Last Day of “Freedom,” MY FIRST DAY AT WORK AT THE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT, & the Last Chapter of My Magnificent Trip to Mexico (Merida, Cancun, Bungee Jumping, Isla Mujeres & Montreal)

Shalom,

 

So today is my last day as an untethered young buck. Tomorrow I start my job as Junior Program Officer, affiliated with the Joint/Union Management Task Force on Diversity & Inclusion in the Public Service, in the Treasury Board Secretariat of the Canadian Federal Government! Now how prestigious (and intimidating) does that sound? I’m so excited about it! And a bit nervous! And not really sure what to expect! But definitely ready to begin! Wouhou!

How am I spending my last taste of freedom? I woke up early, as I’m trying to reset / regularize my sleep schedule, and sipped iced coffee while reading about The Challenge (the finale of its spinoff Champs vs Pros aired on Tuesday night, and the new season premieres in less than a month). Then went for a short bike ride, got the newspaper, and ate a late breakfast out on the balcony while completing the crossword and reading some articles. Now I’m working on this blog post, going to yoga at 5, and I have my weekly Pandemic Legacy game later tonight. Then likely an episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race Season 6 (just witnessed the iconique Laganja breakdown, and okurrrr mawma, it was everything, just too f***ing much, SUCH a disaster) and an early bedtime – because tomorrow, I’m at the office at 9am! Whuuttt! Insanity.

And considering how I’ll be out of town all day Saturday & Sunday – I’m helping Tsarina Tsybina move to Toronto by renting a car, picking up ridesharers, driving to Montreal, loading the minivan, heading to T-Dot, listening to the S-Town podcast, sleeping overnight, attending the Pride Parade, then driving back to Ottawa Sunday evening – I need to finish up blogging ‘bout Mexico. I know I sound like a broken record by now, so I’m just gonna get it out of the way, so we can move onto other topics. Plus, after tomorrow, I feel I’ll have much more to discuss – and also much less energy to do so. I know starting working again is going to be exhausting and have a sharp learning curve. I’m prepared for it, but I’m not necessarily looking forward to the adjustment period. Plus I want to continue hitting the gym, so hopefully I’ll have the wherewithal to do that. But it’s that famous paradox, isn’t it? Working out actually gives you more energy, despite everything you expend in the process. I suppose it’s about putting your stamina to the test, depleting it, so you have more in general. I’m not totally sure. But I hope that the past six weeks have conditioned me to be able to last longer and be more energetic.

So let’s get to it, shall we?

 

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Day 11: Merida & Cancun

 

Woke up early, enjoyed the quality hostel breakfast, packed my stuff up, and put it “closed with a key” (cerrado con llave) in the locker. Then hurried down to the main plaza, where there was a free walking tour, which are a great way to explore a city. You can wander around yourself, certainly – and that is what I predominately do – but then there’s so much nuance and history and interesting factoids that you miss when you don’t have somebody there to explain / introduce it to you. I was meeting Fritzi there, and we even waited up for her, but she never showed. That’s one frustration of traveling abroad. You get so accustomed to being able to communicate with others at a moment’s notice when you’re back home – due to WiFi or data on your mobile – so when you’re without that, it goes back to the old-fashioned ways of doing things, pre-cell phones. I kinda like it, though. It’s a return to simpler times. If they show up, great – and if not, well, you can’t get upset about it. These things happen. And it turns out that there were actually two walking tours departing at the same time nearby each other – so she went to the other one, where she was also wondering where I was. Shame, since I wanted to hang out with her again, but what can ya do?

The walking tour was very informative. We learned about the big Cathedral, toured the church, wandered through a free museum in a government building, and checked out the brilliant architecture of other edifices in the city. Lots of wealth families lived in Merida once upon a time, due to the production of sisal, a plant fibre that is woven into rope. The industry boomed and richesse came with it – along with opulent homes and colonial architectural details and luxe living spaces. As well as enormous haciendas outside the city, that I unfortunately missed out on (you can’t do it all). Nowadays, many of these have been converted into upper-crust hotels and palatial estates for the bougie travelers to enjoy. Me, I prefer that hostel and couchsurfing life. All the better to meet people and truly experience an area!

We also walked down this road in which all the shops had these fish tanks / terraria with these cockroach-looking bugs in them for sale. The kicker is that they were all bejeweled, with gold chains and sparkly gems and the like. They’re called makech, and the apparently immobilize themselves when they’re touched. So the idea is, you hang them on y our top like a brooch, and it just dangles there without crawling anywhere. And when you put them back in their cage, they resume movement. It’s living art, a bit macabre, interesting, eye-catching. Like the blinged-out roaches on America’s Next Top Model. I wouldn’t personally do it, but I do think it’s cool.

And the legend behind it is that there was this affluent father (maybe a king?) with a daughter (possibly a princess) that he gave anything she ever desired. After his conquests, he would always bring back a gift for his darling daughter. Except one time, she wanted one of the slaves (or maybe a prisoner) that her father won due to his victory – but he wasn’t having any of it. She disobeyed him, went behind his back, and had a torrid love affair with this slave – only to be caught by the king. To punish her, he turned her lover into a beetle, and the markech adornments were born! Quite the unique souvenir, they would be. But unfortunately, the shopkeepers even charged for you to take a picture of them, so I have none. Google-image search that ish if you’re so inclined.

Our lovely tour guide also told us the history of those white twin-chairs you see everywhere. Similar to the previous old-fashioned story, a father created these chairs so that his daughter could sit and talk with her lover, but they had a barrier between them so it wouldn’t go too far. And of course, the father could sit and watch them converse. How creepy and overbearing is that? #SmashthePatriarchy! Nonetheless, the seats are pretty cool and unique. Another standout image from Merida.

We ended the expedition at this great museum / artists’ residence in a converted old abode. Merida is a very popular city these days with young adults. It seems a bit hipster to me, actually. Very artsy and new-fashioned and up-and-coming. Like Bed Stuy. With artisanal ice cream shops owned by Polish immigrants to trendy art galleries to expensive espresso to La Negrita Cantina. It’s good stuff. Keidan really recommends it. Me, I didn’t love it, but I’m still glad I visited.

After that, I tipped the guide (since it’s not actually free, and she deserved it anyhow) then had to dash. I had bought my bus ticket the day prior for 1pm, and so happy I did, because every seat was taken, and all of the other passengers had kids and snacks and blankets with them. They’re resident pros, on the long bus ride from Merida to Cancun. Like 4-5 hours. Thank Dios there was air-conditioning.

Oooohh! Two funny stories. I bought the ticket from a travel agent off the main square, but due to my annoying frugality instincts, I missed out on a much cheaper one early in the morning, because I didn’t trust her word and walked to the bus station to check it out myself. And by the time I got back, there were no vacancies left. Of course. Don’t get me wrong, I like how I’m money-savvy and don’t go throwing it away – because then I can afford things I really care about (like travel) and not just be profligate with impulsive purchases or eating out – but it does annoy me sometimes. Just another characteristic of mine I’m working on.

Anyway, the funny story is that after I made the transaction, this woman asked me about my nail polish (which was orangey-red at the time). She spoke no English, so what was already a dicey conversation became more difficult. I told her I like the colour, and me gusta romper las expectaciones del género (I like to break gender expectations), and why not? She probably asked if I’m gay too, so I told her, “Soy bi,” pronounced like “bee.” Maybe I said “Estoy bi” ? I don’t exactly remember. Hispanoblantes – help me out here. Do you use ser or estar when discussing sexual orientation? Because sexuality is fluid sometimes, but for most people most times, it is a staid and consistent identity. So which is preferred?

Regardless. That’s me. Being a tiny bit gender non-conforming & educating about queer issues wherever I am! Can’t stop / won’t stop.

The other amusing anecdote is more cringey than funny. After the walking tour, I’m on the hunt for a cold coffee, so I can actually accomplish stuff on the long bus ride. Plus, it helps with the heat, and you know how I love my iced americanos. So I pass this place which has a sign promoting their special – a croissant and a coffee for, I dunno, 40 pesos? A good price – comparable to the other places, but with a lil pastry thrown in. I needed a snack too, so it was perfect. I go in, and inquire if I can get it to go, and order an iced espresso with un poquitito de leche and a croissant to this woman. And then this man comes over, and he asks for my order too, so I repeat it. He describes the croissants with more detail, so I order one with cheese and pesto. Uhmm, yes please!

It takes much longer than expected, and I’m fretting because I don’t want to miss my bus, and then he comes out with this big box – the croissant sandwich and fries and the coffee to go. And a bill, for much more than the sign said. And that’s where the chagrin/humour comes in. Apparently he told me the special was just a regular croissant (which is what I wanted, cool) but offered the other, fancier, pricier sandwiches, and since my Spanish is imperfecto, I didn’t follow that it wasn’t included in the deal. Even the coffee was more expensive! Because apparently he gave me a double, when I didn’t ask for it. Ugh. Like the guy who tried to rip me off / overcharge me for the cold brew in Tulum when all I wanted was espresso over ice.

So this guy doesn’t speak English and won’t back down. I tell him to get his manager – who also is only monolingual – and for the entire ordeal, I’m really stressing out about all the time it’s taking. I even considered just leaving everything there, giving a couple coins for the little bit of coffee I drank, and peacing the F out, because my departure was looming and I still had to collect my stuff from the hostel and then hustle to the bus station. I wasn’t trying to get chased by the policia, though, so I opted not to sip & dash. The manager sided with me and just charged me for the coffee (which was still more than their sign said, but whatever, I’m not going to squabble about a buck or two), so I paid up, kinda enjoyed how she let me do that when the other employee was so upset (why so pressed, bro?), and get the heck outta dodge.

Actually ran into the two older Canadian guys at the bus station, too, serendipitously – Robin and his travel companion – then got a lil snack of empanadas from an adorable old lady on the side of the road, and another coffee, then boarded that bus. Watched Scream Queens and listened to a podcast and eventually got back to where I started: Cancun.

Checked into the same hostel, was happy to see my amigos who work there again (Daniel, Martin, that Canuck guy with the tattoos and his wife), dropped my bag off, and found dinner. Went to La Res Sabrosa, by recommendation of Daniel (and corroborated by TripAdvisor), and enjoyed a phenomenal alambre – which, as Wiki says, is “grilled beef topped with chopped bacon, bell peppers, onions, cheese, salsa and avocado.” Kinda like the orden I got on my first day in Mexico – a make-your-own taco platter. Delicious.

Then I picked up some canned cocktails from the 7/11 across Avenida Tulum, hopped on the R2, and went to the Zona Hotelera. I first went to Playa Tortugas, where the bungee jumping place is, and managed to get there in time to actually see somebody jump and inquire about the process, rates, experience, etc. They told me I could do it right then, but after the dinner I just had, I didn’t think it was the best idea. Plus, I wanted to do it during the daytime, so I could enjoy the panoramic view from atop the tower. And to be honest, I was cowed. So I reserved my spot for the following day. Oh, and they even offered me a discount before I opened my mouth to ask about it. Immediately knocked ten off the price, for only $50 US. Now that’s a deal!

For the rest of the night, I wandered around the Zona, sat on the beach, sipped my drinks, read my book, watched some of the debauchery at the biggest clubs there (Coco Bongo, La Vaqueria, Mandala), and eventually meandered back to the hostel, where I chatted with the other guests and sat on the outdoor patio and ate everything up. What a life.

 

Day 12: Cancun & Bungee Jumping & Isla Mujeres

I woke up especially excited for the day. I enjoyed the breakfast, sun-screened, psyched myself up, grabbed an iced coffee, caught the shuttle, and headed straight for Playa Tortugas again – before I lost my nerve. Marched right to the Adventure Bay kiosk, signed the waiver, paid the fee, and took a couple minutes to gather my thoughts. But after I came all this way and announced it on Facebook and Snapchat and made my mind up, there’s no way I was backing down.

So I climb up the steep wooden stairs, get 80 feet above the water, and really enjoy the view. It’s gorgeous. White sand beaches, turquoise waters, the sun is shining, I have spectators watching from the beach below. I convince the instructor the take some pictures of me with my own phone – probably against the rules, but whatever – then get the photographer to carry it down safely for me. Get strapped into the ankle harness, and it’s surprisingly weighty – but that’s reassuring. You’re not dealing with peanuts safety features, here. And believe you me, I did my research into the company before signing up. I’m not a total idiot.

Then I pose for more pictures with the official photographer, squinting in the sun, and then walk the plank. The instructor is there the whole time, so I’m not completely scared out of my wits. He already told me all about how the process would go, what I had to do, the proper poses, etc. So I was prepared, and not scared. My heart might have been beating pretty fast, but I felt remarkably cool-headed. I get to the precipice of the wooden platform, toes gripping the very edge, and gaze out upon everything. It was such a remarkable sight, absolutely gorgeous. Paradise, heaven on earth, everything.

I wave at the people watching 80 feet below, spread my arms as I’m supposed to, and that’s when my heart jumps to my throat. I get an immediate surge of total terror, my instincts telling me that this is super stupid – but I’m positive it’s safe, and I watched other people do it, and I know that if I overthink it, I’ll get in my head and be too pusillanimous to do it. So I push the fear out of my mind and fall forward with zero hesitation. Legitimately – I wasted no time. And was impressed with myself for doing that, when I’ve suffered acrophobia for most of my life.

And, literally in the blink of an eye, the initial fall is over. I remember at the last second to go into the dive position, I splash down in the Caribbean Sea, then rebound back up, bungeed afloat, and bounce around a couple times. It’s hard to gauge where in space I am, since all the brilliant colours are blurring together, there’s salt water in my eyes, and I’m moving fast. I catch glimpses of the boats in the marina, the wooden tower, the beach, the sky and horizon and ocean, and before you know it – I’m reaching out to grab the ring they held out, catch it, and am slowly towed back to terra firma.

When I’m on my back on the pier, I immediately use the bottom of my “Living Young, Wild, and Free” frat tank top (SUCH a bro) to wipe my eyes of the seawater that got in them – and apparently everybody thought I was crying and taking care of my tears. Nope, that is not what happened. I loved every second of the bungee jump, and was disappointed that it was over and done with so soon! I definitely want to experience it again, but next time from higher up. This one was only 70-80’ of a plummet, which seems like suicide when you’re standing on the brink – but it all passes by in such a hurry. So I can’t wait to do it again.

I was the first daredevil of the day, too – so that was quite the way to shake up my morning!

And then, after riding the afterglow for a while, marveling that I had the courage to do that – when I was all alone and had nobody there to cheer or encourage me – I bought my ticket to Isla Mujeres, boarded the ferry, and sailed the ocean blue. They even had live music on the boat, which was pretty cool – this guy playing the guitar and singing covers in Spanish. Neato mosquito.

For those of y’all who don’t know, Isla Mujeres is a very popular tourist destination in Mexico. Common for those that get to the country via cruise ship. It’s famous for its snorkeling and scuba diving around a coral reef of it. But it also features this underwater museum called Musa – in which sculptures were created and then sunken to the ocean floor, for people to see through goggles and with air tanks. Awesome stuff, especially with how the various flora + fauna cover these statues and kind of “reclaim” them. It was established in order to compete with the reef, since all the tourism it receives takes a toll on the health of the coral and plants. Such a shame for that to happen, so I love this initiative they thought of. Where else can you go see art underwater? Probably somewhere, I’m sure, but it’s not too common.

However, I didn’t do any of this. It was my last day in Mexico, so I didn’t want to take out tonnes of pesos to afford all these expeditions and risk having leftover currency. My big #yolo expense was the bungee jumping, something I’ve been wanting to try for years, and the tattoo, which I’ll discuss later. So instead, I wandered around the town section of Isla Mujeres, which reminded me of Hilo, Hawaii. A nice beach town, baked by the sun, with lots of kitschy shops and restaurants with outdoor patios and people lazily walking around.

I hit up Playa Norte, which was highly recommended by the travel sites, and plunkered myself down in the shade of a palm. Read my book, enjoyed the sights, breathed in the fresh air and luxuriated in the sea breeze. Eventually I stashed my stuff in a bush and went in search of this mini-reef I overheard some Americans discussing on the ferry over. Splashed along in the water with my goggles and Speedo, swam underneath this bridge that connected the glitzy hotel Mia Reef to the rest of the island, and found an aquamarine wonderland. There were rocks out where the waves reach the lagoon, kinda like a natural breakwater, and all around them were all these adorable fish. I floated near them, loved their flashy colours, and even spotted some turtles, swordfish, and a flippin’ barracuda! Fortunately I escaped with all my limbs and bodily integrity.

Then returned to my stuff, which luckily was all still there (in addition to my fingers and toes), laid down on the beach to dry off, then went in search of food. Stopped in a store to ask a local for recommendations, but they place he advised was nowhere to be found. So I strolled down the pedestrian roads, checking out all the menus, and wow, was everything overpriced. Which goes hand-in-hand with how touristy the area is. To be expected. I ended up at the place that looked the most authentic. It was small, literally ran out of the kitchen of somebody’s residence, the menu was nothing fancy, and there were (what appeared to be actual) Mexicans eating there too. Always a good sign when the locals patronize the same restaurant!

I had guacamole and a quesadilla, and it was all delicious. They had a serve-yourself salsa and salad bar, as well, so I capitalized upon that too. I wish I knew the name of the establishment, to recommend to you all, but I can’t even find it on Google Street View. Ah well.

Then back to the ferry station, but I apparently misread my ticket and had to kill another 45 minutes. No problem, though! More exploring, got an iced espresso, and sat watching the boats go in and out of the marina / reading “Truly Madly Guilty.”

Then boarded the board, was treated to more live music on the ~sunset cruise~ back to the mainland, and I even managed to get back when Adventure Bay / the bungee jumping place was still open! So I went straight for the photographer’s stand and tried my best to haggle them down. The prices they charge for their photos is nigh criminal. $35 for like 30 photos? Yeah, it’s gonna be a no from me, dawg.

The lowest he would go was $25 for the photos and the video for it, when I only wanted to give a twenty. So I played hardball, and was just like, “Well, fine, no deal. It’s either you take this $20 and give it to me, or I walk away, you delete the photos and make no money. They’re worth nothing to you. Might as well make some more cash before you close for the night.” And no, that was not all in Spanish, because I don’t think I’m that skilled at my second language (just yet). But it worked! And now I’m the proud owner of some hi-res pictures AND the video of me defying death! Yay!

Satisfied, I returned to the hostel, showered off, researched tattoo parlours, then struck out on the hunt. The place that was best reviewed was unfortunately closed when I finally managed to find it – after serendipitously running into my Canadian pal Robin (from Merida) AND wandering through a city fair / block party – so I stopped in this trendy-looking menswear store that sold expensive Speedos, asking for another recommendation. It happened to be just around the corner, so I headed straight to Placer y Dolor (Pleasure and Pain). Met with the artist and tried my best to explain the idea in Spanish, which was not as easy as it sounds, despite how simple the design was going to be. He quotes me a price, but again, I’m playing aloof – and it works out again! He immediately drops it down to about $40 US, if I do it tonight.

So I tell him, great, I need to take some cash out though. And I wanted to walk around and mull it over for a bit, before submitting to being poked with a needle many times over in an LDC with somebody who I couldn’t communicate with that well. But, you know what, I read the reviews, it had numerous positive testimonies, and whatever, no biggie. So I did it! And I have no regrets! It was quick, cheap, not excruciating, and still looks good! Yay!

I got the outlines of two equilateral triangles pointing to each other on the outside of my left wrist, where my watch goes (and can cover it if I need to). So it resembles a basic, geometric hourglass – but the upside-down triangle stands for queer pride as well, and the right-side up one represents delta, for change. And incidentally, the two of them together also mean fire and water, or balance / duality / etc – but that was just an extra +1, not the reason I went for that design. And now it’s tattoo #7! To tie up with my body piercings! (3 in each ear and 1 nipple)

Finally, with my ultimate night in Meh-hee-ko, I got some more cheap-ass tacos al pastor along Avenida Tulum, at the place the Kiwi Couple recommended way back when, then sat on the patio with the hostel workers / guests, and soaked in the lovely balmy night air one more time.

 

Day 13 & 14 & 15: Cancun + Montreal + Ottawa

Wake up, last hostel breakfast, grabbed my stuff, got a final iced americano, schlepped to the ADO station, got to hang out in the air-conditioned premium lounge reading about Drag Race, listen to the Brain Candy Podcast en route the airport, then only have about a half hour to wait at the gate (since it took me an unexpected while to check in at the counters, Dios knows why, I had only a carry-on). Have my layover in Philly, take my time walking through all the terminals looking for lunch, finally settle on an iced coffee and bagel from Au Bon Pain, the cashier says she thinks my conch piercing is cute and I’m adorable, aw thanks girl, then jetset to Montreal.

It takes forever going through customs, but eventually I make it through, hop on the shuttle to downtown, meet beautiful KyKy at Ganadara, grab the key, and finally relax when I get to his place. He surprises me a half hour later, as I’m sitting in just my underwear on the couch, resting before I got the energy up to shower – but he brought food from the restaurant! Awwww what a darling! ❤

Crash soon after, despite my intentions to go for a walk and experiencing the city that still feels like the most like home to me. Sleep like a log, wander round the city, indulge in another decadent but delicious poutine from Dirty Dogs, do some sightseeing, meet up with Ky & Mike MF Chan at Brutopia for a 5a7, love the raspberry beer, bus to the Mile End and hang out with Bren “G-Frog” Prouse for a lil while, play some Sm4sh, then metro to Atwater Forum to meet Ouliana to finally see Get Out (since Ottawa is severely lacking cinemas in its central core). We stroll back along Ste-Catherine afterward, get a quick bite from Burger King (I clearly was #cleaneating during these couple days), and plan how we’ll move her to Toronto during June. Well, guess what, that’s happening tomorrow! Believe it, squirrelfriend!

With my last day, more aimless walking around, get a banh mi with Melody (who out of nowhere gives me free nail polish – WOW thanks so much, the white paint is exactly what I wanted!) at the perennial Vua, grab coffee with Torchic, then get my rideshare back to lovely ol’ Ottawa. And the rest is history: the post-travel blues and unemployed doldrums and not loving my life situation, especially after how spectacular Mexico was.

 

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And that’s that! The remainder of my travel blogging about Mexico. Who knows when the next exotic trip abroad will be? Not until November at the earliest, since that is when my casual contract with the Treasury Board ends.

Bi the gay, I had my first day on the job today – which I’ll discuss in more detail later – but a quick summary:

Everyone was very friendly, all the documents I was given to read (a huge amount) interest me, I have a nice private office/cubicle, it’s not hellishly open-concept, I met my colleagues and my boss’s boss, received uplifting and flattering advice from my supervisor, got the security badge to enter the buildings and my own laptop and email and login info etc and feel so legit about the whole thing. And ironically, the dream I had right before waking up at 7:30 this morning included my previous boss assaulting me and me feeling powerless to change it, but still giving an impassioned and affecting speech about it to the crowd gathered there. Hm, how telling is that, huh?

I now work Monday-Friday from 8:30-4:30, and it’s not micro-managey, and I don’t feel defeated or even that daunted by anything. I’m absurdly excited about it. Can’t wait to truly sink my teeth into this Diversity & Inclusion Task Force work! Yay!

 

Ciao for now. I’m off to gym, shower, and then head to Ernie’s for the RPDR Season 9 Finale with frands! Sickening!

 

Love y’all,

 

– Jefe

Job Update, My Summer Sublet, Tulum, Coba Ruins, Valladolid, Cenote-Swimming, Cliff-Jumping, Travel Buddies, & Modeling Underwear for Charity

Good afternoon,

 

It is roughly 3:30 on the last day of May, and I am sitting on the large balcony of my new apartment, enjoying the sun and a nice breeze.

As for the job, I’m still waiting for paperwork to come through before anything moves (further) forward. Because I spent more than six consecutive months outside of Canada in the past five years – while pursuing my MSc in Glasgow – I had to order a records check from the UK as part of the security clearance process. On my own dime. Totally fair, I know – but it costs $160 Canadian for the expedited process and required a bunch of documents I didn’t readily have, including all my addresses for the past ten years. All just for a piece of paper that attests that no, I did not get arrested or charged with anything while living in Scotland. Whatever, you gotta break a few eggs to make an omelette.

So I submitted my application for that last Thursday night, and since I paid $70 more, it’s supposed to take two working days (“not including the days of receipt or dispatch”). I opted for that because my position should start sooner rather than later; it’s a bit time-sensitive since it’s a Task Force with a lot of work to be done, not many people, and a deadline come September. That’s also what the hiring manager recommended and squares with what Michael said too, and so I obliged. I expected it to be finished Monday or Tuesday, but my new roomie checked the mailbox yesterday – and nothing yet. So hopefully something arrives today, because if not, I’m going to be really aggravated that I sprang for the “Premium Service” and it takes longer than advertised. So we’ll see, fingers crossed.

Once that is in, though – I feel like everything else will fall into place. I got fingerprinted last Thursday and also peeped some correspondence between various people within the department, all discussing and planning how to bring me on board. It was reassuring to read, definitely, that people I haven’t even met are striving to get me started in this position. They even had a tentative job title for me, “Junior Program Officer.” Again, nothing is yet guaranteed. I haven’t signed any contracts or even received a letter of offer. So it is all very exciting, certainly – but I am not getting my hopes up. That’s my kryptonite, if I haven’t said it already. Getting excited about something / having high expectations that almost nothing can reach, and then inevitably being disappointed / let down. It happens so often, so I have learned to “Lower your expectations!” (like the Amy Poehler gif) and be more realistic (pessimistic).

So there’s that. Oh, one last thing. From this e-correspondence I also gleaned that my (tentative) dates of working would be June 5^th to October 12^th. That’s the 90 days you’re eligible to work under a casual contract. And it would be perfect. Starting next Monday – so I actually have stuff going on, a way to feel accomplished, and will be advancing towards my goals – and it would be ending exactly a week before my 26^th birthday.

Which means, by that point, I would have earned all this money and would have no further commitment. So my plan is: work hard, do a great job, save up, and then take a big trip somewhere. To celebrate my birthday, reward myself after my first governmental gig, indulge that wanderlust, and hit country #30 while I’m still 25! And I even want to cross the last habitable continent off my list, so some exploration of Oceania and Southeast Asia is what I’m leaning towards most.

However – you (should) know how I am about decision-making. I hesitate to book those tickets because I have no idea what life will look like come mid-October. And from what I have heard / according to what my gut says, the field of Diversity & Inclusion is going to be “exploding” in importance this year. And I don’t want to have a 3 or 4-week international trip planned and paid for, if that would make me miss out on exciting and lucrative opportunities. One shouldn’t be unavailable for such a long time when they are just starting their careers, especially if the industry is going to be booming during their absence. SO I don’t know. But it would be really nice to do some more traveling, since Mexico was so phenomenal. Same with the Netherlands, Italy, Spain, and Portugal. Bremen, Germany was wonderful and I enjoyed Oslo too, but they weren’t stand-out recent destinations – the former because I didn’t have enough time in Deutschland and the latter because it was a bit too pricey for me, and I had less than 24 hours to explore. Anyway.

So, if I am starting my job this coming Monday, I will have much more going on in my headspace and life, and I do expect that reading, blogging, and journaling will fall by the wayside once again. So I want to finish writing up about my Yucatan adventure before that happens.

But before I continue that, I’ll tell y’all a bit about my new living sitch.

As I’ve mentioned before, I grew sick of my old apartment, on Nepean St. So I found this great place to sublet for the summer, on Sweetland Avenue, in the heart of Sandy Hill – which is the student area of the city, right near UOttawa. And this street is apparently a protected historical/heritage district, so there’s no big apartment buildings along it – but rather nice homes from the early 1900s, including the one I’m currently inhabiting.

My new roommates – Gilmour & Bailey – and I get along great, and I actually speak with them on a daily basis. The fact that there are common areas to spend time in probably facilitates that, but also, we are much closer together in age and have more in common than my previous flatmate. We might even be having a party this weekend! Which I’m absurdly excited about, because I am the one that always has / hosts social events.  In Glasgow it was Werewolves games and scary movie nights and dinner parties and actual shindigs, and in Montreal it was pre’s and more horror flicks with drinking rules and more game nights. But since I got to Ottawa. NO-THING (minus a couple people over for Smash Bros), because, what were we gonna do, hang out in my bedroom and keep the noise down? No thanks. But now that there’s a living room and big kitchen and great balcony – I want to capitalize upon that. And maybe I’ll become the central cog in a social circle again, because I realized recently that my typical role is suspiciously lacking these days. I’m excited about it.

I spend a lot of time out on the deck, reading and doing crosswords and enjoying the nice weather Ottawa’s been having recently. And I don’t have to worry about making too much noise later at night, and I can cook whenever I want to, and the freezer actually freezes things, and the Internet isn’t erratic AF. I’m very happy here. Not looking forward to moving away from here – but fortunately I don’t have to worry about that for a while yet.

 

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Okay, back to Mexico. Where was I?

 

The Rest of Day 6: Tulum

I wandered more around Tulum after my delightful meal at Tropi-Q. Stopped in a place called Art+Coffee for – you guessed it – an iced americano. The guy tried to give me cold brew and upsell/overcharge me for it, but NAH BRAH, that’s not what I asked for.

I enjoyed that, perused the Internet, and strolled back to the hostel. Got into my swim stuff, dropped by a corner store for some brews, then hopped on a collectivo towards the beach! Walked along the side of the road away from all the resorts before finally arriving at Playa del Paraíso. Stripped off my shirt and shoes and ambled all the way up the beach, to catch a glimpse of the famous Tulum Ruins. It looked like you could swim to the little beach the archeological site offers, but it was nearly dusk, I had my Sol beers, and I didn’t feel like getting incarcerated by the guards for attempted trespassing. So instead, I snapped some selfies, got a kind stranger to take some other photos of me for my gratuitous shirtless Instagram posts, and settled onto the sand, leaning against a fallen tree. Cracked open the foamers, booted up my Kindle, and read more of Ellen Hopkins’ “The You I’ve Never Known” while absolutely adoring my existence at the time. I was so jubilant! The temperature was perfect, there was nearly nobody else to share the shore with (minus a few people, including two women I saw kissing – which also made me smile, because yay, queer kin!), and I was a bit tipsy off the two cans I brought with me. The beer wasn’t even that good – it had lime and salt (flavour?) added to it. I could’ve done without the extra sodium.

But anyway, that didn’t detract from anything. I was supremely happy, the book was enrapturing, and I was LIVING. FOR. IT. Eventually I couldn’t keep my elation contained any longer, so I stowed the e-reader away, dashed into the waves, and went gamboling about the surf. It was momentous. Stripped-down, simple joy.

Sunset was swiftly approaching, so I couldn’t spend too long at the shore, since it would take a while to return to the town section of Tulum. Too soon, I packed up my tingz and started walking back along the coast, then along the road, to the main drag between the beach and central parts of Tulum. Lost my shirt in the process, somehow, and had no hope of catching a collectivo – they were not as common as in Cancun, unfortunately (and unsurprisingly).

It was a long stroll back, that I didn’t particularly feel like doing – so, whatever, YOLO. I stuck my arm out, thumb out, trying to hitch a ride. If it happened, it happened, and if not – well, I had music and podcasts to keep me company on the 40-minute walk back to the Chill Inn Hostel, and a no-quitting attitude.

But it did work out, and only after a minute or two! I was very pleasantly surprised! A nice French couple – from Nice, of course, hence my adjectival use – picked me up, worried that it wasn’t safe to walk along this particular stretch of the road at night. We chatted trilingually for the short trip, in franglaispañol, and it even happened to be a symbiotic lil relationship we had. I was able to help them locate their hostel, Hostal Sheck, since it was one of the ones I was considering for my accommodations, and I just happened to pass it during my earlier wanderings. So, how about that? What goes around comes around. And it felt good to pay them back for their kindness 🙂

Finally, I returned to my own inn, showered off the sand and sea, and googled a good place for dinner. That ended up being La Malquerida, where I had a small table outdoors, right off the pedestrian street – which was perfect for the live music and acrobatics that later started to happen! I had a traditional Mayan dish of fresh-caught fish baked with tomatoes and peppers, served with rice, tortillas, and a salad. Sadly, I forget the name of the meal (that’s what happens when you’re recording all these memories a month and a half later), but I do recommend it. Check my album on Facebook for a photo of it!

 

Day 7: Coba & Tulum

Tulum is well-known for the Mayan ruins it has nearby, which are absurdly picturesque and popular with tourists. If you’ve ever seen an ad for the Mayan Riviera, there’s a very good chance it had a photo showcasing the Tulum Ruins, since it is such a mystical, magical sight. (Indeed, I just google-image-searched that phrase, and I was vindicated)

However, despite all that pulchritude, I decided not to go. The sun is no joke on the Yucatan Peninsula, and the trees (and thus shade) are few and far between at this archeological site. That, plus how crowded it would’ve been, due to its renown, plus its higher price of admission, led me to opt for the Coba Ruins instead. They’re only an hour away by bus, less well-known, and consequently cheaper and less overcrowded by turistas.

Moreover, the best feature about them over those in Tulum is how they are situated in the jungle (so, more opportunities to cool down and less risk of sunstroke), and you can climb the actual pyramid!! You used to be able to do that at Chichen Itza, but they shut that down several years ago. For sure it was hastening the erosion of these World Wonders, and it can definitely be hazardous. The pyramid I mounted had steep stairs, worn down by history and humans, and it was a bit of a perilous ascent. They had a thick rope to assist with going up and down, but even so, I kind of crab-walked when I was descending, on all fours. Wasn’t trynna to take a tumble and screw up the rest of my “trip.” (There’s another pun for ya)

It was quite the unique experience to be on top of such an ancient structure, and I definitely recommend checking it out. The views were wonderful, of course – green all around – and being so high gave you access to a great breeze, to help dry off the sweat that climbing up invited.

The rest of the site was pretty cool, too. Was kinda like Tomb Raider, with all these ruined pyramids / Mayan ball courts / other buildings emerging out of the jungle, covered in vines and with an “undiscovered” feel to them. They also had various “stelae,” which – to my understanding – are large carved stone tablets that recorded legends, or stories, or histories, or something? In any case, they were interesting to see as well.

There isn’t too much I can say about the ruins, as I didn’t have a guide to teach me about them – neither the book nor human version of that. So I enjoyed wandering around it, and that’s that.

Like the collectivos in Tulum, there weren’t many buses commuting to and from Coba either. I tried hitch-hiking again, since I had such luck with it the previous night, but no dice this time. The cost for a cab ride was prohibitive, and #DumpUber, so I bought a bus ticket then went about killing time. There are apparently some magnificent cenotes near the Coba Ruins, but unfortunately I did not have the time to go check them out. Sad! If y’all are going to be in the area and plan on hitting up Coba, you should definitely consider renting a car – maybe with some friends you meet at the hostel. That would greatly facilitate this lil day trip, and then you could spend all the time you wanted at those beautiful sinkholes.

However, I did not try this tactic. So instead, I strolled around, looking for a bite to eat. Settled down at another outdoor table and ordered an iced coffee and “stuffed avocado.” It came with tuna salad, peas, corn, and lettuce. I took a pic but it was not a photogenic meal. But still affordable, yummy, and healthy. Then wandered back to the bus stop, read more of my book, and awaited the damn ADO in the hot, hot heat. Like those in Spain, these buses played random shows/movies with the volume turned up disconcertingly high, and they were in Spanish, of course. On the way in, it was Sleeping Beauty – so I had “Once Upon a Dream” stuck in my head all day – and on the way back it was some sad, darkly-hued film about a woman’s child literally disappearing/dissolving, and then she walks up to this wild lion, that is in this random marina for some reason, because she is so distraught. Like, what ???? Quite odd, that was. So I took a lil siesta instead.

Finally got back to Tulum, booked my bus ticket to Valladolid for the next day, and returned to the hostel to decompress a bit. Chatted with the friends I made – Kirsten and Fritzi – and started planning where to go for dinner.

Then I hopped in another collectivo en route to La Eufemía, a hipster hangout highly recommended by the hostel workers. And, wouldn’t you know it, as I hop out of the minibus, I hear somebody call my name! What! How small is this world! It was Serina & Chelsea, the two Saskatchewan-ers I met back in Playa del Carmen! I knew they were in Tulum as well, but for our paths to cross like that… Wow. They had just been at the same place, too, which made me feel good about my choice.

It’s this small taquería right on the beach, with mattresses to lie on, lounge chairs, a couple hammocks, bumpin’ music, and good food and drink. I went for a quick dip to rinse/cool off, only to find out that there was seaweed everywhere. This wasn’t an issue the previous night, at Playa del Paraíso, but maybe the establishment/tourism board has to remove it themselves? And since La Eufemía was such a hippie place, they wouldn’t do such a thing, disrupting nature like that. That’s the conclusion I came to, anyway. So I’m not sure if going for a short swim actually made me any cleaner, but it did feel good to not be overheated anymore.

It was Happy Hour when I was there, too! So I had two mango margaritas (with a spicy/salty rim) and a bunch of tacos. It all was quite enjoyable, but it might’ve been the most expensive meal I had on my trip, at more than 200 pesos. But whatever, do I care? How often do I get to sit, eat authentic tacos with fresh seafood, sip on a strong cocktail, and enjoy such a priceless view? The answer is: not often enough! So I was happy to pay it. Then I stretched out on one of their beach chairs, read my book, people-watched, and witnessed day transition to night. Superb.

When I finally left the place, I once again had a miraculous / lucky return to Tulum town. I somehow managed to catch the last collectivo for the night, with only a minute to spare from when I walked out of La Eufemía to when I hopped on. I don’t know what it was about those couple days, but the stars were definitely aligned in my favour. (Or maybe it was cosmic recompensation for being so lost for my first couple hours in Tulum, who knows?)

Then: back to Chill Inn, shower off, lotion up (I was still sunburnt and peeling), and wander around more. I visited Serina & Chelsea at their hostel, the Weary Traveler. Which was definitely a hoppin’ place, and maybe I should’ve stayed there instead. Ah well, hindsight is 20/20, and it’s not like the Chill Inn was horrendous. But theirs had a free cocktail hour, live music, many more people, a pool, hammocks, etc, etc… So if you’re going, look into that.

We hung out a while, I grew jealous of their digs, then Serina & I went walking around a bit. She bought some instant noodles – fideos, a word it took me a while to remember – and then we parted, sadly. Haven’t seen her since 😦 Miss ya, girl!

I then went to a hole-in-the-wall I read about, that had dirt-cheap food. It was either four tacos al pastor or guacamole for 80 pesos, so I went for the latter, since I had had plenty of the former theretofore. It was delicious, certainly. Just wish I would’ve had enough coin to go for both! I sat at the plastic table on the sidewalk, wrote in my journal, then had two random men next to me start speaking to me in Russian. Um, excuse me? Do I look like a Muscovite? Not exactly. Funny nonetheless. They asked for my recommendations for what to do in town, and were telling me about this amazing thing they heard about. I got excited – because maybe I could rise early the next day to check it out?! – but it turned out to just be the cenotes in the area. Disappointing.

I moved onto a street cart after that, with the 70 pesos I had left on me, and asked the lady working it what I could get for that. She made me a yummy torta con pollo – like a grilled chicken sandwich, with two mini sachets of red and green salsa to accompany it – and I went back to my hostel, enjoyed my snack, and watched Scream Queens. A great way to end the night.

 

Day 8: Tulum & Valladolid

I woke up, chatted with some hostel-mates over the delightful free breakfast they served (a cute yogurt + fruit + granola, and the previous morning’s was a delicious savoury crepe with cheese and mushrooms), packed my things, and made off for greener pastures.

I went to Café Ki’bok, which was another establishment recommended on TripAdvisor. Had an amazing iced americano and used their outstanding WiFi to torrent the new episodes of RuPaul’s Drag Race and The Challenge. It was, no joke, six times faster than what I had at Garry’s place. And this was in a small coffee shop in a little town in Mexico, so….. (frog emoji) (tea emoji)

Then I returned to the taquería that helped me out so much on my first day and devoured like 8 yummy tacos. They were all cheaper than 20 pesos each, with some interesting fillings like potato&chorizo, eggs&chaya (like a Mexican kale), and the usuals like chicharrón and salchicha. It’s called El Canaston, and you need to patronize it when you’re in Tulum. Cheap, delicious, environmentally-friendly, and run by darling people.

Then to the bus station, then on board, finished my book, listened to Sam Smith, and eventually got to Valladolid. Struggled through the sweltering heat with all my stuff and found my hostel, Tunich Naj. It wasn’t my first choice: everybody recommended Hostal La Candelería, which is where Kirsten & Fritzi were staying, but it was all booked up when I went to reserve a room. Oh well. I only spent one night there.

Valladolid is inland, so there’s no sea breeze to help keep things cool. Same with Merida. So this part of my trip was especially moist. Fortunately, there is a phenomenal cenote right in the middle of the city, which happened to be a short five-block walk from my hostel! So I unpacked, changed into my trusty Speedo, and made a beeline straight there, after getting sweaty in the process of lugging my backpack around.

It’s called Cenote Zací, and it was my favourite one of the trip. Also the biggest, the most spectacular, the least crowded, and the cheapest – an absolute steal at 30 pesos. So you need to make that happen, if you’re in town. And, continuing the trend of it being a small world or my luck coming through in these couple days – as I’m walking down to the sinkhole, I run into Kirsten & Fritzi! I suppose Valladolid is a smaller town without all that much to do, but still, it’s quite something that I had these serendipitous meet-ups during my trip. That’s the magic of travel.

And I’m even happier they were there, because their presence (and Kirsten’s accompanying me) gave me the nerve to jump off a cliff into the water! Cenotes are hella deep, so there’s no risk of hitting the bottom – but still, it was quite the distance to fall before smacking the surface. Maybe 25 feet? And naturally, it looks a lot higher when you’re actually up there, about to “take the plunge,” than from afar. Both K and I did it, and Fritzi was nice enough to take photos and record it, and oh WOW was it thrilling. It was a bit painful, hitting the water from such a height – and my arms were reddened from the impact – but wow, there’s nothing like that adrenaline rush. I ended up jumping off three different times, and it was a hell of a time. The girls were telling me others leapt into the water from even higher – from atop this tree on the outside of the cavern – but NOPE, forget that. It would involve climbing the tree, jumping out instead of just down, and avoiding the rope at the bottom. Who am I, Brendan Prouse? No thanks, I’ll pass. “Challenge by choice,” right Emily?

I really enjoyed swimming around and cooling off. It was a stupendous place to spend a sweltering afternoon, being in awe of these natural wonders, and watching the light shift over the cave’s walls. I encouraged others to cliff-jump too, and clapped when they surfaced after. Some of these were a group of Italian girls, one of whom later asked me about my nipple piercing, if it hurt, as she was gonna get hers done soon. I’m always glad to be a source of information, and it’s a surprisingly common question I get – but this usually comes from people I know, and not total strangers. Pretty funny, though. I guess I look approachable enough?

When the cenote closed for the day, I went back to my hostel, showered, changed, and struck out for dinner. The receptionist told me about this place, La Selva (the forest), which corresponded with TripAdvisor’s recommendations. When I walked in, though, there was nobody else there – which is never a good sign when you’re looking for a restaurant. I wasn’t cowed, though (and was also famished), and it turned out well after all. I ordered essentially one of everything from their menu, since the prices were that good (20-30 pesos). I got a cheese empanada, a meat one, a salbut, chalupa, sope, tostada, and one other thing, and oh wow, it was delicious. I used a bit too much habanero sauce on these, so I was perspiring from the heat, but everything was yummy. Lots of deep-fried goodness.

Then wandered ‘round the city, picked up some canned cocktails from a neighbourhood grocer, sat in the main plaza (Parque Francisco Canton) and started a new book – this time Liane Moriarty’s “Truly Madly Guilty” – while sipping on a margarita and gazing at the city’s cathedral, all illuminated. Then walked to the Convento de San Bernadino, an old nunnery, which had a light show projected onto it, detailing the history of Mayan civilization, Spanish colonialism, and how Valladolid came to be the place it is today. Nothing like free entertainment, especially on such a balmy night!

Finally, returned to the hostel and watched the new ep of The Challenge: Invasion outdoors, while drinking a cuba libra. Then packed it in for the night, turned in early, because the next day, I was up at 7:30, to get to Chichen Itza before it became too crowded and hot with the midday sun.

And that is what I will write about next! Because I’m over 4550 words and have been hungry for hours and it’s already after 10pm and I want to get off the computer and watch the new episode of The Challenge – but this time it’s Champs vs. Pros!

 

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Finally: I went to various other CrossFit classes with “Woodsy” at KRX Fitness, to make the most of the two-week trial they gave me. Really liked it (and was surprised at that), and I did see progress in myself, especially with my stamina… But it costs $125 per month and has limited hours. I prefer to go at my own pace, anyway, so I just signed up for another two-week trial yesterday, with Anytime Fitness. Back to regular weightlifting (back squat, deadlift, chest press, bicep curl, leg press, tricep press-down) with all the time I need for rest between sets.

But I’m glad I got to try it out, as I’d been curious about CrossFit for years (thanks to The Challenge, honestly). And it was fun meeting the other people who patronize that gym, particularly Carolyn, the trainer. She’s a sweetheart and I miss her 😦

 

One last thing: thanks to Ernie, I found out about an underwear fashion show tomorrow, sponsored by Stroked Ego and taking place at Lookout, to fundraise for the Ten Oaks Project. Sounds like something I wanted to check out anyway, but like with trivia – why spend my own money to do something when, instead, I could get paid for doing it myself? I messaged the organizer, and voila, fortune favours the bold, I’ll be modeling some underwear on the runway tomorrow! Alongside all these ūberfit GOV players, sure, so maybe I won’t be looking the best – but whatever, it’s a different aesthetic I have going for me, no más. Is #Dadbod still in?

So if you want a fun night AND to contribute to an amazing cause, come out to Lookout tomorrow! Doors open at 8 and it’s only $10! Come support the kids and keep me company / distract me from the fact that I do not have an eight-pack like the other models !!

 

‘Til next time darlings. And keep your fingers crossed that this UK record check comes in pronto!

 

All the best,

 

– Jefe