Mexico III: 3 / Back to Canadia

Eventually, my money came. Better late than never. By the time it came round I was really happy already. It was a real time out there. Good company, good solitude, good swimming, late night coconut runs and quality hammock-time. Later on the day I discovered I'd been paid, I met a girl who was in the process of doing up and renovating a new hostel in Tulum. Her name was Meghan. Californian. She'd met an energetic young Mexican named Sa'eed who had come into possession on a prime old block on a backstreet right near the center of town. A dream piece of real estate, but it needed a lot of work. I agreed to stay for a few days and help out while I got everything in order towards my plan to get back to Canada.
       The downtown location was ideal. I booked a flight to Vancouver from Cancun. I hung around and worked at the hostel for a few days: collecting bric-a-brac, shovelling gravel, handing out fliers, among other things. I got a fair bit of time off as well in which to get organised to go and enjoy the end of my days in Tulum. I went down to the beach one last time, and went out for a last meal with Alex and Manuela. We ate at a restaurant called "TORTA GIGANTE". We ate gigantic tortas and huge ice creams because we could and because we deserved them. The Carnaval was in town that night, too. Floats went by on the back of semi-trucks. We caught prizes from the buxom ladies on the Sol cerveza float. I never made it to Rio; but in the end it came to me. I was humbled with happiness and the significance of everything. Finally things were revealing themselves in time and clarity.
       The next day, I got up, made myself a sign pointing to Cancun and, after breakfast, headed out towards the highway. I wanted to hitch there because it's the best way to travel and I wanted to finish properly. I got a ride in no time with a middle aged Canadian couple driving a souped-up dune buggy, tearing up the highway at high speed, furious winds blowing through as I held onto my hat and we all yelled a conversation amongst ourselves. They dropped me 30 or so kilometres up the road to the highway near Akumal. I scarce had time to finish an orange before I got another ride - this time with a couple of Mexican fellas in the tray of a black ute with a cover over the top.
       Not long into the ride did I discover that I wasn't exactly alone back there. Turns out I was sharing the cab with a toucan in a cage and a huge orange iguana, who wasted no time in struggling free of his bag and roaming around, eyeing me warily as if to say "Don't even try anything, dickhead". One of the best rides ever. I got all the way to Playa del Carmen - a little over half way. I got dropped off near the huge Chedraui supermarket where I bought some fruit, bread and cheese. I dumped my bag in the outdoor parking lot and sat down for lunch. After I'd finished, I was approached by two cops. I thought they were going to bust me for smoking a Rollie; but in actual fact  I must have looked pretty hungry because one of them gave me his lunch: half a chicken with rice, salsa, and tortillas. It was starting to look like a pretty lucky day.
      I waited a while to get outta Playa, an hour at one spot and a hike to another; but eventually I got the ride I was after with an older bloke from Mexico City who hit hiked all around Mexico in his younger years. It was much, much safer back then, he told me. Ever since the war on drugs and the cartels some parts are really bad. He drove me all the way to my destination, a hostel near the bus terminal. He had offered me a room for the night but I couldn't take him up on it. I was too smelly and bearded - there was no way I could have faced his family!
       My last day in Mexico was pretty sentimental. I walked and walked and walked. I walked in on a  water-play synchronized swimming show, sat on a boat and drank a beer with chip tacos in "Tortuga Bay". Made it to Venezuela as well. It was a chewy Tuesday. On the way home I picked a last coconut, which was to be my last meal in Mexico the following morning.
      Mexico. Besides a few hard weeks, I had the time of my life down there. It really kicked my arse and pushed me in the dirt, but I'm thankful for that. There were quite a few things that I needed to learn. In the end though, my only regrets are that I made my mum and my family and friends worry about me... And that I never bought a machete. I'll be sorry about these things for a long time coming (perhaps the former slightly more so than the latter).
       Since getting back to Canada, life's been pretty excellent. I walked right into a job as a water slides attendant (Thanks Zan!), which would have to be one of the chilled-est jobs I've had. Involved a fair bit of reading. I spent some time with a lovely girl called Yuko. Drank socially with Henry and the boys. But, with spring, the time has come for me to leave my life in Banff, along with my new mates, playoff Ducks, and kitchen, for a second season in the Ontarian bush. Three more months of trees, starting tomorrow. I've been waiting and preparing a long time for this. Right now I'm on the final leg of a two-and-a-half day bus trip across this beautiful second home of mine. It's starting to look like A beautiful stinking hot buggy hard-yakka summer. Couldn't be happier.