Part 1: Slow Breakfast
“This is ridiculous. Where the hell is breakfast? We’ve been waiting here 50 minutes already,” he grumbles in exasperation.
I silently agree with my husband.
Then, I ask myself - being philosophical of course - why are Norte Americanos so obsessed with punctuality? I do prefer the slow lifestyle here.
“This is ridiculous. Where the hell is breakfast? We’ve been waiting here 50 minutes already,” he grumbles in exasperation.
I silently agree with my husband.
Then, I ask myself - being philosophical of course - why are Norte Americanos so obsessed with punctuality? I do prefer the slow lifestyle here.
Like now. In this corner restaurant in Rio Lagartos, Yucatán, that sits across from the malecon and lagoon. We have stumbled into this charming nautically decorated eatery, one of the few open restaurants on a Sunday morning in this quiet fishing town of 4,000. Rio Lagartos (river of alligators) is a Spanish explorers’ misnomer since the town sits on a lagoon with crocodiles. (How much difference is there really between the two reptiles?)
No matter.
No matter.
Our breakfast platters finally arrive. (We did catch the staff leaving the restaurant kitchen and amble to the nearby supermarket.) Presentation: excellent. My omelet and his Mexican chilaquiles are worth the wait. (Chilaquiles are fried corn tortilla pieces, cooked in salsa, and sprinkled with cheese. Served with eggs and beans or nopalitos/cactus.)
As we finish eating, the restaurant owner arrives. Emmanuel, a large hombre of Maya and Mexican descent, is friendly, open. Fortified with food, my husband is also friendly, open.
We chat. Emmanuel mentions Maya ruins we have never heard of…called Kuluba. He explains where they are, how to get there; he also warns there are mucho mosquitoes, insects, and ticks because Kuluba is known to only a few archeological aficionados. The site is still a little wild. Undeveloped. You need to be dressed appropriately.
As we finish eating, the restaurant owner arrives. Emmanuel, a large hombre of Maya and Mexican descent, is friendly, open. Fortified with food, my husband is also friendly, open.
We chat. Emmanuel mentions Maya ruins we have never heard of…called Kuluba. He explains where they are, how to get there; he also warns there are mucho mosquitoes, insects, and ticks because Kuluba is known to only a few archeological aficionados. The site is still a little wild. Undeveloped. You need to be dressed appropriately.
Anything off the beaten track is like waving a red flag in front of a bull for us. NOT yet on the tourist radar? How do we get there?
Part 2: finding Kuluba
We know we are not suitably attired to stumble through and over and around an undeveloped archeological site. No hiking boots. No long pants. The best we have is a local neem and citronella insect repellent.
No matter. Let’s go, we decide.
We know we are not suitably attired to stumble through and over and around an undeveloped archeological site. No hiking boots. No long pants. The best we have is a local neem and citronella insect repellent.
No matter. Let’s go, we decide.
Searching online, we uncover a couple of references to Kuluba. Recently funded by the cultural branch of the Mexican government*, the ruins are scattered on a cattle ranch; most visitors to date are cows and a few locals.
Perfect!
Apparently, three large buildings stand in two sections of the grounds. Detailed stone carvings, some 1000 years old, are visible on some facades. The ruins are believed to have been occupied from 600 to 1050 AD.
Perfect!
Apparently, three large buildings stand in two sections of the grounds. Detailed stone carvings, some 1000 years old, are visible on some facades. The ruins are believed to have been occupied from 600 to 1050 AD.
courtesy photo by Sandra Salvado
Like wow! Let’s go now! We hop in the borrowed car that belongs to our neighbours. They trust us. We are careful Canadians.
Part 3: One and a half hours later---
Hidden behind bushes along a little used road off the main route, we spy the sign Ruinas de Kuluba. Hurray! We eagerly turn off onto a farm road. At least it appears to be a road.
Not.
Part 3: One and a half hours later---
Hidden behind bushes along a little used road off the main route, we spy the sign Ruinas de Kuluba. Hurray! We eagerly turn off onto a farm road. At least it appears to be a road.
Not.
Our troubles have only started. If only we had paid attention to online warnings like:
Follow this road for about 2.3 km. It is bumpy.
Bumpy?! How about ‘impassable’? Unless you have a 4-wheel drive! Mega sharp rocks and two ruts shape this ‘road’. We manoeuvre to the crest of a hill, not more than 200 metres from the main road, then stop.
Stepping out, we note the surrounding cattle and see the wretched dirt ‘road’ continues to wind out of sight deeper into the terrain. No place for a car. Especially a borrowed car from trusted neighbours. Better to park/leave it here and now. Walk for 2 kilometres the rest of the way.
Follow this road for about 2.3 km. It is bumpy.
Bumpy?! How about ‘impassable’? Unless you have a 4-wheel drive! Mega sharp rocks and two ruts shape this ‘road’. We manoeuvre to the crest of a hill, not more than 200 metres from the main road, then stop.
Stepping out, we note the surrounding cattle and see the wretched dirt ‘road’ continues to wind out of sight deeper into the terrain. No place for a car. Especially a borrowed car from trusted neighbours. Better to park/leave it here and now. Walk for 2 kilometres the rest of the way.
We carry our water bottles. It is wretchedly hot (about 35 degrees C). No breeze.
The sound of buzzing insects is constant. What was that warning we read? Ticks are very prevalent in the grass here. Bring repellent for your lower legs and check very carefully before getting back in your car.
About three-quarters of the way along this ‘road’ we both hear something like operating machinery. We stop walking. Sounds as if just beyond the bend there is some action on the site! Great…we must be almost there!
The sound of buzzing insects is constant. What was that warning we read? Ticks are very prevalent in the grass here. Bring repellent for your lower legs and check very carefully before getting back in your car.
About three-quarters of the way along this ‘road’ we both hear something like operating machinery. We stop walking. Sounds as if just beyond the bend there is some action on the site! Great…we must be almost there!
Bikers with rifles
To our astonishment - rounding the bend - are motorbikers, four of them: black helmeted drivers carrying black-helmeted passengers. To our dismay, each carries a rifle slung diagonally across their backs.
Whoaaaaa!
The element of surprise catches them. Catches us. They certainly do not expect to see two elderly gringos trudging along this ‘road’ and we sure as hell didn’t expect to see these scary looking dudes with rifles roaring along this ‘road’ either!
To our astonishment - rounding the bend - are motorbikers, four of them: black helmeted drivers carrying black-helmeted passengers. To our dismay, each carries a rifle slung diagonally across their backs.
Whoaaaaa!
The element of surprise catches them. Catches us. They certainly do not expect to see two elderly gringos trudging along this ‘road’ and we sure as hell didn’t expect to see these scary looking dudes with rifles roaring along this ‘road’ either!
The bikers zoom past. The leader, a little surprised we think, raises his arm in greeting. His fellow bikers do likewise. We do the same.
Suddenly we stop walking; we turn. Watch the bikers disappear up and over the ridge we have just climbed.
Now we are certain the ruins are just beyond the bend from where roared the motorbikes.
But---
Suddenly we stop walking; we turn. Watch the bikers disappear up and over the ridge we have just climbed.
Now we are certain the ruins are just beyond the bend from where roared the motorbikes.
But---
AI Generated
What if the bikers trash our ‘borrowed’ car, entrusted to us by neighbours? What if the bikers return? What if they decide to dispose of us? Who would find us? Except for the bugs of course. And we can’t just hide in the buzzing terrain. Can we? My wild imagination goes into overdrive.
Pausing, we listen. Do we hear their return?
Begrudgingly – but concerned - we turn to retrace our steps along this ‘road’. Now worried about the car.
My husband, moving faster, races back through the heat and buzzing bugs. I follow like a panting dog.
He finally reaches the top of the first ridge we climbed. Turns.
I see a thumbs up. The car is okay.
Pausing, we listen. Do we hear their return?
Begrudgingly – but concerned - we turn to retrace our steps along this ‘road’. Now worried about the car.
My husband, moving faster, races back through the heat and buzzing bugs. I follow like a panting dog.
He finally reaches the top of the first ridge we climbed. Turns.
I see a thumbs up. The car is okay.
Motorbikers
The question remains. Who were those black-helmeted motorbikers with the rifles? What were they hunting? And how did it happen they suddenly appeared just as we were about to reach the ruins?
Finale
And to think this adventure began because of a slow breakfast!
The question remains. Who were those black-helmeted motorbikers with the rifles? What were they hunting? And how did it happen they suddenly appeared just as we were about to reach the ruins?
Finale
And to think this adventure began because of a slow breakfast!
Except now we must plan our return to Kuluba
*INAH – National Institute of Anthropology and History: public body dedicated to the investigation, conservation, protection, and dissemination of the prehistoric, anthropological, archaeological, and historical cultural heritage of Mexico.
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