able to stand we made our way to Coco Bongo, got our VIP tickets and squeezed our way through the crowd, up the escalators and into the main room.

High up on the wall at the far end, was a huge screen on which an assortment of Madonna videos were being shown, in front of the screen and way above us was a stage where dancers were performing behind a Madonna lookie-likie who was miming the song being played!

We helped ourselves to the free fruit shots that were on offer, laden with rum or tequila or something - by this point my taste buds had switched off so I can't be sure - then suddenly Neil grabbed my hand bag, threw it over his shoulder and pushed me towards the large square shaped bar in the centre of the room, where I was hoisted up onto the counter top to join about twenty other girls all dancing in a tequila/rum haze to the music.

Meegan and Jo were already up there and to be honest, if the music is good and there's a stage to perform on, I am quite happy to 'strut my stuff', 'do my thang', 'groove it on down', or 'shake what ma mama gave me'!! Above us the acts changed from Madonna, to Elvis, to Abba, to Lady Gaga etc ... There was even a performance by Spider-Man?!

Unfortunately we had to clear the area for the 'Cirque de Soleil' performance, but once over we were back up there 'movin and a groovin' while a very kind lady in a gold sequence high legged costume poured tequila directly down our throats! 

Thank goodness I know my limits (?) and stopped drinking just before I reached that 'Oh-oh!' stage and we all left just in time before Jo and I found a way to get up on the centre stage and show everyone the salsa moves we learnt the previous week - British Style! (Jo's Scottish so until Devolution happens she's still one of us Brits!!)

The International rule of thumb for returning home after a night of drinking is to always stop off at a fast food restaurant and so after sharing a couple of hot and spicy pizzas (proof that my taste buds had shut down, seeing as I generally don't like pizza and I definately don't like spicy!!!) we grabbed a cab and made it back to the hotel by 3am where Jo, Anne, Heather, G and myself tried not to wake too many people as we set the timer on Jo's camera and tried taking group photographs of us all doing a Mexican wave in the corridor.

The following morning TC and I went for a farewell breakfast with Anne and Heather, all of us feeling slightly under the weather, (including TC as she was still feeling unwell). We were served by an extremely sullen looking waitress who, when TC asked her in Spanish if there was a problem, promptly said no and continued to stand there picking at the lid of a water bottle then slumped away.

Heather and Anne were off to spend a couple of days in a five star hotel in the posh area of town before returning to Northern Island and understandably quite happy to get away from the area we were staying in and so, after a tearful farewell (actually I was the only one crying) we went our separate ways. Leaving TC concerned that the only physician in our group (Heather the gastroenterologist) was gone! 

We weren't going to be meeting up with the new group until 7 that night, so TC and I took ourselves off to the beach for a little R & R, where it promptly clouded over once we settled in our sun beds! 

Did I tell you that I hate Cancun?!

Later that day, when the clock struck 7, the five of us remaining from the Mexican group (Jo, Vikki, G, TC and myself) went to meet the 11 newbies who were reaching the end of there induction meeting with Neil. 

We entered the room and they looked up at us with slight trepidation and uncertainty. Did we really look that scary? I mean the hang overs had worn away by this point - though TC was still not feeling great. I turned round to see what the others thought and saw Jo and Vikki stood there wearing super hero masks and looking like caped crusaders! Well they thought it would break the ice?

And so now amongst us group of happy travellers, we have a few more Brits - English, a load of Aussies, a sprinkling of South Africans, a Spaniard and a Swiss German and to TC's delight, one of the South Africans is actually a GP!!!

Just one of those days ...AGAIN!

And so we had the whole day in Merida to do what we wanted. TC and I decided the first thing was to go to the local laundry and drop of our huge piles of washing (I had bought two lovely colourful shoulder bags in the market in San Christobel - of course one was pink - and unfortunately the colour from both of them had come of on my clothes!!). Afterwards a nice breakfast was on the menu to see us through the day. Followed by a visit to the Olympic museum, then catching an open top bus tour of the city and a brief look around the Contemporary Art Museum and perhaps stopping off for a cup of chai tea in the local coffee/tea shop at some point.

We arrived at the launderette just after ten where we were told that it wouldn't be ready til the following day and not before we were due to leave at 6:30am! And so we trudged back to the hotel still laden with our dirty laundry and headed for the recommended breakfast that turned out to be NOT that great AND expensive for what it was.  Next we set off for the Olympic museum only to be told that the exhibits had been taken down due to renovation work, but not to worry as there were a few photos up to take a look at, however that exhibit wasn't due to be opened until 11pm! 

Off we went to the Museum of Contemporary Art where we discovered that yet again most of the rooms were closed and the one that was open was filled with crappy laminated prints of well known paintings by famous artists. We left rather rapidly.

After getting lost walking around the square we finally found the bus stop with minutes to spare and jumped on the open top bus for the Spanish/English tour round the city ... We found seats in the front row on the top deck and waited. The tour bus set off twenty minutes late and it turned out was only in Spanish! Not only that, but the sound system was so muffled that TC could only hear intermittent words and therefore the only translation I got was: "columns ... 17th Century ... Two sisters ... One virtuous, the other a slag ... One nice, the other a bitch ... 19th Century ... Mansions ... Church ... On left ... On right ... I'm hungry ... I may have food poisoning from the chicken I had at dinner last night ... Smelly wind ...". As you can see it was obviously very educational!?

Whilst sitting though this fascinating tour on the city of Merida, we had to brace ourselves from the cold wind and duck out of the way of low hanging branches, whilst trying to wake our arses that were gradually going numb on the hard plastic chairs!!

After approximately an hour, we were back at The Zocola and hurried off for a nice warm chai latte ... The chai was cold and green and tasteless and the service most definitely did not come with a smile, instead 'the baristas' were more intent on leaning over the counter and getting the best signals on their mobile phones!

I'd had enough! And after a quick lunch of chicken crispy tacos (with refried beans) I went back to the hotel room and watched some crappy subtitled American trash on the TV and felt much better.

The following day was going to be our last together as it was nearing the end of the Mexican tour and Rado and Maria (the Bulgarians), Brad and Nicole (the Australians), Anne and Heather (the Northern Irish) and Emily (Chinese) were going off on their respective journeys. And so after watching the final two episodes of Broadchurch (we really, really had to) TC and I joined everyone on the rooftop terrace for pizza and a shot of Mango Mescal. The evening ended with hilarity as we sat around competing over who had the best 'holiday bowel movement story' (there's always one isn't there?) and then we all retired for the night.

Almost ruined by the ruins!

Palenque has to be my favourite ruins of the trip so far! Set within the luscious jungle, these Mayan ruins quite different from the earlier ruins we have seen over the last few weeks.

Found north of Chapatas, within an indigenous population called the Ch'ol, this archeoligical site is the biggest tourist attraction in the state of Chiapas. The ruins date back to 226 BC (fell around 1123 AD) then literally absorbed into the jungle.

Our tour guide took us through the dense forestation 'off piste' so as to avoid the other tourists. Thank goodness for my new pink lined walking shoes, for if it wasn't for them I would have ended up on my backside covered in thick sticky mud and TC would have refused to let me back in the hotel room! 

We climbed up a steep slope, using trees and vines to balance and what little strength I had left in my legs, to stop from slipping and stumbling over the large rocks sticking out of the mud.

When we reached the top our guide (whose name has left me) asked us to look around for a palace, we looked and looked but could see nothing, then he informed us, we were in fact standing on it, on its roof to be precise!! It was a huge Mayan building now completely covered by jungle.

We stumbled back down and out into a large clearing where my breath was taken away by the amazing site of El Palacio and The Temple de Las Inscripciones.

Inside the pyramid is The Tomb of Pakal (remember the play we went to see a few days earlier?) Luckily (for me) climbing the pyramid is prohibited, I could hear my legs heave a sigh of relief.

In the centre of the site is The El Palacio and nearby is The Templo del Sol, the Templo de la Cruz and the Templo de la Cruz Foliada. As we stopped to take in the view of the whole site, we stood in silence as our guide gave us some history, suddenly there was the sound of a loud belch and we all turned to look at Emily (the Chinese nurse in our group), I looked over at TC and raised my eyebrows, who looked back at me in horror, Neil cracked up and had to turn away from the group to stifle his hysterics and our guide just stared at Emily with surprise and said 'salue'. She looked around bemused at what was making us all laugh. It's amazing really how certain cultural behaviours are seen as shocking by one group of people but perfectly normal by another and this sound was one that we were all becoming quite accustomed to!

The next morning we were up early for yet another eight hour bus journey! This time we were travelling first class and although I had managed to secure a front row seat in the hope it would curb my travel sickness, I still thought it best to take a couple of anti sickness pills as a precaution. Heather, like me, is a sufferer so I popped out a few pills for her from my blister pack, then Anne started to look a bit peaky and I passed a couple more to her. I was a bit concerned as it may have looked like I was some kind of hard core drug dealer in the middle of the bus station stood there in my fit flops and pashmina and I certainly didn't want to end up in a Mexican prison singing 'Like a Virgin' to a bunch of butch inmates a la Bridget Jones.

Luckily I made it onto the coach handcuff free and settled down for the long journey ahead, after about half an hour I was just about to drift off to sleep when TC hurried back to her seat beside me, her face was ashen. I looked at her with concern and asked what was wrong. '"I'm traumatised!" She said. "I've just been to the loo at the back of the coach and when I flushed it the water spurted out all over me!" She held her arms wide, shaking as though she had just been sprayed with acid, she quickly pulled out her hand sanitiser and practically emptied the bottle as she feverishly rubbed the gel into her arms, hands, shirt, face and trousers, trying to stifle an anguished scream. I had to distract her before things got completely out of control, so I pulled out my ipad and we watched another episode of Broadchurch and thankfully that seemed to do the trick!

Finally we arrived in Merida, the capital of the state of Yukatan, a city that attracts many tourists and home to some of the wealthier Mexicans.

Our hotel was The Colonial and it was certainly the best one we have stayed in by far - proved by the fact there were sachets of shampoo in the bathroom as opposed to just a tiny bar of soap that could strip out the whole ph balance in your skin in a matter of seconds!

Merida is quite a big town with ... Yes you got it; The Zocola at the centre. The city was founded by Francisco de Montejo the younger in 1542 and is built partly from the ruins of a Mayan city called Tiho.

By the twentieth century the city had become extremely wealthy housing many 'hasciendados' (land owners). On the outskirts of the city are the largest mansions I have seen outside of The Bishops Avenue (a north London joke there for those of you not from there).

After our orientation walk with Neil, TC and I walked to the government building to check out the murals hanging there, all depicting the destruction of the indigenous people. 

TC translated some of the information around the pieces for me, however we were a bit confused when it talked about the 'smelly winds' that blew across the land (obviously to do with the refried beans?!) then I found a translation by another piece, apparently it was 'benevolent winds'. TC assured me her translation was correct and it's just the Mexicans using Spanish incorrectly - I personally think it was a Freudian slip! 

After a lovely dinner with the group (that obviously included more beans and tacos) Neil took a few of us to another smaller square where every Tuesday live music is played and people come to dance salsa etc ...

It was packed! I would say the average age was around 80! But these elderly couples were all moving and a-grooving on the dance floor, or sitting arm in arm watching from the sides.

TC pulled an octogenarian whose speciality was smoking a cigarette then tipping it backwards into his toothless mouth  with his tongue - still lit - and then back out again. He was a real charmer!

And so, after another fun filled eve, it was time for bed.

San Christobal to Palenque or bust!

Surprise, surprise, after a disturbed nights sleep due to be freezing cold and having to wear my woolly hat in the night, I woke up this morning with a nose bleed!

After a hearty pancake breakfast (sin refried beans!!) we set off on the Zincantan and Chamula village tour. Neil warned us that our guide for the day (Cesar) does tend to go on a bit about the 7th Day Adventists that come to their village and try to convert the indigenous people, but the tour itself would be really interesting and not to take photos of any of the villagers unless asking first, as they feel quite superstitious about it.

We arrived at the first village where a Mayan tribe known as The Chamula live and the first thing we found was a funeral taking place. Surprising enough at the head of each grave was a cross, some were green, some blue, some yellow and some white. Apparently each colour denotes the age of the person buried there, ie child, adult or aged person. However the crosses were nothing to do with Christianity, the edges of each were rounded and represented North, South, East and West. The higher the mound on the grave, the more members of the family could be found buried beneath. (Graves would be dug up each time someone new was to be buried). 

The indigenous people don't actually practise Chrisitianity, In fact there religion is a cross between their ancestors original religion and Catholicism, hence the church at the end of the graveyard. However, when we entered we were surprised to find all the pews had been removed, the ground was covered in pine needles (also placed on the graves) and lit candles. The villagers were gathered in groups on the floor, eating and drinking and praying silently to statues of various saints adorning the walls. And when I say drinking I mean either coca cola or Tequilla! (And that included the young children). I looked around and saw a lonesome chicken running around. Cesar told us that if there were any chickens it mean there was going to be a sacrifice and that because no blood was allowed to be shed in the church, the Shaman would hold it by the neck and ... He then began to describe in graphic detail how it's neck was to be rung - we all stared at him with horror struck faces!

After we recovered from the images of dead chickens circling around in our heads, we quietly left just as a procession of mourners entered - there are no actual funerals (or in fact weddings) allowed to take place inside the church, instead the crosses are brought inside, blessed then taken back out again.

Cesar took us to the main square and explained each of the buildings and how the leaders were chosen. Basically the villagers gather in the square in front of the main building, the representatives step out onto the balcony and step forward one at a time. If the villager likes that person they cheer, if not they boo and throw stones at them. One wonders if that may in fact be something we should introduce into our electoral system? Could solve a lot of problems from the start!? 

In the picture below you will be able to see the shattered clock and panes of glass in the windows.

Cesar told us all about the Mormons that come to town regularly and try to convert the villagers, telling them their beliefs were false and how they will go to hell unless they converted, apparently thousands have done in the past and have since been ostracised by the rest of the villagers. Then we were taken to the Zinacantan village, here the people were happy to have their pictures taken. 

The church here was completely different, there were pews, loads of flowers, no pine needles and NO chickens! (Outside was a sign saying that it was strictly forbidden to sacrifice chickens in the church!!)

Nearby was a Shamans house, we were allowed inside and Cesar took us through the rite and rituals of this tribe. It was particularly hard to concentrate for the most part as a special type of resin was being burnt in a bowl on the altar, in order to keep out evil spirits. The smoke was quite consuming and those of us that managed not to run outside in the middle of a coughing fit, remained teary eyed as we were offered a sip of the holy Tequilla! Then Cesar told us again all about the Mormons that come to town regularly and try to convert the villagers, telling them their beliefs were false and how they will go to hell unless they converted, apparently thousands have done in the past and have since been ostracised by the rest of the villagers!

Next stop was a local weavers house were we were invited to also sample some freshly made tortillas with ground pumpkin seed - may sound revolting but actually quite delicious.

Outside one of the local women sat weaving, hanging all around her were the most beautiful vibrant fabrics, all hand made and tempting to take home - if it weren't for the fact that my rucksack was already bulging with colourful bags bought in the market I probably would have come back with enough table cloths and mats to put John Lewis out of business!

Later on that afternoon, after we returned to the hotel, we went out to watch a short documentary about The Zapatista - a large guerrilla group who took control of San Christobal and four other municipalities in the state of Chiapas on New Years Day 1994. They were mainly indigenous people that wanted to put an end to the terrible treatment of the indigenous people in Mexico, such as starvation and dying from lack of water. The bloody battle continued for many years, only resulting in a small change but highlighting to the rest of the world the terrible corruption going on in the Mexican government. 

I wouldn't say I found the film uplifting in any way, in fact quite the opposite. I left the cinema feeling disheartened and saddened; yet again proof of how cruel and greedy man can be. I wanted to go back to my hotel room and just be alone, but TC persuaded me otherwise and dragged me along to a local restaurant where we met up with the others, everyone was feeling quite solemn, but after a couple of Quesadillas, tortillas and various other corn based dishes we were back in holiday mode, laughing and joking. Next thing I knew we were at a bar where I was downing a hot chocolate made with Mescale! (Well I was cold) and by the end of the eve my 'NBF's' Anne and Heather (the Irish girls in our group) had nick named me Catherine Tate!! 

"Bloody liberty"!!!!

Following morning (yes I had a nose bleed) we set off on our five hour coach journey to Palenque! All getting excited that we were finally going to a warmer climate. 

We climbed on the bus laden down with a few snacks to keep us going until we got to our destination that afternoon, only to be told there was a blockade along the route where a political protest was taking place, so we would have to be re-routed. TC started to panic about not having enough food while I started to have a flash back to India where TC and I had got caught up in a political protest crossing the border from Kerala to Tamil Nadu, resulting in our 3 hour journey become 24 hours and a picture of me on page one of the local paper! But I was drawn out of my reverie when Neil informed us that our five hour journey was now going to last eight hours without any stops - now I started to panic about getting travel sick and TC continued to panic about not having enough food.

Then on top of that we were driving into the tail end of two cyclones that were on their way out of Palenque - two cyclones called ... Colin and Ian!

We survived the journey, TC didn't starve and I didn't throw up and that evening we stepped off the coach in Palenque. Colin and Ian had been and gone and left behind the sunshine. We all looked at each other and grinned as we started peeling off our layers of warm clothing, finally we were out of the cold!

Coaches to Christobal ...

And so we set off on our long coach journey. We were travelling in style - executive class!! Which basically meant that on our coach we had seats that could recline (into the lap of the person sat behind) and we had the choice of a bottle of water or can of soda.

TC and I luckily managed to get seats two rows from the front, I popped my travel sickness tablets (Since India I find I get travel sick quite easily) and we watched the first episode of Broadchurch that I had downloaded on my iPad, as a distraction whilst the pills kicked in. 

If you've never seen Broadchurch I would highly recommend it. We were completely hooked from the start and forty five minutes later totally frustrated I hadn't downloaded the next episode, so we settled back in the coach to sleep. 

All was quiet and whilst I didn't feel sick I did feel wide awake - the sophomoric effect of the pills hadn't kicked in yet and my safety belt was pressing on my full bladder, so I decided to carefully make my way to the toilet at the back of the coach. 

It was quite a difficult manoeuvre bearing in mind everyone was asleep, some half hanging out of their chairs into the aisle as the coach made its way along a very, very windy motorway. But I managed to make it to the tiny little cubicle at the back, (over the rear tyres), and I closed the door behind me, only to face my biggest challenge yet: I was finally able to get my trousers down without knocking myself unconscious on the sink as I was being thrown from side to side while the coach picked up speed along the very, very windy road! I then had to draw on what little strength I had in my core stability muscles as I sat down and was flung from left to right with each lurch as the coach avoided the pot holes on it's way along the very, very windy road and all the while trying to hold down the sickness that was now desperately starting to rise up from deep within my belly!

Luckily I passed the challenge and returned to my seat safe (and dry). I sat down next to TC munching away on her sandwich and hoped the nausea would pass and I'd be able to fall asleep.

Drowsiness finally overtook me and after a long sleep broken by moments of waking up panicked that the driver had fallen asleep at the wheel and we were heading for the edge of the cliff, we arrived ten hours later at our final destination. 

It was 7:30am and we were in San Christobal in the state of Chiapas.

We were allowed an hour to recover from the rather harrowing road trip before gathering in the hotel lobby where Neil took us out for our orientation walk. First stop - the laundry!! 

The town we were in was lovely but for the most part very cold ( we were still in high altitude) and extremely geared up for tourists, resulting plenty of cafés, bars, restaurants and shops! And most important of all, a huge market, perfect for my holiday shopping addiction. 

However, TC and I were in agreement, shopping would have to wait and we hurried back to the hotel room to watch episode two of Broadchurch! (We have expressed concern that this new addiction may get in the way of our trip!!)

After a group dinner at one of the local restaurants we were taken to the local theatre to watch a 'dance performance' with 'amazing light and sound effects' about one of the ancient Mayan Kings. His name was Pakal and he came to the throne at the age of 12 around 650 BC.

The play funnily enough, was called Pakal. The performance quite amateur with the actors often not standing in their lights, the lights often came on late anyway and as for the dancing, well Craig Reval Horwood would have had a field day followed by a heart attack! The story, as I understand, kind of goes as follows:

Pakal was king of Palenque, he had a few sons, he was an arrogant King, he thought he was the sun, the moon and the stars - oh and the heavens and the earth etc... He pissed off a neighbouring tribe, they argued over the Jaguar God, (the jaguar is highly revered over here), there was a ball game between the sons and the other tribe, Pakal's team won, Pakal castrated himself by way of a sacrifice to the gods, he died telling everyone yet again that he was the sun, the moon and the stars oh and the heaven and the earth etc... The end.

My verdict: great costumes.

Friday was a day off from seeing the sights ... TC and I shopped, then watched another episode of Broadchurch (it really is addictive) both of us now completely hooked and having deep conversations about it with others in the group whether they've seen it themselves or not - or for that matter even heard of it.

Later on that eve, after an early dinner we all assembled at the Salsa bar, geared up and ready to 'Rock and Roll'!!

It doesn't matter how many hundreds of temple steps one may have climbed in a week, it still doesn't make you any fitter for a salsa class led by a Mexican with skinny legs, malleable hips, excellent footwork and a sense of rhythm that would make Craig Revel Horwood look like a complete amateur. Within ten minutes I was ready to pass out! That was the best Salsa lesson I have ever had!! 

An hour and a half later, feeling completely parched we made our way to the revolution bar, where I devoured a plate of Nachos and drank plenty of beer - to rehydrate of course!?

Whilst standing at the bar and waiting and waiting for the drinks (the saying out here is, "It'll be two minutes - a Mexican two minutes".) I got chatting to a guy from Wales and he joined us at our table. Turns out he is a Neuro scientist from Cardiff University doing research into Huntington's Disease. His work is really quite fascinating - even though I may not have understood half of it - but when a couple of us asked him if he did dissections and experiments, the blood drained from his face and he looked at us with open eyes, "oh my god" (Welsh accent)  "You're not a group of animal rights activists are you? I'm not really supposed to talk about my work like this you know, seriously are you?" We smiled at him and shook our heads. "Oh god." He said. "You are aren't you?" I looked at him teary eyed and told him that I really wasn't, but that I was a vegetarian!

Three days on....

Today we are in San Christobal, in the Municipality state of Chiapas, having arrived here yesterday after an eleven hour coach journey! But before I tell you more about our first stay in Central America I need to go back a few days as I have been rather remiss in my blogging.

When last I wrote we were on our way to Puebla, having eaten a four course Mexican meal in Teotichucan (pronounced Teeohteewakan) and all feeling completely stuffed - all that is except TC who was starving and munching her way through a packet of biscuits! 

After a few hours we reached the hotel, dumped our stuff in the rooms and gathered for an orientation walk around the main square (Zocola).

Puebla is the capital of the state of Puebla, it is East of Mexico City, with two main Volcanos: Popocatepetl and Ixaccihuah - try saying that after a few tequilas, or even before! Luckily the names can be shortened to Popo and Ixta. I read that Popo has still been a rumbling since 1994 causing the whole city to be on yellow alert since then - I didn't tell TC that bit.

It is the fifth largest city in Mexico with architectural style ranging from Renaissance to Mexican Baroque and in 1987 was claimed a world heritage site.

There were plenty of churches to see but to be honest I am feeling a bit Churched out and only managed to take a quick peek in at the Church of Santo Domingo, then hurried off for a hot chocolate, due to the rather low temperature in the city.

Puebla is known for its special dish of Mole (pronounced Molay), which is a sauce made from chocolate and chillies. However, I was quite tired that night and opted out from joining everyone for dinner and had an early night. And by all accounts from everyone else's reports on the food the following day, it sounded like my packet of corn chips was the better option.

The following morning (Tuesday) I woke up freezing cold and with another nose bleed! (I think I am built for sunnier and lower places?!) breakfast was served in the hotel, which consisted of two Melba toasts and a packet of strawberry jam! I was starting to crave cheese and refried beans!!

Then we were back off on the coach for a long journey over to Oaxaca (pronounced 'Wohaka').

Oaxaca is the largest city in the State of Oaxaca. South East of Mexico City, it is at this point that we start to travel into Central America leaving the North behind us.

Oaxaca relies heavily on tourism, it is also the city where there have been many teachers protests held. Some of you may remember hearing back in 2006, during one of the 'peaceful' protests the police/government clamped down pretty hard and many of the protestors were gunned and mowed down.

It took another three years before tourists started returning and thankfully since then, all protests have resumed to non-violent ones. (The last protest TC and I were close to while travelling was in India and I ended up on page two of the local newspaper!)

After dropping our belongings off at the hotel, we gathered in the main square - yes you guessed it, The Zocola - and Neil took us on an orientation tour of the local area.

He took us into a shop selling Mezcal (type of Tequilla) where we were each offered a shot of your commoner garden variety, followed by a shot of creamy mango flavour, then a shot of chocolate, then coconut, then pineapple and finally strawberry flavours too! Heather, one of the Irish girls in the group (I was delighted to find out earlier that she is a Gastro- entomologist, so now I have someone I can chat to about bowel movements! Those of you that know me will know it is my favourite subject and those of you that followed my blog through India will know why - oh ok I admit it, I was always a bit obsessed before then) anyway, she and I were starting to feel a bit 'squiffy' after six shots and happy to move onto the next stop, giggling together at the back of the group. However we sobered up pretty fast when we reached the Fried Cricket stall! I politely refused the 'local delicacy' of crunchy insects, hoping I hadn't insulted the stall keeper, but as I am sure you can imagine TC was quite happy to participate. She even seemed to enjoy it?

Next stop was to try out the local cheese, which I had no probs with, nor the final stop ... The chocolatier! I was quite happy to sample the various kinds of chocolate bars, syrup and finally chocolate milkshake - which eventually soaked up all the Mezcal. (Though I have to say, I still prefer Cadburys).

The Zapotec and Mixtec are the main indigenous peeps in this area and it was to the archeological site of Monte Alban that we were headed to the following day ( yet another World Heritage site).

Built by the Zapotecs, who leveled out the top of the mountain, they built their city and raised their pyramids and altars - without the use of the wheel!

We were taken over to see the ball court, laid out like a capital 'I' where opposing teams would play a game involving hitting a ball from various parts of the body up against the outside walls and seeing how long they could keep on going til the ball dropped. The winning team however didn't win any kind of trophy or bottle of champagne, instead they would have the honour of the team leader being beheaded and sacrificed to the gods - go figure?

There were more steps to climb up to the observatory, my only incentive at this point was that it would firm up my gluteals, we reached the top and gazed at the amazing view across the ruins.

All round us we could see more mountains and hills, most of which would probably have more ruins within them!

That afternoon TC and I went for a walk around the square again and ended up at the cultural museum. Unfortunately for me, nothing was in English. It was getting a bit tedious and difficult for TC to have to translate everything for me, so instead we split up and went at our own pace, so I just dealt with making up my own stories behind the artifacts I was looking at - needless to say a lot of them were obviously from the time of The Inquisition.

Then it was back to the hotel to get layered up for the 11 hour coach journey to San Christobal. With comfy clothes on, snacks in my bag, the first episode of Broadchurch downloaded onto my ipad and a stack full of travel sickness tablets and an emergency sick bag, I was raring to go!!