When the ship docked, we disembarked and signaled the cab that would be taking us to the pyramids.
It was a two-hour ride to Chichen Itza, the Temple of the Kukulcan, the archeological site.
Our friends had advised us to skip the costly ships tour and opt for a cab instead. We would be there with the same people we had been sailing with but for less money. Herbert was frugal about spending money, he thought it was a good idea.
The driver, who spoke little English, took us down unexpected bumpy unpaved roads. We barely spoke more than a few sentences in Spanish.
He said he had driven to Chichen Itza many times. We had our doubts. It was 2 1/2 hours since we departed the pier. Oh my, would the headlines read:
“Lost tourists, eaten by wild animals at dusk.”
Eventually, our driver seemed less confident about where he was going. He thought he had made a wrong turn. I guess that’s why the road was unpaved.
Frustrated, he found a road that led to his home. It was an old wooden shack in dire need of repair, and you might say dilapidated.
Although fearful, we exited the car and met his mother, sister, and brother-in-law. They welcomed us with huge smiles. Their children played on dirt floors while a baby slept in a hammock. They insisted we sit and eat something.
It was a pleasant visit. We learned a lot about their Mayan customs and cultural traditions.
We never made it to the pyramids. But, we arrived back at our ship with more knowledge about the Mayan people than we would have on a pricier tour.
Sometimes, a mishap can turn into a beautiful experience.
*****A similar photo by Ted Strutz was posted on Friday Fictioneers back in 2017. I wrote this poem for that image. I didn’t get many views or comments. I thought I’d edit it a bit and add it to this photograph by Dale Rogerson. Sorry about the two extra words.