Travelling Alone in Mexico as a Woman

If you have the chance to go to Mexico, go! If you have nobody to go with you, GO ALONE! Before I went to Mexico I talked about it to my friends, who supportively told me more horror stories than you could shake a badger at, and also some advice that ranged from "you do realise Mexico is THE most dangerous country in the WORLD?" to simply "DON'T GO!" Being a deductive kind of gal, I soon realised everyone who was telling me not to go, had never actually been themselves. I did an on-line search and these articles by Vagenda and Sarah Hepola convinced me that not only was travelling alone an option, but in the struggle for female emancipation, I basically had a duty towards womankind to get myself out there and see some Mayan ruins!

Chilling with feminist golden gal Frida at the Frida Kahlo museum

It's not silly to be nervous, and a lot of people might wonder if it is safe for a woman to travel through Mexico alone. But there are so many advantages. Travelling alone is like living the single girl's dream: you can do what you want, where you want and when you want. You can tailor everything to your tastes and budgets. Sometimes this is actually quite a challenge, at first I found it stressful making decisions and getting the impetus to keep packing up and moving. But in Mexico there was always something new to see, and once I got into the swing of things, wild horses couldn't keep me in my hostel room!

Without friends to encourage you to get out of your comfort zone, you have to do it for yourself. When I was in Valladolid, I went to a cenote, and I decided I didn't feel like swimming in the water. I told myself it was because I don't like swimming. BUT after a moment of deep self-reflection, gazing wistfully at a couple floating in the middle of the pool, I realised I was actually just too nervous to go in on my own. I knew if my friends were with me, I would go in. Which was ridiculous. So I forced myself to change into my bikini and get in the water to splash around a bit. As I was swimming (well, hanging onto the rope. I can't swim), it began to rain, water filtering through the rocks and vines above onto my head. I had overcome my nerves!!!!! Suck on that!

I was travelling alone for the first time, which can be a bit intimidating, especially as the other people in the hostels might have fancy backpacks and money belts and earthy jewellery. I naturally assumed that all backpackers were probably dickheads (which admittedly makes no sense because I was backpacking too...). This is a Negative Attitude and I warn against it! After talking to like three people I realised that perhaps I was being a bit judgemental, and I began forcing myself to approach people. If you don't, you might get lonely. I found people were so friendly, and the Mexicans were friendliest of all. 

If you want to go to Mexico alone, and are nervous, before I went I made a clear plan of where I was going to go and when, what hostels I could stay at and what I could do. I followed a popular route and stayed in busy hostels (that were full of other travellers, like me). I tried to follow all the safety advice you can find about travelling alone, but sometimes you have to relax a bit and enjoy yourself, and I think as long as you're using common sense then you have to be unlucky to get into trouble. I met a lot of people who I never would have spoken to if I hadn't been alone, my Spanish improved more in that month that it did in five months in Cuba, and I'm really proud of myself for doing something even though I was scared, and doing it all on my own.

Masunte, Mexico: "A Close Call: our young adventuress enters the ocean with (ALMOST) devastating consequences"

Introduction: This week i made it to the Pacific coast, where I was able to sit on a clifftop and try to spot Pi floating towards the Mexican shore. I stayed in hostel Nagual in Masunte, which is near Puerto Escondido. I spent quite a few days on the beach which was VERY beautiful and i thought about how ive been quite lucky in living in and visiting some extremely beautiful places this year: Vienna, Salzburg, basically everywhere in Cuba except for our house/bunker in Havana, and now Mexico. I will now detail my Pacific Ocean Adventure!!! (Quite similar to Pi´s own sea-faring escapade)

NB: I have decided to write this post in the third person, so as not to ruin the surprise that I did not actually die at the end of this story.

Sarah´s middle name is Rose, which accurately represents how she is both extremely beautiful, like a rose flower, but also bad ass and spiky, like a rose bush thorn. Mazunte beach is a bit like this, and it is here that Sarah experienced a CLOSE SHAVE WITH DEATH. Puerto escondido is famous for being a surfers paradise which is why she steered well clear of there. Mazunte itself is still quite wavy, and after three days of paddling and contemplating the waves, Sarah was eventually tempted into the sea by her Dear Friend Fran.

 Fran went and frolicked like a little water babe, then ran out with tales of joy and adventure. "You have to go in!" she gurgled. Comforted by the fact Fran's brother Adam was still Living the Dream in the waves, and the fact Fran said "they´re definitely not as big as they look", Sarah cautiously advanced. A moment of calm water quelled her initial nerves and she boldly strode out to where the other beach goers were playing in the waves.

A couple of rambunctious little tides bobbed her about and she got a bit wet and her hair got all scruffy. Then the waves got a bit bigger. Despite being unaccustomed to this kind of activity, Sarah was enjoying trying to jump over the height of the wave without getting salt in her eyes. Adam was having the time of his life. Whenever a wave came, he would dive right under it, like a dolphin, and come out the other side looking cheerful. "You have to dive the next one!" he hollered amicably, presumably unaware Sarah doesn't know how to dive like a dolphin.The wave hit, and instead of diving Sarah only managed to kind of scramble and twist, and cough a bit, and suddenly the force of the water threw her down right underneath the surface....... (DRAMATIC PAUSE!!!)

She span round in the water and tried to find air again, but only found her hands scraping against the seabed. Expecting that once the wave had passed, she would again reach the surface, she waited a moment and scrambled a bit. But while she was still under another wave hit and pushed her down again. At this point she didn't know what was going to happen because she didn't know which way the air was, and if shed be strong enough to even make it to the surface of the water if she were to work out which way to swim. So she started to blow air from her nose to stop her from breathing in more water. She was quite scared. She realised that her bikini top had fallen off, but thankfully found it was just chilling out around her waist. In hindsight the fact she took the time to "check herself before she wrecked herself" is proof that she is either has stupidly twisted priorities or she wasn't actually that scared for her life. Anyway, she scrambled a bit and then the waves receded and she broke the surface. Ducking down to her shoulders again, she pulled her bikini back on, and then another wave came thundering over. "Look, here comes another big one!" squeeled Adam. Sarah regarded the oncoming wall of water with a grimace that she hoped with give all fellow swimmers the impression she was enjoying herself.

As soon as it was possible, she began staggering back to Fran, who was sitting on the beach PISSING HERSELF LAUGHING, clearly completely unaware of how close our hero (me) had come to death. "You were under for a really long time!" she pointed out. "That was not for me," Sarah managed to reply, stoically, and spent the next two hours projecting sea water out of her nose.

(I will now revert to the first person again before I get into the habit of speaking like this)

I stayed in Mazunte longer than I meant to, because I was having such a BLAST! It really is beautiful, and the hostel was very friendly and cheap, though the rooms were full of these massive ants that were bigger than your thumbnail. GROSS! The absolute best thing about Mazunte is that every couple of hours some young hero would come round with a huge basket filled with The Best Pan aux Chocolates in The World, freshly baked at a local restaurant (Le Sirena Vieja), and I would buy several and eat their delicious, chocolaty innards with delight!

Fran was there for my last night. Once she realised I had got to know basically every member of the village, she looked at me sternly over her omlette and said "Leave. Now." So I did! I took a stomach-churningly twisty road to Oaxaca, in what was one of the worst minibus journeys of my life, and will be heading off once again to visit one more beach before I head to Mexico City and homeee
WINNER WINNER CHICKEN DINNER
xxxx

AN EVALUATION OF MEXICAN PUBLIC TRANSPORT

Mexico is blessed with a fleet of reasonably-high quality coaches that travel around the major tourist spots filled with Europeans and backpacks (I am one of those) (...Europeans. IM NOT A BACKPACK. hahaha just a little joke to break the ice). They have strong air conditioning and are named ADO.

As any TRUE BACKPACKER (like myself!!!) knows, however, the best way to get involved with the locals is intrude on their own public transport system. I had already given this a go when I went to visit Chichen Itza (which is one of the six or seven or eight MODERN wonders of the world. Not very modern though REALLY when you think about it!!!!!!!!!) and I hopped onto a ´COLECTIVO´ taxi. A colectivo taxi is a private minibus that goes around a specific route, picking people up and dropping them off. It is VERY similar to the maquina system in Cuba, except Mexican Colectivos mostle seem to have been made post-1959 and a considerable number of them have suspension and power steering. On this first delve into the colectivo system, nobody sat next to me, but everybody nodded and smiled at me a lot. I am relatively certain I was overcharged for these luxuries.

I was forced to used a colectivo once again three days ago as I was trying to escape PALENQUE. I went to the ruins in Palenque with Fran and Bro. and they are very cool because they are inside the jungle! That evening I stayed in the city itself, which reminded me vaguely of Bilston (not a good thing) so I was eager to leave. However, due to levels of confused disorganisation which were impressive even by my standards (NOTE: both I and the bus service ADO were disorganised in this instance), there were no seats available on the bus to San Cristobal (my destination of choice!). Thankfully, at the point I was heartlessly turned away from the bus terminal, I managed to befriend not one, not two, but an entire family of Mexicans! They were trying to get to San Cristobal too, and told me I could go with them on one of the colectivos.

As I arrived at the colectivo station, I took the advice University of Manchester gave me over one year ago, and did a quick risk assessment. The van looked in fine shape, though after 5 months in Cuba I HAVE TO ADMIT my standards in vehicle quality have taken a nose dive. The driver looked cheerful and he wasn´t drunk (always a plus). It did cross my mind that Chiapas has a vaguely revolutionary reputation, but finally I decided it must be safe based on the fact the mother of the Mexican family was impeccably dressed, and she deemed the situation secure. So in a got, with my backpack on my lap and a smile on my face.

The journey was nice and bumpy, and nice and cheap too. The other passengers mainly ignored me, except for an elderly indigenous woman sitting in front of me, who kept turning round to eyeball me and swear at me with her fingers.

Yesterday I entered another minivan full of Mexicans, but this wasn`t a colectivo: it was an ORGANISED TOUR to a big waterfall and the Logos de Mirabella. The waterfull was really beautiful, and as a treat ended on an exciting dramatic interlude. Once of the mexican families on the tour was almost an hour late in returning to the bus. At first I thought nobody would mind because we were running on ´latin american time`, but I realised everyone was getting quite testy when the other passengers began to demand that the driver leave without the family. He was most indecisive and a bit lame. One member of the family arrived, and rang the others. When they answered the phone she screamed at them: "TE FALTAS MUCHO, VERONICA!!! YOURE PISSING EVERYONE OFF! GET HERE RIGHT NOW!". Veronica arrived about thirty minutes later, cool as a cucumber, and as we left the carpark all hell broke loose in the bus as everyone began ganging up on her. It was great to watch, just like a telenovela. "YOU HAVE TO THINK OF USSS!! THINK OF THE PEOPLE WAITING!!!" one woman kept screaming from the back seat, as everyone else nodded in justified agreement.

Tonight, after four days in San Cristobal, I`m back on the road, but this time (unfortunately) on the ADO tourist buses again.

til nex t timeeee kisses from central america xoxoxoxo