Flamingos! And the poignancy of many other things.

Celestún. Requisite beach sunset photo sorry.

Today Jen and I said goodbye. "This was more amazing than I ever could have imagined", we both said to each other, in that way that is so sad to be ending and so happy in gratitude. And Jen went to the airport and I got on my bicycle and pedaled out of Merida. 

My destination was 50 miles west, the beach town of Celestún. Pedaling alone through the morning pre-bustle of the city, leaving the colonial architecture, plowing through the characterless industrial suburbs, witnessing the gradual sloughing off of humanity's noise and mess and traffic, until I finally found myself on an empty, straight, seemingly-endless road through low trees. It was flat. It was almost entirely uninhabited. I had a tail wind. I cruised like I'd never cruised before, processing the solitude. Cars and tourist vans passed me with generous space, and I sent love to the ones who put their four-ways on to pass me. 

Later, in the restroom at the tourist center at my destination, two lovely Canadian retiree ladies: "did you ride your bike?! We SAW you!" Later, on the at a beach restaurant, I was adopted by another pair of Canadian snow-birds, who bought me a coffee and I sat with them and was happy to be talking in English. Hilariously, these two had visited Ithaca. Small world! 

Celestún town is set between the ocean and lagunas. Mangroves tangle lushly along the roadside, their fingers reaching stickily (heh) up for air out of the swamp. Pelicans fly along the beach. 

The first thing I did upon reaching town was to inquire about the boat tours to see the flamingos. It seemed they were mostly pre-packaged tour groups from Merida for the boats. I got really lucky; I asked a random guide how does one go about getting on a boat. "They are about 1,600 pesos to ride, for a group" he said.  I was certainly not a group. And that was certainly expensive. "But you could join mine", he said, "I have space for one. We leave in a little bit." So I locked up my bicycle, he got my 300 pesos and I got a spare space, joining some Canadians on their package tour. 

The boat sat six, with a little tarp roof, and we putted out into the lagoon. Then vroom, and engine pushing, we planed up and flew through the waters. The wind! The rush! How glorious. Especially having just come off a blast of a fifty mile ride.  

Flamingos are like Elvis or Santa or gnomes or unicorns. There is this fantastical love of them. And they are also overly-represented, so often chinzy, on tee-shirts, as dopey yard decorations, on coffee mugs. It's almost as if they are not real creatures after all. 

So when our boat carved through the lagoon, and in the distance I saw a spiky vague pink line above the water's surface: could it be?!, is that?! There they ARE. I actually choked up to see them. 

Who cries when they see flamingos? I mean, come on.  

But I was seriously moved. They were a shade of neon orange and pink mixed together that is unlike any other color. That such brightness EXISTS on this Earth. And with such graceful necks, those famous half-heart necks. The birds walked their strange back-knee bendy walk, and uncoiled their springy long necks to dip into the water, and were totally unawares of the wonder they were causing. 

A group of them stood in a rough line, and the first took off into flight. There's better fishing on the other side! And one by one, like school kids boarding a school bus, each took off. Each jogged a bit on the water, funny running legs, then tucked feet straight behind them, reaching cruising velocity, and glided away. 

To see them in flight with their distinguished black beaks tipping their long pink necks, was even more amazing than witnessing them in standing poses. 

Then I found a very basic hotel for $14 (it's hard to splurge on something fancier when you're not sharing it), with the necessary fan, screens, and wifi. Who cares if there's no toilet seat? 

The ocean was impressively calm, mirror flat, and teal and in I went. Swimming is one of the most delicious movements, so many planes of limb movement available, compared with biking which exists in a single plane. Amazingly, after I got out the wind picked up, blowing sand into drinks and tipping over umbrellas and cresting white caps on the water. How lucky was I! 

This town is lulled and empty, save for a few blissed out tourists, because it's not the weekend. I had a bit of a project sourcing things to eat for breakfast (but now I have fixings for banana-manchego-dulce-de-leche Tortillas Delight for the morning, in addition to my peanut butter, in addition to all the crab I could pack into my person tonight), because I know nothing will be open at the indecent hour at which I will leave tomorrow, to face the wall of headwind and the endless length of road waiting for me. That same wind which pushed me here so delightfully today. Perspective. Amazing how things can be so different when you head a different direction. I'm heading back to Merida for the night, and then on to more adventures north of that city. 

If you're reading, I'd love if you'd drop me a comment on the blog or on Facebook. I'm feeling pretty impecably lonely, as this is my first day as solo traveler. But there is no better way to study what something is than to do it. So here I go, and thus I will become an expert on solitude and see how I transition into my own headspace. Or maybe learn that I need friendship and companionship more than I ever knew. Anyway, here's sending you all every single ray of blistering sunlight that I can send! 

Finally outside the last valence of Merida and flying down an early morning empty flat road 

Flamingos! Baby flamingos are born white. Flamingos slowly grow to become pinker and pinker as they age, from the carotenoids in the crustaceans they eat. 

Flamingos take off to cross the lagoon. I was gaping wide-eyed at this sight.

The water in the lagoon is naturally red from the species of mangrove that grows here. This red color influences the crustaceans that live in it, and thus the flamingo that eat the crustaceans.

Cenote bubbling from a spring in the mangroves. Hordes of little tropical fish not shown.