Valladolid is different. It feels like a break from the chaotic buzz of the markets and cities of the last days. It’s a place where I plan to dig deeper into Mayan culture, enjoy some nature, and step away from city life.

Thinking of that, on the first night I walk with the camera around my neck but not really ready to take a photo. And that’s the biggest mistake a photographer can do.

The store on the other side of the street is closing, and the woman shutting down the place seems to split herself in two. I try to freeze that moment, but it’s too late; it’s gone.

Note for my future self: always keep the camera ready.

The vibes of this night remind me of rural Thailand, in particular Chiang Dao. Green lights hitting colored walls as life winds down for the night.

This moody and silent atmosphere makes my mind drift. I think about the people I met last night in Mérida. I wonder what makes it easier for me to peek into people’s lives while traveling. Probably it’s because in a couple of days I disappear. I’m a ghost passing by with a camera that leaves only a few memories along the way, the smiling bearded dude that came to visit a couple of times and made a lot of photos.

With the sun back in the sky, I wake up still haunted by the photo I missed last night. I’m aware that the reality of a photo is rarely better than what we envisioned when making it with our eyes. But I still think of it. This bugs me so much that, fast forward to the evening, I’m here, sitting in front of the store, waiting for the moment to arrive: the closing time, the moment the shutters come down. And, sadly, the theory is confirmed; the photo I had in my mind was different.

With the bug out of my way, I’m ready for a last day dedicated to Mayan history and nature. Besides the early wake-up, everything goes as smoothly as possible: mass tourism avoided, with the peak being enjoying one of the cenotes, natural pits filled with water, all to myself. A rare luxury.

On the way back, I feel the early morning, and I’m looking forward to a relaxed evening, maybe with another try at the shop shutter. A quiet one. But no. The taxi driver on the way home points out that tonight is the inauguration of the Expo Feria Valladolid. And everything I wrote at the beginning of this missive goes to hell. Of course it does.

Feria, people, music. Gosh, that’s pure chaos. And pure fun to witness. Loud music, people dancing and enjoying each other. White dresses, sweat, smiles. Such a visual and auditory overload. But also a lot of cultural pride, community feelings, and love between communities surrounding Valladolid. They are the proud witnesses of Mayan culture. I didn’t plan for this night. I’m glad it happened.

I’m exhausted; my heavy head bounces on the window while the lights of the Feria fade in the back of the bus.

Luckily, I have to get out at the last stop.

Next up: Holbox. A Carr-free tiny island on the northern tip of Yucatan. A moment to slow down even more and relax before going back to the hectic Mexico City.

Speak soon,

— M