Playa del Carmen, Mexico

As the Bible didn't quite say, Man cannot live on all-inclusive food alone, so after more than a week of assorted dinner options within the various restaurants of the Playacar Palace, it's time to head back onto the quirky streets of Playa del Carmen.

And by streets I mean just one, the almost two mile long expanse of fun that is Fifth Avenue. After our initial excursions down it at the start of the holiday we've not really explored it since, having taken to running on the leafy avenue of hotels and villas that stretches south from the hotel in the morning and either being too knackered, or fearful of spending more large sums on shiny things, in the evening.

And that fear proves well-founded as we take an evening constitutional down Avenida Quintada after our post-Coba beach session. Intending to pick up just a little memento or two - a fridge magnet perhaps or maybe some fine Mexican coffee - before choosing a lovely streetside cafe to people-watch over a light dinner and a glass or two of wine, we somehow end up spending two and a half hours wandering and shopping before exhaustedly slumping down at the nearest available eatery.

Shop after shop had enticed us in, the various emporia all selling pretty much the same selections of souvenirs, but none of it being quite right. We pick up the odd thing, including getting some personalised bracelets made for nieces and god-daughters from a street vendor, but it's only when we get to Hacienda Tequila that we go a little crazy. Two basket-loads later and the checkout girl rewards us with a free souvenir carry bag emblazoned with legendary artist Frida Kahlo's face upon it.

So it's appropriate that across the road lies Frida's, a restaurant celebrating Mexico's very own feminist art heroine, and about as far as we have energy left to stagger . What she would make of the mural of her iconic self-portraits upon its walls, her face above the door and her name appropriated on the menu we don't know, but we doubt her estate gets a slice of the profits.

In tribute to her we order the house speciality - Plato Fridas - a selection of mixed fajitas, cheese enchiladas, grilled chorizo, chicken tamale and chile relleno, served with guacamole and Mexican beans. Oh, and a pot of congealed cheese. It's not the best culinary selection of our lives, seemingly a bit plastico Mexicano, but feels appropriately kitsch alongside the house band who are playing Latin-flavoured covers including Bowie's 'The Man Who Sold The World' and Robbie's 'Angels' amongst more domestic selections.

We sit upstairs, gazing out at the street below. Opposite is a traditional wholesale store staffed by brightly-clad women selling fabrics and textiles, while the streetlife parading up and down is fascinating. Drunk girls seize cocktail shakers off the bar staff, rattling them like maracas while shaking their booties, older couples promenade along hand-in-hand, tanned like leather, and the more festively-assisted young 'uns make-out with each other in shop doorways.

While we've been here in Playa del Carmen the BPM dance music festival has been going on. After David Guetta's New Year's Eve performance, Tiesto played a massive beachside show the following night and ever since then a whole variety of clubs and bars have had international DJs pumping out tunes day and night.

Fortunately our hotel is at the quieter end of Fifth Avenue with its own stretch of beach away from the revelry. But all along and around Fifth Avenue has been 24 hour clubbing and so, amongst the normal holidaymakers, we watch a stream of rave monkeys and pillheads, beautiful jetsetters and lumpen clubbers, girls in tight dresses tottering on stilettos next to their boardshort and sneaker-wearing boyfriends, all heading to clubs like the Blue Parrot and the infamous Coco Bongo to party til dawn, and beyond. We can barely keep our eyes open...

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The following night we arrange to meet a couple from the hotel we've become friendly with during our stay, and join them for dinner at an Argentinian steakhouse on Fifth Avenue. Anna and Taki had been sat in front of us on the plane here and spotted us in the Italian restaurant on the first night of our stay. They were both retired, having lived a full and exciting life travelling the world, but the Greek-born Taki had been lured back to work in the EU as a shipping consultant, commuting from the UK to Brussels a few days a week.

They suggest the restaurant Es Parilla, having eaten there a few nights ago, so we meet them as they disembark from a visit to Cozumel and wander down Fifth Avenue together. On their suggestion we order beautiful tenderloin steaks, fabulously juicy and cooked to medium-rare perfection, and they choose a fabulously vibrant rioja to go with it.

We talk for hours ranging through myriad subjects ranging from the state of the EU, the Greek economy, archeo-astronomy, climate change, the English class system, colonial rule, Ireland and ancient history to life, love, relationships, jobs, travel, family, homes and children. They are thoughtful, warm-spirited people with a wealth of life experience and great company.

They're also very generous and insist on picking up the sizeable bill which we weren't expecting at all. To redress the balance in a small way, we order a round of cocktails to end the evening and Anna goes straight for a giant margherita, so four of those, senor, por favor! Tequila does seem the perfect choice after all.

There's a bit of a glowing alcoholic buzz about us as we all wander back to the hotel approaching 1am. We're joined by a very jolly Mexican man, singing to himself, and us, and pointing to the stars proclaiming "Padre Dio" (God) with a sense of joyous wonder. We have no idea what he's on about - or even on - but he accompanies us for five minutes or so serenading the heavens as we go, before he moves on his happy way.

It's a beautiful end to a magical night. Sadly, only a few more days remain in this little Mexican paradise - we'd better make the most of them...