Day 3 – Tulum, broken home

Cancun had been good to me.  Taking one of the many local night buses back to the hostel from The City nightclub was something even a drunk English person could do.  On the bus I was sat near a group of off duty bus drivers.  They were drinking cans of beer and insisted on sharing one with me.  I have never been so nicely forced to drink a can of beer.

It was time to leave Cancun behind, originally our next destination was going to be Playa de Carmen but we decided to miss this mini version of Cancun and head to Tulum.  Tulum is a traveller’s destination due to its “perfect” beaches, small Mayan ruins and nearby cenotes.  Arriving at Tulum via bus we walked down the only main street to our next hostel.

Hostels are always interesting buildings.  Compared to hotels that are built to purpose hostels are usually one or several existing neighbouring buildings that are crudely put together and cheaply furnished to form the hostel.  I prefer the latter.  Hotels are dull, square and lifeless whilst hostels with their 37 random stairways, disproportionately sized rooms and labyrinth of corridors have so much more character.  The hostel we were staying at in Tulum was definitely the most interesting hostels I have stayed in so far. 

The Weary Traveller was a hostel set in an old house that in its previous incarnation would have been a lavishly furnished home.  The floors, stairs and surfaces were made from slabs of marble at least an inch thick.  The walls were painted in royal pink and all the light switches and plugs were made from polished brass.  In the centre of the ceiling in the main room hung a brass chandelier that branched out to form small pink engraved rose buds.  Our room had an en suite bathroom that contained a large plastic hot tub. 

This house had clearly been something special, but that was ever such a long time ago.  This house had fallen into disrepair many years ago.  The marble slabs that made up most of the floor and stairs had chips and cracks on every exposed corner.  The brass fixtures were intact but the wall behind then had crumbled revealing what was left of the rusty electrical wiring.  The plastic hot tub in our en suite that probably saw much debauchery in its time was now stained yellow with age.  It made me wonder what the story behind this house was.  Who did the house previously belong to?  And what happen to them to allow this desirable residence to fall into such a state?  If only walls and hot tubs could talk.

The old hot tub, there was no running hot water in the hostel.

Signs of age.

The hallway, once a fancy living room maybe.
The far wall has been knocked down.

Detail on the light fixtures in the hallway.

Me =)

There was a pool, but I never saw anyone in it.

Tulum on the other hand was very ordinary.  There was one main high street which was lined with the average assortment of shops, bars and travel agents.  All the shops pretty much sold the same forgettable tourist tat.  Wooden ornaments that were too big to take home, cheap jewellery and rows upon rows of ugly tee-shirts.

We didn’t come to Tulum for retail therapy though.  During our few days here we would be heading to Gran Cenote which was the most accessible cenote from Tulum.  Judging by the pictures and what people have said about it, it should be fantastic.