We were very sad to leave the beach and pool behind but our next destination was something that we’d been looking forward to for a long while. The Copper Canyon is a series of 20 canyons that together are wider and deeper in places than the Grand Canyon, Arizona. We boarded an 11 hour train that went on a spectacular winding trip through the heart of the landscape. The time flew past as we were kept entertained by the beautiful views and the humorous packaging of our picnic. We stopped off for a couple of nights in Creel to do our long anticipated horse trek. It seemed fitting that the trip started almost 13 months ago with a train to Mongolia and equine adventures and was now concluding in a similar fashion. This time however we hoped that neither of us would be ejected by our trusty steeds.
We arranged a meeting with a possible tour guide and when he walked in he looked like the real deal, Wranglers, Stetson, boots and that cool slightly lopsided walk you expect after being on a horse everyday. Norberto, turned out to be a great guy and invited us to join his family outing the next day to the city of Cuauhtemoc. Here we were on the hunt for Mennonites; a religious sect originally from Europe who settled here in 1920s. On the way there we stopped off for breakfast tacos at a place where their speciality filling was ‘Politico’ - a lot of tongue and a little bit of brain! While Norberto did his shopping we followed him around staring at the people that ran all the businesses. They were all fair, blue eyed and in uniforms of dungarees and conservative dresses. It was the strangest thing after seeing nothing but people with dark hair and eyes for 4 months. We got some confused looks from them, perhaps they thought we’d left the flock. We thought it a little inappropriate to photograph them but we did visit their interesting museum and ate a delicious pizza, topped with their famous cheese, in a Mennonite restaurant.
Our horse ride the next day was wonderful, just the 3 of us, spectacular scenery, happy horses and no falls. We rode through indigenous Raramuri land and it was lovely to see their women in traditional dress of full colourful skirts. Norberto made us climb to the edge of some ridiculously high and scary rocks but the view down was worth it. He also made us canter and gallop a lot and although Mark was originally sceptical he was like a natural cowboy by the end, kicking his horse on to go faster, particularly when some wild dogs started to chase us. We could hardly walk the next few days but it was worth every aching muscle and I wish we could go back and do it again.
Leaving Mexico City we arrived in the colonial town of Morelia just in time for their independence day preparations. In the main park the fiesta was already well underway with traditional dance displays and concerts in the bandstand, while in the plazas troupes of drummers and bugle players belted out patriotic anthems. We guessed that the visiting Mexican tourists didn’t see that many foreigners, all the stares we received made us feel like we were back in China.
The architecture was stunning, one of the most beautiful cities we’ve encountered on our trip, every corner revealing yet more plazas, cathedrals and long stretches of the aqueduct. Morelia is also well known for its sweets and a visit to the sweet market was obligatory. The stalls were incredible but after a few tastes we needed to balance all the sweetness with some sour lime, naturally wedged in the top of a beer bottle.
We spent the eve of independence in Guadalajara, arriving to a huge storm that flooded the streets and brought down nearby electricity cables. We escaped the rain by heading out to Tequila to tour the Jose Cuervo factory. Six shots and a Margarita later we were both well educated in all aspects of Tequila, especially the side effects. Needless to say the bus ride back to Guadalajara passed far quicker than the one out. Unfortunately the eight hour bus to the beach town of Mazatlan didn’t pass quite so quickly with a hangover but the three relaxing days spent there were worth the discomfort.
Rather than spend another 26 hours on a bus we flew direct from Cancun to Mexico City for three days in the capital. With around 20 million people living there, Mexico City is one of most heavily populated places in the world. Flying in to heavy rain and smog we felt a long way from the peaceful beach we were lying beside only a few hours earlier. Despite the initial city-shock we were soon zipping around on the metro to visit Diego Rivera’s murals, Freda Khalo’s old house and scores of historical buildings. The Centro Histórico area had a great vibe and unlike other parts of Mexico City it was considered safe to walk around at night, the time when we experienced Mexico’s finest cultural offerings.
The first evening was spent cheering on the Luchadores in Mexico Arena at the Lucha Libre Mexican wrestling. This version of wrestling has more in common with the WWF than the type Big Daddy and Giant Haystacks practiced. Nearly all of the wrestlers are masked and each struts out to the ring along with their own entrance music to loud cheers or boos, whichever is appropriate. The bouts were normally three on three tag-team but with sketchy rules most of the time it was complete chaos.
Our favourite wrestler was ‘Maximo‘, a super-camp exotico wrestler who taunted his opponents with blown kisses and bum pinches. The crowd went wild every time he entered the ring. If Maximo was Queen of the evening, ‘Kemonito’ was King. Around three feet high and dressed in a blue monkey suit, seeing this furry midget jump out of the ring from the top rope onto a fallen opponent was almost too great a spectical even in Mexico.
We spent the last evening in one of Mexico City’s many famous Mariachi bars around Plaza Garibaldi. Hordes of ageing musicians decked out in black with silver trimmings gather to play songs on demand or to rent their out services for the evening at private parties. The food as we’d come to expect in Mexico was fantastic and watching the Mariachis perform seemed a fitting way to end our time in the capital.
Leaving the luxury of Cancun we visited the Mayan ruins of Chichen Itza. Rather than piling in with the masses on a tour we headed over the night before to visit early the following morning. With the weather still cool and all the hawkers too busy setting up their stalls to bother us we spent a couple of peaceful hours wandering around the empty complex trying to imagine the heads of sacrificed enemies bouncing down the pyramid’s steps. The pyramid itself is a giant representation of the Mayan calendar with the levels and steps representing the number of months and days in a Mayan year. The hoop shown below is part of an enormous ball court where losing a game often meant losing your head in yet more sacrifices.
From Chichen Itza we headed back to the coast to Tulum for more time on the incredible beaches and to swim in nearby cenotes; cave systems filled with crystal clear freshwater pools. The visibility was amazing though diving down under stalagmite formations into the deeper and darker water was pretty creepy at first, especially when you surfaced to colonies of bats. Scuba diving here looks unreal though, something for our next trip.
To finish off our time in the Yucatan Peninsula in style we checked into another all-inclusive hotel in Playa Del Carmen for two more days of cocktails and sun loungers. We managed to take time out of our hectic Mojito drinking schedule to take a lesson in Catamaran sailing. Skipping along the waves in the Caribbean sea was a wonderful experience, though Helen and her notorious sea-legs may beg to differ.
Landing in the concrete jungle of Cancun we hot-footed it straight out of there by bus, taxi, and boat to the beautiful Isla Mujeres. The beach here was one of the best we have seen anywhere in the world, with it’s white sand and incredible blue Caribbean sea. Coupled with a easy-going atmosphere and free flowing Corona it was the perfect chill out spot. We returned to our backpacking roots and rented a studio so we could self cater and after all that grease in Orlando, cheese sandwiches have never tasted so good.
We had luckily arrived in the last few weeks of the whale shark season and took a boat trip out to snorkel with them during their plankton feeding frenzy. Our friends Caz & Asa had recommended the experience but even their descriptions did not prepare us for what was in store. There were hundreds of these things ranging in size from estate cars to buses. They swim around with their enormous mouths wide open sucking up the microscopic plankton, quite a sight to behold when they’re heading straight at you. Although whale-like in size they are actually sharks but are the most docile, beautiful creatures ever and aside for the one that swam directly into me when I was looking the other way they are totally harmless. There were only four of us on the trip and our crew prepared gorgeous food and muchas cervezas, unfortunately with Mark’s sudden attack of Montezuma’s revenge that morning and my usual wobbly sea legs we didn’t consume quite as much as you’d expect of the Shiptons. A little however was sampled and needless to say I left the whale sharks with a little more than plankton to suck up!
Finding it hard to leave we decided the only thing that could drag us away was a few nights in one of Cancun’s many all-inclusive resorts. The luxurious room, amazing food, as many beers and cocktails as you care to drink and the biggest pool in Cancun made for an amazing two days. All the other guests seemed to do a double take as we arrived with our grubby backpacks, but once on pool side with a row of drinks and an enormous plate of food from the snack bar we soon blended in with all the other holiday makers.
At the end of three amazing months in South America we had a brief rest from habla Español with a short spell in Orlando en-route to Mexico. The change-over was quite peculiar because many of the staff we spoke to were Latinos speaking English and often we’d start slipping Spanish words into our conversations.
After just two days of air-con, swimming pools, flushing toilet paper and all-you-can-eat buffets we were almost ready to call off the rest of our backpacking trip and relocate to International Drive. Since we were still very much on a backpacker’s budget we rode the bus around town, made sure every trip to the all-you-can-eats was on an empty stomach and abstained from the many theme parks. We did treat ourselves to a great night of blues at B.B. King’s before flying out to Cancun, slightly worried how we’d re-adapt to a life of lumpy pillows and baño compartido.
Cali in Colombia is still known for its cocaine cartels and understandably has a bit of a sketchy reputation. Since problems still occur between the border with Ecuador so we decided to fly across instead of another day on a bus. When we landed at almost 1am with no money, no ATMs and our lift was a no-show we didn’t feel too relaxed in the last of our South American countries. People however were very friendly and we were soon safely transported to our hostel. The weather here was hot and sticky and after a night of disturbed aircon-less sleep we caught a bus and headed off to Armenia - the centre of the zona Cafeteria, Colombia’s coffee growing region. Seeing a few people smoking crack-pipes along the way was a little disconcerting, though the gorgeous countryside and our final resort of Salento eradicated all of our negative views of this country. A small village set high up amongst the coffee fincas (farms) it was a delightful place to chill for a few nights. Our B&B was wonderful, run by a lovely lady and her dog, with great breakfasts and cozy patchwork quilts, a very welcome break from skanky hostels.
We took a brilliant tour with Jesus and his daughter Sarah, acting as translator, around their family finca and coffee processing factory. They showed us the whole process from bean to cup and we drank so much espresso we were wired for the rest of the day. The following day, propelled by more superb coffee we rode Willy’s JEEPs out to the Cocora valley to walk amongst the amazing wax palms. At up 60m high, Colombia’s national tree was quite a sight. For some scale, look for Mark standing at the foot of one.
From Salento we headed onto Bogota, our last destination in South America. We both really loved the old quarter which is packed full of galleries, museums and restaurants. We paid visits to Andy Warhol and Fernando Botero exhibits and the national police museum which had a special section dedicated to the downfall of Pablo Escobar’s Medellin cartel. For our last meal we finally managed to track down Colombia’s signature dish. Covering all food groups and containing three different meat varieties it’s a real gutbuster.
