Seriously though, the more cenotes we visit, the more a thought that this is the sort of place monsters dwell in haunts my mind. The first ones we've seen were rather open, and, even though divers emerged from their depths like hunchbacked seals, I felt no fear, no tremble of the soul. Here, however, I was all but refusing getting into the water, and in the second cenote (there were three of them here) shot out of the water and shoved the camera into Shurik's hands saying: "Here. You go. I don't know what it is, but this place freaks me out." Shurik wanted to know what was wrong, but I couldn't explain it myself. These cenotes looked like the rocky earth just collapsed inside itself, cried an inviting pool, and left us a peephole through which sunlight made the water hypnotizing and inviting. Even though I don't believe it, it felt like a trap. It felt like you were fooled from feeling claustrophobic by the vast amount of space, most of which you could not even see. Here, there was just an overwhelming feeling that something immense was going to materialize out the endless dark of the underwater grotto and drag me within for its next meal.
Not the horse-flies biting, nor the finding out that we were dragging one of our shock absorbers behind us on our way to Merida could take away from this day.