It wasn’t supposed to be like this. For 3 years circumstances had prevented us from completing the Mongol Rally; a once in a lifetime drive from the UK to Mongolia. Twice covid, and now Russias invasion of Ukraine, this trip seemed doomed. Given 2/3rds of us had quit our jobs, we decided we needed to do something with the 2 months. Central America it was. These are the memoirs of us not going to Mongolia.
Flights out were the most troubling aspect, and caused the most worry. However, they went smooth as. Surprisingly deep convos about the meaning of life were had on a Ryanair flight, a first for us. A brief stop in Madrid, and then onto the 1 year old airline “World2Fly”, only a 50% chance of crashing then.
Breezed through customs, then a cab to the notorious party hostel 3B. We were reliably informed by Henry that this was the craziest hostel in Mexico, with 247 party vibes, a stark contrast to the meditation vibes David was looking for. Upon arrival, we discover that the hostel had stopped parties a month ago, much to our amusement and Henry’s disappointment.
Crashed hard the first night, workout and meditation in the morn, then down to the beach for a banging breakfast and to begin practicing my espanyol. Both went down well I thought. Spent a bill on mescal and booze on the beach somehow, making friends with all the staff.
Evening rolls round, and after a quick, unimpressive munch, found ourselves in a Shisha bar with a far more impressive reggae dj. Nuh Linga, Nuh Linga! Vibes were being felt, and the beginnings of the “syncronysity” that we would often quote during our time in Mexico were appearing. Chocolate time. Then onwards to the club whose name I continuously forgot, and have forgotten while writing this.
It had 2 levels, a club downstairs and a roof terrace party upstairs, with psychedelic wall art and a fantastic female dj dropping trance bangers. A second bite of choccy as we entered, and I spent the whole evening barely able to communicate with anyone. We had playful energy coursing through us, a stark contrast to the more aggressive coke energy of some of the crowd. King of the playground for those who know. We left Henry there at 4ish, and the rest of his evening is his story to tell.