Mexico ... where rain can't dampen wonder

THE setting was spellbinding. A ruined Mayan temple on a cliff overlooking a pristine sandy beach, pictured, buffeted by turquoise Caribbean waves and framed by a brilliant blue sky.

"You couldn't take a better picture than that," my friend said, pointing to the screen saver on his laptop. "But I guess we can try."

We were on a bus from Cancun to Tulum, where the stock image had been snapped.

Renowned for its magnificent coastline, archaeological treasures and hippie-like backpacker vibe, Tulum, we felt, would make a nice contrast to the highly Americanised hotel zone of Cancun, where we'd been holidaying for 10 days.

We arrived in Tulum late. The plan was to rise early and explore the ruins before the crowds - and the heat - were at their worst.

I leapt from my bed about 9am - and stepped straight into a puddle. It had been raining heavily during the night and water had leaked through the walls and windows of our guest house. My luggage was moored in one of the pools.

We spent all day - and all evening - stuck indoors, listening to the incessant rain. At 3 o'clock the next morning, a rooster started crowing non-stop. I rose, groggily, later - and stepped in another puddle. The handiwork of the guest-house staff in protecting the property from another onslaught had clearly failed.

Beneath painfully gloomy skies, we assessed our options. The forecast was predicting tropical storms for the next seven days.

When there was a lull, we chanced our luck and hired bicycles for the five-kilometre ride to the ruins.