And the Last Stop...
Women's Island
With a name like that, it has to be good, right? Well, the name comes from some Mayan goddess figurines found on the south of the island by the Spanish. But enough culture - it was the last three days, so party and beach time. I met up again with a chap called Tim who I met briefly in Tulum, inbetween bouts of extreme coughing and general illness. And Tim had acquired some Danish companions - more of which later...
Travbuddies and Couchsurfers
So, I met up with a lady called Amanda, who you all used to know as athewinn. And twas good, we got to have a good chat, she kindly and somewhat peculiarly gave me a load of presents (the "cookery" book is very good!) and I think over the period of two days, Amanda got to appreciate some of the finer points of drinking to excess, something we Brits are very good at.
One More Time For The Memories
And so to the last day. Aussie Tim came up with the killer idea of hiring a golf cart. You'd expect hiring to be difficult, but all it entailed was giving a bloke 550 pesos (£20 odd) and a driving license. The instructions are easy, having two pedals simply labelled "Go" and "Stop". How hard can it be? Not difficult at all sober. So off we went on a languid roadtrip around the 8 km long island.
The views from the south tip of the Island are great. The mass development of Cancun can be seen in the distance over the water and the cape is strangely reminiscent of Cornwall. And travelling by cart is very cool indeed. Anyone who has ever driven a Volkswagen Camper Van on a fast road will know the feeling of nearly all traffic overtaking you and not caring at all about it.
Drink
The harbinger of all things stupid, drink began to be consumed sometime around 7 in the evening. I'd lost the Golf Cart posse, and so was sitting around the main bar bit with a couple of roomies. I was feeling in the mood for a blowout. I wasn't disappointed. After a few beers, I had a wander, then heard a "Jharn" - that would be a Scandanavian then. What happened after is slightly clouded by my broken promise not to ever play "King's Cup" again. As before, I was the unfortunate one to draw the forth King in the pack and, like El Retiro, had to neck a spirit/beer concoction. Yuk.
My hostal (Poc Na) is viewed as Isla Mujeres premier party place. I have learnt something about Hostals though - they frequently offer a slighty superior room for about $1 more a night. Take it, it makes a world of difference to ones sleep. I mention this because one of the fantastic things about Poc Na is the late night beach bar. Stumble throught the back gates at around 11.00pm and you'll find another bar in the middle of the sande with a dancefloor and a range of bottled drinks, including my favourite: alcopops. Of yes, welcome to the realm of sweet vodka drinks. Frankly, I got hammered. I danced with a few ladies, taught one how to do the salsa in the sand and had a wonderful time simply being free. I'm not getting any younger, but that night at least made me feel I was back in my early twenties.
Also thanks to Tim. I was amazed it took until the last night, but I'm pleased to have experienced the delights of skinny dipping with very fit blonde women in a Caribbean sea designed for such activities. I just wish I'd have had the foresight to put my contact lenses in.
6 Buses, 2 Planes, A Boat and a Golf Cart
Are all the bits of transportation it took me to get home. I just wanted to note one thing - Neither Cancun nor Munich airports have Internet Cafes. Why? It makes no sense.
The journey was just that. Mujeres helped as it sort of drip fed me elements of Western culture. It seems a long time ago now as I writie this four months later, but now I have time to digest, I can only thing Bill and Ted named it right - An Excellent Adventure.
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