Water and Fire and Water // Spring Break Pt. 3
Our final stops during spring break brought us to the Yucatan peninsula, a corner of Mexico I hadn't yet explored. After his plane landed, Dad and I hopped into a rental car, ate quesadillas on the go, and drove directly to Chichén Itzá to explore this world wonder.
We had been warned that the ancient Mayan ruins would be crawling with tourists (a funny thing to try and avoid if you're a tourist yourself), but we were pleasantly surprised upon our arrival. We made it there an hour and a half before closing, and most tour buses were gone. We peeked through the turnstiles and ticket booths at an ancient city we'd have to ourselves.
After hiring a guide, we started to walk through the grounds at Chichén Itzá. It is shocking and gorgeous. Some mixture of my nostalgia for The Road to El Dorado and the love for architecture that my parents instilled in me at a young age just made this place mystical. We were touring the ball court and snapping photos when I heard my dad mutter, "Here it comes." The dark sky I had been ignoring ripped open, and rain began to fall in dramatic movie fashion.
Dad, our guide, and I crouched beneath a vendor's tarp. Dad clutched his expensive camera equipment, and our guide did his best to continue offering an informative tour. At some point, we realized the rain wasn't going to pass. So, we overpaid for an umbrella that shielded one person and the camera equipment, and we toured Chichén Itzá in the pouring rain.
We had arrived at absolutely the worst time. No one else bothered to try and stay, so we had the drenched footpaths all to ourselves. And I absolutely loved it. I couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous we looked, at how ridiculous the series of events was. Ten minutes before the site closed, the rain stopped. Fumbling with the camera with wet fingers, we snapped a few photos of our seemingly-failed venture. Then, we climbed soaking wet into our rental car, and headed to Mérida.
None of the rest of the trip unfolded like that outing had. Mérida was pretty and enjoyable, and we were delighted to watch a match of Pok-A-Tok a reenactment of the ancient Mayan ball game. I had always wondered how the players managed to play the elusive sport, and watching the game unfold (on a more player-friendly court) was absolutely fantastic. I was thoroughly impressed. And then, they lit the ball on fire.
Nothing makes you feel less athletically able, I believe, than watching people bring an ancient game back to life, the most difficult one I've heard of, and then upping the ante by literally throwing fire into the mix. It was incredible.
Mérida came and went quickly, as did break, and soon we were headed to an island nearish the airport. On our last night of the trip, we ate fresh ceviche, listened to an American rock cover band, and Dad sang his rendition of "What a Wonderful World" at a near-empty karaoke bar.
The following morning we had a half hour in perfectly clear, crystalline water on the white sand beach, and watched the sunrise. The ocean is so clear there that you could see the sand-colored fish moving around the ocean floor. It was like swimming in a water bottle. The moment was picture perfect.
And it's funny which moments have stuck with me most in the weeks since I've been back to work. The picture-perfect ones are there, for sure, but so is Chichén Itzá in the rain (which now you've seen the less than perfect pictures for). And in my memory, the lovely-to-look-at moments aren't any more cherished. The crazy messy moments are just as lovely to think about, and were just as formative in the incredible trip.
This is something I've learned this year, especially now that there are a number of chapters behind me: I miss the cutesy things about college, but I also miss hanging off of my couch in sweatpants and unsuccessfully reaching for cheese fries; I miss the oaks that lined the driveway to my high school, but I also find myself thinking about falling asleep on pushed-together chairs between classes; and I miss the whimsy of childhood, but I also think nostalgically about the time that I ruined our desktop with a toy magnet as I wrote my first "novel."
And I guess what I'm grateful for as I wrap up another year where I feel that I could have done more, could have enjoyed more, could have taken advantage of more, is that I may look back ultra fondly at blogging near midnight in cheap pajamas on a bed I haven't made. Because when I step aside from thinking of filtering my experiences to highlight the picture perfect ones, I am also grateful for all of those that were rained out and imperfect.
Here is a video of some of the Pok-A-Tok competition
