Escape to Mexico Part 4: Coco Bongo

We woke later and more refreshed than the previous morning, adjusting to the time difference. L had another food venue we should visit for breakfast, so we grabbed an uber and headed to Café del Cofre in downtown Cancun. We passed an abundance of beautiful street art before finding our way to the little café set up in a van on the side of the road.

We each went for a breakfast baguette con huevos con jamon (ham and eggs) for 130 pesos and a Capuchino caramelo which came with a little flapjack, for 65 pesos. Both were utterly delicious and well presented. It seemed natural then to explore the surrounding area. There wasn’t much on the van’s side of the road so we crossed the dust of two perilous looking roads to get to the other side.

The houses were colourful and there were a bunch of stalls and shope on the side but their wears were simplistic and the area felt dangerous. The way that people stared and called out to us started to feel, a little too insistent. Not being drawn in by any of the stalls, I had just about enough paid data left to get an uber back.

Upon on our return, we lazed in the sun and considered our next move. L’s firefighter friend had messaged suggesting we join him at his resort, it being his group’s last day. It was on the other side of town, but we thought there was no harm in taking a look. The resort was stunning, like nothing I’d ever seen. Entering the massive reception area there appeared to be a balcony imitating a cenote, with vines trailing down. It was huge, and definitely seemed geared towards tourists.

Unfortunately, we were soon accosted by the strictest security guards I’d ever come across. They informed us that if we weren’t staying at the resort, we’d need to get a day pass. As Firefighter inquired, I took some free water and juice leaving him and L to chat a little in the queue. A day pass would have come to about £60, so we gave it a miss. The three of us instead walked out to find a bar near the beach.

There we were both treated to a delicious train of margaritas before Fireman had to get a taxi and catch his flight. L and I stayed a bit longer and in retrospect should probably have had some more food. Our last day in Cancun. We knew that we had to go to the famed Coco Bongo beach club. Entry wasn’t too expensive, about £40 for the day party, especially considering once you were in it was an open bar.

We were met with a scene straight out of an American movie. Hoards of people partying. Drinking, smoking, dancing to the music, splashing across the pools scattering the centre. The bright, aquamarine water and white sand visible on the other side, all in broad daylight. There were gyrating dance competitions on the stage by the DJ set, his voice booming out across the crowd that roared its approval at the playful depravity.

L and I were greeted by a shot man. The greeting was shocking but clearly following the theme of the party. He started with L, the most ridiculous and exaggerated show of pretend humping and motorboating that made me cringe. I took the shot but made clear my discomfort for this sort of pageantry, remaining stiff as a board so I didn't suffer the same onslaught. Of course, we ended up making friends and falling in with a group of boys who had commandeered a table by the DJ booth. The atmosphere was electric. It was exactly what I imagined the vibe of an American Spring break to be, but there were people here from all over the world.

I hadn’t been able to take my eyes of the ocean since we arrived. It seemed even more picturesque than the one we’d visited the day before and I was dying for a swim. Where we were stood, the beach was directly below. So, I went down with some of the group to sit and talk. I could touch L’s leg from where we were sat and told her I was going for a swim but would be right back. I was wearing a bikini, took off my shorts and left my stuff there. Not my wisest idea leaving my things with people I’d just met but I was tipsy and high on life. Also not the best idea to go swimming in that state but it was now or never. Off I ran.

I was brimming with excitement and a bit of tequila, rushing into the exhilarating cool of the surf. Refreshing and overwhelming all at once. I laughed loudly and span around in the surf. The waves were more boisterous here and as I waded a bit deeper, not my best idea, a massive wave crashed over me like the designated driver giving me a well-meaning slap to the face. That was my cue to emerge, still laughing but drenched. The plan not to get a face wearing makeup and false lashes underwater thwarted. I could only assume I now resembled a drowned rat, but a happy one.

Luckily, I had a small towel in my beach bag but the bikini of course would remain wet for quite some time. I ran back up to find L. She wasn’t with the group and searching the crowd, she was nowhere to be found. I searched the toilets. Not there either. Panic was not an option. She had to be here somewhere. She can’t have left; I had the keys. I decided to stay at the table with the group we’d met, continue to enjoy the party and await her return. Frantic calls and texts using the weak wifi got no response. I swung between trying to enjoy myself and the arc of anxiety that was increasing. I was ready to leave for quite a while but dared not, in case L appeared, thinking I'd abandoned her.

Eventually the party drew to a close. Luckily, as it was a day party, that was 8pm, so not horrendously late. I searched every corner of the venue as the crowds filtered down to nothing. L was nowhere to be found. The only option now was to head back and think of what to do from there. It was an almighty struggle trying to get a taxi with the spotty signal. Eventually I managed to flag one down. The ride home was a blur, and I hadn’t comprehended that the taxi was taking advantage of party goers and would take cash only. I do not remember the amount. I promised them I had more cash in my apartment and rushed upstairs.

What I felt upon reaching our room was the most bizarre and unique combination of anger and relief I’d ever experienced. There was L, safe and sound, sprawled face down in the bed. I couldn’t believe it. I was really glad but exasperated. Taxi paid; I collapsed back into the bed. Sleep was brief, I woke stinking of stale sea water and went to shower. As it turned out, the margaritas had really hit L, she felt that she was too drunk all of a sudden and needed to go home. Forgetting that I was out by the sea she left not long after we arrived.

She had in fact tried to text and ring me as well, but the sporadic signal meant I didn’t even see the messages until I got back. The host had given her a spare key and she had promptly been sick in the room. She’d also had to fork out £100 for a taxi. We’re both people who let things go easily and my anger was quick to evaporate. She’d clearly suffered enough and the only thing that mattered was that we were both safe and sound. As far as drunk instincts go, going straight home is a good one. That was our only drunk night of the trip and one of those holiday disasters to laugh about later. Next stop. Tulum.

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Stay tuned and follow along to find out what happened when we went to Tulum in Part 5! Any hearts appreciated if you're enjoying my journey so far. Don't hesitate to let me know your thoughts in the comments as well as anything else you might like to see written about!

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Parts 1-3 if you missed them:

• Escape to Mexico: Part 1- The Curse to be Lifted
• Escape to Mexico: Part 2- Casa Nomis and Isla Mujeres
• Escape to Mexico Part 3: Papacito, Playa Norte and the Mariachi Band