It was dark before we reached Merida. We found ourselves a rustic little backpackers located in an old pension, but without effective fans the night was sweltering. 

I was rudely awoken in the morning, not by the dustmen, but by a goddamn earthquake. The entire building shook. The ground shifted from side to side. Bits of paint, dust and debris fell from the high ceiling. It measured 7.2 on the Richter Scale. Remarkably, Case slept right through it.

Having survived the quake, we decided to have a day off from gallivanting around Mayan ruins and instead go gallivanting around the town of Merida. I’m glad we did – the place is wonderful (and reasonably earthquake-proof, evidently). I found us a new gaff to stay for the night, a nice little hotel on the north end of town, and I even splurged out on AC and a telly that we would probably not even use.