So I really love it here... but unfortunately, I am having some homesickness issues. I think that part of the reason is that my family just came to visit, and I am sad that they are gone. I don't
ever recall experiencing homesickness last year, but I think last year felt more like taking classes while on vacation, while this year feels a lot more like the real world. I do not miss the food, but for pizza and lettuce, both of which are sadly lacking here... but I really do miss all of my family and friends a great deal. It makes me wonder how families can function if a loved one is away for long periods of time. I remember thinking last year that I wanted to come back and live in Mexico for a time, but I do not feel the same way this year. I WOULD LOVE to live here because of the weather, so perhaps we can just plop Ohio on the Gulf Coast as an addition to the Yucatan peninsula... but I don't really think I could be so far away from family and friends for a super long time.
Also... I miss the farm. I think that silly bull at the hacienda made me realize how homesick I am for the farm. I feel so lucky to have grown up there, and my life here is VERY urban. I try not to think about the fact that I won't be home this summer!
Don't take the wrong idea from this... I am having a great time here. This weekend I am going to the BIGGEST archeological excavation in Mexico... Calakmul. I have wanted to go there for ages, and now I am biting the bullet despite the distance. I am very pumped!! It will be a good way to distract me from my sudden attack of homesickness!
Friday, February 27, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Very Naughty Language
So here is what I learned from my family... do you recall that I accidentally called my boss a bad name? I was told after the incident be the people I work with that it means something along the lines of $#!?#% or &9$#&, or even as bad as #%7)!$. BUT DO YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT THAT TERRIBLE NO GOOD VERY BAD WORD MEANS???? (I know this thanks to my mama!)
Are you ready for this?
Cuticle.
Yes. Here in Mexico, it is a huge insult to call someone... a cuticle. GASP! Great. I am bringing that right back to the United States. Next time I get in an argument with someone, I might just whip it out: "You, you, you... CUTICLE! You don't even deserve to be manicured!" Good grief. There are some moments where I would just love to throw things at the cuticle (whoever he or she is) that invented Spanish. I think I can safely say that I am the first person in American history who risked her job by calling her boss a cuticle.
Are you ready for this?
Cuticle.
Yes. Here in Mexico, it is a huge insult to call someone... a cuticle. GASP! Great. I am bringing that right back to the United States. Next time I get in an argument with someone, I might just whip it out: "You, you, you... CUTICLE! You don't even deserve to be manicured!" Good grief. There are some moments where I would just love to throw things at the cuticle (whoever he or she is) that invented Spanish. I think I can safely say that I am the first person in American history who risked her job by calling her boss a cuticle.
A Week with the FAMILY :)
Sooo... where to start? Mom and gang left from Merida this morning, and they will pretty much be traveling all day. Send some prayers that they have gotten home safely! We had a great week. I think we hit just about every sort of activity there is to do here, although I will confess that they did not eat at El Colon, which is an excellent ice cream shop born here in Merida.
Saturday was Progreso. I think it was good for those Ohio ladies to kick back on the beach and relax. There is also some really good shopping there, so that of course happened as well. It was a perfect day, and everyone was gutsy enough to get in the water except me... I think it is a bit on the chilly side right now, but if I were coming directly from Ohio, I would have gone swimming too. We went to Pancho's that night, which is one of the best restaurants in the city. While the prices are quite high for Merida, when converted to dollars, it would be akin to eating at Applebee's. All of the restaurants we went to were lovely actually... we could really eat well because prices are pretty reasonable... and let's be honest... food is a big part of the experience here. Poor Mary Claire, who had been sick on the bus on the way to Merida took it like a trooper. Her poor stomach went from American Mode to Revolt Mode to Mexican Food Mode... and that had to have been a bit rough.
Sunday was Merida. The main plaza area was FILLED with people because of Carnaval. Usually, Merida closes up the plaza on Sundays and vendors set up stalls. They did that this past Sunday as well but there were even MORE because it was Carnaval! We went to mass in the Cathedral and spent the day wandering around Merida. I wanted them to get a chance to see the city I live in. Unfortunately the crowds were extreme and there was a lot of junk around because of so many people. While they perhaps didn't see Merida at its lovliest, they did see it at its busiest... and of course Carnaval is very fun.
Monday was the haul to Chichen Itza. We went on the second class bus, which takes a bit longer because it weaves in and out of little pueblos along the way. I think it was interesting to Grandma, Mary and Laura because they got the opportunity to see pueblos what Mexican pueblos are like, even though we didn't get a chance to stop in one. We arrived at Chichen Itza and bombed around there for a while. Interesting note: Chichen has a lot of vendors selling souvenirs for visitors, and last year while I was there, some commitee or other decided that they were a distraction and kicked them out. They eventually got permission to come back in however... which seems ok. Most of them are Mayan... and it WAS their city to begin with, right? Anyway, we got to see the ruins and the cenote there, which is kind of ugly. The excavated it in the 1950's looking for remains. They found everything from human bones to pottery to gold all the way from Columbia. Unfortunatly, they plugged up the natural drain in the cenote, so no water moves in or out... and now it looks pretty gnarly. The ruins themselves were really interesting. I had been there last year, but it was nice to go back because it is, after all, a world wonder. They are also reeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaally big, so I thought it would be a good place to take Mary Claire and Laura for their very first experience of Mayan ruins.
Tuesday was really fun... we were off to Campeche, which is the capital city of the state Campeche. Of course we saw the colored buildings and the walls... unfortunately, the museums were closed for Carnaval... which was little in Campeche! BUT... now I can reveal the secret that I have so diligently kept about Campeche since my last trip.
Yon about noon, we went over to the coast to see the Gulf. The water was beautiful, and we were sitting on the dyke right next to two giant, rusted cannons. Looking out to sea, Laura pointed and shouted: 'LOOK! It looks like a pirate ship!' Sure enough, out on the sea in the distance was a very pirate-ish looking ship sailing along the coast. I kept quiet... well not quiet really. Mary and I played Pirates and pretended to be defending the city of Campeche with our cannons. It was funny because after we began 'shooting' at it... it turned around and went back!
I had told everyone that we had an appointment at 5, but I didn't tell them where we were going. We grabbed taxis out to the city's edge and walked into a restaurant... and out the other side onto a pierre. There at the end of the pierre was a pirate ship! We got to ride on a pirate ship called 'Lorencillo' after a famous French pirate that attacked Campeche hundreds of years ago. Mary Claire and I had a blast. We were dual captains of the ship.. she was the Dread Marina Silver and I was Captain Redsword of the Gulf Coast. We were ship captains that became blood sisters and we raided, pillaged and plundered towns on the Gulf Coast. Laura (or should I say Black Sonya) joined in and became our third captain. Luckily, we managed to get a snapshot of the three of us captaining the Lorencillo pirate-style... hats, swords, pistol and everything. It was a blast. The voyage lasted about an hour, and we went out to eat after at a restaurant that overlooks the main plaza of Campeche. We caught a bus home that night, so we got home pretty late.
Yesterday, we took an excursion from the hotel. We went to two haciendas and two cenotes. One of the haciendas was completely restored and the other only partially. I managed to make a bull-friend at the first. There was a random bull tethered in the lawn in fron of the first hacienda. It was a Brahmen (is that how you spell it?) which I think is one of the cutest breeds of cattle that exist, so I went up to in and we made fast friends. I was sad when I found out that he was supposed to be someone's dinner that vvery night. After the first hacienda, we went to the two cenotes. One was partially covered, and that one was pretty shallow. You could feel an oh-so gentle current. We had quite the time splashing around in there. The first cenote was nothing compared to the second, though. The second was deep in the ground but open to the sunlight. Tree roots and branches hung down from the walls, and we had to climb down a long ladder to get down to the eerily clear, blue water. The cenote was as deep as a football field is long... and you could still see the bottom as clear as if it were a foot in front of you. We floated and talked with the people in our tour group (a couple from D.C. and a Mexican girl from Mexico City.)
After we pulled ourselves away from the second cenote, we went to eat lunch at a working sisal plantation (the second hacienda). The hacienda has a dried up cenote behind it that the owners are currently turning into an amphitheater for tourists. We got to see all of the machines that are used to separate and dry henequen. There was no friendly bull... but I liked it just the same! We ate a wonderful lunch there and Mom, Grandma and I spent the whole lunch talking to Jesica (the girl from Mexico City). She didn't speak any English, so I had to translate all of lunch... a hard task sometimes, but it was a lot of fun. We talked to her about all sorts of political issues, including illegal immigration. It was very interesting to hear what she had to say about all of it. We ended up swapping information so that we can stay in touch.
After all of that, Laura and I decided to go get our nails done. I actually had to go to work and type things today, so I didn't get false nails... just painted. LAURA, though, got some serious nails. Hers are lovely and long right now... very elegant and quite fun. The only problem that we ran into was that the girl who did Laura's nails accidently glued Laura's fingers together... yay for Mexican manicures!!!
After all of that monkeyshine, we went to Mama's for dinner. I had not seen her since Friday, so it was good to see her once again. It was really fun to have my family from the USA meet my host family here!
All in all... a fabulous week. The only problem now is that I have to make up the hours at work. I missed 2 days, which isn't that bad... but can't be made up this week, so I guess I will have to work on that in the week to come...!
Saturday was Progreso. I think it was good for those Ohio ladies to kick back on the beach and relax. There is also some really good shopping there, so that of course happened as well. It was a perfect day, and everyone was gutsy enough to get in the water except me... I think it is a bit on the chilly side right now, but if I were coming directly from Ohio, I would have gone swimming too. We went to Pancho's that night, which is one of the best restaurants in the city. While the prices are quite high for Merida, when converted to dollars, it would be akin to eating at Applebee's. All of the restaurants we went to were lovely actually... we could really eat well because prices are pretty reasonable... and let's be honest... food is a big part of the experience here. Poor Mary Claire, who had been sick on the bus on the way to Merida took it like a trooper. Her poor stomach went from American Mode to Revolt Mode to Mexican Food Mode... and that had to have been a bit rough.
Sunday was Merida. The main plaza area was FILLED with people because of Carnaval. Usually, Merida closes up the plaza on Sundays and vendors set up stalls. They did that this past Sunday as well but there were even MORE because it was Carnaval! We went to mass in the Cathedral and spent the day wandering around Merida. I wanted them to get a chance to see the city I live in. Unfortunately the crowds were extreme and there was a lot of junk around because of so many people. While they perhaps didn't see Merida at its lovliest, they did see it at its busiest... and of course Carnaval is very fun.
Monday was the haul to Chichen Itza. We went on the second class bus, which takes a bit longer because it weaves in and out of little pueblos along the way. I think it was interesting to Grandma, Mary and Laura because they got the opportunity to see pueblos what Mexican pueblos are like, even though we didn't get a chance to stop in one. We arrived at Chichen Itza and bombed around there for a while. Interesting note: Chichen has a lot of vendors selling souvenirs for visitors, and last year while I was there, some commitee or other decided that they were a distraction and kicked them out. They eventually got permission to come back in however... which seems ok. Most of them are Mayan... and it WAS their city to begin with, right? Anyway, we got to see the ruins and the cenote there, which is kind of ugly. The excavated it in the 1950's looking for remains. They found everything from human bones to pottery to gold all the way from Columbia. Unfortunatly, they plugged up the natural drain in the cenote, so no water moves in or out... and now it looks pretty gnarly. The ruins themselves were really interesting. I had been there last year, but it was nice to go back because it is, after all, a world wonder. They are also reeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaally big, so I thought it would be a good place to take Mary Claire and Laura for their very first experience of Mayan ruins.
Tuesday was really fun... we were off to Campeche, which is the capital city of the state Campeche. Of course we saw the colored buildings and the walls... unfortunately, the museums were closed for Carnaval... which was little in Campeche! BUT... now I can reveal the secret that I have so diligently kept about Campeche since my last trip.
Yon about noon, we went over to the coast to see the Gulf. The water was beautiful, and we were sitting on the dyke right next to two giant, rusted cannons. Looking out to sea, Laura pointed and shouted: 'LOOK! It looks like a pirate ship!' Sure enough, out on the sea in the distance was a very pirate-ish looking ship sailing along the coast. I kept quiet... well not quiet really. Mary and I played Pirates and pretended to be defending the city of Campeche with our cannons. It was funny because after we began 'shooting' at it... it turned around and went back!
I had told everyone that we had an appointment at 5, but I didn't tell them where we were going. We grabbed taxis out to the city's edge and walked into a restaurant... and out the other side onto a pierre. There at the end of the pierre was a pirate ship! We got to ride on a pirate ship called 'Lorencillo' after a famous French pirate that attacked Campeche hundreds of years ago. Mary Claire and I had a blast. We were dual captains of the ship.. she was the Dread Marina Silver and I was Captain Redsword of the Gulf Coast. We were ship captains that became blood sisters and we raided, pillaged and plundered towns on the Gulf Coast. Laura (or should I say Black Sonya) joined in and became our third captain. Luckily, we managed to get a snapshot of the three of us captaining the Lorencillo pirate-style... hats, swords, pistol and everything. It was a blast. The voyage lasted about an hour, and we went out to eat after at a restaurant that overlooks the main plaza of Campeche. We caught a bus home that night, so we got home pretty late.
Yesterday, we took an excursion from the hotel. We went to two haciendas and two cenotes. One of the haciendas was completely restored and the other only partially. I managed to make a bull-friend at the first. There was a random bull tethered in the lawn in fron of the first hacienda. It was a Brahmen (is that how you spell it?) which I think is one of the cutest breeds of cattle that exist, so I went up to in and we made fast friends. I was sad when I found out that he was supposed to be someone's dinner that vvery night. After the first hacienda, we went to the two cenotes. One was partially covered, and that one was pretty shallow. You could feel an oh-so gentle current. We had quite the time splashing around in there. The first cenote was nothing compared to the second, though. The second was deep in the ground but open to the sunlight. Tree roots and branches hung down from the walls, and we had to climb down a long ladder to get down to the eerily clear, blue water. The cenote was as deep as a football field is long... and you could still see the bottom as clear as if it were a foot in front of you. We floated and talked with the people in our tour group (a couple from D.C. and a Mexican girl from Mexico City.)
After we pulled ourselves away from the second cenote, we went to eat lunch at a working sisal plantation (the second hacienda). The hacienda has a dried up cenote behind it that the owners are currently turning into an amphitheater for tourists. We got to see all of the machines that are used to separate and dry henequen. There was no friendly bull... but I liked it just the same! We ate a wonderful lunch there and Mom, Grandma and I spent the whole lunch talking to Jesica (the girl from Mexico City). She didn't speak any English, so I had to translate all of lunch... a hard task sometimes, but it was a lot of fun. We talked to her about all sorts of political issues, including illegal immigration. It was very interesting to hear what she had to say about all of it. We ended up swapping information so that we can stay in touch.
After all of that, Laura and I decided to go get our nails done. I actually had to go to work and type things today, so I didn't get false nails... just painted. LAURA, though, got some serious nails. Hers are lovely and long right now... very elegant and quite fun. The only problem that we ran into was that the girl who did Laura's nails accidently glued Laura's fingers together... yay for Mexican manicures!!!
After all of that monkeyshine, we went to Mama's for dinner. I had not seen her since Friday, so it was good to see her once again. It was really fun to have my family from the USA meet my host family here!
All in all... a fabulous week. The only problem now is that I have to make up the hours at work. I missed 2 days, which isn't that bad... but can't be made up this week, so I guess I will have to work on that in the week to come...!
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
A Family Visit!
I should probably make mention of the fact that my family is here to visit me. This group consists of three generations of my family: my grandmother (nearing 78), my mom(ageless), my older sister Laura (22) and my little sister Mary Claire (13). Mary Claire is no longer so little... she now has several inches on me :(
ANYWAY, they came down during Laura's spring break to visit me and arrived on Friday. We have been preeeeeeeeetty busy since they got here Friday Night. They are staying in a hotel in the centro, so we have been basing ourselves there for day trips. Saturday we went to Progreso, which is the beach just north of hear on the Gulf. It was a perfect day, if not a bit breezy, but we had a great time. Sunday we stayed in Merida, did a lot of shopping and a lot of eating. We ended up going to Mass in the Cathedral, which I had never done before... and the sound there is terrible!! Yesterday was Chichen Itza, which of course is a World Wonder, and today we went to Campeche, which is on the UN list of Heritage Destinations.
Once they leave, I will have to do a little bit more justice to Chichen Itza and Campeche!
Tomorrow, we are off to see cenotes and haciendas. So they will have done cenotes, haciendas, ruins, forts, beach... the whole Mexican experience!! I hope that they are enjoying it as much as I am. More on all of this later... I would love to start now, but I have been pulling 18-hour days what with travel and all, so sleep is sounding pretty good right now!
ANYWAY, they came down during Laura's spring break to visit me and arrived on Friday. We have been preeeeeeeeetty busy since they got here Friday Night. They are staying in a hotel in the centro, so we have been basing ourselves there for day trips. Saturday we went to Progreso, which is the beach just north of hear on the Gulf. It was a perfect day, if not a bit breezy, but we had a great time. Sunday we stayed in Merida, did a lot of shopping and a lot of eating. We ended up going to Mass in the Cathedral, which I had never done before... and the sound there is terrible!! Yesterday was Chichen Itza, which of course is a World Wonder, and today we went to Campeche, which is on the UN list of Heritage Destinations.
Once they leave, I will have to do a little bit more justice to Chichen Itza and Campeche!
Tomorrow, we are off to see cenotes and haciendas. So they will have done cenotes, haciendas, ruins, forts, beach... the whole Mexican experience!! I hope that they are enjoying it as much as I am. More on all of this later... I would love to start now, but I have been pulling 18-hour days what with travel and all, so sleep is sounding pretty good right now!
Monday, February 23, 2009
Plan B TV
Ok, so I know this doesn't look like me what with the big hair and the out-to-there eye makeup, but there I am! And yes, that is all my own hair. It is just a video that the peeps at Plan B put together so that readers feel like they are getting a behind-the-scenes look at what goes on. (Hey, Mrs. Quinlan, if you are reading this... check out my purse!)
http://www.planbmerida.com.mx/planbtv.php?f=20090223
http://www.planbmerida.com.mx/planbtv.php?f=20090223
Friday, February 20, 2009
Plan B Website- GRAND OPENING!
We have all been working really hard to open Plan B's website. With the publication of our 200th issue yesterday, we opened Plan B's website. If you want to look at the most recent issue, click on "Revistas." I did page three, and also 12-20. I usually do more than one design section, but I had other stuff I was working on too. Also, in a week or so, a video will go up under "Plan B TV" of the Levi's shoot, so I will be certain to let you all know when that goes up!
Visit www.planbmerida.com.mx
Visit www.planbmerida.com.mx
A Giant Starfish, A Broken Shoe and a Very Red Face
Well, much that is random and humiliating has transpired since Monday….
First off, I was walking on my way to work (nearly sleeping), when I suddenly looked up, and there in front of me stood a giant, fuzzy blue starfish. It was maybe six feet tall, had big googly eyes, and was dancing up and down in front of me.
“Hola,” I said shyly, and began to walk past the spastic starfish.
“Wait!” I heard someone call as I was walking away. The giant starfish was frolicking in pursuit of me with a small stick of bamboo planted in a shot-glass full of green jelly.
I am not sure it gets any more random than that.
In any case, the bamboo is now happily sitting on my window sill, soaking up the sun… and whatever is in that green jelly.
Also, I face-planted in the centro. I was wearing my new wedges, which are all the rage here, and I was walking down the sidewalk of the centro. One minute, I was upright, and the next minute, I was in the ground with a very red face and a very broken shoe. I spent about a half an hour hobbling to a shoe store where I bought a pair of flip flops.
Finally, and perhaps most embarrassing… I told off my boss without even knowing I did it. Now that takes skill. The people I work with are very young, and they happen to use a lot… gross terms. I have been pretty good about keeping up with the degree of crudeness associated with each particular word. Unfortunately, something fell through. We all tease each other a lot, so when my boss feigned being nerdy, I called him a loser. Only I didn’t call him a loser, I called him… something very bad. Very bad indeed. His jaw dropped. At first he thought it was funny, but then he seemed really offended. I spent the rest of the day buried in InDesign projects, hoping that no one would notice that my face never turned back to the normal color. John-Curtiss congratulated me, telling me that it takes most people 10 YEARS to tell off their bosses. I only needed 10 weeks!
First off, I was walking on my way to work (nearly sleeping), when I suddenly looked up, and there in front of me stood a giant, fuzzy blue starfish. It was maybe six feet tall, had big googly eyes, and was dancing up and down in front of me.
“Hola,” I said shyly, and began to walk past the spastic starfish.
“Wait!” I heard someone call as I was walking away. The giant starfish was frolicking in pursuit of me with a small stick of bamboo planted in a shot-glass full of green jelly.
I am not sure it gets any more random than that.
In any case, the bamboo is now happily sitting on my window sill, soaking up the sun… and whatever is in that green jelly.
Also, I face-planted in the centro. I was wearing my new wedges, which are all the rage here, and I was walking down the sidewalk of the centro. One minute, I was upright, and the next minute, I was in the ground with a very red face and a very broken shoe. I spent about a half an hour hobbling to a shoe store where I bought a pair of flip flops.
Finally, and perhaps most embarrassing… I told off my boss without even knowing I did it. Now that takes skill. The people I work with are very young, and they happen to use a lot… gross terms. I have been pretty good about keeping up with the degree of crudeness associated with each particular word. Unfortunately, something fell through. We all tease each other a lot, so when my boss feigned being nerdy, I called him a loser. Only I didn’t call him a loser, I called him… something very bad. Very bad indeed. His jaw dropped. At first he thought it was funny, but then he seemed really offended. I spent the rest of the day buried in InDesign projects, hoping that no one would notice that my face never turned back to the normal color. John-Curtiss congratulated me, telling me that it takes most people 10 YEARS to tell off their bosses. I only needed 10 weeks!
Monday, February 16, 2009
Carolyn's TOP TEN Ruins in Yucatan!
10. ACANCEH, Yucatan: impressive stucco and the only star-shaped pyramid ever excavated.
9. DZIBILCHALTUN: a big site with small buildings; famous for its trick of light on the equinox.
8. TULUM, Quintana Roo: picturesque ruins on the shores of the Caribbean Sea.
7. UXMAL, Yucatan: giant ornate buildings and beautifully carved facades.
6. COBA, Quintana Roo: (my first site) recently excavated and filled with impressive structures.
5. CHICHEN ITZA, Yucatan: famous for El Castillo, one of the 7 World Wonders.
4. MAYAPAN, Yucatan: giant, well-rennovated structures set deep in the countryside
3. KABAH, Yucatan: beautiful facades made of thousands of stone pieces.
2. EDZNA, Campeche: contains the only 5-story building excavated.
1. PALENQUE, Chiapas: home of the Mayan Christ-figure Pacal, this city is set in the depths of the Chiapas jungle.
9. DZIBILCHALTUN: a big site with small buildings; famous for its trick of light on the equinox.
8. TULUM, Quintana Roo: picturesque ruins on the shores of the Caribbean Sea.
7. UXMAL, Yucatan: giant ornate buildings and beautifully carved facades.
6. COBA, Quintana Roo: (my first site) recently excavated and filled with impressive structures.
5. CHICHEN ITZA, Yucatan: famous for El Castillo, one of the 7 World Wonders.
4. MAYAPAN, Yucatan: giant, well-rennovated structures set deep in the countryside
3. KABAH, Yucatan: beautiful facades made of thousands of stone pieces.
2. EDZNA, Campeche: contains the only 5-story building excavated.
1. PALENQUE, Chiapas: home of the Mayan Christ-figure Pacal, this city is set in the depths of the Chiapas jungle.
Indiana Jones and the Pirates of the Gulf Coast
This past weekend, I went to Campeche, which is the capital city of the State of Campeche. I went there last year, so I was expecting the experience to be something similar... but it was not at all.
For those of you who were not recipients of my super dooper emails last year, Campeche is a colonial ciry that sits on the Gulf of Mexico on the western side of the peninsula. Now, you have all heard about the pirates of the Caribbean... but perhaps they should have named the films 'Pirates of the Gulf Coast,' because Campeche began to suffer countless pirate attacks in the 1500´s. These attacks reached their peak in the 1600´s and 1700´s. The city was frequently a victim of the infamous French pirate Laurent de Graff, who evenutally became known as simply Lorencillo (loh-ren-SEE-yo). He was known for creeping up on coastal cities during the cover of night and holding the entire city hostage inside the church. Campeche became a hot target for bucaneers because of the treasures there: gold, silver, jewels, skins, spices and dyes. Concerned for the city´s survival, the Spaniards sealed the city up inside a large fort. This walled fort was built starting in 1686 and was completed in 1704. The walls were about 2 meters thick and 6 meters high, and in the entire fort there were only two entrances: the Eastern Gate and the Western Gate. Each corner of the fort was a bastion armed with 16 cannons, many of which are still atop the bastions today. Each bastion also has bells meant for sounding the alarm during night hours. This fort effectively put an end to the pirate attacks, though by the time it was completed, the pirates in the gulf were becoming less and less active anyway.
Campeche was rennovated in the 1980´s. Facades of old homes were fixed up and painted, so the city is now colorful. The walls lining the streets are every color of cake frosting. The downtown churches are all beautiful, one of which serves the dual purpose of church and lighthouse. Though the city is on the coast, there is no much swimming. The walls of the fort are maybe 100 yards from the edge of the water, which is held back by a low wall. The coast is a popular way to pass the afternoon taking a walk or watching the waves of the gulf splash up against the wall.
I am debating how much to give away about my weekend... I am strongly considering taking my family there when they come to visit this week, but I have to get a few details worked out. This means, unfortunately, that this is about all you get to hear about Campeche for the time being. I am going to write up what happened and post it AFTER my family comes, because I want it to be a surprise.
I CAN tell you (because my family will not be going there) that we hit up the ruins of Edzna, which is a site that I visited last year. It was my #2 site in all of my travels, so that was good to see it again.
Sorry I can't say more... I coudn't bear it if I ruined the surprise... stay tuned next week for my awesome Pirate Adventures in Campeche!
For those of you who were not recipients of my super dooper emails last year, Campeche is a colonial ciry that sits on the Gulf of Mexico on the western side of the peninsula. Now, you have all heard about the pirates of the Caribbean... but perhaps they should have named the films 'Pirates of the Gulf Coast,' because Campeche began to suffer countless pirate attacks in the 1500´s. These attacks reached their peak in the 1600´s and 1700´s. The city was frequently a victim of the infamous French pirate Laurent de Graff, who evenutally became known as simply Lorencillo (loh-ren-SEE-yo). He was known for creeping up on coastal cities during the cover of night and holding the entire city hostage inside the church. Campeche became a hot target for bucaneers because of the treasures there: gold, silver, jewels, skins, spices and dyes. Concerned for the city´s survival, the Spaniards sealed the city up inside a large fort. This walled fort was built starting in 1686 and was completed in 1704. The walls were about 2 meters thick and 6 meters high, and in the entire fort there were only two entrances: the Eastern Gate and the Western Gate. Each corner of the fort was a bastion armed with 16 cannons, many of which are still atop the bastions today. Each bastion also has bells meant for sounding the alarm during night hours. This fort effectively put an end to the pirate attacks, though by the time it was completed, the pirates in the gulf were becoming less and less active anyway.
Campeche was rennovated in the 1980´s. Facades of old homes were fixed up and painted, so the city is now colorful. The walls lining the streets are every color of cake frosting. The downtown churches are all beautiful, one of which serves the dual purpose of church and lighthouse. Though the city is on the coast, there is no much swimming. The walls of the fort are maybe 100 yards from the edge of the water, which is held back by a low wall. The coast is a popular way to pass the afternoon taking a walk or watching the waves of the gulf splash up against the wall.
I am debating how much to give away about my weekend... I am strongly considering taking my family there when they come to visit this week, but I have to get a few details worked out. This means, unfortunately, that this is about all you get to hear about Campeche for the time being. I am going to write up what happened and post it AFTER my family comes, because I want it to be a surprise.
I CAN tell you (because my family will not be going there) that we hit up the ruins of Edzna, which is a site that I visited last year. It was my #2 site in all of my travels, so that was good to see it again.
Sorry I can't say more... I coudn't bear it if I ruined the surprise... stay tuned next week for my awesome Pirate Adventures in Campeche!
Cartoon
I know I already published this cartoon on my blog, but I thought you might be interested to know that it is also published on the Chronicle's website :)
Here is the link!
http://blogs.chron.com/nickanderson/
Here is the link!
http://blogs.chron.com/nickanderson/
Friday, February 13, 2009
Plan B Layout
Below is a design that I did for the 200th anniversary of the magazine. I did the graphics also... hope you enjoy it. This might give you some idea of what I spend my days doing. I usually don´t have much in the way of flexibility with the design... this is probably the most Carolyn-ish design I have done thus far... ENJOY!
Also, here a cartoon I did for the Post!
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Yummy Chayotes
So, somebody (hint, hint mom!) needs to try some of my Yucatec recipes. I have put some real winners on there. I am actually excited that I am going to all the trouble because I will have a nice cookbook for myself when I get home.
I think there is not one food here that I do not like. One food I will certainly lement the loss of upon my return is chayote. Chayote is about as plain as they come. It is a pear-shaped vegetable but is plain as plain can be like a potato or lettuce. There is hardly any flavor to it at all when eaten on its own. The beauty of chayote is that when cooked WITH other things, it soaks up the flavor... and become to DIE for!
I am getting hungry now. Enjoy your processed food in the United States, peeps! I will be eating fresh guacamole and chayote for another month still!
I think there is not one food here that I do not like. One food I will certainly lement the loss of upon my return is chayote. Chayote is about as plain as they come. It is a pear-shaped vegetable but is plain as plain can be like a potato or lettuce. There is hardly any flavor to it at all when eaten on its own. The beauty of chayote is that when cooked WITH other things, it soaks up the flavor... and become to DIE for!
I am getting hungry now. Enjoy your processed food in the United States, peeps! I will be eating fresh guacamole and chayote for another month still!
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Tulum, Puerto Morelos and Cancun
Some of you may (or may not) be wondering about the remainder of my weekend! Here is the tale:
After my MAGICAL moment in the garden next to the house, we went to find John-Curtiss a hotel. Unfortunately, he had arrived so late at night that I had no clue where to find a halfway decent one at that hour for a nice price. We ended up locating one for him in the centro. Being that poor John-Curtiss hardly knows any Spanish, I stayed long enough to make sure that he was settled down for the night… but not after him asking to switch rooms because he found some hair and a few rather questionable stains on the sheets!
The next morning, I swung by his hotel a half an hour before work to pick him up… with horchata (a Mexican drink made from rice and almonds) in tow. We slurped it down and walked to the office of the Diario, where I work. Unfortunately, due to recent threats to the paper as a result of the drug wars going on here, security was heightened, and they could not let John-Curtiss enter. We twiddled away the morning, shopping around in the centro. (I really think we may have stopped at every shoe store there looking for New Balance, but it appears that is not the thing here!)
We ate lunch at Mama’s house, so that John-Curtiss and Dave (Emily’s boyfriend with whom John-Curtiss arrived) could taste the fabulous wonder’s of Mama’s cooking! We poked around that afternoon, getting our stuff together and headed off to the ADO bus station that evening to grab a bus to Playa del Carmen… or Tulum, whichever struck my fancy when I saw the schedule ;) Unfortunately, travel plans never go according to plan (go figure) and we ended up missing the bus by about 20 minutes. The next bus wasn’t leaving for FIVE MORE HOURS!
I was put out for about a moment… and then remembered that I was currently hanging out with one of the most interesting and fun people on the face of God’s green earth. We headed across the street to one of my favorite restaurants in Merida. It is a quaint little place with orange walls, antique Mayan advertisiments, and TVs with telenovelas or old Mexican films running. John-Curtiss ordered some tamales and I got some papaya… and thus we passed five hours. Lame, right? But NO, it was not!!! It was actually one of my favorite memories from the entire trip! We also ended up shooting the breeze with a Mexican waiter there, who was VERY nice. Undeterred by his small Spanish vocabulary, John-Curtiss went above and beyond the call of duty to try to speak the language. I must say, John, you improved a great deal over the weekend… look how many things you learned!
Needless to say, we passed out on the bus, once we were FINALLY on it. It left at 11:30 at night, and for some reason, there were only three other people on it! This being the case, we had more than enough room to sprawl out and catch some Z’s. We ended up deciding to go to Tulum, and we rolled in around 3:30 in the morning. I found the nearest hotel and we crashed!
Next morning dawned beautiful! We went to get some breakfast and headed out to the ruins. Dave and Emily had come along by that time, so we spent the afternoon touring the ruins and the beach. John-Curtiss managed to spend about an hour telling me about the wonders of surfing, and then he found some snails on the rocks that we played with for a while. We named one very special snail “Moco,” which is the Spanish word for “booger.” Add that to your vocabulary of useful words!
I should not neglect to mention some of the crazy Europeans at the beach. My particular favorite was the bald 50-year-old man in a very tight speedo trying to surf on an air mattress. Each wave would throw him up into the air and sailing back to the beach with a painful smack into the water each time. He spent the better part of three hours doing this, and we wondered if he would ever really get the idea. My other favorite has to be the random European dude (in a speedo of course) drunkenly straddling a palm tree, giving his friends sleepy thumbs-up to indicate that he was… okay.
We went shopping! I don’t think I ever get tired of seeing all the things that pueblos like Tulum have to offer. John-Curtiss found some pretty steal deals as well (nice work, there!) After that followed ONE OF THE BEST meals I have had in Yucatan. John and I decided to split an order of tostadas and… well, suffice to say that an order from this restaurant is more like a mountain than a pile of food. I don’t think I have ever eaten so much. We didn’t stop there, though. Despite our distinct lack of salsa knowledge, we opted to get up and dance salsa right there in the restaurant (there was a salsa band there, I couldn’t help myself!) We had a fabulous time pretending to be amazing salsa dancers.
Sunday came all too soon! We got up and headed right for the airport. Because we were running a little early, we took a small detour to the pueblo of Puerto Morelos, a little-visited fishing village between Cancun and Playa del Carmen. I suspect the fate of Puerto Morales is the same as Cancun and Playa. That whole strip is doomed to become a Caribbean tourist trap! The water, with its various shades of cerulean, was the Caribbean at its loveliest. Of all the Caribbean I have seen, this water was the loveliest. We caught lunch and basked in the quiet of Puerto Morelos.
Then came the airport. That part was awful because I hate saying goodbye, especially when I REALLLLY don’t want to. I was hugging John-Curtiss goodbye at the terminal as he was right about to get onto the shuttle. A man inside shouted out: “Why don’t ya just take her with ya?!”
Thinking my weekend had come to a close, Emily and I hopped a bus to the centro in Cancun to then get ANOTHER bus to Merida… when my cell phone rang. “Emergency,” it said. John-Curtiss and Dave had gotten bumped from their flight and would not be able to leave Cancun until the following day. I won’t lie, I did a little happy dance right there on the bus. I mean, I was bummed that they had to wait and that they would have to miss school and I would have to miss work… but another 24 hours with John-Curtiss?!?!? TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE!
After a furious hour or so of texting back and forth, sending directions and booking ANOTHER hotel, John-Curtiss and Dave came rolling on into the centro’s bus station. I was babysitting the luggage when I saw John-Curtiss come tearing in from the terminal at full speed, fuzzy green frog in tow. I had been worried that he would be stressed out, but I saw his face, and he looked like a little kid that just found out that he was going to have Christmas every day for a year!
After that weekend, I feel justified in my dislike for Cancun. THERE ARE MILLIONS OF AMERICANS. Everywhere. Being white, we definitely looked the part of vacationers, so taxi drivers asked us if we wanted a five minute ride… for 300 pesos. (To give you an idea, I would pay about 20 pesos in Merida for five minutes!) Ugh! Everything from food to housing to entertainment to shopping is astonishingly expensive. At the very least, I can say that I have been down the hotel strip and now I can officially say that it does not please me. I suppose if you had a LOAD of cash, then a lot of the entertainment would be cool (swimming with sharks, scuba diving, zip-lining, that sort of thing).
The nice thing was that I had entertainment of my own. Who needs the attractions of Cancun when you have this really cute boy that you like a whole awful lot and you get to spend time with him?!?!
We spent the evening wandering around Plaza La Isla, one of the bigger and more popular shopping centers there. John-Curtiss most enjoyed talking to the people that worked there, I think. We had a fabulous time. Following our shopping spree, we ate (for the million and fifth time) at the restarant near our hotel and checked out the gift shop. What we found there was at least an hour of entertainment… strange stuffed animals that sang and a hair gel with the oh-so-masculine name of “Ma Evans Hair Gel.” What the heck? That sounds more like a brand of pancake syrup than something you would want to put into your hair!
Two thumbs down for goodbyes. And this one was bad. Right after they got their boarding passes on Monday morning, they went running to board their flight. My last sight of John-Curtiss was him running away from me, saying: “Bye! Love you!” And Oscar, the giant furry frog strapped to his backpack was bouncing fluffily away.
All in all… a FABULOUS weekend!
After my MAGICAL moment in the garden next to the house, we went to find John-Curtiss a hotel. Unfortunately, he had arrived so late at night that I had no clue where to find a halfway decent one at that hour for a nice price. We ended up locating one for him in the centro. Being that poor John-Curtiss hardly knows any Spanish, I stayed long enough to make sure that he was settled down for the night… but not after him asking to switch rooms because he found some hair and a few rather questionable stains on the sheets!
The next morning, I swung by his hotel a half an hour before work to pick him up… with horchata (a Mexican drink made from rice and almonds) in tow. We slurped it down and walked to the office of the Diario, where I work. Unfortunately, due to recent threats to the paper as a result of the drug wars going on here, security was heightened, and they could not let John-Curtiss enter. We twiddled away the morning, shopping around in the centro. (I really think we may have stopped at every shoe store there looking for New Balance, but it appears that is not the thing here!)
We ate lunch at Mama’s house, so that John-Curtiss and Dave (Emily’s boyfriend with whom John-Curtiss arrived) could taste the fabulous wonder’s of Mama’s cooking! We poked around that afternoon, getting our stuff together and headed off to the ADO bus station that evening to grab a bus to Playa del Carmen… or Tulum, whichever struck my fancy when I saw the schedule ;) Unfortunately, travel plans never go according to plan (go figure) and we ended up missing the bus by about 20 minutes. The next bus wasn’t leaving for FIVE MORE HOURS!
I was put out for about a moment… and then remembered that I was currently hanging out with one of the most interesting and fun people on the face of God’s green earth. We headed across the street to one of my favorite restaurants in Merida. It is a quaint little place with orange walls, antique Mayan advertisiments, and TVs with telenovelas or old Mexican films running. John-Curtiss ordered some tamales and I got some papaya… and thus we passed five hours. Lame, right? But NO, it was not!!! It was actually one of my favorite memories from the entire trip! We also ended up shooting the breeze with a Mexican waiter there, who was VERY nice. Undeterred by his small Spanish vocabulary, John-Curtiss went above and beyond the call of duty to try to speak the language. I must say, John, you improved a great deal over the weekend… look how many things you learned!
Needless to say, we passed out on the bus, once we were FINALLY on it. It left at 11:30 at night, and for some reason, there were only three other people on it! This being the case, we had more than enough room to sprawl out and catch some Z’s. We ended up deciding to go to Tulum, and we rolled in around 3:30 in the morning. I found the nearest hotel and we crashed!
Next morning dawned beautiful! We went to get some breakfast and headed out to the ruins. Dave and Emily had come along by that time, so we spent the afternoon touring the ruins and the beach. John-Curtiss managed to spend about an hour telling me about the wonders of surfing, and then he found some snails on the rocks that we played with for a while. We named one very special snail “Moco,” which is the Spanish word for “booger.” Add that to your vocabulary of useful words!
I should not neglect to mention some of the crazy Europeans at the beach. My particular favorite was the bald 50-year-old man in a very tight speedo trying to surf on an air mattress. Each wave would throw him up into the air and sailing back to the beach with a painful smack into the water each time. He spent the better part of three hours doing this, and we wondered if he would ever really get the idea. My other favorite has to be the random European dude (in a speedo of course) drunkenly straddling a palm tree, giving his friends sleepy thumbs-up to indicate that he was… okay.
We went shopping! I don’t think I ever get tired of seeing all the things that pueblos like Tulum have to offer. John-Curtiss found some pretty steal deals as well (nice work, there!) After that followed ONE OF THE BEST meals I have had in Yucatan. John and I decided to split an order of tostadas and… well, suffice to say that an order from this restaurant is more like a mountain than a pile of food. I don’t think I have ever eaten so much. We didn’t stop there, though. Despite our distinct lack of salsa knowledge, we opted to get up and dance salsa right there in the restaurant (there was a salsa band there, I couldn’t help myself!) We had a fabulous time pretending to be amazing salsa dancers.
Sunday came all too soon! We got up and headed right for the airport. Because we were running a little early, we took a small detour to the pueblo of Puerto Morelos, a little-visited fishing village between Cancun and Playa del Carmen. I suspect the fate of Puerto Morales is the same as Cancun and Playa. That whole strip is doomed to become a Caribbean tourist trap! The water, with its various shades of cerulean, was the Caribbean at its loveliest. Of all the Caribbean I have seen, this water was the loveliest. We caught lunch and basked in the quiet of Puerto Morelos.
Then came the airport. That part was awful because I hate saying goodbye, especially when I REALLLLY don’t want to. I was hugging John-Curtiss goodbye at the terminal as he was right about to get onto the shuttle. A man inside shouted out: “Why don’t ya just take her with ya?!”
Thinking my weekend had come to a close, Emily and I hopped a bus to the centro in Cancun to then get ANOTHER bus to Merida… when my cell phone rang. “Emergency,” it said. John-Curtiss and Dave had gotten bumped from their flight and would not be able to leave Cancun until the following day. I won’t lie, I did a little happy dance right there on the bus. I mean, I was bummed that they had to wait and that they would have to miss school and I would have to miss work… but another 24 hours with John-Curtiss?!?!? TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE!
After a furious hour or so of texting back and forth, sending directions and booking ANOTHER hotel, John-Curtiss and Dave came rolling on into the centro’s bus station. I was babysitting the luggage when I saw John-Curtiss come tearing in from the terminal at full speed, fuzzy green frog in tow. I had been worried that he would be stressed out, but I saw his face, and he looked like a little kid that just found out that he was going to have Christmas every day for a year!
After that weekend, I feel justified in my dislike for Cancun. THERE ARE MILLIONS OF AMERICANS. Everywhere. Being white, we definitely looked the part of vacationers, so taxi drivers asked us if we wanted a five minute ride… for 300 pesos. (To give you an idea, I would pay about 20 pesos in Merida for five minutes!) Ugh! Everything from food to housing to entertainment to shopping is astonishingly expensive. At the very least, I can say that I have been down the hotel strip and now I can officially say that it does not please me. I suppose if you had a LOAD of cash, then a lot of the entertainment would be cool (swimming with sharks, scuba diving, zip-lining, that sort of thing).
The nice thing was that I had entertainment of my own. Who needs the attractions of Cancun when you have this really cute boy that you like a whole awful lot and you get to spend time with him?!?!
We spent the evening wandering around Plaza La Isla, one of the bigger and more popular shopping centers there. John-Curtiss most enjoyed talking to the people that worked there, I think. We had a fabulous time. Following our shopping spree, we ate (for the million and fifth time) at the restarant near our hotel and checked out the gift shop. What we found there was at least an hour of entertainment… strange stuffed animals that sang and a hair gel with the oh-so-masculine name of “Ma Evans Hair Gel.” What the heck? That sounds more like a brand of pancake syrup than something you would want to put into your hair!
Two thumbs down for goodbyes. And this one was bad. Right after they got their boarding passes on Monday morning, they went running to board their flight. My last sight of John-Curtiss was him running away from me, saying: “Bye! Love you!” And Oscar, the giant furry frog strapped to his backpack was bouncing fluffily away.
All in all… a FABULOUS weekend!
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Somos Novios
Here are the original and translated lyrics of the famous Mexican song 'Somos Novios.' This song is played at weddings and anniversaries... and romantic occasions of any sort. EVERYONE knows it!! It is pretty cute! The mariachi band played it as the closing song when they came to serenade me at my window.
SPANISH.....
Somos novios
Pues los dos sentimos mutuo amor profundo
Y con eso ya ganamos lo más grande
De este mundo Nos amamos, nos besamos
Como novios Nos deseamos y hasta a veces sin motivo y
Sin razón, nos enojamos
Somos novios
Mantenemos un cariño limpio y puro
Como todos Procuramos el momento más obscuro
Para hablarnos Para darnos el más dulce de los besos
Recordar de qué color son los cerezos
Sin hacer mas comentarios, somos novios
It's just impossible Nos amamos, nos besamos
Como novios Nos deseamos y hasta a veces sin motivo y
Sin razón, nos enojamos Sin motivo, sin razón
Somos novios Mantenemos un cariño limpio y puro
Como todos (Como todos) Procuramos el momento más obscuro
Para hablarnos Para darnos el más dulce de los besos
Recordar de qué color son los cerezos
Sin hacer mas comentarios,
somos novios somos novios,
siempre novios Somos novios
ENGLISH.....
we are boyfriend/girlfriend (in other words a couple)
we both love eachother profoundly
and with that we won the biggest prize in this world
we love eachother, we kiss eachother like a couple (boyfirend/grilfriend thing)
we want eachother and sometimes even without motive and without reason,
we get mad at eachother
we are a couple we maintain our love clean and pure like all
We have gone through the darkest moment
To talk to give the sweetest kisses
To remember of what color the cherry trees are without making any comments,
is why we are a couple
It's just impossible we love eachother,
we kiss eachother like a couple (boyfirend/grilfriend thing)
we want eachother and sometimes even without motive and without reason,
we get mad at eachother
we are a couple we maintain our love clean and pure like all
We have gone through the darkest moment
To talk to give eachother the sweetest kisses
To remember of what color the cherry trees are without making any comments,
is why we are a couple we are boyfirend/girlfriend (so yea..couple :P)
SPANISH.....
Somos novios
Pues los dos sentimos mutuo amor profundo
Y con eso ya ganamos lo más grande
De este mundo Nos amamos, nos besamos
Como novios Nos deseamos y hasta a veces sin motivo y
Sin razón, nos enojamos
Somos novios
Mantenemos un cariño limpio y puro
Como todos Procuramos el momento más obscuro
Para hablarnos Para darnos el más dulce de los besos
Recordar de qué color son los cerezos
Sin hacer mas comentarios, somos novios
It's just impossible Nos amamos, nos besamos
Como novios Nos deseamos y hasta a veces sin motivo y
Sin razón, nos enojamos Sin motivo, sin razón
Somos novios Mantenemos un cariño limpio y puro
Como todos (Como todos) Procuramos el momento más obscuro
Para hablarnos Para darnos el más dulce de los besos
Recordar de qué color son los cerezos
Sin hacer mas comentarios,
somos novios somos novios,
siempre novios Somos novios
ENGLISH.....
we are boyfriend/girlfriend (in other words a couple)
we both love eachother profoundly
and with that we won the biggest prize in this world
we love eachother, we kiss eachother like a couple (boyfirend/grilfriend thing)
we want eachother and sometimes even without motive and without reason,
we get mad at eachother
we are a couple we maintain our love clean and pure like all
We have gone through the darkest moment
To talk to give the sweetest kisses
To remember of what color the cherry trees are without making any comments,
is why we are a couple
It's just impossible we love eachother,
we kiss eachother like a couple (boyfirend/grilfriend thing)
we want eachother and sometimes even without motive and without reason,
we get mad at eachother
we are a couple we maintain our love clean and pure like all
We have gone through the darkest moment
To talk to give eachother the sweetest kisses
To remember of what color the cherry trees are without making any comments,
is why we are a couple we are boyfirend/girlfriend (so yea..couple :P)
Surprise!
I was feeling a bit blue Thursday night. You see, it is a bit of a different experience to study abroad when you have a very cute, very special boyfriend back home that you miss quite a lot. I was talking to my mother on Skype in my bedroom, lementing the distance. I had talked to my boyfriend earlier that night, but our conversation had been cut all too short because he told me that he had to run off to meet a study group at the library. SUDDENLY, without any warning, I heard the sounds of a mariachi band wafting through my window from the garden outside.
'Hang on mom,' I sniffled and I hopped up from my usual Skype-spot and drew back the curtains. Outside in the garden was a full-blown mariachi band serenading me!!! I couldn't see out hardly at all... only the glinding of the brass instruments from the light of my window. At first, I didn't know WHAT to think... I wondered if John-Curtiss had perhaps set up a mariachi band and told them my address in Merida to have them serenade me. Then my heart skip´ped a beat... I began to wonder if he was out there. You see, John-Curtiss has a funny way of popping up when you need him most and least expect it. Part of me knew I was getting my hopes up, and the other part didn't really care. The 'didn't care' part won ;) I ran from my room and out the front door, pausing for a split-second to wonder whether it was worth it or not to run back and grab my keys. I ended up scampering down the steps to the side-yard, keyless, wondering what I would see when I rounded the corner.
There I saw him, in all of his sweatpants-glory in front of the mariachi band holding a red rose. I could hardly believe my eyes. I thought maybe I must have been dreaming it up. I can honestly say that I have never been so surprised in my life (even at New Year's when John-Curtiss showed up unexpectedly as well). He says that my mouth was hanging open... super attractive, right? Good thing he traveled like 12 hours to see his goldfish-girlfriend. I pretty much attacked him and didn't let go for about a year. It was so good to see him after having gone a whole month without!!! The band played five songs for us... the last of which was THE romantic song of Mexico, 'Somos Novios' (it translates to 'We Are Dating.')
Apparently, he had been planning this for weeks. He met a guy from Merida when he went on vacation to Epcot named Elias. With Elias's help, John-Curtiss managed to set up the serenade. He had come down with my roommate's boyfriend, Dave. Emily (my roomate) had to keep the whole plan a secret for a whole week. Emily, kudos. I never ever could have done it.
PS: Mom, sorry I forgot about you on the phone! When a mariachi band serenades you at your window, it is easy to get distracted. I hope you can forgive your forgetful daughter!
'Hang on mom,' I sniffled and I hopped up from my usual Skype-spot and drew back the curtains. Outside in the garden was a full-blown mariachi band serenading me!!! I couldn't see out hardly at all... only the glinding of the brass instruments from the light of my window. At first, I didn't know WHAT to think... I wondered if John-Curtiss had perhaps set up a mariachi band and told them my address in Merida to have them serenade me. Then my heart skip´ped a beat... I began to wonder if he was out there. You see, John-Curtiss has a funny way of popping up when you need him most and least expect it. Part of me knew I was getting my hopes up, and the other part didn't really care. The 'didn't care' part won ;) I ran from my room and out the front door, pausing for a split-second to wonder whether it was worth it or not to run back and grab my keys. I ended up scampering down the steps to the side-yard, keyless, wondering what I would see when I rounded the corner.
There I saw him, in all of his sweatpants-glory in front of the mariachi band holding a red rose. I could hardly believe my eyes. I thought maybe I must have been dreaming it up. I can honestly say that I have never been so surprised in my life (even at New Year's when John-Curtiss showed up unexpectedly as well). He says that my mouth was hanging open... super attractive, right? Good thing he traveled like 12 hours to see his goldfish-girlfriend. I pretty much attacked him and didn't let go for about a year. It was so good to see him after having gone a whole month without!!! The band played five songs for us... the last of which was THE romantic song of Mexico, 'Somos Novios' (it translates to 'We Are Dating.')
Apparently, he had been planning this for weeks. He met a guy from Merida when he went on vacation to Epcot named Elias. With Elias's help, John-Curtiss managed to set up the serenade. He had come down with my roommate's boyfriend, Dave. Emily (my roomate) had to keep the whole plan a secret for a whole week. Emily, kudos. I never ever could have done it.
PS: Mom, sorry I forgot about you on the phone! When a mariachi band serenades you at your window, it is easy to get distracted. I hope you can forgive your forgetful daughter!
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Secret Recipe... Now Unsecreted
Ok, I know I normally put recipes on the side and that I have already posted a recipe this week, but this one deserves it's own entry...
I got this from the only woman in the state of Yucatan who has the recipe... my mama! She says everyone begs her for the recipe. I guess since I am not a permanent resident of Yucatan, I get to have the recipe to send forth to all of you. By the way, my mama might be the best chef in all of Mexico. There is only one food she ever made that I felt indifferent to (and it had fish in it). The rest is amazing beyond all reason!
I don't know what the recipe is called... you will all have to think of a good name!
MAMA'S NAMELESS YUMMY DESSERT RECIPE:
Cake:
2 eggs (both yolk and white)
6 egg yolks
4 tablespoons of flour
2 teaspoons of baking powder
Sauce:
2 cups water
2 cups sugar
2 cups orange juice
To make the cake, gently mix all ingredients. Grease a pot and pour the mix in, then cover it with foil. Heat a good amount of water in a larger pot until it is boiling, then place the smaller pot filled with mix inside. Cook for about 20 minutes, or until firm. Extract cake and put in a deep dish.
For sauce, heat water and sugar over the stove. Boil until it thickens slightly. Let concoction cool then mix in orange juice and pour over the cake. Chill overnight!
Just do me a favor and try not to pass this recipe onto anyone from Merida! ;)
I got this from the only woman in the state of Yucatan who has the recipe... my mama! She says everyone begs her for the recipe. I guess since I am not a permanent resident of Yucatan, I get to have the recipe to send forth to all of you. By the way, my mama might be the best chef in all of Mexico. There is only one food she ever made that I felt indifferent to (and it had fish in it). The rest is amazing beyond all reason!
I don't know what the recipe is called... you will all have to think of a good name!
MAMA'S NAMELESS YUMMY DESSERT RECIPE:
Cake:
2 eggs (both yolk and white)
6 egg yolks
4 tablespoons of flour
2 teaspoons of baking powder
Sauce:
2 cups water
2 cups sugar
2 cups orange juice
To make the cake, gently mix all ingredients. Grease a pot and pour the mix in, then cover it with foil. Heat a good amount of water in a larger pot until it is boiling, then place the smaller pot filled with mix inside. Cook for about 20 minutes, or until firm. Extract cake and put in a deep dish.
For sauce, heat water and sugar over the stove. Boil until it thickens slightly. Let concoction cool then mix in orange juice and pour over the cake. Chill overnight!
Just do me a favor and try not to pass this recipe onto anyone from Merida! ;)
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Spread
Ok, for all of my loyal fans back at home, I have added here the spread from PLAN B magazine. for which I work and modeled! Click on them to view them in a larger size. You will also note that my name is listed as Carolina Miller Anderson. You may have noticed that Mexicans often have two last names... the first last name is their father's and the second last name is their mother's. ENJOY!!!
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Indiana Jones and the Blood of the Toros
Where to begin? Emily and I decided to frolic off to a city called Valladolid (Vai-ah-dough-LEED) this weekend, which is situated to the east of Merida, halfway to Cancun. Many people pass through, but rarely stop in, and I am not sure why. After spending a weekend there, we are considering going back a second time to hit all of the stuff we missed!
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SATURDAY:
We got up early on Saturday morning, hoping to catch the bus in Valladolid to Coba, a recently-excavated ruin about an hour east of Valladolid. Somehow, the bus schedules got mixed up, and we ended up in Valladolid about a half an hour after the bus had left. Giving up on that idea for the day, Emily and I decided to check into our hotel and rent some bicycles to ride to a famous pair of cenotes not too far away…
John-Curtiss, you are no longer allowed to tell me that my bike stinks! These bikes that we rented brought new meaning to the phrase ‘rusty pile of bolts.’ I think that the bike I rented was once red, though the rust made it quite difficult to say. The handlebars were bent to one side and crooked, as were the pedals, making it difficult to pedal uphill without my foot slipping off. The handbrakes were questionable and there were no gearshifts.
Our first stop on the bike path was the old church of San Bernadario. It is a colonial style church which is in large part, a convent. As is usual with colonial Spanish churches, the inside of the church itself was not much to look at. Like all the others I have seen, it had large, high, sloping walls with sparse and gruesome decorations. The Spaniards seemed to think that bloodier was better in all of their depictions of Christ. We had to pay to get into the adjacent convent, but the moment I stepped through the doorway, I was very surprised. The entire convent reminded me of a conch shell. It was rough, sandy-colored brown stone on the outside and a soft, peachy pink on the inside. I couldn’t believe that the outside could be so rough and crude, while the inside was so pearly pink and lovely. It was two stories high and was filled with the dormitories where the nuns lived. Emily and I wandered around the pink hallways for a while. I had read that there was a cenote next to the convent, so we wandered outside…
For those of you who did not get my emails last year, you may need a quick debriefing on cenotes (seh-NO-tays). Those of you who already know may skip to the next paragraph! Here in Yucatan, there are no above-ground rivers. The ground here is a tiny bit of topsoil with solid limestone underneath. When it rains, the water filters through the limestone into the expansive network of underground rivers below. Sometimes, though, the layer of limestone can become thin in places due to erosion, so the later of stone above breaks, and leaves a sinkhole in the land. These cenotes often look like a pool with very steep walls, but they are really just an open portion of an underground river. Since the water is filtered through the rock, the water is some of the cleanest in the world. It is so clean, that if you let the water still around you, you get the sensation that you are floating mid-air. They can also be dangerous because some of them have very strong currents and can suck you under… where you may pop up in another cenote along the way… probably dead. Dangerous though they can be, their beauty and allure cannot be denied. The Yucatan peninsula is the only known place in the world today that has cenotes.
Sure enough, we found it. The nuns had built a large gazebo above it to honor it. Some years ago, some scientists went scuba diving down in there and managed to find all sorts of old weapons and plates and tools. The gazebo has a coffin-shaped hole with a cage above it, so you can look down and see the water far below. I am not sure what I was expecting, but it was not to see what must have been a forty-foot drop.
After all of our adventures there, we hopped back on out bikes and squeakily pedaled out to the cenotes at the end of the trail. These were the cenotes of Dzitnup, which I was very sad to have missed last year. They are much more public than the cenotes I so well loved in Cuzama last year, but they are nonetheless beautiful. The first we went to was X´Keken (ish-keh-KEN), which is the more famous of the two cenotes. The cenote itself is in large cave, artisitically lit with artificial lighting. There is a small hole to the world above in the ceiling from which tree roots hang down and shed light on the eerily clear, blue water below. To the right is a giant stone formation that looks like a willow tree. Black catfish of all sizes pepper the water, as well as small, grape-sized seed pods from the tree above. Emily and I had a fabulous time splashing around in the super-cold water. If you stood still long enough, little green minnows would come nibble on your toes.
Right next door was the cenote Samula (sa-MOO-lah), which was similar in appearance to the X’Keken. There was a hole in the ceiling where tree roots stretched down as if they were melting into the water. They came down to meet a tiny, dirty island off to the side. The water, as usual was lovely. These are the first cenotes I have visited this year… it feels good to see them again.
So Emily and I hopped our bikes back to Valladolid late in the afternoon to see what trouble we could dig up. We had heard that there was a fair in Valladolid, which was one of the reasons that we decided to go this past weekend, so we went to the centro to see if we could catch a taxi out to the fairgrounds. It was a touch of fate that we ran into a friend from the past year, Alberto. Apparently, he was in charge of the corrida at the fair… corrida (co-REE-dah) translates roughly to ‘the running.’ Bull fights. I had heard that there would be bull fights there and was planning on going, but I had no idea Berto was in charge of the whole scene. He and another from his work offered to take us out to the fair.
On the way out to the grounds, they received a call that the bullfighters would be coming in earlier than expected and therefore needed hotel rooms for that very night. We spent a few hours running around the city, trying to help them find hotel rooms with our library of guide books and asking them all about bullfighting. After it all, we managed to arrive at the fairgrounds just in time for the Yuri concert.
Who is Yuri, you may ask? Who is she not? That would be the better question. She is like the Mexican Madonna… with a little Britney Spears, Carly Simon and Rihanna mixed in. Emily and I agreed that we would have never ever thought to attend… but Berto’s growing group of friends from work insisted that we ‘get to know’ the Mexican Madonna. We got into the concert for free (because they are ALL higher ups, as is seems) and feasted our eyes on every manner of costume you could imagine. It was actually a pretty good show, if not a bit hysterical. Between each number there was a group of young men doing interpretive dances in everything from buckskin Native American attire to the robes of the Chinese to the getups of 50’s gangsters. But all of them were sparkly and neon. The concert in general was much more calm than most in the United States. Most people in the stadium remained seated and relaxed, simply enjoying the music for what it was: good music from a good singer wearing crazy costumes.
And that was Saturday.
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SUNDAY:
Sunday we woke up bright and early, ready for the day. Berto invited us to the corrida that afternoon, so we spent the morning just shopping and checking out Valladolid. There was way too much to do and not enough time! Part of the main plaza has a series of attractive little shops perfect for souvenir shopping. One side is the main church in Valladolid. It was beautiful. I think the most interesting thing for me was a side chapel, filled with stone plates carved with epitaphs. The epitaphs covered the floor and halfway up the walls, the names were from the 1800’s and I knew that behind them were either ashes or a body part of the person whose name graced the stone. It was like walking on a mosaic of graves… who knew what was beneath my feet? I think the strangest thing to me was that in the center of the room was a large, glass coffin in which an incredibly life-like statue of Christ rested. His eyes were open and staring and his face was pale in death, his crown of thorns pushing into his skin and real human hair. But for his face, he was wrapped in a white burial shroud.
Our next stop was the governor’s palace, for which we had low expectations. The paintings on the second floor, however, made it worthwhile. They masterfully depicted the history of the Mayans, some of the Spanish Inquisition and the arrival and success of the Conquistadors in Yucatan. The paintings skillfully showed the story without much bias to either the Mayans or the Spaniards… a rare feat in Yucatec art.
After a coconut popsicle (more coconut than popsicle) we scurried out to the fairgrounds to meet Berto for the beginnings of the corrida.
We met up with Berto and he sent us off with his younger cousin, Fernando, who was maybe twenty-five… and a Reggaeton star in Merida! (Reggaeton is kind of like Mexican Hip-Hop and it is definitely the favored type of music among young folk.) ‘Make sure they have a good time,’ Berto had instructed him, handing him a 500-peso bill. The Reggaeton singer bought us lunch and some marquesitas and showed us around the fairgrounds. When we came to the cow shed, I saw that none of their animals were castrated, I asked Fernando why? He said he had no idea, but not to ask one of the caretakers because it would offend them. I guess that just must be another cultural thing that I wouldn’t understand… I feel like I would not be offended if a Mexican came up to me at the fair and asked my why I castrated my steers. Oh well. Also, Fernando insisted that we take pictures with the little fair ponies, simply because he thought it would be a really cool thing to show the family back home!! After spending some time with Fernando, we went back to the stadium to see the preparations for the bullfight. We watched as people prettied up their horses with ribbons and braids… between two bullfighters, there were 17 horses! I was told that each one was trained in one particular skill for bullfighting and that the bullfighters would change horses multiple times during the fight.
So bullfighting. It has a bad wrap, right? After this weekend, I have very mixed feelings about it, but I will say that I learned so much about it that I have to at least respect it. According to what I was told this weekend, bullfighting first became a widespread practice when the Christians were trying to learn to defend themselves against the Arabs. To train soldiers, the Spaniards would set their soldiers against angry bulls, with the idea that a soldier that could face down a rampant bull could face down another man. This type of training was used during the Crusades, Inquisition... by that point though, it had already become more of a gladiator-type spectacle. Anyway, this is where the sport began. I should hardly say sport… it is more of a ceremony. They actually call it an art. I was expecting it to have the feel of a rodeo… but it feels almost... sacramental. I will explain :)
The breed of bull that they use for corridas only exists because bullfighting still exists. The bulls themselves are similar to Black Angus, but smaller (maybe a thousand pounds), and slightly more front-heavy. They have curved, black-tipped ivory horns, which are filed down to prevent the horses from being gored. This breed of cattle has aggressive tendencies and they are bred for the sole purpose of bullfighting.
The corrida we went to on Saturday consisted of bullfighters on horseback. The fight begins when the bull is released from the holding pen. In order to arouse the bull’s temper, they scrape some skin off of their tails and stab them in the shoulder with a shallow barb that is adorned with a ribbon rosette. The bulls come tearing into the ring, already bleeding profusely from the shoulder. The bullfighter on horseback proceeds to drive a series of barbs decorated with tissue paper and ribbons into the bull’s back. After about eight barbs or so, they take out a sword and drive it into the bull’s withers. This blow, if well-placed, will cause the bull to lay down. Death come shortly thereafter when one of the matadors comes to drive a knife into the base of it’s skull so that it dies instantly. If the crowd determined that the bullfighter did a good job, they cut off one of the bull’s ears and get to keep it as a trophy. If they are REALLY good, they get both ears. If they do AMAZINGLY well, they get both ears and the tail. Whatever the case, they throw the them out to the audience as an offering of thanks for their support. (I am currently in possession of a bull ear. It is at my house.) I won’t lie, it was pretty grisly. If I didn’t know more, I think I would have been so offended that I would have left.
The idea is obviously to kill the bull… What I did not know was that there is much more to it than this. Being with Berto and his gang, we were right down in the arena, just inches away from all the action. When the first bullfighter finished, he came to the area where we were watching to wait while the other bullfighter took his turn. We plucked up the courage to ask him for a photo in his royal Portuguese bullfighting garb… and found out he speaks perfect English. It was so good, we had to ask him if he was Mexican! As it turns out, we were talking to the number ONE bullfighter in Mexico… and we didn’t even know it at the moment. We drilled him (his name was Gaston) with questions about bullfighting. He told us that to him, it wasn’t a game, but a very serious thing. He said that to fight bulls was to continually appreciate the fact that Christianity still exists, because if it weren’t for the bulls, the Christians would never have been able to fight. He said that he took the bull’s death very seriously, and that each bull he faced was a noble and worthy opponent that has a heroic death. I was surprised at the respectful view he had of such a seemingly gruesome show.
‘I don’t expect people to understand,’ he told me ‘because bullfighting does seem so gruesome and violent. What people don’t know is the history behind it, and that we view it with respect, not just as a game.’
I was surprised to find, also, that the crowd did not enjoy it when the bull’s suffering was prolonged. Gaston told us that people want to see the bull’s suffering eased. All of the corridas actually have a judge present (as in a judge of legal matters) to make certain that the bullfighters are not prolonging the agony of the animal or disrespecting it in any way. Another thing that I did not know was that the bull has a chance to come out alive. If a bull proves valor beyond the norm, the audience begins to wave white handkerchiefs to beg the bull’s pardoning. If the majority rules, the bull will live. It will be moved out to a ranch where it will live amongst hundreds of cows and breed! Sounds terrible for him, no?
It was a singular bullfighting experience, to be sure. I was sitting right in behind the thick wooden wall that the bulls smash into... just inches away from all of the action. I must admit, I had no idea blood was that red, and I had no idea that it could come out with such force. Each time a bull was killed, I sent up a prayer for its spirit… I know I have grown up raising and eating cattle, but I think I never quite get used to the idea of it. The sight was sorrowful, especially since the bulls were so heroic and brave till the bitter end. I didn’t like that the bull had hardly any chance of being the victor (not in the sense of the bullfighter dying of course, but in the sense of coming out alive).
Honestly, the part that bothered me most was not any of this. Halfway through the bullfight, a series of men come into the ring called forkados. Their role is to run at the bull (weaponless) and stop it from moving. They do this because in Portugal, it is traditional to catch the bull at the end of the show, not kill it. The forkados reenact this, by piling on top of the bull like football players. After, one of them grabs its tail, and the bull tries to chase it off, running in circles to try to shake the forkado in tow. This is the part that bothered me most. It is clearly a joke of sorts, and it really bothered me that people were making light of the bull’s death. It bothers me in general when people forget where their meat comes from, or when they disrespect the sacrifice that an animal makes so that we can thrive. I guess I feel that this small and ‘funny’ little act belittled the bull’s death.
After the bull is dead, they attach it to a rope and drag it out of the ring, where it will be carved up for beef. A lot of it is cooked up right there on the spot for visitors. I ate some… I must say it was quite good. I think bullfighting would offend me completely if they did not eat the bull afterward.
And that was Sunday (whew!).
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MONDAY:
We woke up and got dressed to hit the last cenote in the immediate Valladolid, called Saci (sah-KEY). This cenote is named after the tribe of Mayans that lived here when the conquistadors arrived. They were the first people to fight and be defeated by the conquistadors, and once used this cenote as a means for fresh water. The cenote itself is wide open, most of the stone above having fallen into the water below. It is a beautiful blue, though somewhat dusty and leafy because it is so open. The water is teeming with wildlife… fish of all kinds and a turtle. It was profoundly deep… the walls disappear from sight because of distance, not because of clarity. It was actually pretty eerie… enough so that Emily and I were not enticed to swim, but rather decided to just stick our feet in.
We got dressed one last time for the fair, and Berto and company took us there. A word on Berto and crew: they are rich. Like, we are talking the kind of people who have brand new incredible cars (a brand new Peugeot convertible, but I can't remember the model), stay at the nicest hotels, and blow money on all sorts of things. I am not saying this to speak badlyof them at all, just to tell it as is. This being said, they were wonderfully hospitable! From the moment they met us, they wanted to show us everything!! They told us that they wanted to make sure that we had a complete experience and that we got to taste and see everything that there is to see. I couldn’t believe how well they took care of us… I mean, we got to hang out with the top bullfighter in mexico, a Reggaeton singer from Merida, we got front row spots for the corridas and got into everything for free. I felt like I was so well taken care of the whole weekend. By the end of the weekend, I felt so indebted to them that I wanted to buy them all fruit baskets!
It was Monday, the day of the last corrida. This one is on foot however, the bull’s horns are not filed down, and the bulls are significantly larger. When people think of bullfights, this is what they often imagine… the bullfighter with the red cape… you know the deal. It followed basically the same procedure as the day before, thought with a few differences. When the bull first comes running out, the matador has no weapons… only his cape and his brain. He holds the cape out to the side so that the bull will run at it instead of the person beside it. This proceeds for a good ten minutes before a man on horseback comes out. His horse is covered in giant pads and is blindfolded, and the man on top is wearing armor on his legs and feet to prevent him from being gored. He carries a long spear that has a cube-shaped end that is sharpened to a point. He stabs the spear into the bull’s withers. This spear doesn’t go deep, but it leaves a large puncture wound from which the bull’s blood pours out. Every little movement from then on causes a small fountain of blood to spurt up. I could not believe that an animal could lose that much blood and still live. With the bull weakened by this blow, the bullfighter then proceeds to do the death-dance, where he carries a sword and dares the bull to gore him in its agony. They end it the same way as the other corrida… by stabbing it in the withers so as to cause the bull to collapse. They kill it the same way.
The very last bull we saw would not die. After three attempts on the matador’s part to undo it with a sword, they finally went in for the kill at the base of the bull’s head. Even after stabbing it in the head three times, the bull still jumped up and continued fighting. I was amazed at the valor shown by a simple animal, and wondered if anyone else in the stadium felt that way as well. The audience started to turn sour. As I said, it isn’t popular when the bull suffers for a long period of time. When it was finally dead, I was relieved. I can’t imagine pushing through all that pain and torment for as long as that bull did.
In conclusion, I am still not sure what to think about bullfighting. Cows are my favorite animal, and it is sad whenever I see an animal suffer that way. I can see that there is a lot of respect for the bull’s sacrifice, but I don’t really think that makes it right. I understand a lot better now that I know more history and more of the sentiment behind the scenes… but I still think I am glad I did not pay and give my financial support to the cause.
We closed up the weekend with that second bullfight and headed home with Berto and his friends, who kindly offered us a ride all the way from Valladolid right to our doorstep. (I swear, the people here at the most hospitable I have ever met!!) We ended up getting home really late… but it was worth it right?
I am sorry I wrote a novel today! I hope you all enjoyed at least little snatches of it and that you learned a thing or two :)
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SATURDAY:
We got up early on Saturday morning, hoping to catch the bus in Valladolid to Coba, a recently-excavated ruin about an hour east of Valladolid. Somehow, the bus schedules got mixed up, and we ended up in Valladolid about a half an hour after the bus had left. Giving up on that idea for the day, Emily and I decided to check into our hotel and rent some bicycles to ride to a famous pair of cenotes not too far away…
John-Curtiss, you are no longer allowed to tell me that my bike stinks! These bikes that we rented brought new meaning to the phrase ‘rusty pile of bolts.’ I think that the bike I rented was once red, though the rust made it quite difficult to say. The handlebars were bent to one side and crooked, as were the pedals, making it difficult to pedal uphill without my foot slipping off. The handbrakes were questionable and there were no gearshifts.
Our first stop on the bike path was the old church of San Bernadario. It is a colonial style church which is in large part, a convent. As is usual with colonial Spanish churches, the inside of the church itself was not much to look at. Like all the others I have seen, it had large, high, sloping walls with sparse and gruesome decorations. The Spaniards seemed to think that bloodier was better in all of their depictions of Christ. We had to pay to get into the adjacent convent, but the moment I stepped through the doorway, I was very surprised. The entire convent reminded me of a conch shell. It was rough, sandy-colored brown stone on the outside and a soft, peachy pink on the inside. I couldn’t believe that the outside could be so rough and crude, while the inside was so pearly pink and lovely. It was two stories high and was filled with the dormitories where the nuns lived. Emily and I wandered around the pink hallways for a while. I had read that there was a cenote next to the convent, so we wandered outside…
For those of you who did not get my emails last year, you may need a quick debriefing on cenotes (seh-NO-tays). Those of you who already know may skip to the next paragraph! Here in Yucatan, there are no above-ground rivers. The ground here is a tiny bit of topsoil with solid limestone underneath. When it rains, the water filters through the limestone into the expansive network of underground rivers below. Sometimes, though, the layer of limestone can become thin in places due to erosion, so the later of stone above breaks, and leaves a sinkhole in the land. These cenotes often look like a pool with very steep walls, but they are really just an open portion of an underground river. Since the water is filtered through the rock, the water is some of the cleanest in the world. It is so clean, that if you let the water still around you, you get the sensation that you are floating mid-air. They can also be dangerous because some of them have very strong currents and can suck you under… where you may pop up in another cenote along the way… probably dead. Dangerous though they can be, their beauty and allure cannot be denied. The Yucatan peninsula is the only known place in the world today that has cenotes.
Sure enough, we found it. The nuns had built a large gazebo above it to honor it. Some years ago, some scientists went scuba diving down in there and managed to find all sorts of old weapons and plates and tools. The gazebo has a coffin-shaped hole with a cage above it, so you can look down and see the water far below. I am not sure what I was expecting, but it was not to see what must have been a forty-foot drop.
After all of our adventures there, we hopped back on out bikes and squeakily pedaled out to the cenotes at the end of the trail. These were the cenotes of Dzitnup, which I was very sad to have missed last year. They are much more public than the cenotes I so well loved in Cuzama last year, but they are nonetheless beautiful. The first we went to was X´Keken (ish-keh-KEN), which is the more famous of the two cenotes. The cenote itself is in large cave, artisitically lit with artificial lighting. There is a small hole to the world above in the ceiling from which tree roots hang down and shed light on the eerily clear, blue water below. To the right is a giant stone formation that looks like a willow tree. Black catfish of all sizes pepper the water, as well as small, grape-sized seed pods from the tree above. Emily and I had a fabulous time splashing around in the super-cold water. If you stood still long enough, little green minnows would come nibble on your toes.
Right next door was the cenote Samula (sa-MOO-lah), which was similar in appearance to the X’Keken. There was a hole in the ceiling where tree roots stretched down as if they were melting into the water. They came down to meet a tiny, dirty island off to the side. The water, as usual was lovely. These are the first cenotes I have visited this year… it feels good to see them again.
So Emily and I hopped our bikes back to Valladolid late in the afternoon to see what trouble we could dig up. We had heard that there was a fair in Valladolid, which was one of the reasons that we decided to go this past weekend, so we went to the centro to see if we could catch a taxi out to the fairgrounds. It was a touch of fate that we ran into a friend from the past year, Alberto. Apparently, he was in charge of the corrida at the fair… corrida (co-REE-dah) translates roughly to ‘the running.’ Bull fights. I had heard that there would be bull fights there and was planning on going, but I had no idea Berto was in charge of the whole scene. He and another from his work offered to take us out to the fair.
On the way out to the grounds, they received a call that the bullfighters would be coming in earlier than expected and therefore needed hotel rooms for that very night. We spent a few hours running around the city, trying to help them find hotel rooms with our library of guide books and asking them all about bullfighting. After it all, we managed to arrive at the fairgrounds just in time for the Yuri concert.
Who is Yuri, you may ask? Who is she not? That would be the better question. She is like the Mexican Madonna… with a little Britney Spears, Carly Simon and Rihanna mixed in. Emily and I agreed that we would have never ever thought to attend… but Berto’s growing group of friends from work insisted that we ‘get to know’ the Mexican Madonna. We got into the concert for free (because they are ALL higher ups, as is seems) and feasted our eyes on every manner of costume you could imagine. It was actually a pretty good show, if not a bit hysterical. Between each number there was a group of young men doing interpretive dances in everything from buckskin Native American attire to the robes of the Chinese to the getups of 50’s gangsters. But all of them were sparkly and neon. The concert in general was much more calm than most in the United States. Most people in the stadium remained seated and relaxed, simply enjoying the music for what it was: good music from a good singer wearing crazy costumes.
And that was Saturday.
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SUNDAY:
Sunday we woke up bright and early, ready for the day. Berto invited us to the corrida that afternoon, so we spent the morning just shopping and checking out Valladolid. There was way too much to do and not enough time! Part of the main plaza has a series of attractive little shops perfect for souvenir shopping. One side is the main church in Valladolid. It was beautiful. I think the most interesting thing for me was a side chapel, filled with stone plates carved with epitaphs. The epitaphs covered the floor and halfway up the walls, the names were from the 1800’s and I knew that behind them were either ashes or a body part of the person whose name graced the stone. It was like walking on a mosaic of graves… who knew what was beneath my feet? I think the strangest thing to me was that in the center of the room was a large, glass coffin in which an incredibly life-like statue of Christ rested. His eyes were open and staring and his face was pale in death, his crown of thorns pushing into his skin and real human hair. But for his face, he was wrapped in a white burial shroud.
Our next stop was the governor’s palace, for which we had low expectations. The paintings on the second floor, however, made it worthwhile. They masterfully depicted the history of the Mayans, some of the Spanish Inquisition and the arrival and success of the Conquistadors in Yucatan. The paintings skillfully showed the story without much bias to either the Mayans or the Spaniards… a rare feat in Yucatec art.
After a coconut popsicle (more coconut than popsicle) we scurried out to the fairgrounds to meet Berto for the beginnings of the corrida.
We met up with Berto and he sent us off with his younger cousin, Fernando, who was maybe twenty-five… and a Reggaeton star in Merida! (Reggaeton is kind of like Mexican Hip-Hop and it is definitely the favored type of music among young folk.) ‘Make sure they have a good time,’ Berto had instructed him, handing him a 500-peso bill. The Reggaeton singer bought us lunch and some marquesitas and showed us around the fairgrounds. When we came to the cow shed, I saw that none of their animals were castrated, I asked Fernando why? He said he had no idea, but not to ask one of the caretakers because it would offend them. I guess that just must be another cultural thing that I wouldn’t understand… I feel like I would not be offended if a Mexican came up to me at the fair and asked my why I castrated my steers. Oh well. Also, Fernando insisted that we take pictures with the little fair ponies, simply because he thought it would be a really cool thing to show the family back home!! After spending some time with Fernando, we went back to the stadium to see the preparations for the bullfight. We watched as people prettied up their horses with ribbons and braids… between two bullfighters, there were 17 horses! I was told that each one was trained in one particular skill for bullfighting and that the bullfighters would change horses multiple times during the fight.
So bullfighting. It has a bad wrap, right? After this weekend, I have very mixed feelings about it, but I will say that I learned so much about it that I have to at least respect it. According to what I was told this weekend, bullfighting first became a widespread practice when the Christians were trying to learn to defend themselves against the Arabs. To train soldiers, the Spaniards would set their soldiers against angry bulls, with the idea that a soldier that could face down a rampant bull could face down another man. This type of training was used during the Crusades, Inquisition... by that point though, it had already become more of a gladiator-type spectacle. Anyway, this is where the sport began. I should hardly say sport… it is more of a ceremony. They actually call it an art. I was expecting it to have the feel of a rodeo… but it feels almost... sacramental. I will explain :)
The breed of bull that they use for corridas only exists because bullfighting still exists. The bulls themselves are similar to Black Angus, but smaller (maybe a thousand pounds), and slightly more front-heavy. They have curved, black-tipped ivory horns, which are filed down to prevent the horses from being gored. This breed of cattle has aggressive tendencies and they are bred for the sole purpose of bullfighting.
The corrida we went to on Saturday consisted of bullfighters on horseback. The fight begins when the bull is released from the holding pen. In order to arouse the bull’s temper, they scrape some skin off of their tails and stab them in the shoulder with a shallow barb that is adorned with a ribbon rosette. The bulls come tearing into the ring, already bleeding profusely from the shoulder. The bullfighter on horseback proceeds to drive a series of barbs decorated with tissue paper and ribbons into the bull’s back. After about eight barbs or so, they take out a sword and drive it into the bull’s withers. This blow, if well-placed, will cause the bull to lay down. Death come shortly thereafter when one of the matadors comes to drive a knife into the base of it’s skull so that it dies instantly. If the crowd determined that the bullfighter did a good job, they cut off one of the bull’s ears and get to keep it as a trophy. If they are REALLY good, they get both ears. If they do AMAZINGLY well, they get both ears and the tail. Whatever the case, they throw the them out to the audience as an offering of thanks for their support. (I am currently in possession of a bull ear. It is at my house.) I won’t lie, it was pretty grisly. If I didn’t know more, I think I would have been so offended that I would have left.
The idea is obviously to kill the bull… What I did not know was that there is much more to it than this. Being with Berto and his gang, we were right down in the arena, just inches away from all the action. When the first bullfighter finished, he came to the area where we were watching to wait while the other bullfighter took his turn. We plucked up the courage to ask him for a photo in his royal Portuguese bullfighting garb… and found out he speaks perfect English. It was so good, we had to ask him if he was Mexican! As it turns out, we were talking to the number ONE bullfighter in Mexico… and we didn’t even know it at the moment. We drilled him (his name was Gaston) with questions about bullfighting. He told us that to him, it wasn’t a game, but a very serious thing. He said that to fight bulls was to continually appreciate the fact that Christianity still exists, because if it weren’t for the bulls, the Christians would never have been able to fight. He said that he took the bull’s death very seriously, and that each bull he faced was a noble and worthy opponent that has a heroic death. I was surprised at the respectful view he had of such a seemingly gruesome show.
‘I don’t expect people to understand,’ he told me ‘because bullfighting does seem so gruesome and violent. What people don’t know is the history behind it, and that we view it with respect, not just as a game.’
I was surprised to find, also, that the crowd did not enjoy it when the bull’s suffering was prolonged. Gaston told us that people want to see the bull’s suffering eased. All of the corridas actually have a judge present (as in a judge of legal matters) to make certain that the bullfighters are not prolonging the agony of the animal or disrespecting it in any way. Another thing that I did not know was that the bull has a chance to come out alive. If a bull proves valor beyond the norm, the audience begins to wave white handkerchiefs to beg the bull’s pardoning. If the majority rules, the bull will live. It will be moved out to a ranch where it will live amongst hundreds of cows and breed! Sounds terrible for him, no?
It was a singular bullfighting experience, to be sure. I was sitting right in behind the thick wooden wall that the bulls smash into... just inches away from all of the action. I must admit, I had no idea blood was that red, and I had no idea that it could come out with such force. Each time a bull was killed, I sent up a prayer for its spirit… I know I have grown up raising and eating cattle, but I think I never quite get used to the idea of it. The sight was sorrowful, especially since the bulls were so heroic and brave till the bitter end. I didn’t like that the bull had hardly any chance of being the victor (not in the sense of the bullfighter dying of course, but in the sense of coming out alive).
Honestly, the part that bothered me most was not any of this. Halfway through the bullfight, a series of men come into the ring called forkados. Their role is to run at the bull (weaponless) and stop it from moving. They do this because in Portugal, it is traditional to catch the bull at the end of the show, not kill it. The forkados reenact this, by piling on top of the bull like football players. After, one of them grabs its tail, and the bull tries to chase it off, running in circles to try to shake the forkado in tow. This is the part that bothered me most. It is clearly a joke of sorts, and it really bothered me that people were making light of the bull’s death. It bothers me in general when people forget where their meat comes from, or when they disrespect the sacrifice that an animal makes so that we can thrive. I guess I feel that this small and ‘funny’ little act belittled the bull’s death.
After the bull is dead, they attach it to a rope and drag it out of the ring, where it will be carved up for beef. A lot of it is cooked up right there on the spot for visitors. I ate some… I must say it was quite good. I think bullfighting would offend me completely if they did not eat the bull afterward.
And that was Sunday (whew!).
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MONDAY:
We woke up and got dressed to hit the last cenote in the immediate Valladolid, called Saci (sah-KEY). This cenote is named after the tribe of Mayans that lived here when the conquistadors arrived. They were the first people to fight and be defeated by the conquistadors, and once used this cenote as a means for fresh water. The cenote itself is wide open, most of the stone above having fallen into the water below. It is a beautiful blue, though somewhat dusty and leafy because it is so open. The water is teeming with wildlife… fish of all kinds and a turtle. It was profoundly deep… the walls disappear from sight because of distance, not because of clarity. It was actually pretty eerie… enough so that Emily and I were not enticed to swim, but rather decided to just stick our feet in.
We got dressed one last time for the fair, and Berto and company took us there. A word on Berto and crew: they are rich. Like, we are talking the kind of people who have brand new incredible cars (a brand new Peugeot convertible, but I can't remember the model), stay at the nicest hotels, and blow money on all sorts of things. I am not saying this to speak badlyof them at all, just to tell it as is. This being said, they were wonderfully hospitable! From the moment they met us, they wanted to show us everything!! They told us that they wanted to make sure that we had a complete experience and that we got to taste and see everything that there is to see. I couldn’t believe how well they took care of us… I mean, we got to hang out with the top bullfighter in mexico, a Reggaeton singer from Merida, we got front row spots for the corridas and got into everything for free. I felt like I was so well taken care of the whole weekend. By the end of the weekend, I felt so indebted to them that I wanted to buy them all fruit baskets!
It was Monday, the day of the last corrida. This one is on foot however, the bull’s horns are not filed down, and the bulls are significantly larger. When people think of bullfights, this is what they often imagine… the bullfighter with the red cape… you know the deal. It followed basically the same procedure as the day before, thought with a few differences. When the bull first comes running out, the matador has no weapons… only his cape and his brain. He holds the cape out to the side so that the bull will run at it instead of the person beside it. This proceeds for a good ten minutes before a man on horseback comes out. His horse is covered in giant pads and is blindfolded, and the man on top is wearing armor on his legs and feet to prevent him from being gored. He carries a long spear that has a cube-shaped end that is sharpened to a point. He stabs the spear into the bull’s withers. This spear doesn’t go deep, but it leaves a large puncture wound from which the bull’s blood pours out. Every little movement from then on causes a small fountain of blood to spurt up. I could not believe that an animal could lose that much blood and still live. With the bull weakened by this blow, the bullfighter then proceeds to do the death-dance, where he carries a sword and dares the bull to gore him in its agony. They end it the same way as the other corrida… by stabbing it in the withers so as to cause the bull to collapse. They kill it the same way.
The very last bull we saw would not die. After three attempts on the matador’s part to undo it with a sword, they finally went in for the kill at the base of the bull’s head. Even after stabbing it in the head three times, the bull still jumped up and continued fighting. I was amazed at the valor shown by a simple animal, and wondered if anyone else in the stadium felt that way as well. The audience started to turn sour. As I said, it isn’t popular when the bull suffers for a long period of time. When it was finally dead, I was relieved. I can’t imagine pushing through all that pain and torment for as long as that bull did.
In conclusion, I am still not sure what to think about bullfighting. Cows are my favorite animal, and it is sad whenever I see an animal suffer that way. I can see that there is a lot of respect for the bull’s sacrifice, but I don’t really think that makes it right. I understand a lot better now that I know more history and more of the sentiment behind the scenes… but I still think I am glad I did not pay and give my financial support to the cause.
We closed up the weekend with that second bullfight and headed home with Berto and his friends, who kindly offered us a ride all the way from Valladolid right to our doorstep. (I swear, the people here at the most hospitable I have ever met!!) We ended up getting home really late… but it was worth it right?
I am sorry I wrote a novel today! I hope you all enjoyed at least little snatches of it and that you learned a thing or two :)
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