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22nd November.

I felt great when I woke up in the morning. The sun was out, the sky was clear and I had finished the toughest leg of the trip. While I was waiting for Canchola to drive up there (He and his guides drive up every morning. I had no way of calling him, so I had to wait till someone showed up.), I freshened up and walked around the hut. There were a couple of crosses placed in the ground in memory of those who lost their lives on the mountain. I had a few hours to idle away, and I played the flute at the memorial site. One can only hope the deceased liked Des raga as much as I do.

The reverberation in the mountains was fascinating. The flute echoed for a few seconds after I stopped playing. That is the equivalent of an auditorium with a capacity of a few thousand.

*****

At moments like these, I realize how fortunate I am to not just appreciate music I hear, but to be able to recreate music I like and create wonderful music out of nothing.

*****

Canchola arrived at 12 p.m. I told him I summited the previous day. He was very happy — happier than I was after summiting — and gave me a giant bear hug, the kind Sreesanth never gets from Preity Zinta. In the next few mins., I packed my stuff and we loaded the jeep. We were back in Tlachichuca by 3 p.m.

I saw Maribel, and told her I successfully climbed the peak.

Maribel’s reply, ‘I don’t believe you. I need to see the photographs.’

I took it easy the rest of the day, speaking with the Cancholas and playing with the kids in the house. I was almost back to normal after losing all the calories the previous day.

My mind said I should’ve planned another high-altitude peak; my body forwarded this video to my mind.

23rd November.

After what seemed like many days, I woke up in a warm and cozy bed. After shower and breakfast, I had to take the next bus to Mexico City (the flight to Cancun was in the evening). I won’t forget Maribel and Canchola for treating me wonderfully and doing much more for me than what I had officially paid for.

I didn’t want to leave Tlachichuca so soon, but I had to take the 11 o’clock bus. The ride back through the mountains was beautiful. The people and the places — even the ‘second-class bus’ — were no different from India. Back in India, I loved to take state transport buses through small towns and this was just like those times.

The bus reached Mexico City airport at 4, in time for my flight at 6.

Cancun is a major tourist attraction for Western tourists for its beaches and its un-Mexico-ness. The passengers in the flight were predictably suave. A few minutes after the flight took off, I struck a conversation with a passenger across the aisle. It started with small talk — the only known way to man to start a conversation. The guy, Marco, was in his thirties and an environmental lawyer from Cancun. He asked where I was from. (I thought I didn’t look any different from the locals, but everyone I met knew I was from a different country, and most of those knew I was from India.)

Then Marco asked me where I worked. Fruit company, I said.

He was happy to meet someone who had actually worked on a recent fruit he purchased. However, he wanted a clear answer why some products didn’t work with his fruit. I tried to explain for about 15 minutes. but he accepted no answer. I told him of a few alternate ways of getting those products working.

Once we crossed that, for the next 15 minutes he gushed about how his 4 year old son absolutely adored the fruit and how great the products generally were. That, I had no problems listening to.

I had three days in Cancun. For the second day, I had booked a bus to Chichen Itza. I had no other plans at Cancun. I asked Marco for recommendations. His answer: You’re traveling alone, and you don’t even have kids. Don’t stay at Cancun. Come back to Cancun when you have kids.

He then told me of a place called Tulum — a hippie town with beautiful beaches just a couple of hours from Cancun by bus — and an island, Isla Mujeres, half an hour off the coast of Cancun. He gave me recommendations for hotels and contacts of his friends in those places. I already had a hotel booking in Cancun, so Cancun could be my base. The rest of the plan was set: 24th – Tulum, 25th – Chitchen Itza, 26th – Isla Mujeres.

The flight reached Cancun at 10 p.m. Marco gave me his contact and asked me to ‘call him if I wanted anything in Cancun’. The hotel I was staying at was right next to the bus terminal. I inquired about buses to Tulum before checking into the hotel. It was a small, dingy hotel, the kind I often stay at while traveling. Sleep came the minute I fell on the bed.

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