izamal and wandering

 
 

Today was road trip day! Izamal, one of Mexico's 17 Magical Cities, according to something I read yesterday. It's about an hour and a half bus ride from Merida, and we managed to catch the 10am bus from the second class bus station. That bus station neighborhood is an adventure in itself, and one day I may write about it. As usual, I got the window seat (ha!), pulled out my knitting (I'm working on a pair of socks for Stuart), and settled in for the ride. We drove east out of town, on a very good road, passing urban neighbhorhoods, then suburban neighborhoods, then the scrub that is the yucantan. We drove off the main road to pass through several small villages, being a second class bus, it stops anywhere someone flags down the driver. It is a bus system that truly works. When we walked out of the tiny bus station in Izamal, we both gasped. The brilliant golden yellow cathedral with white trim, was set against the bluest sky I've ever seen! This photo does not show the intensity of the colors, or the energy of the contrast.

Izamal was a pretty important religious Mayan village , so you know that just irritated the living shit out of the Spaniards. The set about instantly dismantling the pyramids and other buildings there, and repurposing the stones for the magnificent cathedral that still stands. It's one of the oldest colonial cities in the country, they say. Every building in the town is painted the same brilliant golden color, very effective for the magical drama of the little town.

Our first order was to get a room at the much-admired Mananche B&B, about three blocks out of town. We had packed a change of clothes in case we could spend the night. Of course, I had my little drug cooler, too. When we walked up to the stone fence, with the bouganvilla hanging over it, I said, 'I want to stay here'. Little did I know! When the gate opened, ohmy! Unfortunately for us, we didn't think about it being the week between Christmas and New Years, and there was no room at the Inn. And, quite possibly, no room at any inn in town. That's it. I don't want to even see the town if I can't stay at this most beautiful garden place. So, we had a very good lunch, and caught a bus back to Merida. We'll make a reservation, and come back, because the town is magical, I think, and I KNOW this B&B is magical.

When we got back to Merida, we had to walk through the market neighborhood again, and at this time of afternoon, the vendors were out in full force selling fireworks of all kinds, and pinatas for the New Year's Eve celebration. One of the fireworks that caught my eye was a coconut sized ball of sisal (surprise), with a 'fuse' from one end. The young vendor told me that it makes a loud noise, but no light. He was also selling a bag full of tiny versions, about the size of a large radish. What a fun gift this would be for my brother and SIL! Thank goodness I didn't buy a bag...think about this. You can't bring a bag full of fireworks on a plane. But, the pinatas also caught my attention. It might have been the number of them hanging, and the bright colors, but they were selling them 2 for 80 pesos...about $6.25 US. You can see from the photo they are pretty large.

We passed through several small Mayan villages today. The old style Mayan house is oval, about 20 feet long, and about 10 feet wide...give or take a couple of feet. The old ones were made of stick walls, and thatched roofs. The breeze could come through the walls, making for a nice temperature, even in the summer. The 'newer' ones are concrete walls, with a thatched roof. Often, the thatched roof is covered over with corrugated sheets of metal. No windows, door in the center of the long side. Some have electricity, many don't. I could see hammocks in the ones that had the door open. The yards around most of them are swept clean, the only litter on the ground is oranges that haven't been picked up today. Chickens, and maybe a pig might be in the back, too. Some of them are part of a small group, inside a stone fence, like an extended family compound, perhaps. Each of the villages we passed through was well-kept, supporting a few small businesses, and the expected huge cathedral with zocalo. This is fruit country, and orange trees grow everywhere.

We had a lower than usual number of bus salesmen today, but I think it's because it's not a high population area. Bus salesmen are the mostly young men who get on the bus when it stops in town, and ride through the town selling something. They get off at the opposite side of town, or after a few blocks in the city. They don't pay to ride, there is an agreement with the drivers. Sometimes they sing, sometimes they play an instument of some kind, then ask for a donation. Many of them sell food. Today, a young man got on the bus at the edge of a village, selling helados de coco. Coconut ice cream. I believe it was just frozen coconut! It was delicious..the driver got one for his 'trouble'.

The second photo is a heliconium bloom. It is a large, palm-looking plant that is growing in Stuart's friend, Don's interior courtyard, in Merida. Looks artificial, doesn't it?

The moon is just a sliver tonight, and only appears just before sunset. I wish you could see it from our point of view. As the sliver disappears, we can see a lighted Christmas tree through an opening in a stone wall, far behind our apartment. There is no way we could figure out where the tree is, behind the walls on the street.

correction!

So, I said something not only wrong, but embarrassing! Here is a correction, my friends:

Karen... woops - small error - your blog was noted on Yucatan Living, in my news column. You can find it here: http://www.yucatanliving.com/news/yucatan-news-last-one-of-2008.htm

NOT Yucatan Today, the magazine, but Yucatan Living, the resourceful website. Thank you, Khaki, for correcting me!

This morning, on my daily visit to the Santana mercado for grocery shopping, I was startled to see that the Oaxacan market has moved out of the park, even though one of the vendors told me the last date. We so much enjoyed the music every night, which we could hear from our back porch. Stuart and I also bought our share of nieves, the delicious ice creams from Oaxaca.

The small mercado restaurants were doing their booming business again, with music under the trees. This is the life: breakfast of fresh fruit, panuchos or sopa de lima, at 10am, with live music. And, someone to wash the dishes. Ahhh!

Yestserday, we made our weekly walk to the Santa Lucia park, to watch the dancers. These are not performers, but locals who come out every Sunday, to dance to the music of live bands, set up in the park. We've been here long enough now to recognize the regulars, and look forward to seeing them. One woman is always dressed in the traditional embroidered Mayan dress. The first weekend, it was embroidered in blue (always on white), with matching painted shoes, shawl and hair bow. The next weekend, she was dressed in yellow, then in green, then in red and yesterday, she was in purple. Not only is she having fun at the weekly dance, but I think she's having fun getting dressed every Sunday! Her partner (husband, i suppose), is equally well-coordinated. We also recognize some other dancers, who might not be so coordinated, but are good dancers. The stage is always filled, and the dancers spill over into the porticos, on either side of the stage. It makes me want to sign up for salsa classes when we go back to Wilmington.

We spent the afternoon in the little pool in the downstairs garden, which was heavenly. Cool water, quiet, a little breeze, with the bouganvilla hanging overhead. Then, a nap in the hammock, with our books on our chests...how much better can life be? Our friends, Gayle and Dale are gone, and we'll have new neighbors downstairs later this week.

food in Merida

aha! go here, to read about food in Merida! And, some very nice photos...

http://theresacooks.blogspot.com/

Merida Colors and the big head

 

So, what started as a lazy girl's way to keep a journal, and tell my friends and family about our adventures (without having to write all this multiple times to people who might not really want to read what I write) has turned into something that other people are reading, too. Today, a friendly Meridian, a woman who loves to eat, sent me a note telling me that my blog was noted on the Yucatan Today website. Yucatan Today is a monthly magazine, of importance to tourists and expats alike. I have shredded several pages, carrying them around in my bag, for the maps and info about how and where and when. So, I want to figure out how to get a couple of hyperlinks in here, but after a couple of margueritas, that task will wait until manana. Remember, I've been to tequila school this week! But, I'm flattered that anyone would read my little notes,and even more flattered that you would take the time to send me a note. Thank you all for your kind comments, and links to things I never knew about before. I will pass them on! So, that is cause for the Big Head title. Deal with it, ok?!?

Yes, Stuart and I are snowbirds...I never thought I'd use that word about myself. We live on the SE coast of NC, where it doesn't snow. Truth: it snowed in 1989, and it was a humdinger of a snow! Every trip I've taken in the past 25 years, I've kept a journal, and still can't believe that a country girl from Burgaw has lived the fairy tale I've lived. We have travelled a lot in Mexico in the past 25 years, and have spent the past few winters in Oaxaca. We love Oaxaca, even spent time there during the terrible APPO strike 2 years ago. This year, we decided to see Merida, where we'd never been, and we do love it here, too. It's a most peaceful city, muy tranquilo. The food is good, too! We found a perfect apartment, close to the mercado and bus lines. Buses are important to us, because we don't normally rent a car when we travel.

Our friends from Oregon left today, with tears in all our eyes. It was a great visit, talking, touring, learning, laughing and cooking together. Gayle and I laughed at the things we both photographed. Our last supper was at Restaurant Kantun, where we ate like royalty! The food was delicious, better than anything I could prepare at home, and the presentation was artwork. We met the cook (mama), and papa, and the daughter, who took very good care of us. Afterwards, we went over to 'our' zocalo, the Santana, and listened to the music before giving it up for the night.

I've begun a new group of photos, for myself, of color combinations on buildings. No one living in Merida is afraid of color, and the combinations are nothing short of delicious! I won't post more of these color photos...you'll have to come for the "home movie night" to see them all! (S, get ready to show your Amazon trip photos at the same time).

more notes on The Most Perfect Day

 

 

 

The Hennequin adventure wasn't even the beginning of TMPD. After an aborted hammock night a couple of nights ago, I spent the night in the hammock the night before we began TMPD. I went to sleep with the stars, what you can see in city ground clutter, and every time I woke up, I could see them. I watched Orion's belt move from east to west directly over my head, and the clouds move the same direction. I saw the sky begin to change color in the morning, and heard the birds begin to wake up. And, sleeping in the hammock was very comfy!

After we left San Eduardo hennequin plant, we continued north, to the coast. Telchac Puebla seems to be a pretty comfortable small village, we began to see coconut trees and coconut vendors here. Telchap Puerto, on the other hand, didn't seem to be quite so prosperous. One north/south street is paved, and one east/west street is paved. The zocalo, one block from the sand, was nice, and there were several restaurants around the zocalo. We walked on the beach, no one in sight except for the police hanging around the lighthouse building. Another piece of perfect: i found a turtle skull! The lower jaw bone was gone, but the skull was in good shape, and mostly picked clean by the birds/fish/sun. Of course, the only day I DON'T have plastic bag in my pack. But, another gift of the day, I found a Bimbo bag on the beach.

The lighthouse photo was taken at Telchac Puerto. The beach at Telchac Purerto is littered with the debris of houses destroyed in the last hurricane. The structures that are still standing on the front row, are mostly empty shells. Back one or two dirt streets from the beach, almost all the houses are occupied. The living here is from the ocean, and you can buy a fish at almost every house.

As we headed west out of the village, to Progresso, the houses got a little bit 'nicer', with more space between the houses. The 35 kilometers between Telchac Purerto and Progresso follows along the beach, with a lagoon on the south side of the road. This is the world-famous bird flyover area, and it must be glorious during the migration! Now, however, being winter and the dry season, there are few birds, and the water level is low.

We marveled at the fancy-pants houses, with increasingly fancy roofs and long, private driveways as we got closer to Progresso. Summer houses for la temporado, for locals to escape the heat in the summer. I read that many of these houses are vacant most of the year. So, if you rent one, you'd have to vacate during la temporado, or get a job to pay the much-increased rent for two months.

Progresso was a vastly different town than the one Stuart and I saw a couple of weeks ago. Then, it was virtually a ghost town, at least on the malecon. Not a soul was on the beach that day, and no one in the restaurants. Today, the beach is filled with locals enjoying the Christmas weekend at the beach. We chose a restaurant, and ate ceviche and shrimp, and enjoyed the famous wind. A short walk on the malecon afterwards, with a marquesita purchase for Stuart, and we headed for Merida.

One of the most important things on Gayle's Merida to-do list was to swim in a cenote. There is a really pretty one at Dzibilichaltun, the ruins close to Merida, and we stopped there. The guys napped in the car, in a shady spot, and Gayle and I had a most memorable swim in the cenote. We were the only gringos, amid the families with kids. The water was clear as a glass, the temperature was perfect in the late afternoon sun, and we loved every minute. There were little fishes swimming with us, and in the middle of the cenote, at a shallow spot, a large garden of water lilies. The end we swam in has been estimated to be about 140 feet deep, and archeologists have discovered several hundred Mayan artifacts in the bottom. Those artifacts are on display in Mexico City now. We stayed in the water until the closing time, savoring every minute.

Because we had a car, we decided to stop at walmart to buy things we can't buy at the Isstey or the mercado, which includes heavy things like beer, and choice tequilas. The store is at a round-about interesection, but more complicated, and we made about 6 trips through the dang thing before we got positioned to get into the parking garage. Even then, we made a forbidden turn, which caused a symphony of car horns behind us! Getting out of the parking garage brought an equal amount of laughter, but we eventually made it home with our heavy packages.

Gayle cooked chicken, breaded in oatmeal and cacahuate skins, and we had some leftover vegetables, along with much tequila for dinner in the downstairs garden. It was a perfect ending to a perfect day.

signs of the times

 

 

I never thought that total strangers would be reading this blog, and I'm embarrassed to confess that I've just today discovered a couple of comments that folks have posted. I just started this to keep my friends and family bored with the notes of our travels. Thank you for your kind comments...

To Mario: Thanks for the note about bitter orange juice! I'll try it with a little sugar. They are not so bitter as a lemon we'd get in the States, but are more bitter than the naranja dulce. And, thanks for the note about the Santiago, and Tuesday night dances. Yes, we've been to the Santiago, for lunch one day, and to do some shopping. That is where I had mondongo, in quest to try every food I've never had. Well, I'm happy to report I don't have to have mondongo again! It was strong-flavored, but I didn't care for it. So, Tuesday night, at la Itzalana is now on our calender, thanks!

This sign caught my eye; Neurotics Anonymous. Is that like Fat People Anonymous?

The other photo is a necklace I bought from a young man at the zocalo.

There is more about our Most Perfect Day, but the hammock is calling me right now!
k

hennequin, part 3

 

 

 

 

OK, so I'm learning about this blogging system, and now realize that you will find this part before you find parts one and two. So, if you haven't already done so, go to two posts back, to get to the beginning of the story. The reason it is broken in three parts is the number of photos I can post at one time...there is probably another way to do this, but I haven't worked on it long enough to know!

Part three, hennequin

Here is the barn, which I inadvertantly deleted from the last post. It is an elegant building, and well maintained. Other buildings in the hacienda appeared to be equally well maintained, particularly the mule stable.

The next two photos are the cart and driver, going to the field with a full cart of dripping wet, green compost material, and returning with the empty cart. It was smelly, but what do you expect? The last photo is a bale of dried hennequin, ready to go to the rope-making plant, probably in Merida.

Out in the field, there were two men with feed bags, a pitchfork, and a pick-up truck. They were filling the bags with the dried compost, and loading it on the truck. For sale? I don't know. The carts went far back into an open field, on a network of tracks that looked like they were temporarily laid. As I watched, at the end of the line, the mule/cart driver would stand beside the cart, and with the man working in the field, they would push against the side of the cart. It would tip over,dumping the green, wet contents. Sort of like a mini dump truck. Then, as the cart and driver would return to the barn for another load, the man in the field would spread the green, wet stuff with a pitchfork. As jobs go, I would take the job of cart driver over any of the other tasks.

This whole process was behind the huge fields that went on for miles. The little village was probably all the workers in the fields and in the barn. Behind the stuccoed wall, in addition to the processing barn, drying fields and composting fields, there were several buldings. The largest could have been one of those fancy haciendas that are now hotel resorts. But, it housed the mules, I think. At least, from the opposite side of the building, it appeared to be the stalls. There was another low-slung house, with a deep, shady porch on three sides, which might have been housing for workers, but we didn't want to get too pushy in our poking around. I would love to see the fields where they were harvesting, but didn't want to drive a rental car on that dirt road. The truck, which looks very much like some of the equipment my brother uses on the farm today, looked like it had driven many heavy loads over bad roads.

We felt very lucky to have stumbled on this processing plant! I found a small clump of fibers on the ground, by the drying field, and brought it back as my souvenir.

hennequin story, part 2

 

 

 

The first photo is the processing building...the big machinery and workers are on the second floor. I'll tell you why in a minute. There are partial columns on the end of the building, showing that at one time, there was much more overhead than we see now.

The second photo is the cart of wet, processed hennequin fibers, stacked on the cart, ready to be pulled by a mule to the drying racks. The third photo is another view of that cart... Those fibers, and the leaves they were released from, are about 3 feet long. The stacking process reminds me of piling tobacco in the barn during the day, waiting for the men to come from the field to hang it in the barn for curing. If you don't stack it well, it will either tumble over, or be hard to hang! Lord help the women, at the end of the day, if we didn't pile the sticks of tobacco well. The men were pretty tired, and didn't want to have to clean up our mess! I suspect the same cooperation is applied in the hennequin barn. There is an art to even the smallest tasks.

The fourth photo is the drying field. My best guess is that the field is about 10 acres, and it was strung with wires, sort of like a low-growing grapevine support. Those wet bundles of fiber were hauled to the field, and two workers unloaded the bundles, and draped the fibers over the wire to dry in the sun. In this heat, it shouldn't take long to dry a day's work.

So, the machinery of a very old, design, is now run by electricity, but apparently they were all operated with steam engines 100 years ago. The process is very simple, and as long as the conveyor is running, and the gears turning, all is well. The reason for processing the fibers one floor up is to allow gravity to assist in the entire process. When the raw fibers come through the wheels, they can be dropped onto the cart. The excess, the outside tough cover on the leaves is dropped straight down, into a cart on another railroad track, and then hauled to the field and dumped. Think of the cover on a melon...all you want is the inside, the outside part has to go somewhere.

hennequin factory

 

 

 

 

Friday, the day after Christmas was as close to a perfect day as I could ask for! We saw new things, and stumbled on good surprises. This is about the San Eduardo hennequin plantation...

We set out early, with a rental car, heading towards Motul, then on to Telchac Puerto on the north coast of the Yucatan. En route, we stopped to take a photo of a HUGE hennequin field, which is the first photo. The field went on for several miles, with a dry-stacked stone fence along the entire length. And we have to import rocks to our garden! While we were stopped, we noticed a block steam stack in the distance, which meant an old hennequin processing plant. Just down the road, there was a sign for San Eduardo Hacienda. Dirt road, no signs saying keep out, so off we went. At the end of the road, we found what appeard to be a hacienda, with several other large buildings, mostly behind the stuccoed wall. Being intrepid tourists, we drove into the gate as if we knew what we were doing! Well, you should have seen our mouths drop open when we realized what we'd stumbled on: a hennequin processing plant, in action! Not a tourist place mind you, but just like stumbling onto my family's farm on tobacco harvesting day.

The second photo here shows the truck from the field, backed up to the conveyor belt, in preparation of off-loading the bundles onto the belt, which raises the 'leaves' up to the second floor of the buiding. The bundles were arm-full sized, tied with a short piece of hennequin (duh), and a name and number scratched into one of the leaves. I can only suppose that is the mark of the harvester, and he/she is paid by the bundle. A couple of young men loaded the bundles, one at a time, on the conveyor belt, and untied the cord around each one.

At the second floor, the conveyor belt went horizontal, and three men were separating and laying flat the now loose leaves. There is a paint can, with a big brush hanging overhead, and occasionaly, the man in the middle would apply a quick coat of whatever was in the can. The leaves moved through the machine, run by lots of wide belts turning lots of wheels, which turned lots of other wheels. The machines were noisy, and none of the workers appeared to be wearing ear protection. They all were wearing rubber boots, though.

The fourth photo shows the shredded leaves at the other end. Two men were working at that station, one created a bundle of a certain size, the second man pulled a few strands from that bundle and loosely tied that bundle together. Then, he dropped it across a thick board, and the bundle slid down to a table below. The man below collected the dripping wet bundles, and loaded then, in a very organized fashion, on a small railroad cart. That part reminded me of the tobacco drags of my childhood, when the tobacco was hauled from the field to the barn. The cart, when full, was pushed out from under the building, and onto the railroad track that went around the barn, and out to the field.

This was sssoooo wonderful to find this operation, and the men were very kind about letting us take pictures. They never stopped work, and no one attempted to speak to us, but their smiles said much. I'll describe the rest of the process in the next blog, with more photos...
k

thoughts from the hammock...

Just a few pictures...touring Uxmal, the iguana called Fidel, dinner on the grill, Stuart in the normal position...

other random thoughts...
With help from Gayle, I've been exploring tequila. The most important thing I've learned: Jose Cuervo is NOT the one. And, the anjeo of any brand is better than the reposado, but costs much more. You also want to look for 100% agave. Surprisingly, not all tequila is 100% agave, and the cheap ones fall into the diluted category. So, with the bottle of Jose Cuervo I bought before 'school' started, a bottle of Herradura reposado, and a bottle of 1800 anjeo, we did a taste test. WOW! The rest of the bottle of Jose Curervo went down the drain. The Herradura was smooth, and little smoky. The 1800 was even smoother, a tad sweeter, but not enough to call it sweet. I could drink either one neat. So, we mixed our margueritas from the Herradura. Then, we bought a bottle of Sauza reposado. The Herradura was better, and about the same price. The most recent bottle (hey, there are 4 of us drinking these margueritas!) we bought is Cristeros reposado. It is also good, but we're still voting for the Herradura reposado as the best in that price range. But, given any of the ones we've tasted so far, I'd be happy. The 1800 is definately a sipping tequila. I'm sure there are more options, and we'll continue to expand our tequila education.

Today is Christmas day, and the city is remarkably quiet. There are a few buses running, but a precious few. Things began to be quiet yesterday about noon. When Stuart and I went for a walk about 4pm, there was almost no one on the streets, except for people sitting in their doorways, visiting and drinking. The smell of food was everywhere!

Speaking of food (my fav topic!): we bought banana leaves yesterday at the Santana mercado. For baking pork, chicken, etc in. Last night, I marinated a piece of pork of unknown cut in the juice of a bitter orange, then rubbed it with recado colorado, a paste made from achiote seeds, garlic, cumin, oregano and vinegar. I cooked three pieces of the pork without wrapping, and the fourth one was wrapped in a banana leaf. The meat was tough, but that was the cut. The flavor was good, and with a little of the sauce spooned over it, was tasty. Gayle made roasted potatoes and rajas: poblano and onion strips sauteed, which are delicious on anything. Of course, we had tortillas and tomatoes and radishes and lime juice. Thank goodness limes are as cheap as the grains of rice at home, we sure do go through a lot of them!

A couple of days ago, Stuart and I walked around to the Galeria Tatayana. There are two sculptures in our apartments that came from that gallery, and we wanted to see what else they had. Owned by a frenchman who has lived here for 15 years, and speaks beautiful spanish and english, it is a gallery for local and Chiapas contemporary artwork. We are checking into the price of a small metal sculpture, a sun for our dining room collection.

The same day we walked to Galeria Tatayana, I brought home a street find. In the gutter, there was a pile of small metal 'tags', dumped by a trash bin. Sort of rusty, and all with eyelets of a sort, I brought home a hand full. The next day, Stuart was in the same neighborhood, and brought home the rest! Don't know what I'll do with them, but something fun will happen.

I'm reading three books right now. Rachel Carson, The Sea Around Us; Thomas Friedman, Hot, Flat and Crowded; and Riane Eisler, The Chalice and the Blade. I had begun the Eisler book several months ago, and got distracted, so I'm back to it. If you have a thought at all about our world, and where we are driving it, you should read Hot, Flat and Crowded.

Last night I was determined to sleep outside in the hammock. Just as i was settling in, the stars in my shutting eyes, thinking about what a lovely day it had been, the dang pump came on. The water for our upstairs apartment is pumped up to a huge tank on the roof, and is fed down to us by gravity when called for. The tank lasts about 3-4 days, and the pump comes on for about 20 very noisy minutes to refill. While it's loud for us upstairs, it's even worse downstairs. Knowing that it would only run about 20 minutes, I just stayed in my hammock, waiting for the tank to fill. Pretty soon, there was a waterfall from the roof, which splashed on the concrete patio, and began to soak me in my hammock. Rats! There is something wrong here, but the solution is not in my hands. The tank was overflowing. So, I took up my blanket, took down the hammock from it's hook (to keep it from getting soaked), and stomped inside to the bed. The noise from the pump was so obnoxious, and who knew when it was going to shut off, that I closed the back door and kitchen window, then the door to the kitchen, and the door to the bedroom. Poor Gayle and Dale downstairs couldn't escape the noise, though.
It eventually shut itself off, but came back on again later. Gayle got out of bed in total frustration and turned it off downstairs, where Augustin had showed her the other plumbing stuff. We tried turning it on this morning, and it overflowed again, so the pump is off until Augustin can get the plumber back here. At least the water will last us several days, so it's OK to not have it refill, and overflow, automatically. I'll try the hammock again tonight.

 

 

 

 

More Uxmal images

Just a few more images from Uxmal...

 

 

 

 

Feliz Navidad!

 

Merry Christmas, from our sunny patio in Merida!

Uxmal

 

Monday was Uxmal day. Gayle, Dale, Stuart and I rented a car for the 1 hour drive south of the city. We could have taken a bus for less money, but with the four of us, it was a reasonable price for the convenience. Uxmal is in the Puuc, or hill, region of the Yucatan, and unlike most of the penninsula, the soil here is good. Conflicting opinions have Uxmal beginning from the third century to the sixth century, and was quite a large city because of the capability of growing enough food to support a large population. There are no rivers on the Yucatan, only the underground rivers, and cenotes. The dry season is 6 months long, which meant that rain or water from any source was precious. We can see how precious it was from the hundreds of stone carvings on the buildings representing the rain god, Chak, and turtles and fish, water creatures. You've probably seen pictures of Chak, he's the dude with the big nose. And, just like anything breakable you've ever mail-ordered, the noses are mostly broken off, laying around the grounds.

The photo above is of the Magician's palace, the tallest structure at Uxmal. The photo was taken from the House of Turtles, which may have been used as a place of study or worship. Underneath it, and the other buildings at Uxmal, there are at least 4 other cities! Only the priests and highest ranking people were allowed up the steps of the Magician's Palace...a source of power and control over the workers of the city. In fact, the common people weren't even allowed in the quadrangle in front of the palace, they lived outside the low wall of the whole complex.

The Mayans were great mathemeticians, and were able to predict all solar events, including the winter and summer solstice and eclipses. One of the other buildings at Uxmal was created as an observatory. Just yesterday morning, there was a celebration of the winter solstice, when the sun shown through both the doorways of the Great Pyramid there.

We hired a guide, a local Mayan man, and learned much from him. I was surprised to learn that the buildings, in their day, were all covered with plaster, and painted. Our image of the pyramids is of stone, with no color...we are so wrong. The Governor's Palace is considered by some to be the finest example of pre-Hispanic architecture in Mesoamerica. The symmetry, the carvings, and the decorative symbols are all delicate, and extraordinary. George told us about the meaning of many of the symbols, and showed us the remarkable construction techniques.

By the time the Spaniards 'discovered' the ruins, the city had been abandoned for 600 hundred years. Fred Catherwood make precise drawings of many Mayan structures in the mid-1800's, and I'm on the lookout for his book, Incidents of Travel in Yucatan.

 

Just a little detail on the Great Pyramid at Uxmal. There was much photo fodder here! I'll put more in another post...

 

Every Sunday in the Plaza Grande in Merida there is an arts festival. Local artists only, local food vendors and local entertainers. This woman, with a partner dressed in gold, performed for tips. They both spoke beautifully without ever making a sound!

Winter Solstice

 

Breakfast! Fresh squeezed oj and papaya. Life is good.

 

Today's shopping trip...an almost six pound gallipavo, which is a locally grown chicken, a perfectly ripe papaya, the sweetest carrots you'll ever eat other than the ones you grow yourself, a local cucumber, cilantro just pulled from the ground, serranos, tomatillos. I spent $11 US for all this!

Last night we ate 'fried ribs'. They were 'fried' in orange juice, oregano and garlic...not really fried, but cooked until the juice was almost gone. I cooked green rice, with poblanos, onion and garlic, and frijoles negro. The salsa was delicious: roasted serranos with red onion, lime juice and salt. All this was served with avocado, tomatoes and tortillas and of course plenty of tequilla with lime juice. It was a feast fit for Winter Solstice Eve!

Tonight is the winter solstice, and we will be celebrating, with a large part of the world, the beginning of the longer days. I've only done a little reading about the solstice, but have been aware that there was much cause for celebration among earlier people for the longer days. A annual renewal celebration, the beginning of another season of life. So, to my agrarian friends, Felize Solstice! May your seeds produce a bountiful harvest!

zoo adventure

 

We worked up enough energy to walk over to Centenarian Park, or locally called the zoo. It was about a 40 minute walk, which seems to be just around the corner. We walk a lot here, and without even thinking about distances. THe route took us on some new streets, and past some really pretty old houses, mostly abandoned old houses. We tried each one on mentally, to see what it would look like after we'd finished renovating them. While we both liked the end results, the idea of renovating a house doesn't appeal to either of us. We also walked past a couple of small, elegant hotels. Each one with a pretty interior courtyard, lots of bright tiles and tropical shrubbery. One day, I'm going to stay in one of those places.

The zoo is free, and occupies an huge space close to the downtown. It's a park, too, and it must be nuts here on Sunday, when all the families come out. The vendors of every kind would be there, too, which would make it a real zoo (pun intended). It was quiet today, though, even though there were plenty of school groups and parents with small kids. If you're the kind of person who gets all worked up over animals in small enclosures, don't read any further...and you certainly don't want to visit this zoo. We saw about a dozen Big Cats, two giraffes, a couple of zebra's, lots of deer, and some Yucatecan animals that look like deer. The poor cats were all pacing, bored to the extreme in their small cages. We also saw flamingos and turtles, who were not pacing. The bird house was pretty nice, but the big birds of prey, hawk and buzzard were cramped. The colorful birds had a nice place. But, the birds that made me laugh were these guineas. Common, right? Well, all I could think of when I saw them was, three little old ladies, with their navy and white polka dot crepe de chine Sunday dresses on, with lace handkerchiefs and pearls. Then, the battery died on my camera, so this is what you get from the zoo in Merida.

We are trying to formulate a plan for the next few days, while Gayle and Dale are here. Since they have so little time, we're trying to decide what is most important to do/see. We'll work on that plan tonight, on our patio, with tequila drinks in our hands. I'm sure our plans will involve a swim in a cenote.

We're back in hot water, and Augustin is without hot water or the capability to cook. The plumber couldn't get a gas tank today, so they brought Augustin's gas tank up to us until Monday, when the plumber could get another gas tank. We are probably the only tenants he'll have who would rather have gas to cook with than hot water in the shower.

I'm making a new friend with each visit to the Santana mercado, and today, I made a new friend of one of the butchers. I watched him cut a pork loin in paper thin pieces, an artist at work. The fruit and vegetable vendors all know my face, and I try to buy from them all.

A rose by any other name...

I just read Bird By Bird, by Ann Lamott, the first of her books I've read. I googled her, and found an article on Salon.com, which led me to this link. You have to go there!

hugs,
Khaki Salmon Carter



http://politsk.blogspot.com/2008/09/sarah_13.html

 

I want to tell you about the morning. Our patio faces south, and if I sit on the west side, by the rail, the sun hits my face when it comes over the building beside our house first, then over the wall of our patio. Sitting here lets me sit my coffee on the low part of the wall, and let’s me see the sun come over the top of the buildings. The city doesn’t wake up early, even though that is the time to do anything that requires exertion, including walking to the market for the necessary things for today’s lunch. The air is cool, and there is no breeze. The early morning sounds increase in volume, and change in source so gradually that you might not notice the differences from one moment to the next. First, the birds begin to wake. This morning, I heard 5 different calls, but don’t know if they were 5 different birds, or the same kind of birds having different conversations. I watched what appeared to be a woodpecker, hanging on the side of the old building two lots away, picking something from between the bricks. Because he was in silhouette, I could see no color, just shape. It was a big bird. And loud. Then, a flock of a different kind of bird few overhead. They were even louder, and flying with a mission! A small bird perched on the corner of the rooftop next door, I could see her silhouette. A long, pointed bill, a small graceful head, and a long, skinny body. And, she was SINGING! The funny part is that I couldn’t see her mouth open and close. Three orange orioles were in the big umbrella tree next door. They seem to always travel in threes. Chatty birds. They are calm, not flitting quickly from one place to another, sort of like old men spending an afternoon in the park: first they walk slowly, then decide where to sit, and they sit for a while before moving slowly to another place. Other birds, noisy too, fly in short spurts. Flapflapflapflap, coast, repeat. If I could draw a line with them, it would be a scallop stitch. Where are they going?

By now, the sun has appeared over the top of my east wall, and my face is in the sun. I am reminded that my butt is wet from the dew left on my chair. The bouganvilla vine hanging from the house on the west side has been in the sun all this time, the peach and fuchsia waving slowly in the non-breeze, making not a sound. More birds appear, flying off to work or to meet friends for breakfast. The noise in the street eases it’s way into my ear…a VW beetle, a motorcycle, a bus moving a little slowly still. Gradually, I’m aware that the buses have been on the streets for a while, and the drivers are getting a little more impatient with the driver in front of them, and I hear the first horn of the day. The sound of the juice machine in our own kitchen, and the slam of the refrigerator door signals that Stuart has breakfast underway, and now I can smell the oranges and papaya.