After the solstice at Chichen Itzá I considered spending the night in the immediate town, a small village called Piste (Pee sta). I’d been told while watching the sun, of a big backpacker party in a park nearby and my tour guide had recommended staying in the village. I also thought I might walk back to the structures in the morning.
I walked back to the tour bus with my friends of the day, then said so long and donned my pack once again. The village was just a few blocks walk.
Passing the ADO busses, I asked around and got one lead on a hostel like place. Walking about a mile I failed to come to it. I met 2 hitch-hiking Spanish-speaking gals along the way, enjoyed the sandwich they offered, then saw them off. I gave up on staying in this town. No one knew of the park and celebration.
Turning back I was now exhausted. I slowly arrived back at the bus station. Unlike the hour earlier, there was now not a traveler in sight. I regretted not having taken the bus to Valladolid (va ya doulid) at that time.
The long wait was filled with a bit of conversation with 2 women who worked at hotels in Cancun. On the bus ride I was alone. Likewise, I was alone upon arrival in Valladolid.
Outside the bus station I heard English. It was a lone traveller trying to learn of a Collectivo ride to Chichen Itzá. He was clearly nice but not seeking company. I continued walking toward the Central Park and Hostel La Candelaria, a hostel I read of when given 3 minutes on a guest’s PC back at Hotel Soberanis.
Midway, I turned wrong. Asking two women, I was happy to know the word “luz” to know she was directing me to the traffic light in the distance. Happily I knew left and right as well.
The park was beautiful. It was late but 2 English speaking travelers sipped coffee on the coffee shop patio and pointed out the hostel to me.
Unfortunately, the hostel was full. I was permitted inside though and relaxed with a pro-offered beer and some conversation. I really liked the hostel and was sorry I could not stay.
Then it was time to get that pack on my tired back, ignore the blister forming on my shoulder, and find hostel number two.
I succeeded in finding space, in a mixed dorm full of beds, at Hostal del Fraile. No friendly conversation though. It was late, people were in couples, in bed, on alone on their computers. I used the free PC to check my email and delete some of the accrued junk mail. My mail had been messed up since I’d changed my username and on Spanish computers I could not sort out the problem although I did have a plan.
Hostel La Candelaria
Street 35 #201-f x42 and 44
Hostal del Fraile
Calzada de los Frailes no. 212-c por 48 y 50