December 2019. Winter in the UK. It’s not great. But there’s something about the days leading up to Christmas when the darkness doesn’t seem so bad. We don’t see the sun for days, but we do have candles and carols and Mariah Carey, and drinking hot booze out of a paper cup is actively encouraged.
If it’s not cold, it’s not Christmas. An attitude that didn’t lend itself to the four years I lived in Australia. But I can’t help it. I want chunky knitwear and iced-over puddles and being able to see your breath when you go out for a walk. Fairy lights and tinsel and baubles, the scent of satsuma peel, Quality Street wrappers stuffed between sofa cushions, crap cracker jokes and torn paper crowns. Which is why, failed festivities in the southern hemisphere aside, I’ve always spent 25 December here. And 26 December and, often, 27 December. But 28 December? Time for a change of scene.
On 28 December 2019, less than three months before the UK entered lockdown, we landed in Cancun, changed out of our winter clothes in the toilet of a truck-stop taquería, boarded a bus to Valladolid and arrived, just over two hours later, in our very own version of The Wizard of Oz – desaturated December days transformed into technicolour.
Beneath Mercado Municipal’s mustard-yellow arches, women wear dazzling white tunics decorated with vivid embroidery blooms. Ruby-red radishes bob in a bucket of water, tatty leaves torn off and tossed to the floor, bunches laid out on upturned crates. Inside, the meat counters are splashed scarlet. Advertisements, no matter how mundane, are painted in primary colours. Branches bow under the weight of purple-pink blossom.
Many of Valladolid’s visitors are on their way to the Mayan ruins of Chichén Itzá (although we held out for Calakmul in the neighbouring state of Campeche) but this place is so much more than a convenient pitstop. In fact, Valladolid is a pueblo mágico. These ‘magical towns’ might be the result of a savvy marketing strategy by the Mexican tourist board, but they are definitely worth seeking out.
Here, pastel-coloured houses and cobblestone streets cast a spell – especially along Calzada de Los Frailes (Calle 41A), where boutique hotels and fashion boutiques attract snap-happy, shop-hungry hordes. But beyond these obvious charms, you don’t have to venture far to find a more down-to-earth atmosphere.
Saloon-style shutters swing open to reveal a bar that only serves Tecate beer, a rusty bottle opener tied to the handle of the lukewarm fridge with a length of fraying fabric. A seemingly abandoned food cart comes to life for a few hours each afternoon, the owners stuffing cochinita pibil into crusty tortas or piling it on doubled-up corn tortillas. This Yucatan Peninsula speciality is best sampled at El Tigrillo – a stand at the corner of Calle 44 and Calle 41 (just behind the main square).
We spent a few days here, the shock of finding ourselves somewhere sunny forcing us to take things slow. Cycling to cenotes and swimming beneath stalactites in these ancient, eerie sinkholes and gazing at the lightshow that illuminates Convento de San Bernardino de Siena each evening. As 2020 approached, we had no idea it would be the last time we left Europe for more than three years – blissfully ignorant that Covid would keep us at home next 28 December. But, in that moment, with strings of bunting flapping above our heads, I was feeling festive.1
All images © Nic Crilly-Hargrave Photography – thanks ;-)