Note from Sarah: The following post was written in a light-hearted way, a toungue-in-cheek account of this obviously gorgeous place. They say sarcasm is the lowest form of humour, and they may be right – so I apologize to anyone who took the following words literally and somehow missed the photos…
Please consider this a service from me to you. I know I’m always saying, “This place is amaaaaaazing!” and “You must go here! And there!” but I really need to warn you about a place you should never, ever go. It’s a place so bad, so horrible that people run screaming from it in horror, vowing to never, ever, return. There is even a ferry service to the mainland every half an hour to cater to the sheer numbers of traumatized people who simply must get off this island of abomination.
My friend Brenda and my Mum – happy, to be leaving.
Write this down: Isla Mujeres, the tiny island off the coast of Cancun, is the most horrible place in the world.
Do not go there.
If ever there were a place where the photos do not aptly describe it, this is it. I mean, we tolerated it, put on fake smiles for the camera and tried to make the best of things. My Mum, such a trooper, didn’t want to disappoint me since I was so excited to take her to her first Caribbean Island. A selfless Mother who has always put my feelings above her own, she was able to put on a brave face and endure the two long nights we spent in this hideous hell-hole.
I mean, the water might look nice, but honestly, it was really quite awful.
And the houses! Painted every bright colour of the rainbow! When just across the water on the mainland, the concrete wonder that is Cancun awaits in all its towering, monolithic glory?!
My friend Shelly to my Mum: “I mean, I just don’t know how people could live here!”
“Unfit for human habitation,” I believe are the words Brenda used to describe the place, at least I think that is what she said. She had been talking about the Canadian winter she would soon be returning to, but no, I’m quite sure she used that phrase to describe the island we were trapped on. I felt terrible that she had to endure it with us, with that lovely below freezing weather waiting for her back home.
The torture continues…
We decided to flee the hideous beach at the north end of town and rented a golf buggy to see if the rest of the place was just as bad. Though I didn’t think it could get any worse, it did.
Putting on smiles for the camera…
The situation was positively dire at Punta Sur, the southern tip of the island where the ancient temple of Ixchel, the Goddess of fertility, medicine and the moon was located. I mean, the place was a fallen down wreck and there wasn’t a concrete high-rise in sight to capitalize on the view. Just craggy limestone cliffs which rose dramatically from the wild, turquoise waters below.
It was all rather… meh.
Then there were the children, or should I say the mini militia – gun wielding child soldiers who are trained to kill. By sheer luck we were able to make it off the island alive.
Re-hydrating before the assault…
Look, I always recommend people make up their own minds about a place, so if you must go, I can’t stop you. But just know, you’ve been forewarned.
And if any of you, for one minute, think I would lie to you in the interest of keeping Isla Mujeres to myself so that whenever I return there will be a room available at my favourite apartments, plenty of space on the beach and not another living soul at the temple of Ixchel, well, I’m not sure what I can say to that except, shame on you.
I thought you were better than that 😉