The Beginning
It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack. But in this case, it’s searching in the middle of a jungle in the Yucatán peninsula for a wildlife centre.  
This wildlife haven, called Amazili, is described in official but unexciting terms: we are a Nature Reserve located in Tzucmuc, Chankom, Yucatan, Mexico. Our focus is the protection and conservation of flora and fauna through ecotourism and community tourism. Every project has a team that works every day so that it can function in the best way.
Surely with such lofty goals, this will be an easy find!
When we mention this planned excursion to our Yucatecan neighbours, they express surprise. “We’ve never heard of it!” they exclaim.
“Come with us,” we suggest…especially since we planned to borrow one of their cars!
“We will drive in the Kia,” says neighbour Carlos.
“Yes. To see this place we’ve never heard of,” adds wife Carmen who agrees her father, Antonio, a traditional Yucatecan gentleman, would also be interested.

The Middle
With our cell phones set on GPS (such explorers!), we begin our adventure.
No problem navigating the main roads and following the GPS dot to the end of a paved side road leading to a small Maya village. We drive slowly through this place and marvel at the carefully constructed low stone Maya fences, and many Maya oval thatched huts (called nah) with walls constructed from upright poles plastered with mud. Of course, there are cement casas too, but the overall impression is a pueblo forgotten in time.
We follow roughly posted Amazili signs in the village until we reach a hand-crafted arrow sign that points to a deeply rutted, narrow trail disappearing into the jungle.
Carlos brakes, surveying the unlikely, unwelcome scene before us. Beside him Carmen looks at her GPS. “Follow,” she says, pointing to the ruts.

I feel uneasy. “Maybe we shouldn’t?” I timidly question. Norm and I have sometimes been caught ‘up the creek’ in similar situations. One really needs a four-wheel drive vehicle in these places.
“Follow ahead,” says Carmen.
“Si,” says Antonio.
“Okay!” agrees Carlos.
While Norm remains silent, I cringe. We’ve been through this type of scenario before in the Yucatán and these so-called ‘roads’ can eat up your car and leave you stranded. However, I reason, at least our neighbours speak the language and know the countryside.

The Middle of the Middle
And so, we continue.
Bump. Grind. Brake. Stop. Can you hear the scratches of branches swiping the sides of the Kia? Listen to the Kia’s objections with its automatic beep beep beep warning signals. I hit the car ceiling one time, jerk to the right, and then to the left, until finally, Carlos stops to reconsider.
“We should turn back, don’t you think, Norm?” I mutter, rolling my eyes conspiratorially at him. Am thinking I don’t want to feel responsible for any auto or personal physical damage that is most likely to happen.
Carmen glances at her GPS. “Follow ahead,” she directs with emphasis. “The dot shows we are almost there.”
I shut up. Norm and I would have turned back long ago, weak-kneed foreigners that we are.
And so, we inch along the narrow path/trail/lane. Very slowly.
Suddenly there is a fork in the trail. Carlos bumps along to the right. Uh oh. Dead-end.
Carmen checks her GPS. “Back up,” she says. “The destination shows over there. Not here.”
Carefully, slowly, Carlos reverses the thumping car. Cringing, I am afraid to look.
Carlos reaches a kind of fork in the road, turns left.
“Aha!” says Carmen. “We are here!”
And, indeed, yes, we are.
The five of us emerge slowly from the trusty Kia, now parked in an open area, and look around, slightly amazed. Look! There is the sign “Welcome to Amazili!”
And behold! There is a small wooden lean-to that Antonio immediately explores. He also muses how this place reminds him of his father’s former property. He investigates with interest. There are wooden banô buildings, a playground with rubber tire swings, camping spaces, nature trails that Carlos and Norm follow, tall trees, red ant hills, birds, rare lizards, turtles…
We have finally discovered Amazili, the nature centre! We are almost dizzy with delight.

The End
After our explorations, Carlos carefully winds his weary Kia back to the village. We feel like successful adventurers. Weaving our way back through the pueblo, Carlos happens to look over the low stone fences and spies a Maya woman in traditional dress. She is standing near a harvested pile of picked pumpkins. He rolls down the car window, calls out a greeting to her.
Immediately she approaches us. What begins then is an interesting exchange of information in Spanish with our neighbours. (Shame on us for not speaking the language!)
We learn later that she has invited us to a Maya dinner when next we come. Just please let her know before visiting the nature centre so she has time to prepare a meal for when we emerge. She smiles, nods and acknowledges us when we are introduced as visitors from Canada. She then points us in the direction of the village school where el maestro (the teacher) is also the village mayor and an administrator/guide for Amazili.
And so we find el maestro in the school yard. Carlos stops the car to chat. Since Carmen is also a teacher, they have much in common.
From him, we learn the Amazili wildlife centre has an admission fee (100 pesos/ Cdn $7.00 per person); however, we saw no posted entrance fee. (We barely found the trail!)
We also learn the Refuge is home to endemic snakes and a tree/shrub that can infect you with a nasty itch even by standing near or under it. Hmmm. Maybe ignorance is sometimes bliss.

And now….
….we learn this year’s Amazili program focus is on raising awareness about the care, protection and conservation of birds, especially the parrot species. Called "Parrots Without Borders", this program wants to raise awareness for the conservation and care of the Yucateco Parrot.
So, do not let heat, insects, or rough roads deter you from a new adventure! If you are ever in the Yucatán, check out this wildlife centre: Reserva Natural Amazili
Sometimes it’s better off the beaten track.

        It was a dark and stormy night. Isn’t that how most suspense dramas begin?
Only this night -- the one I’m writing about -- was only dark. Not just dark but pitch black. The kind of black that sets your nerves on edge because you can’t see anything.
Missing the turnoff
        We were driving ‘home’-- that is, to Valladolid from Mérida in the Yucatán -- at night. A two-hour drive along the toll (cuota) road that used to be easy with a divided expressway but no longer. With the ongoing construction of the new Maya train route that parallels the toll road, the once fairly fast and smooth highway is now an obstacle course by separating the traffic lanes with orange barrel dividers embellished with  other roadwork materials, equipment and machinery. All with flashing lights.
        Mind you, we didn’t do ourselves any favours. Darkness comes early this time of year even in the Yucatán; we didn’t give ourselves enough time to drive back to Valladolid in the light.

        As darkness descended, so did our uneasiness. One of the first cardinal rules in Mexico for foreigners is: never drive at night. Thundering trucks pulling double trailers (remolques dobles) suddenly emerge from behind portions of highway cement barriers that separate two-way traffic, headlights blazing, roaring inches by our car.      Said car is our neighbour’s Kia that he rented to us. Right now, he is probably wondering about the safety of his vehicle in the hands of a couple of foreigners.
        “Watch for the sign to Valladolid,” cautions Norm, my husband, hunched over the steering wheel squinting through the windshield “…I’ll concentrate on the road.”
        Of course, we (I) can’t see any signage. Double trailer trucks ahead of us, beside us, around us, make peering into the blackness difficult, almost dangerous. Especially with their blinding headlights/tail-lights/side panel lights.

The Blue Dot is moving
        Since we can’t see any landmarks, I follow our progress via the GPS on our cell. The blue dot (us) is moving. But I still can’t determine the exit to Valladolid except that we are moving towards it.
       Suddenly, Norm utters a low groan. Between clenched teeth, he mutters, “I think we just missed the exit.” As we stream past the truck that veered off to the right, I barely catch sight of a  mini sign:‘Valladolid’ inconveniently stuck on the off ramp.
        “Aaaagh!” I reply in anguish. “You’re right. Only saw it after the truck pulled ahead!”

The Blue Dot is Not Moving
        Something wrong with our GPS? I should have seen the exit coming. Glancing at the blue dot on our cell GPS, I see no movement. “No connection,” I mumble. “We must be out of range.”
        Meanwhile, Norm continues to fight ongoing night blindness from oncoming truck headlights. Beyond their brightness, blackness covers the land and sky like a dark blanket. No visible stars.

        Getting off the next exit to return in the opposite direction is impossible. There are no exits. Just one continuous black ribbon of narrow asphalt with oncoming traffic on one side and construction barriers on the other.
        Glancing at our cell, I see the blue dot moving again but it shows we are far past our turnoff. We are heading towards Cancun, a two hour drive away.
        “Um,” I venture. “We’re going to Cancun.”
        Prolonged silence.
        “Maybe we should spend the night there?” I suggest, “instead of driving back on this dangerous road?”
        “That’s ridiculous. I’d turn around but there’s nowhere to do that,” he says, as we continue to hurtle along the highway in the dark: orange fluorescent construction barrels on one side and oncoming blinding lights on the other. “Can’t believe there aren’t any exits or a place to turn around….I’ll keep watching…”

        Abruptly, hands on the wheel ready to turn, he says: “Here’s a place. No oncoming traffic….”
        “NO!” I panic scream. “BIG drop on this side!”
        And so our hellish night drive continues towards Cancun, farther and farther away from Valladolid. No place to exit. No place to pull a u-turn.
        And, like a heavy velvet curtain covering a window, the sky remains black.
The Blue Dot is closer
        Once more, I glance at the cell…watch the moving blue dot as it continues its progress to Cancun. The resort city is closer now than if we turn around and drive back to Valladolid.
        Suddenly, without warning, Norm pulls a u-turn in the middle of a wider, semi-lit construction zone with no oncoming or following traffic.
        I hold my breath.
        He did it! We are now heading back to Valladolid…despite the night blindness and the distance!

        I follow the blue dot now like a cat watching a mouse. It inches closer and closer to Valladolid. So we strain our eyes watching for the exit. We must not miss it this time.
       “Here!” we both shout.
       At last, we are on the overpass, only visible from the highway below by headlights on the bridge.
       Finally…we are on familiar roads.  And then, back in our Valladolid casa. And it’s only 7 p.m.!
      Much later, exhausted, we sit outside on a bench in front of our casa under the canopy of a starlit sky. Someone must have punched holes in that black velvet curtain.
       No matter. We are safely back, sipping a smooth mezcal and solemnly swearing to follow our own advice: foreigners should never drive at night in Mexico.

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