Mérida

Merida - the capital of the Yucatan state. It's a name that pops up regularly when reading about this region, adorned with adjectives like colonial, vibrant, buzzing. After spending 9 nights here, we can't exactly disagree, but thanks to a friendly couple we organised to meet here, we quickly found out the city hides even more than it lets on to it's guide books.

Streets of Mérida

Piled high with backpacks and satchel bags, we arrived in Mérida early one afternoon with a plan for lunch already made. Obviously this isn't particularly unusual when travelling with Dave but this time the plan had been made by Jorge, one half of Jorge and Brenda, a couple from Mérida we had contacted through Couchsurfing. Even though we weren't staying with them, with tens of glowing reviews on their profile, it seemed foolish not to arrange to meet them.

We thudded our bags into the boot of his car, and he told us we were en-route to one of the most popular restaurants in town. In the car he spoke at a pace which seemed to fit the not-so-urgent nature of this country so far. It was also when walking from the car to the restaurant, that I realised we still hadn't lost our London legs, both of us quietly struggling to figure out how to take less than seven paces to his three. Jorge mentioned he had at a long standing tradition of asking people he had met to play a band or artist they liked upon meeting them in the car. We went with Tame Impala to try and wake up a bit after the journey.

Spoilt for choice for places to sit for a drink in Mérida. This is El Cardinal Cantina

The restaurant he was taking us to was called 'La Chaya Maya', named after the famous Chaya leaf, serving a very traditional Yucatecan menu: heavy on the corn and presented with numerous pots and dishes of dips and salsas we would later learn more about. He helped us to pick some local dishes, talking us through each dish we asked questions about. As we waited for our food, we exchanged some stories to learn a little about each other.

It became apparent that whilst relaxed in his nature, Jorge is a rigorously passionate man about many things. This day he told us all about his project to discover and map the cenotes in the Yucatan region. Before we really grasped the scale of the project, we nodded and quizzed him, only to learn that this has never been done before. There are estimated to be thousands, many without easy access, and at the precise moment he mentioned he plans to find them all, I realised we were lucky to be in the company of this quietly eccentric man.

Patito Brewery

Fast forward to the following evening, and we are in a queue for speciality beer in the back garden of a trendy micro brewery 30 minutes drive outside of Mérida. Across the lawn, people sit on blankets and at picnic tables, and a string of glowing festoon lightbulbs criss-cross over head. We sample beers from the brewery including a stout served ultra cold, a refreshing pilsner and a strong Belgian style ale.

Patito Brewery

This time, we are a group of four as Brenda has just finished work for the day. Sitting at our own picnic table with tacos from the coolest taco truck in town, we got to know a little more about her. She tells us she’s studying as an orthodontist whilst also working at her Mum’s dentist surgery in the evenings. We also found out they were planning a 3 month trip around Europe next year, so we spent a long while reeling about all the places they should visit, and actually, all the places we should visit too.

The event reminded us of the food markets we loved so much in London. Small businesses making a name for themselves with great food, live music and good drinks. It was quite a contrast from the humid, groaning and unforgiving Lucas De Galvéz market in town which we’d explored earlier that day.

Cenotes of Homun

How could be possibly listen to the adventures of a cenote hunter, and not ask to go along for the ride? Jorge was more than happy to oblige and said he’d been wanting to take Brenda to a few of the more easily accessible ones for a while, so that Sunday we would all go together to check out some cenotes that definitely aren’t in any guide books.

Fairytale blue water

Homun, about 1 hour drive from the city, was the town which acted as the hub for today’s particular selection of cenotes. As we drew closer, clusters of children and teenagers waved maps at cars from the side of the road. Obviously we weren’t going to do this the normal way. Jorge wound down his window, and slowed by a group of kids and stuck his arm out for a friendly hand slap with a guy he obviously knew. An exchange in Spanish, and next, a different, younger child hops into the back of the car, and sits right next to me. We had no idea what was going on, but to be honest we were still engaged in our 'cochinita' rolls (slow cooked pork in orange and achiote) which we were being handed by Brenda. It is a traditional late Saturday night snack served after drinking through until Sunday morning until they sell out.

Hola.

Hola.

¿Cómo te llamas?

Me llamo Martin.

¿Cuantos años tienes?

Tengo 12 anos.

That was as much as my Spanish led me to learn about 12 year old Martin. I refrained from asking for directions to la discoteca.

We continued to drive and we discovered that the reason Martin was in the car was to give directions to the hidden cenotes. Over the day we visited five, each glistening a different shade of startling turquoise. Looking up from inside of a cenote, you peer through the sometimes giant, sometimes tiny cavity above to see daylight. In some, hundreds of bats swilled around the rounded edges of the cave too fast to actually follow with your eyes.

Easter holidays in Homun, whole families spend the day in the local cenotes

A couple of the cenotes seemed to be popular spots for local families on their Easter holidays, a coupe of them were almost isolated, but one thing was even clearer than the water - there definitely were’t any other gringos in sight.

Jorge, Brenda and Martin swam, jumped and dived, whilst we were a little more British with our tentative dips and paddles. It felt like such a privilege to be led to these natural wonders in such good company.

Mezcaleria

In the books, we’d read that Mérida hides a Cuban alter ego due to it’s proximity to the Caribbean country, yet after several days here already, we still hadn’t seen evidence of this ourselves. However, on following up Jorge and Brenda’s invite to the weekly couch surfing meet up on Wednesday evening, we found ourselves in the middle of a Cuban salsa bar.

Too much dancing and drinking meant we have no photos of that night at the Mezcaleria, but this bar 'La Negrita' is it's Cuban sister restaurant of a similar style.

The place was effortlessly cool; everyone knew the steps, the live band and deadlocked DJ played apparently huge tunes from across Latin America, and the walls were painted with art too cool . It felt like we’d gate crashed an enormous house party. That said, effortlessly cool until I joined in.

I’d decided to leave my chair-dancing skills at home, and go full swing at salsa with mock-confidence - surely that’s enough to get you through most situations? Under Jorge’s skilful guidance, I flailed gloriously.

The name Mezcaleria wasn’t an empty name; Dave tried his first taste of a Mezcal cocktail here, luminous green from the Chaya leaves and ice muddled into it. Drinks were unusually served to the table being such a busy venue, with buckets of iced beers carried overhead. The whole place had a wild atmosphere (on a Wednesday), with music alternating between classic salsa and hits from Colombia, Puerto Rico and Mexico, we suddenly realised we were now in Latin America!