Swapping elk for iguanas

jb/March 12/In the finest traditions of Cancun Spring Break...

I can't for the life of me imagine how this happened, but our arrival in Cancun coincided with America's Spring Break. The party zone at the hotel zone end ofthe lagoon was – and probably still is - awash with bright lights, beer, breasts, thudding bass and miniature cocaine vendors. For thousands of American kids it's full on, 24hr party people time and to make any sense of it you need a teenage outlook, a Birmingham (Alabama or England) birth certificate, or chemical enhancements. Ideally all three.

For all that though, it actually wasn't as wild as we'd been expecting. It didn't have that special, streetside-copulating, 'leave it Dwayne he's not worth it', vomit-fuelled aroma of a Magaluf, or even a really minging Blackpool hen party. Presumably this is because the Brits en masse are over there, not over here, and I'm guessing that the poor locals should be grateful for what small mercies they get. We hit the bars and clubs for a bit and had some fun, but in the end we both felt that we could get better closer to home if we wanted sick on our shoes that badly. To Dave, Phil and Steve – I'm sorry if that makes you feel I've let the side down, but I tried.

Downtown Cancun on the other hand, away from the hotels and the clubs was actually worth the trip. It's traffic heavy (every third male is a taxi driver) but colourful and friendly, and easy to get to the beaches on the local buses or a ferry across to sleepy Isla de Mujeres.

Once we'd found a good, cheap hostel (Ricos Cancun, highly recommended) we stayed there for nearly a week. Having got lost twice in the back streets on consecutive nights, I felt we needed time to get our shit together before venturing anywhere less forgiving. Em's getting her Spanish up to speed fast, which is good, and given another week will tan like a local (she swears she won't ever be as hairy). I need to do something about my moonglow tan and Boby Charlton-esque Spanish because the Yucatan locals clock in at about five foot fuck all and look like a cross between Danny DeVito and a Maori, which makes me not conspicuous at all.

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jb/March 15/Chichen Itza to Tulum

Saw our first Mayan ruins today (aka rocks). Emily's working on the itinerary for this part of the trip and the current forecast is rocks, some rocks, and more rocks. She doesn't rate my archeological insight very highly so I don't get consulted on what makes good rock. But without her I've worked out that the Mayans were a) minute b) pointy headed c) tidy d) financially astute and e) not around any more.

Joking apart, you can't move for ruins in this part of the Yucatan and they are often magnificent and usually well preserved. Chichen Itza was well worth the three hour bus trip inland through endless jungle scrub. Actually, Itza is an incredible site, but we both enjoyed our accidental visit to the Ikil cenote down the road even more. Imagine a morning swim in a 75m deep natural pool at the bottom of a huge pit complete with trailing roots, fish and waterfalls. This one wasn't used for human sacrifice, either, which is nice.

Tulum, where we're staying now, is another stunning site on the clifftops over the most glorious beach I've ever seen in my life. Admittedly that's not much of a testament because my parents insisted on taking me to Wales or the sodding Cairngorms as a kid, but Em agrees and she claims to have had plenty of beach holidays.

Yesterday we got up, ambled round the Tulum ruins taking pictures before the tour buses arrived, swam along the coast (have a caribbean bay all to yourselves with a Mayan castle looking down on you), snacked under palm trees, sunbathed, took a boat ride to snorkel the local reefs for a couple of hours, and sat sipping beer in a hammock for the evening. It's a tough life.

We're staying here for a bit. Who wouldn't? In a while we'll head south to Chetumal on the Belize border and then make a decision on how to get to Tikal in the Guatemalan jungle in one piece. If we take the direct route, tarantulas, jaguars, bandits and bus robberies are the main problems. Not to mention eight hours in a chicken bus seat designed for a midget...

Before we go, I've been told I need to get Emily a wedding ring. Just so we don't upset local sensibilities, apparently. No pressure.