The Morning After My Dirty 30: Merida.

Merida Travel Blog

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Merida.
No.  I don't have any pictures from last night.  It was my Dirty 30 birthday.  I wasn't going to be responsible for carrying around a camera just to document the debauchery that ensued.  Bonnie occasionally reminds me that she took some pictures, but luckily for me she pulled a Bonnie and lost them all...somewhere in the limbo of space between her camera and her computer...they remain...drifting...and unavailable as evidence against me.

Thankfully, we had splurged, or I should say my friend Bonnie splurged in honor of my special occasion, to get a nice room for the night.  Note to anyone out there on the road that is planning a particularly gastly evening of drinking and dancing and God knows what else until who knows what time in the morning; your money is well spent on a place with air conditioning, a nice bed, and hot water to help you recover from the atrocities of the previous evening.
Merida.
  You may even consider the late-checkout fee.  I recommend it. ;p

Anyway, the next day saw us checking back in to a more backpacker affordable hostel where we could mingle with other gringos, Euro-packers, maple-leaf backpack-patch bearers, Sudamericanos, and young traveling locals in an attempt to re-integrate into that culture from which we had so briefly parted.  After some time with a large water bottle and several cigarrettes, I gathered the energy and courage to hike down to a super to buy some essential food stuffs and another 12-pack of chelas.  You know, no better way to revive and stay alive than to reimmerse yourself into alcohol.  We found some cool travelers to chat with, and of course the standard hostel fare of dodgey buggers who had lost a few too many of their marbles and were rambling along in conversation with anybody who would listen about some fantastic day trip where they had just gotten lost and had to get a ride on a donkey to the nearest medical station to have some large ticks removed from random unmentionable places on their body that they had picked up while hiking with machetes in hand on a quest for a long lost and long buried temple that they had been tipped off about by a drunken Maya gentleman leaning on the next urinal at the discoteca they had gotten kicked out of the night before.
Merida.
 

Anyway, after years of practice, both Bonnie and I had managed to gain the patience and skills required to throw random "oks" and "rights" in their direction while actually getting along with a couple of other friendlies we had met at the next table. 

After making plans to have dinner and drinks with a couple of the most tolerable in our hostel, we ventured off to see some of the town that surely we had seen and couldn't remember from the night before.  We may have tried to do some shopping, but soon realized that we hadn't the energy for much but to find a nice place around the zocalo to have a cold drink and feel the breeze while we watched the passers by, which, by the way, I do enjoy.  I can be a cafe nerd, too, you know.
Merida.


I had heard that I would love Merida.  The people who told me this I held in a fairly respectable light.  They did not disappoint.  Meaning, Merida did not disappoint.  It is one of my favorite large cities in Mexico.  There is some great history there.  The architecture is beautiful, as is expected in big Mexican towns.  The food was superb as uausal.  I love Mexican food.  As is the case in so many places where I travel, I can just walk from one restaurant to the next to a cafe to a bar and back to a cafe and maybe another restaurant, and then most likely to several more bars.  What I mean is, I can eat my way through this country in a state of pure bliss.  Beyond that, I really enjoy that the hostels in Mexico are laid out in the Spanish colonial style so there are beautiful courtyards with gardens and hammocks and cool breezes to enjoy.   I love Merida.  I love Mexico.
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687 km (427 miles) traveled
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Merida
photo by: Cho