Veracruz carnivaaal

The sun was shining, the streets bustling with people and crates of Sol were being sold on every street corner. It was Veracruz Carnival's big day and we were ready to party with the locals.After hearing various bits of wrong information we eventually discovered that the Carnival parade would take place, at night. Not midday, 3pm or 4pm but we weren't going to wait until then to start celebrating. In the town square music blasted out from every bar, shop and pop up street stall.Having turned down the leathery skinned, short but feisty lady each time we walked past, today we accepted her invitation to taste some of the 'best food in Veracruz' and squeezed onto the only table left in the establishment. Nibbling on some complimentary tortilla chips, bread and some hothot green sauce, washed down with a couple of bottles of Dos Equis, we were serenaded by by a trio of traditionally clad, smart cheeky fellas pushing 70. They played the harp, guitar and a mandolin and belted out songs from deep in their belly, flirting with the old woman touting out front between breaths.We feasted on some octopus cooked in a rich tomato sauce and mopped up the juice with the soft bread.After we paid up and pulled ourselves away from the dulcet sounds of the band we headed up to the marina, via the local OXO store to buy a couple of Corona Mega's. We sat and watched the people setting up their stalls, smashing huge blocks of ice down to fit in their cool boxes and unloading bottles from crate after carte of Sol.

There was a group of kids who kept launching themselves into the Marina so Jamie went over to investigate. They basically asked passers by to chuck a coin into the water and they would dive in and retrieve it. No sooner had Jamie come back, a little kid had followed him and requested a chance to chase the cash. I found a 10 pesos coin and threw it in, trying to keep a safe distance away from the propellers of the boats. The kid showed no such consideration and jumped in milliseconds after the coin left my palm. In a heartbeat a hand rose to the surface clutching the 10 Pesos, followed a huge grinning face. We clapped and made a quick exit before the raft of kids came begging a chance to demonstrate their diving skills.We headed to the beach front to see if anything was going on, stopping in at our old Hotel for a take away margarita en route. At the beach a few people milled about a stage with scantily clad, out of cinq dancers that thrust and wiggled to some of last years top carnival anthems.A group of guys came over and started chatting to us about carnival.. with the margaritas and gigantic beers working their magic we loosened up and started to bop in time, dad dancing style, as they started to grind down to the floor.Jamie was once again the centre of attention, with the local Veracruz gaffia.After a few rounds we realised the songs were on a loop and made an escape back to the old town for a stomach lining taco and yet more margaritas.As the sun started to set we went back to the beach, got another giant beer and paid entrance to get a seat on the benches that lined the promenade. A student called Yetzeli, who spoke excellent english on account of studying in America, welcomed us to join her and her friends for a real Mexican carnival experience. Her friends spoke little English so she acted as a translator to keep them in the loop. The seats started to fill up and the carnivalwas close approaching. She explained that this was Mexico's second biggest festival, after day of the dead and that we were in for a treat. It soon came to light that her friends weren't quite as welcoming as we started to hear to word Gringo banded around. "Americana, Americana" we started to also here. " Hey you gringo?" One lad called out to Jamie, in a less than appealing voice. "No we're English" he quickly replied."Oh ingles, ingles, bueno!" They cheered smiling and clinking glasses. It turns out that the Mexicans HATE the Americans...

like really hate them. Yetzeli said that her friends were saying "why are you wasting your time speaking to these gringos, they are in Mexico they should speak Spanish!" When she also explained we were English they chilled out, saying how its fine we can't speak Spanish because we live so far away...

Americans are their neighbours and should make an effort.

After we got the mix up out of the way we were introduced to our new drink of choice. Tequila, ice, mineral water and fresca (sparkling Grapefruit). Leading the carnival parade was a police and navy convoy. Then came the floats. The crowd went crazy cheering and dancing.Now, we both thought we were moderately capable of throwing a shape or two but it wasn't until we watched every single Mexican bust out a salsa that we realised how wrong we were. From little kids to grannies, they could all shake out pretty impressive moves. Our attempts to blend in we're so pitiful that Yetzeli's friends quickly pulled us onto the pavement and started try to teach us the steps. This ended in me getting flung around, looking like I'm doing the bird song dance, trying not to fall over whilst Jamie tried to dodge lessons from the sidelines.

As the carnival passed huge floats glided past absolutely banging out the music. This was all we had dreamed Latin America would be and were loving every minute. We saw the Veracruz beauty queens, the winners of a Mexican dance competition, samba bands from Rio and pro dancing little kids. All shook and shimmied in perfect timing in front of a brightly decorated float that housed the most important crew members and blasted out the tunes.The carnival was pretty relaxed with Yetzeli and her friends jumping in to give drinks to / dance with their friends who were part of the parade.She explained that they were allGoing back to one of their houses for a big party and invited us. As exciting as this would have been we had two flights to catch tomorrow to get to Cancun and were already dreading the hangovers that we would be facing.With toilet facilities on lock down, we had to skip the last 15 minutes of the parade and headed back to the town square for another absolutely unnecessary beer and a very much needed taco.The alarm was very unwelcome and we were both a little fuzzy. Sensing Jamie would, as usual, be suffering more than me, I packed up his bag so we were ready to leave on time. At reception we called a cab, by which I mean the receptionist just walked out and hailed one for us. As we pilled in with all our bags we left Veracruz town behind and hit the back roads. I'm sure that taxi drivers in Mexico purposefully do this to unnerve you and make you oh so grateful to arrive safely at your destination that you give them a whopping great tip. We spent the entire ride thinking we would be taken to a dodgy house in a slum, rid of all our worldly possessions and held hostage for a ransom. Unsurprisingly, this didn't happen and at the airport we thanked our driver, tipped him over the odds and joined the queue for the air Mexico flight to Cancun. Now flying may seem extravagant, especially with our ever depleting funds but at £50 each it was cheaper to fly up to Mexico City, wait around for 5 hours, then fly to down Cancun than it was to take a 16 hour coach at £75 each.This day of airports and planes was about as exciting as watching paint dry, and with hangovers getting ever worse it was a real struggle.Eventually we landed in Cancun. We tried to haggled with the shuttle bus operators who wanted a tenner each to drop us at our hotel, before getting the local coach and hopping on a bus at the coach station. We got off at the Play boy casino as instructed and walked for 2km before we asked directions and turned back...

walking another 2km to where we started and finding our hotel tucked down a couple of side roads.We managed to share a burger before getting into our damp smelling, mosquito den of a room for a well deserved sleep.