You may know someone who has skydived, or you may have done it yourself. If the latter then in a way you know what I’m talking about (in a way because with three of us jumping we had three very different reactions). If the former then you have no idea. I and many others have jumped out of a plane. Not because it was going down, not because it was full of snakes, but because we wanted an experience. And Little Baby Hayzoos do you get one.

I’m sure you have read about people jumping, you may even have commented on a post or two, but it is hard to convey the otherworldly “Holy Fuckness” of stepping off the tiny ledge and tumbling into nothing. I was not sure how it was going to feel when we were setting up for the jump, and I am not a hundred percent sure how I feel now that the jump is comfortably in the past. But I will try to enlighten those of you who want to do it, those of you who don’t, and those of you who think you know what it would be like (hint: you don’t.).

The schedule for the day. We are 1, 2 and 3pm

We booked in for the skydive a few days before its actual taking place. We had loose plans to do it when my sister got here and it became a reality only a day after she arrived. A few emails back and forwards with Skydive Playa (thanks guys, you did a great job), and they offered us a jump the following afternoon.

“What! Tomorrow? OK lets do it, no point hanging around.”

We woke up on the 21st of May 2013, ten days before my 32nd birthday (the loosely based reason for jumping now), and tried to prepare ourselves for what would be happening at one o’clock that sunny afternoon. Sarah didn’t sleep much, Taunee and I were up early, and the whole morning carried with it a low murmur of constant anxiety. We walked on the beach, Sarah went to Yoga hoping it might calm the flaring fear inside, and we waited.

The morning dragged by. “Can’t we just go already?”

Eventually the time passed, many nervous toilet breaks and anxious looks later we were walking down the main street in Playa, baking under an intense sun yet almost floating on nervous chatter and sweaty dread. At the same time, we all really wanted to face this thing called fear. And (spoiler alert) we did.

Pre-dive Training with Michel, I don’t think I remembered much of this during the event.

Sarah was first up to jump, nervous to go, but then surprisingly loved it! Landing on the beach with the biggest smile I have ever seen and reassurances of how amazing it was. (I’ll let her tell her story.).

I could almost hear her smiling even at this height.

Coming to terms with awesomeness

Then my sister, Taunee was supposed to follow but there was an issue with the plane and we had to wait a couple hours (much to her nerves fraying disdain). Eventually though they sorted the plane and up she went. She came down and landed with agony in the ear from not being able to equalize and a look which said she may just have had the worst experience of her life. The comments which followed confirmed the look.

“At least you faced your fears mate.” We whispered into her popped ears (which healed up just fine. She still thinks it was the most terrifyingly horrible thing she has ever done, but in a good to overcome sort of way).

Taunee, thrilled to be almost on the ground

Then it was my turn. I had been a bit anxious coming up to the event, but was worried that the girls might need a little bravado so had been jesting and pasting on my big brave boy face for most of the day. In truth I didn’t feel too scared and was chuffed at finally facing something I had yet to push myself to do. After Taunee landed on the beach, they bundled me into the van and drove me out to the airport. I sat in the back listening to them chatter in Spanish in a sweaty sort of detachment, only barely thinking about what was coming next.

At the nearby airport we climbed out of the van and headed to security. The  camera man occasionally pointing the video camera at me and saying “Say hi to the camera.” Which is a hard thing to do without feeling ridiculous, but I obeyed. A quick toilet break, a scan from security and I was standing on the runway, barefoot (by choice, I wanted to feel the wind between my toes, looking back I never even noticed I had toes while falling). The tarmac started to singe my soles while Hermil (the dude I was going to be strapped to) strapped me into my harness, but I didn’t want to request picking up the pace, deciding hot feet were better than falling to my death.

Heading to the plane

He showed me how we would be jumping, repeating what had been explained to us at the office, and then said “Climb in.” I dragged myself into position behind the pilot facing the back of the plane, the camera man and Hermil climbed in after and up we went.

I felt strangely calm as we were going up. Only barely aware that at a point which would be thought of as halfway for most plane rides, I would be exiting. The ground grew further away as I stared out the window. The occasional glance at Hermil’s altimeter showed us climbing steadily. “1000, 2000…7000, 8000.” During the twenty five minutes or so journey up, everyone seemed fantastically chilled. Hermil picked his nails, chewing gum was offered and taken, and the occasional questioning thumbs up were shown by all. It was great! The seeming nonchalance of my skydiving protectors made me feel comfortable in what was about to happen. Like if they ain’t stressed, I obviously shouldn’t be either. And for the most part I wasn’t.

10 000 feet, and everyone starts moving. I had been enjoying the amazing view of the Caribbean coast almost in denial of the thing that was about to take place. Hermil tightens his straps and turns around to face me. He beckons me to move in front of him and face the front of the little plane. Then starts maneuvering and directing me into position.

“Put your knees between the camera guys. Move forward slowly.” Straps tighten and I feel Hermil tight up against my back. Breathing in at the same time makes everything tight so I try and get into rhythm with him.

“Now pull your feet out and get on your haunches. When the door opens, hold your straps with both hands. Put your right leg on the step, then your left leg. I will pull your head back then count to three, and then we go. OK?”

“Uhhh, yeah, OK.”

Suddenly the door bangs open and the wind zips into the small compartment, roaring passed my ears. Holy shit I am actually about to jump out of a fucking plane! I can see without obstruction ten thousand feet below. Sea, beach and jungle stretching out forever. Blue, white, green and blue with every shade between. Tiny boats and rooftops like brightly colored cartoon scribblings, and the roaring in my ears. I briefly think it’s like looking down at a giant print out of Google maps, like my mind cannot comprehend this view anywhere else but in a picture. Then camera guy climbs onto the step in front of me.

“Right leg out.” My body does what Hermil tells it and the wind grabs my leg, a couple try’s and my naked foot finds the step.

Oh. My. God. This is happening.

“Left leg out.” Out goes my left leg and I feel my body pushed up against the door frame as the screaming wind pins it there.

Suddenly it feels like all control is blissfully taken from me. I am just hanging there, attached to someone who knows what he is doing. I am not scared of him making a mistake, I am not scared of hitting the ground. In fact I don’t really know what it is I am scared of, but Jesus Christ this is the craziest most insane thing my mind has ever felt. I am looking down at the world in a way I have never seen before and it feels like I have jumped into another reality, one where I can exist ten thousand feet above the Earth.

“One, Two, Three.”

My mind does a crazy lurch, as though it were trying to imitate my stomachs reaction to a roller coaster. I had already told myself I wouldn’t close my eyes and now as my body becomes weightless I watch the ground enter my vision fully, then upside down clouds roll past, then the underside of an airplane I was just sitting in, and then the ground is back again. The wind screams passed my ears and the air pries my mouth open and creeps beneath my eyelids. We stabilize and the ground becomes a fixed feature. A tap on my shoulder lets me know I can let go of the straps. I do and now I am floating above the Earth, looking down at it unencumbered by glass or steel.

Insane colors and an impossible world stretches out below and before me. Tiny bright things. Jungle, multi-hued sea, towns, roads, islands, boats. My brain just barely recognizes the beauty of the moment as it tries to deal with the awe of flying. It is doing the impossible and floating above a world that has no pull on any part of it. Aside from the roaring in my ears and the pulling at my skin, I have no sensation of falling. The fear is mixed with awe and disbelief.

I’m falling ten thousand feet above the ground!

A sensation I can only describe as “Whoa” takes over and the moments are almost overwhelming. Emotion pushes to the surface stronger in this small time frame than anything I have felt before. I am exhilarated and terrified at the same time. The camera guy floats in front of me and I come back to reality, pushing out a forced thumbs up and a forever unheard and shaky”Wahoo.” I look at him, then look passed him. I look down at the ground which doesn’t seem to have moved at all. It is amazing, I am just beginning to come to terms with what an incredible thing this is, and then the camera guy drops away. I hear a flappy sound and my descent slows quickly. The straps between my legs pull tight and I wince a little at the pain from where they bite into me (I have sensitive skin, it’s a beautiful curse).

And we are floating.

Me coming in for a landing.

We have fallen about five thousand feet in thirty to forty seconds. My mind is still trying to catch up with what has just happened. I stare down at the tiny things below as my naked feet flutter around below me, barely peeking out from my huffing for breath belly.

Whoa.

We float down towards the ground, occasional swings as we descend pulling at my body like a merry go round at full tilt. The straps are digging in tight making it hard to think about the growing world below. But the reality and magnitude of the moment are still with me. Things get slowly bigger and over the course of about six minutes I begin to come to grips with what an incredible thing just happened.

I jumped/fell out of a plane at ten thousand feet. I defied gravity for forty seconds. I floated through the air and looked down at the world without glass and steel to keep us apart. Sarah and Taunee become more than spots on the beach as we quickly drop in height, pulling inland briefly and then swooping towards our target.

“Lift your legs high.”

The obligatory double thumbs up.

I raise my legs, we touch down, and it is over. I have jumped from a plane, floated on air, and touched down on the beach safely. I have skydived, and it was insanely, terrifyingly magnificent. I don’t understand why people aren’t more expressive about the magnitude of what you feel and experience when Skydiving. Love it or hate it, terrified or ecstatic. There is very little in life which compares to the intense emotions you feel when throwing yourself from a plane. If you have the opportunity. Do it!

Watching the Sunrise the next morning, reflecting on falling from above the clouds the day before.

We go and pick up our videos today, so next post there should be laughs galore for all who enjoy the look of terror in their fellow man. See you then…

The post Holy F#*K I jumped out of a plane! appeared first on Tell them i said something.

A nice chilled out thirty minute drive and forty pesos later we were dropped at the gates to “Indiana Joe’s”. The confusingly alternate name for Aktun Chen. A little Mexican fellow minding the gate informed us in very broken English that the park was another four kilometers down the road, that we should wait ten minutes and someone would come and get us. Fortunately for us he was a funny little dude and spent the ten or twenty minutes repeating the words “Como se dice” (how do you say), followed by Spanish spoken so quick it was a miracle we could keep up. By we I mean Sarah, who managed to teach him to say “Hello Lady, would you like to go to the disco with me.”

Once we got to the park the super friendly staff (they have somehow managed to get the best customer service in Mexico at Aktun Chen!) walked us through what would be happening and offered to let us play with their hair pulling, nose nibbling monkey. After watching him playfully lay waste to someones hair style we politely declined and instead prepped for the day (copious amounts of mosquito spray).

First up was the zip-lining. Unfortunately you can’t take your own camera, something to do with zipping through trees upside down and possibly destroying your equipment, and we weren’t quiet ready to drop $60 for digital copies (and we didn’t actually have the money with us). So we only have a couple pics of us strapping our genitals in nice and tight. I’ve never zip-lined and it was a lot of fun hanging upside down, spinning and generally zipping through the tree tops. Mostly fun though because of the staff who cracked jokes constantly, which after doing this for the zillionth time would have to be a struggle. When double zipping in a somewhat provocative position a couple were asked “You’re not brother and sister are you? Because that would be awkward.” Along with “Ok this time we do it without harnesses.”

Showing a little leg for the ladies.

The boys and their impressive ability to pose.

After the zip-lining it was off for a cave walk. The cave is pretty amazing, an underground testament to the age of this landscape. But for those with short attention spans like Sarah and myself it was a little bit long. Again though the guide made it a lot more interesting than it could have been, and the finale is spectacular. A deep underground cenote untouched by swimmers and such with thick roots hanging from the cavern top into its crystal clear depths. There is a bit of a light show to highlight features you might not notice and then it is off to the next event. I couldn’t get any decent photos of it because of the low light, but trust me, it is pretty spectacular.

Bats hanging out in the cave

Lunch was next, where we dined on Fajitas and Quasedillas. I made friends with a parrot who was maybe expecting more from our relationship than I was willing to give, and stared while squawking at me through the window, the whole time. I would have been more friendly but the big sign which none to subtly suggested the loss of fingers kept our time together on strictly no touch terms. I will always mourn what could have been had I been more courageous. I will miss you Palome the Parrot. Luckily our heartache was blunted by some of the other animals in the park. Like a sleeping monkey, a giant snake and mosquitos.

Palome the Parrot giving me his sad look.

Palome’s mates, who actually tried to chomp me.

What we spend most afternoons doing.

Our final destination for the day was one of the most attractive cenotes I have had the pleasure to swim in. Mostly underground and lit with a mix of natural and man made lighting. The water in this cenote is ridiculously clear. So much so that sometimes you have the strange sensation of floating on air as opposed to in water. We were guided around it and then given time to explore by ourselves. At some point everyone left and when I pulled my head out of the water I was floating in a large cavernous room with light beaming through a hole in the cavern ceiling with no one else around. The water seemed impossibly blue for something so clear and the ancient cracks four or five meters below me glowed in the piercing light. There was no noise except for water dripping from my hair (which is really sparse so barely any noise at all!). It was a delightfully zen moment. Floating alone in an underground river which is likely millions of years old.

The refraction an’ that make it look shallow, but it’s actually 4 or 5 meters deep in places.

Did you hear that?!

Then we were off. Back to the main entrance, an attempt at wallet fleecing for the photos (in all fairness I suppose it isn’t much for your average tourist, and they did offer to come down in price), and then trying to find a way back to the main gate. Usually your travel would be included but because of our free ticket thing we had to make our own way. A hotel tours driver suggested that if we paid him the money we would have paid a collectivo, he would take us back to Playa del Carmen with his passengers. At first it seemed like a fortuitous bit of luck, then we met our travel companions.

For the most part I have been pleasantly surprised by the Americans I have met, and never quite understood the stigma of the traveling U.S.A’ian. I have now had the misfortune to discover the other side of peoples arguments. At first our new companions were freaking out because “There ain’t gonna be space for everyone!” There was, because only about ten of them had come in a bus which could take about sixteen.

Once we were on the bus they got really annoying.

The gent in the front seat kept shouting back the worst jokes to everyone, and showing off like a six year old. Then there was the guy two seats in front of us, who after letting us know with a grin on his face that “things are gonna get loud and crazy in here.” turned around every two minutes to see how we were reacting to “the craziness” (which amounted to the loud dispersal of beer and then fatigue dulled comments).

With many more cringe worthy moments we made it back to Playa. Which is when they delivered the coup de grace. As we pulled into the large town of Playa del Carmen the gentleman next to me pointed at a super market and said “Is that your hotel? What’s it like?” I decided not to point out the shopping trolleys and people walking out with shopping bags. “No, we live closer to the beach.”

This was followed by someone else declaring with a gasp “Wow, look at this place”. They were of course referring to Playa del Carmen, which they had no idea even existed because they had never left the resort, but I mean, C’mon! Its Playa del Carmen, you are staying ten minutes away.

“So where are you from?” was next. “Australia, Perth.”

“Wow, want to see my knife?” This from the large brutish fellow next to me with a ridiculous grin on his face.

“What? Do I want to see your knife? Umm, well, OK I suppose.”

“You know, Crocodile Dundee. Do you want to see my knife!”

“Ahh OK I see the connection. That’s not a knife, this is a knife.” (Guffaws all round).

“So you live here. Wow, I’m like you, I like to get involved with the culture, you know, not these tour things.”

“Really? But then why are you…? Never mind, yeah totally we’re the same. So like, enjoy the rest of your holiday in the resort, I mean holiday in Mexico. Driver let us out here. This will be just fine. Yes I know it’s another three kilometers but I like walking. Here’s a hundred pesos, keep the change just open the door please.”

In Fairness, they were very friendly in the end. Just naive, which might have been endearing if it wasn’t for the stare bear and the show-offy nonce in the front seat.

All in all it was an interesting day. A bit different from the stuff we usually do, and aside from a few mosquito bites, tips for the great staff, and extreme annoyance on the ride home, it was free! Can’t ask for much more than that.

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“The Big Night” is about two brothers, one a hobo in the French suburbs, the other a man struggling in his relationship and shit job. In short the brother loses his job, goes nuts, and becomes a hobo with his already homeless brethren.

I bring this movie up because one of the things the hobo taught his newly homeless brother, was how to walk without purpose. How to amble with the least amount of energy possible, because, well they are hobos and really they have nowhere to be and nothing which needs to be done.

I love this idea, and aside from the hobo part it is very much an opportunity I have in my life now. There are things I make myself do and there are things I tell myself need to be done. But in reality, I don’t have to do a damn thing if I don’t want to.

So it was I set off for lunch on a sunny Sunday afternoon in Playa. I threw on a pair of sneakers, opened the front door, and with a loose plan to have lunch somewhere, I started walking without purpose. This is harder than it sounds, to walk so slowly, with so little energy that you are a flexed fiber away from standing still. To move forward with no purpose other than to keep moving.

I loved it. It took me about half an hour to walk what should have taken ten minutes. During that time my mind wandered between the pointless and absolutely nothing. The afternoon sun bathed my skin yet I remained cool. The few people who were around flowed past me as though sprinting. My eyes roamed and saw things which normally I would not have registered in the short time they were in my vision. I felt more relaxed walking than I do sitting down.

Eventually I ended up at El Fogon, and had a large burrito type thing for lunch. I paid the bill, stood up, and then walked away so slowly that people actually watched me, no doubt questioning my mental stability or physical agility. What other reason could someone have for walking so slowly?

It took about an hour to get home. Walking down roads at random with only a general idea of where I was going. I snapped the occasional picture with my phone, but other than that, I just floated.

It was delightfully freeing, to know that this is all that is really required of me. That my built in need to be here, then to be there, as quickly as I can, is mostly unnecessary. I have no need to be anywhere if I don’t want to, and now I can choose to walk in a way which suits my lifestyle. Slowly, and without purpose.

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The old website was alright, but I got bored with it, and I thought, if I’m bored with it, then other people are probably bored with it. That and I was feeling a bit creative again for the first time since I quit smoking, and where better to unleash that creativity than on something which expresses mwah to the world (in particular those members of the world who need a new website).

The development of eyepudding.com followed a similar vein to most of the things I create. I start with a basic idea of what the website is about, what it is trying to sell, and how it is trying to sell it. In this case I am selling websites, digital art and graphic design. The website in my mind is about selling unique, interesting web design that functions well. The web is full of clones which say next to nothing about their owners or their owners products other than “We sell this.” Websites which have been built purely for the sale. This is fine if it works for them, but I want to build stuff which is unique, which has personality, and which goes beyond “menu bar, list, logo”. whether I have achieved that or not I will let you decide.

As for how it is trying to sell, well it is trying to sell in a way which I think matches my personality. Aside from the occasional mad hatter post about the world being bleak because I couldn’t get a nicotine hit. I am a pretty chilled guy and as my misses and my travel blog will tell you, I have a rather blunt, sometimes brutally honest/morbid sense of humor, I think I’m a fun guy (who doesn’t think they’re fun though right). As such I wanted the site to look chipper, I wanted it to have an element of randomness, and I wanted the color and movement to convey levity. Again I will let you decide if I achieved this or not.

From there it came down to deciding which of the myriad of web development options the internet offers I would choose. I decided on my favorite theme for wordpress.org, Weaver II pro. It is extremely malleable and allows for a lot of variety in design if you put the time in to learn it and aren’t scared of getting into the nuts and bolts of wordpress. If you want a unique site that doesn’t look like it came out of the cookie cutter, this is the theme.

I decided I wanted motion in the site, but didn’t want to use flash because it sucks for SEO and browser / device compatibility. People don’t like being told to download a plugin to view a site, and it doesn’t work on most mobile platforms. So I decided on using a parallax slider plugin which allowed me to implement html, css and linking into its layers. Usually you would use something like this just to highlight posts with images on your front page, but I like to mix it up. So I used it at full size as a responsive slider and it became 90% of my site content.

I used an assortment of my own artwork as backdrops and chose them on “feel” as opposed to any real thought pattern, I think it worked and the respective pages and colors emphasize their content nicely.

Lastly I ensured the site had good security throughout, included a great SEO plugin, and used W3 Total Cache to keep the speed of the site up. This last part still needs tweaking but the homepage loads at around two to three seconds right now (in comparison this site loads in about 1.3 seconds, which is damn good compared to some of the stuff out there), which for a site that will be full screen and crisp in HD (1920×1080) is pretty damn good. Most sites are scaled to about 1280px wide or less, which means when you look at them on a good monitor there is a lot of dead space either side. I decided I don’t mind an extra second of load time for a site which looks good at high resolutions, after all that is the way technology is heading and I can keep working on the speed.

And that is the thought process and structure I use to build a website. I figure out what you want to sell the world. I figure out how you want to sell it. I figure out what sort of personality you want your site to have, and then let the bizarre inner workings of the brain take all that info and run it through its gelatinous interior. Bounce it round a few billion neurons and hey presto. A website built for you!

I hope you like www.eyepudding.com, it was a labor of love. I look forward to your opinions and thoughts. And if you find any little bleeps or bloops that shouldn’t be there. On phones, tablets or computers. Please let me know so I can doo hickey it into perfection. And of course if you or someone you know needs a website, art or graphic design work done, you know where to find me. Peace.

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A friend of ours is traveling and came over to Playa del Carmen a few days ago. Deciding we wanted to show her some of the things we love so much about the place, we rented a car and took her out for the day. The idea was to go snorkeling at Akumal beach at around 08:30 and watch the turtles having a feed. Then to find random little restaurant in an as yet unknown but quaint little village. And then to head out to a few cenotes for some fresh water swimming and fish ogling.

That was the plan, unfortunately though things did not quite work out that way. We rented the car in the morning for about $40. We picked up our friend from her hostel, we grabbed a coffee on the road and before long were renting a life jacket for me (I like to float above the turtles with very little effort, but I have heavy legs and they tend to sink) and flippers for Sarah ($5 each). I strapped myself in to the very little crop top styled life jacket and with a smile on my face waded into the water, excited to be trying out my new snorkel and searching for turtles.

That’s where it all went wrong, standing stomach deep after having acclimated to the fresh cool water buffeting my undercarriage. I raised the goggles to my head, lenses to the fore, and attempted to pulled the straps down. Somehow the strain of keeping my head still was more than my previously injured neck could bear, and BLAMMO! Pain wrenched through me, my arms froze in position and I couldn’t move without waves of pain through my upper body. So close to the turtles and yet so far.

As the girls went off swimming I headed back to the beach muttering angry hurtful things to my goggles. A part of me thought it might get better after a few minutes and that I could go swimming again. What actually happened is that after a few minutes it got worse and I could barely stand up or move. I perched in a chair staring out at the horizon and the stupid people having fun, and craved a cigarette so bad (luckily there were no stores nearby, and I couldn’t move). Stupid snorkel goggle straps.

We were forced to accept that the day was done and that we had to head home. Neither Sarah or our friend were too keen on driving a right hand manual, so they propped me up in the drivers seat and acted as my side mirrors. I managed to get us back to Playa del Carmen in one piece, albeit with a fair bit of pain (bloody Mexican speed bumps everywhere).

We dropped our friend off and then it was straight to the International Doctors Clinic for me. I didn’t know much about Doctors in Mexico, but they couldn’t be less effective than my experiences in Australia, surely? They poked and prodded for a bit and then shot me up with a steroid infused anti inflammatory, one in each perfectly formed glute. They gave me a handful of “the strongest pain killers we have”, then it was off down the road for x-rays. A quick dose of radiation from a machine that looked like it may have come from a cold war Russian submarine and then back to the Doctor for a final analysis.

“You see your spine here? We see this kind of trauma in car accident patients.” Right that’s a relief, thanks Doc.

I was told to come back the following day after my Doctor had spoken to a trauma specialist and headed home to let the anti inflammatory do its work.

I have not had great luck with doctors. In fact about 90% of the doctors I have seen are more interested in getting me out of the way and plying me with meds than an actual diagnosis. I hoped this would be different, it wasn’t. The Doctor wasn’t worse than I have had before, but she wasn’t much better either.

I have had this neck issue in various stages of severity for six months now. I am pretty damn sure I don’t just keep pulling a muscle! But the following day I went back to the clinic where my doctor wasn’t. Another doctor called her up and I was informed on the phone that the trauma specialist thought there was nothing wrong and that I need to go to a physiotherapist because it was probably a pulled muscle.

“You fuckin’ what? Yesterday you said it looked like I had been in a car accident, now I should go see a physio because it looks like I pulled a muscle? So what? For six months I have been pulling muscles all around my neck in different places, the last time when I tried to put goggles on my head!?!”

“Deep breaths, it’s not their fault they are stupid.”

So short story long, I just wanted to look at some stupid turtles eating stupid sea grass, and now I gotta drop $40 on a back and neck guy. Stupid paradise with its stupid water based activities…

If anyone knows anything about x-rays or neck injuries, please let me know. The hope is that I can just kinda whack it a certain way and it will be fixed!

The post Going To The Doctor In Mexico, Because Of Goggles appeared first on Tell them i said something.

So we were invited with a group of friends to go for a wander through the Mexican jungle (albeit slightly managed Mexican jungle, my favorite kind), then for a swim in a secluded cenote or two, and then finally to a still-in-development house for wood-fired pizza.

They got me with the wood-fired pizza part.

I have to admit I am not usually one for social gatherings, in fact some would describe me as the cover child for anti-social behavior, but I thought it was about time I proved to Sarah’s friends that I am more than a stunningly charismatic and handsome figment of her imagination.

Here is a photographic follow along of our day on the outskirts of Playa del Carmen, and what I assume is Jungle because I do not know how else to describe the Flora out here…

We started the day by lighting a candle and saying a prayer, I’m not really one for prayers but I can appreciate a good shrine.

Then it was off walking through the Jungle, we had paths but still, there was Jungle either side.

We passed a family and their puppy swimming in one of the Cenote scattered around the area.

Just standing in the Jungle, as you do. I kept waiting for Mowgli to show himself.

An artist is one of the land owners and his statues are spread around the area, sometimes almost hidden from view.

Imagine wandering across this one during a night time jungle stroll.

Jungle Flowers, it’s like the jungle you see in the movies, hardly any bugs even!

And after walking through the hot Jungle for an hour or so… Cenotes (and bats, and guano).

Wrapped in the towel / bed sheet / beach blanket / sunburn cover / must have accessory after a refreshing swim.

The water is as cold and refreshing as it looks.

And what better way to finish off the day than wood fired Jungle Pizza! We each got to make our own, and mine was the best, cause I say so.

It was great to get away from the design stuff I have been working on, if even for a day. So thanks to Sarah and her friends for a great day out, to Playa del Carmen for all its hidden marvels, and to you for reading. Peace.

The post Pizza and Cenotes in the Mexican Jungle appeared first on Tell them i said something.

Probably not the San Francisco

I’m no painter, but I think you are supposed to scrape, then paint.

I don’t mean to alarm you, but, uh, you seem to have painted that tree. And you’re wearing socks with your flip flops.

Just moseying along, very, very, slowly…

The main church in Tizimin, it’s really quiet large.

The school bus in a small town we passed through.

Wandering the quiet streets in a town with no name. Well, not a name I can recall.

Reading the fine print at the home of the best Flan in Mexico, Tizimin.

Although the walls were once covered in paintings, they have all but disappeared now, leaving only a trace of what was.

Jesus in a submarine

The priest’s pajamas.

The Red Salt Lakes of Las Coloradas, no relation to the Red Sea of Egypt.

Which side would you rather go for a dip in?

We had the whole place to ourselves, no tourists, no one chasing us off their land or charging an entrance fee. Just us and the flamingos (they’re hiding in there somewhere).

Our final destination before the four hour drive home, Ria Lagartos. We dined on a whole fried fish each and watched the sun go down. The town was surprisingly quiet, but all the better for it.

And those are some of the highlights of our drive, there are a thousand other little things which made the journey spectacular. Little shrines along the road. Rally driving across deserted salt strewn sand roads in a tiny little Matiz. Beaches without a soul in sight with the bluest water you have ever seen. An ice cream seller standing at a junction without another person to be seen. The crumbling gates of a hundred deserted Ranches on roads surrounded by jungle.

So many experiences added up to make this an amazing trip. If you get a chance to come down this way, don’t do a tour. Grab a car, turn on Google maps, and just drive.

The post Mexico Yucatan Road Trip Photos Part 2 appeared first on Tell them i said something.

It is sometimes hard to express in words how beautiful a place or an experience can be and feel. But when Kim (of so many places fame) created an amazing photo post on Kathmandu, it really brought back for me what it was like to be there. So in a copycat sort of fashion, this post will use a lot of photographs (15 so be prepared) with a few words to try and share with you how amazing our home in Mexico really is. I invite you into our world to experience the Yucatan, Mexico with us. This truly is a beautiful country, and I hope you enjoy this little bit of it with us…

 The town square, the town shop, and pretty much the entire town.

Hanging out at the Taxi rank in Izamal (Yellow Town)

Larry the horse hangs his head in shame at his owners flamboyant choice in headgear.

The big Yellow Church in Izamal, it’s big, and it’s also yellow.

The walls keep the church interior cool while its religious paraphernalia keeps it creepy.

Often the only discernible differences form church to church are their size and how many racial types of Jesus you can spot.

The Mexican passion for Coke is ever present.

If it ain’t yellow, it ain’t welcome here.

Painted walls are common in the small towns around Mexico, as are Mexicans.

They sure do love a good Church in Mexico

Our amazing Hotel Hacienda Merida. The pool was fed with fresh water from underground springs, it was hard to leave such amazing accommodation and I would recommend it to anyone looking to treat themselves.

Ruins at Uxmal. Some of the best we have seen in Mexico. This Chinese couple were clapping their hands for about 10 minutes, the structure causes the sound to echo back, it’s a cool effect they definitely made the most of.

One of many iguanas which sit on the ruins soaking up the sun, he saw me coming, and didn’t move an inch, that’s cojones for you.

Preparing my camera equipment for the next shot, and shielding my recently fried skin from further damage.

The view across a very flat Yucatan. It is easy to imagine the Mayans staring out across the landscape over a thousand years ago, or maybe just peeking in other peoples windows.

And that was day 1 in the Yucatan! For the second part of our trip in photos, which is even better! Take a look at Mexico Yucatan Road Trip Part 2. Peace.

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So it was Sarah and I decided to take some time off and go see a bit more of Mexico. We rented a car in Playa del Carmen for $40 a day, filled a small backpack and hit the road. Destination? Merida. A big town near the north coast of the Yucatan peninsula and three to four hours drive from Playa del Carmen. I love to drive, and am a true believer in the phrase “Life is about the journey, not the destination.”

One of the things I have come to love about Mexico (in particular Quintana Roo and the Yucatan) are the small towns sprinkled along its back roads. Each one seems a slightly different arrangement of another, some a bit bigger and others barely big enough to deserve the moniker of town. Almost all however are comprised of the same basic ingredients. An old yellow church, a town square, and a tortilleria. Strangely enough most also sport a basketball court in various states of disrepair. All however are as quaint as hell.

As you drive in to town the first thing that grabs you is how quiet it is. Sleepy streets act as a stage for the occasional group of kids playing with a stick or adults wandering idly along while staring off into space. I guess the rest of the town are either having a siesta or off at work somewhere. What they would do for work in these small towns is beyond me. The only real sign of exertion you see is the occasional house being swept out, or a store owner changing the channel on an old TV with a tiny screen. It is like stepping into a highly stylized movie. It seems impossible that places like this could actually exist.

Roads covered in dust and broken into sections by endless speed bumps crawl sleepily through these hidden places with hardly a soul in sight. Small corner stores are painted with giant Pepsi or Coca Cola logos and dogs lie lazily in the shade of overgrown trees. These out of the way places are for me the best part of a road trip in Mexico. You can get lost here. You can leave behind your busy need to be busy and your desire for things.

I walk into a small shop with a giant Pepsi logo spread across its old walls. In the silence it seems deserted, like the owner thought better of coming in today and couldn’t be bothered to close the doors.

“Hola?”

I call out, my voice and the gentle hum of a refrigerator the only sounds breaking a heavy silence. It is cool inside and barely lit, snack foods and cold drinks line shelves who’s parts seem to come from a thousand different manufacturers. A slight rustling rises from behind a stack of mixed items and a small woman heavily wrinkled with age emerges, smiling with a look of surprise in her eyes. She seems amused at my presence in her sleepy little town.

“Hola?” she says back, and then continues saying something I have no hope of understanding. I smile and shrug hoping the universality of gestures holds true here and she smiles back knowingly.

I buy a Pepsi, thank her and we exchange smiles again. As I walk out into the light I am returned to a place almost void of activity. Sarah and I sit on plastic chairs outside the shop, shaded from the biting sun by a tree completely motionless in the still air. Nothing seems to want to move here, even the trees seem relaxed.

The shop faces onto a square, to one side of which sits a small church, painted yellow with its doors open to would be worshipers. A man rides past slowly on a bicycle. One of those slow almost effortless rides which suggest he really doesn’t have to be anywhere anytime soon. He barely even notices us as his legs flow with the pedals, it’s like he’s sleep cycling.

We drink the Pepsi in silence, soaking up the calm inherent in this place and in these people. The town has only a few dozen buildings split into blocks by even fewer roads. Some of the houses are barely standing and obviously abandoned to time, trees and grass spilling from their interiors as they are taken back by nature. I wish I could maintain a lifestyle and a mind state such as the simplicity I see here. For now though, just visiting once in awhile and seeing how the world can be is enough.

We finish off the Pepsi and cross the square to our car, there is barely a soul in sight to bid us farewell. As we drive out of town a few small groups of people are gathered here and there. They stare hard at us, unused to tourists passing through. We exchange smiles and waves and then we are gone, leaving them to wonder at our existence for a few seconds more before they return to their own realities.

On the road again, driving past broken down signs and gateways of old Rancheros either abandoned or barely in use. Past more little towns forgotten by time, waiting for a random set of events to pull us into another random town most often missed by tourists and locals alike.

There seem to be thousands of these small towns spread across the Yucatan and Quintana Roo. As you drive along signs pop out of nowhere with names you cannot pronounce, pointing to a barely visible road which leads to another barely populated place.

There are a number of big old colonial towns like Valedollid and Merida which pull in the tourists, local and otherwise. There are also mid sized towns like Izamal which occasionally bring “big city life” to the middle of nowhere. For me though the true heart of Mexico lies in the little towns spread sporadically along its back roads. Surrounded by dense jungle and swallowed by a time outside of time, their names forgotten as one blurs into the next, clones of each other yet each one somehow unique.

They remind me, even if only for a short time, that all the stuff, all the issues and perceived problems I deal with daily, imagined and otherwise, all that stuff just really does not matter. I need to refocus on why we are living this lifestyle and the opportunities it provides. I realize the not smoking is bringing me down, but I need to man up and get over it. I mean, I’m living in Mexico for little baby haysooses sake!

Little Baby Haysoos

The post Small Town Mexico, Driving Through the Yucatan appeared first on Tell them i said something.

But, I haven’t, and I wont. In for a penny as they say. I have told myself three months and then see how you feel. At this point, the one month mark, I undeniably feel a lot better physically (which I’ll get to shortly) and despite the above mentioned statement, mentally too.

I have been quite surprised at the severity of the withdrawal symptoms on my mind. When I was still chuffing down cigarettes like M&M’s, each day I could wheeze my way through a workout at the gym, write few chapters of my book, write a post for this blog, critique one of Sarah’s posts, make a 3D model or two and design a website.

When I quit smoking, it was like all motivation just went out the window. I could barely drag myself off the bed and away from Friends and Scrubs reruns most days. Every time I did anything, it just reminded me of how much I wanted a smoke and sent me into a spiral of wah wah poor me.

I am happy to say though that now, one month on, things are most definitely getting better. I am starting to want to do stuff again. I am still lacking a lot of inspiration and am yet to continue working on the book, but I am creating and designing things again, and weirdly enough, I have this compelling urge to go out and do stuff. A lot more so than in my pre-quitting days (this is unusual for me ’cause I’m usually so lazy, maybe it really was the smokes making me feel lethargic).

I kind of feel like I have been in the middle of a hurricane, and I am slowly working my way to its outer edges. I can feel it fading and almost see the sun poking through in the distance. I’m still getting rained on, and occasionally a massive gust rises up and makes me want to punch it in its smoke free face, but in all, it is passing.

Cancer Man Moves In

Strangely enough it seems we have a new neighbor in our block of flats. I haven’t seen him, but I know he’s there from his loud hacking cancerous seeming cough which echos through our window throughout the day. I say cancerous because our adjacent bathroom window has started letting in the unmistakable smell of cigarette smoke and because pre, post and during the cough he sounds like he is about to keel over. I don’t believe in God, but if I did I would say he sent this hideously grating cough and its associated smokey smell to remind me to keep on keeping on. Thanks God, you do some inexplicably stupid shit, but this one makes sense.

Gym Party!

So how does one celebrate a month of being smoke free, one hits the gym! ( Jeepers, when did my celebrations go from all night coke binges to early morning gym sessions?). I decided that the best way to remind myself that things are changing, was to go to the gym and really crank it, put my lungs though the sort of hell that would have had them in a lung coma pre non-smoker days. I decided to take on….The Stair Master!

When I started at the gym about a month and a half ago, I was still smoking, and it is now obvious how detrimental it was. My first attempt on the Stair Master was dismal. So dismal I covered the display so that my nosy neighbors couldn’t see how pathetic my attempts were. I jumped on and about 3 minutes and ten floors later I stumbled off, wheezing and panting with a river of sweat flowing from every pore. It was disturbing. Then I went home and had a smoke.

As the weeks have gone by I have kept at it. I had very slowly worked up to twenty stories and was kind of stuck there. Then all of a sudden two weeks ago I jumped to forty floors, then two days later it was sixty. A few more days and it was eighty. Then today, my first gym session after the 1 month smoke free mark, I decided to go for the hungee, the big one oh-oh.

I climbed upon the dark skinned beast, straddling its hard exoskeleton in an almost sexual embrace. Then the staff asked me to stop and I put my clothes back on, mounted it the way one usually mounts a Stair Master, threw on a bit of Skrillex (best workout music the world has ever known), and made it my bitch.

One hundred floors! No stopping or slowing down!

I know what you’re thinking. That’s Gangsta (sigh, I never was the coolest guy on Earth, but when did the Stair Master become Gangsta?). Sure my lungs struggled to pump oxygen to my extremities, and yes my legs burned like my blood had been replaced by acid. But I did it, one hundred floors. Something I know I could not have done before quitting smoking.

Just Keep Keeping On

I’m not completely there yet, I have come a long way in the past month as I’m sure Sarah would tell you. I still crave like crazy sometimes, I am still eating so much that my weight is actually going up despite the intense workouts five times a week (not just fat though, I am now the proud owner of some pretty impressive glutes). I still haven’t gotten back into my book which is tough because I was loving writing it, but for the most part the dark days are gone.

The next few steps should be easier than the first few. I just have to put down the cheesy poofs and caramelized popcorn. I need get out there and find something I can enjoy as much as I enjoyed smoking. I was thinking maybe heroin?

The post 1 month smoke free and a hundred floors to celebrate! appeared first on Tell them i said something.