On a whim, I jumped on a bus to Izamal from Valladolid. The promise of a city painted in egg yolk yellow, basking in gold in sunset prompted me on. The only bus to Izamal was leaving in 20 minutes. A sign? I think so.
The guidebook says it’s 1.5 hour ride. On a second class bus from Valladolid, it took me closer to 2.5 hours passing through and stopping at every tiny dot on the map.
Upon getting off, I learned that the last returning bus to Valladolid was 55 minutes away.
I was hoping to do some souvenir shopping in Izamal. Izamal is home to a group of artisans – clearly posted signs direct you to different workshops: papier mache, hammock, jewelry, and more. I was really looking forward to that.
But 55 minutes just about gave me enough time to check out the Monastery at the center of town, which was worth the trip by itself.
I had enough time to make a dash around the plaza, peeking my heads around corners to see rows and rows of yellow painted buildings with white trims.
Izamal proved me wrong. I thought I had enough of colonial towns after South America, but I guess there’s always room in my heart for yet another one. Especially a brightly painted yellow one like this one.