F'hippies.

A mobile hippy is a happy hippy. See one sitting down and they look miserable. Presumably this is because in motion they can't smell themselves. By extension, it would be an interesting - if hazardous - study into the links between hippy walking patterns and local climactic conditions. I hypothesise that they almost always walk into the wind, and will, if required, detour significantly out of their way to avoid self-contamination. Benefits of this strategy include getting noticed more, and seeing more stuff to potentially rob. 

There are many things hippies love: robbing stuff; not wearing shoes; staring at anyone cleaner than themselves, which is most people; pontificating about the evils of the modern world to other hippies. Most of all though, hippies love to be noticed. For this they need a gimmick, something that sets them apart. Seemingly the smell is not enough. Time was a relaxed attitude towards personal hygiene and a fearlessly inventive streak when it comes to wearing pyjamas in public were enough to get you properly noticed. Nowadays that probably just means you're French. Similarly, it used to be that deadlocks worked, but there are now too many iPhone and multi-thousand-dollar camera toting be-deadlocked tweeting Facebook addicts, who are definitely not real hippies (although we should not lose sight of the potential devastation to be wreaked on global flea populations by fire-bombing some of the cheaper Mexican Internet cafes). A mate flask and cup used to be more than enough, but now every middle-class European backpacker can be seeing walking the streets of Latin America with the offending (and frankly offensive) implements. These people might as well wear a t-shirt with the Mayan glyph for "tool". And let's not mention bandannas.

These fashionable faux-hippies have driven the real hippies beyond the pale in order to highlight their hippy credentials. Among the more ridiculous things I've seen proudly lugged through the streets have been: ten-pin bowling skittles (for juggling don't you know); a hoola-hoop (for pretending to be 8 years old again); an offensive musical instrument like a banjo (for the aural rape of anyone within a 1km radius); a child (for ignoring as part of your "life education" policy); fire-sticks (for giving me images of taking the things - lit or not - and impaling the bearer); and my favourite - seen on more than one occasion, but never in use - a unicycle (for fuck knows what). It can be fun spotting the more bizarre and stupid things they cart around, as long as you do your observing from upwind.

Chichen out.

Throw a rock in any direction from the middle of Merida and you'll hit Mayan ruins. Well, okay, you won't. Merida is a city of almost one million people. Throw a rock from the middle of Merida and all you'll hit is Merida. Or possibly a Meridian. But the point is that you'd be very nervous about buying land around there, in case you'd have to sell it back to the government. Or worse, zone some of it off and allow archaeologists to have at it. And let's face it, the last thing you need is unfettered access to your farm when you're trying to grow your dope in peace. Not that the archaeologists would mind, but they'd probably have at that as well.

Chichen Itza is the mother of all Mayan ruin sites. And by mother, i mean warm, safe and very busy. It is invaded daily by convoys of buses from Cancun and Playa del Carmen depositing two-week sun-holidayers for their mandatory hour and a half of local culture (ruins) before having them back by the pool in time for happy hour. Many of these Europeans and Americans come ill prepared for the walking (wedge shoes), the heat (lip liner and layers of makeup that the Mayan stucco producers would envy) or the history (vacant looks after 15 minutes). The site itself is nice, without being spectacular or vast, and very commercialised. If it were revealed that the whole place was a manufactured theme park built specifically for the Caribbean tourists, it would not be all that surprising. 

As it stands, nearby sites are more impressive (Uxmal), more buried in the jungle Indiana-Jones-esque (Ek-Balam) or more interesting (Tulum). In many of these you can have the place to yourself for hours. This is - i suppose - due to the fact that most tourists are off at Chichen Itza with their 45 new best Facebook friends, happily ignoring the twelve hundred years of history in front of them. Instead discussing the important issues of the day, like which Spring Break mega-bar frequented by bandanna wearing fuckwits they'll spend that night. It makes Chichen a bit depressing when you walk around it, but the others all the more enjoyable.