Monday was a holiday here, so Emily and I decided to have one last and final Indiana Jones quest before we left... and what better way to do that than to go to the caves at Calcehtok? We woke up early in the morning and caught a ride with some of Emily's friends from work. The caves are not too far outside of Merida, so we were there before we knew it.
We had several options for tours, and we opted for the 'Extreme.' Even this tour can extend anywhere from two to EIGHT hours in length. Since there are several exits, the guide told us that we could go in and just... see how we were feeling. We ended up staying under for about three and a half hours. We climbed straight down a ladder into the caverns below. After about twenty minutes of walking, things got a bit... small.
After that point, it was all crouching, and hands-and-knees... and then chest-to-the-floor crawling. We scaled a rock wall with a rope... and slid down a giant rock formation into a cavern below. There was no lighting within the caverns... just the flashlights we held. We saw all sorts of rock formations, some of which were completely made from quartz.
We also got to see quite a bit of Mayan artifacts. The guide told us all sorts of stories about ancient Mayan rituals that took place inside the caverns. He told us that he believed the aluxes (uh-LOO-shez) still live there, and swore that he had seen glimpses of them before. The aluxes are small dwarf-like beings that are the ancestors of the Mayans. They live in the trees and caves and nooks of the world and can cause all manners of mischief. People still make offerings to them so that they will bring luck instead of trouble, and seeing an alux can be really good... or really bad.
There were vampire bats galore, so you had to watch out for the occasional puddle of blood mixed with guano on the floor if you were walking below a nest. The deeper into the caves we went, the more bats there were. There were times when we had to crawl through piles of bat guano to get where we needed to go. I just stopped knowing what was mud at that point... and what was something else!
It was fun... but I think I have never needed a shower more in my life. I was COVERED in mud and guano. I could hardly believe how filthy I was... and it wasn't cute either. After three hours of Lara Croft-ing it, I was ready to be out of there... but I didn't feel too bad wanting to leave. I am sure Indiana does not PREFER to be crawling through bat guano!
Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
The Biggest Mayan Pyramid Discovered
What does it feel like to lay eyes on one of the largest Mayan pyramids ever built? You can't see the top. This past weekend, we bit the bullet and went to Calakmul (kah-lahk-MOOL), a major Mayan center that is now in an ecological preserve on the border of Guatemala. Getting there was more than half of the battle. We first had to take a second class bus, bobbing and weaving our way to Hopelchen, a small pueblo about two and a half hours south of Merida. This was the last stop for gas so to speak... where we were going was OUT of the realm of civilization. Hopelchen is the last chance for anything... including money. We hopped on a bus straight from there and headed south for Xpujil (Ish-poo-HEEL) and ended up getting of two and a half hours later in a tiny town called Zoh Laguna (Soh Lah-GOON-ah). Now by tiny, I mean maybe 30 houses. And a public library that has a total of about 50 books. There we stayed in some very shady cabañas until morning...
There is no way to get around in the south of Mexico... no buses, no collectivos, no combis, no nothing. We hired a taxi triver for the day for 1000 pesos to take us wherever we needed to go until 5:00 pm. He came and picked us up that morning at 7:00 and we were on our way to one of the biggest and most important sites ever excavated. To get there is two hours more. We had to pay a hundred some more pesos to get into the ecological reserve, and pretty soon we were making out way through the jungle, spotting the occasional turkey (which are super colorful there... more like peacocks or parrots!) When we finally arrived... guess what? It was another one kilometer walk to the ruins on a jungle path.
After a rough total of 9 hours of travel time, we were standing there in the centro of Calakmul. This ancient city shows well the ongoing attempt by the jungle to trump stone architecture. There are trees growing right out the middle of the temple steps. The buildings themselves are all huge... many are at least the size of Chichen Itza's world wonder, El Castillo (though perhaps not as elegant). They are all very close in proximity... it really does feel like an ancient downtown area!
Calakmul is Mayan for 'Two Mounds.' This name was given to this site by a botanist who first spotted the city while flying over it. Believe it or not, Calakmul's existance was known in the 1930's but remained untouched until 1982. The excavation of the site still continues today... it is probably only about 15% excavated... even the grand pyramids. This city reached its height around 500-700 A.D. It was as powerful capital in its heyday, affecting other giant centers like Tikal (Guatemala), Palenque and Copan. There are all sorts of legends... many of which include a Mayan princess of Calakmul who was forced into a marriage of alliance with the king of Tikal, a city not far to the south. Because research on this city is so recent, there is not much known about the history, and many enlightening artifacts, sculptures, buildings and stelas are still being excavated.
As in its name, Calakmul has two major pyramids. They are the two biggest pyramids ever found in Mexico. The base of the second larges is 5 acres... and you can't see the top from the bottom step. There are said to have been several incarnations of this temple... which I believe simply because it is so huge. Excavation of this temple still continues. Workers were pushing around their wheelbarrows and going in and out of the door in the middle of the pyramid's giant steps. Rumor has it that there is a fabulos frieze inside of the temple that has in-tact stucco work to rival any other work ever found. Just my luck... that wasn't open to the public! When we got to where we thought was the top, we looked up... and there were MORE stairs... a temple on top of a temple! I don't know how high up we were... but from where we stood, we could see the temple of Tikal across the border of Guatemala. Guatemala's border is about 65 kilometers away, and Tikal is at least another 60 after that! The wind up there was amazing!
Just behind THAT pyramid is the larger one (if you can believe that!) This pyramid is much more typical (as opposed to a temple on top of a temple), and the steps are much narrower and steeper. A tumble down that one and you are a goner for sure!
I guess if I could use one word to describe Calakmul, it would just be 'GIANT.' You feel like a little ant there. We had a limited time to explore the site, unfortunately, because there were many others that we wanted to see. Calakmul sits right in the region known as the Rio Bec Region, which has 45 known ruins (there are probably more undiscovered!). All of these ruins are a mixture of Peten and Puuc architecture style (Peten being more stern-feeling, and Puuc being very geometric and ornate). We ended up making it to four ruins in all that day... a personal record for me... the most I have seen in a day is three!
We went to Chichanná (Chich-ah-NAH), Becán (bay-KAHN), and Balamkú (Bah-lahm-KOO). I felt like a little spider monkey, crawling all over ruins, trying to scale walls and sneak up onto closed-off levels of old buildings... but it was fun (and I am still alive, which is definitely a plus for me!) Each of these sights held something of interest...
Balamkú: This only has one main temple, similar in style to Ek Balam, which is just north or Chichen Itza. On the left side, one can enter the temple and see inside an incredible facade that was once the outside of the building. The stucco shows the earth monster, as well as portrayals of the undersorld and the main Mayan god, Itzamná (Eats-ahm-NAH).
Chicanná: The first temple is a three story building that is done in Puuc style with the rain god Chaac adorning all corners. You can climb all over this little building, which made it fun, hopping through mysterious doorways and such. Unfortunately, we couldn't find a way to get to the very top floor... well, I should say: it would be easy to get UP there, but getting down would have been impossible. One slip of the foot, and you would fall 30 feet to the rocks below... so that put the kabosh on that! There were two other buildings at Chichanná. One looked like a palace where a Mayan princess (aka ME) might live. The other was a long building that still had red, blue, and yellow paint on it. In the center was an image of Itzamná, whose wide, toothy mouth was the entryway to the building. We had some camera fun there, pretending that we were getting eaten by a Mayan god for a blood sacrafice... 'cause we're mature like that.
Becán: This site was huge, with buildings easily as large as those of Uxmal! The buildings were Peten-style... and very large. This was the last site we saw, so by the time we climbed the largest pyramid there... we were tuckered out. The cool thing here was that it has a super-long tunnel that once served as a road (who knows WHY they needed a tunnel instead of an open road??) Anyway, there are small niches in the tunnel where the Mayans used to leave sacrificial offerings to the gods of the underworld. This site also had a ball court (though the rings can't be found, so they suspect they were wooden, as was done in many Peten cities), and a large frieze showing some sort of somehting that I couldn´t make out. The problem with Becán was that there were SOO many people there (What?!) and the glass in front of the stucco was almost opaque, you could hardly see it! It was a cool site, though, for sure!
Having run out of money with no banks in site, we returned to our little hotel of cabañas. I stopped by a little quick-mart and bought a tomato, a red onion and an avocado and made my own guacamole for dinner (I think that and the chips cost me about 20 pesos). We were all so tired from traveling from site to site and climbing things that we all passed out almost right away...
Getting home was equally as ridiculous as getting there... if not more so. There was only ONE bus leaving to go back toward civilization, and that was at 4 in the morning! We talked to the owner of the hotel (who was SUCH a sweetheart!) and he took us out to the bus stop at 3:30 and waited for us. The stars are easily the most beautiful I have ever seen... even more so than in the Grand Canyon. The closest city is Chetumal... an entire STATE away! The bus was filthy at best... and we ended up getting back into Merida around 9:30, which was pretty good timing! I had hardly slept... so I went to mass in the Cathedral in the centro... and then went home and slept.
It was a crazy weekend, and a perfect way to punctuate my trips to Mayan ruins. Perhaps not though... there may be time for more, I guess we will have to see! We are busy making plans to go to Calcetok, the much sought-after caves that have been so illusive for so very long!
There is no way to get around in the south of Mexico... no buses, no collectivos, no combis, no nothing. We hired a taxi triver for the day for 1000 pesos to take us wherever we needed to go until 5:00 pm. He came and picked us up that morning at 7:00 and we were on our way to one of the biggest and most important sites ever excavated. To get there is two hours more. We had to pay a hundred some more pesos to get into the ecological reserve, and pretty soon we were making out way through the jungle, spotting the occasional turkey (which are super colorful there... more like peacocks or parrots!) When we finally arrived... guess what? It was another one kilometer walk to the ruins on a jungle path.
After a rough total of 9 hours of travel time, we were standing there in the centro of Calakmul. This ancient city shows well the ongoing attempt by the jungle to trump stone architecture. There are trees growing right out the middle of the temple steps. The buildings themselves are all huge... many are at least the size of Chichen Itza's world wonder, El Castillo (though perhaps not as elegant). They are all very close in proximity... it really does feel like an ancient downtown area!
Calakmul is Mayan for 'Two Mounds.' This name was given to this site by a botanist who first spotted the city while flying over it. Believe it or not, Calakmul's existance was known in the 1930's but remained untouched until 1982. The excavation of the site still continues today... it is probably only about 15% excavated... even the grand pyramids. This city reached its height around 500-700 A.D. It was as powerful capital in its heyday, affecting other giant centers like Tikal (Guatemala), Palenque and Copan. There are all sorts of legends... many of which include a Mayan princess of Calakmul who was forced into a marriage of alliance with the king of Tikal, a city not far to the south. Because research on this city is so recent, there is not much known about the history, and many enlightening artifacts, sculptures, buildings and stelas are still being excavated.
As in its name, Calakmul has two major pyramids. They are the two biggest pyramids ever found in Mexico. The base of the second larges is 5 acres... and you can't see the top from the bottom step. There are said to have been several incarnations of this temple... which I believe simply because it is so huge. Excavation of this temple still continues. Workers were pushing around their wheelbarrows and going in and out of the door in the middle of the pyramid's giant steps. Rumor has it that there is a fabulos frieze inside of the temple that has in-tact stucco work to rival any other work ever found. Just my luck... that wasn't open to the public! When we got to where we thought was the top, we looked up... and there were MORE stairs... a temple on top of a temple! I don't know how high up we were... but from where we stood, we could see the temple of Tikal across the border of Guatemala. Guatemala's border is about 65 kilometers away, and Tikal is at least another 60 after that! The wind up there was amazing!
Just behind THAT pyramid is the larger one (if you can believe that!) This pyramid is much more typical (as opposed to a temple on top of a temple), and the steps are much narrower and steeper. A tumble down that one and you are a goner for sure!
I guess if I could use one word to describe Calakmul, it would just be 'GIANT.' You feel like a little ant there. We had a limited time to explore the site, unfortunately, because there were many others that we wanted to see. Calakmul sits right in the region known as the Rio Bec Region, which has 45 known ruins (there are probably more undiscovered!). All of these ruins are a mixture of Peten and Puuc architecture style (Peten being more stern-feeling, and Puuc being very geometric and ornate). We ended up making it to four ruins in all that day... a personal record for me... the most I have seen in a day is three!
We went to Chichanná (Chich-ah-NAH), Becán (bay-KAHN), and Balamkú (Bah-lahm-KOO). I felt like a little spider monkey, crawling all over ruins, trying to scale walls and sneak up onto closed-off levels of old buildings... but it was fun (and I am still alive, which is definitely a plus for me!) Each of these sights held something of interest...
Balamkú: This only has one main temple, similar in style to Ek Balam, which is just north or Chichen Itza. On the left side, one can enter the temple and see inside an incredible facade that was once the outside of the building. The stucco shows the earth monster, as well as portrayals of the undersorld and the main Mayan god, Itzamná (Eats-ahm-NAH).
Chicanná: The first temple is a three story building that is done in Puuc style with the rain god Chaac adorning all corners. You can climb all over this little building, which made it fun, hopping through mysterious doorways and such. Unfortunately, we couldn't find a way to get to the very top floor... well, I should say: it would be easy to get UP there, but getting down would have been impossible. One slip of the foot, and you would fall 30 feet to the rocks below... so that put the kabosh on that! There were two other buildings at Chichanná. One looked like a palace where a Mayan princess (aka ME) might live. The other was a long building that still had red, blue, and yellow paint on it. In the center was an image of Itzamná, whose wide, toothy mouth was the entryway to the building. We had some camera fun there, pretending that we were getting eaten by a Mayan god for a blood sacrafice... 'cause we're mature like that.
Becán: This site was huge, with buildings easily as large as those of Uxmal! The buildings were Peten-style... and very large. This was the last site we saw, so by the time we climbed the largest pyramid there... we were tuckered out. The cool thing here was that it has a super-long tunnel that once served as a road (who knows WHY they needed a tunnel instead of an open road??) Anyway, there are small niches in the tunnel where the Mayans used to leave sacrificial offerings to the gods of the underworld. This site also had a ball court (though the rings can't be found, so they suspect they were wooden, as was done in many Peten cities), and a large frieze showing some sort of somehting that I couldn´t make out. The problem with Becán was that there were SOO many people there (What?!) and the glass in front of the stucco was almost opaque, you could hardly see it! It was a cool site, though, for sure!
Having run out of money with no banks in site, we returned to our little hotel of cabañas. I stopped by a little quick-mart and bought a tomato, a red onion and an avocado and made my own guacamole for dinner (I think that and the chips cost me about 20 pesos). We were all so tired from traveling from site to site and climbing things that we all passed out almost right away...
Getting home was equally as ridiculous as getting there... if not more so. There was only ONE bus leaving to go back toward civilization, and that was at 4 in the morning! We talked to the owner of the hotel (who was SUCH a sweetheart!) and he took us out to the bus stop at 3:30 and waited for us. The stars are easily the most beautiful I have ever seen... even more so than in the Grand Canyon. The closest city is Chetumal... an entire STATE away! The bus was filthy at best... and we ended up getting back into Merida around 9:30, which was pretty good timing! I had hardly slept... so I went to mass in the Cathedral in the centro... and then went home and slept.
It was a crazy weekend, and a perfect way to punctuate my trips to Mayan ruins. Perhaps not though... there may be time for more, I guess we will have to see! We are busy making plans to go to Calcetok, the much sought-after caves that have been so illusive for so very long!
Friday, February 27, 2009
Homesickness
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!
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!
Thursday, February 26, 2009
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 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!
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!
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!).
______________________________________
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 :)
Friday, January 30, 2009
Valladolid
I have some great plans for this weekend. Tomorrow morning at about 5 am, we will be packing up our wares and heading off to Valladolid, a city about two hours to the east of here. This is a colonial town with a lot of history in an area that is rich in both ruins and cenotes. To add to all this fun, there is an annual festival going on, so we will certainly not have a shortage of things to do. I have high expectations for this weekend... My only concern is running out of space on my camera! I am thanking God for that external hard drive, especially with all of my computer problems... I think my computer would break down into tears if I put MORE media onto it. Well, wish me luck. This is Indiana Jones signing off for another weekend of the unexpected... stay tuned for the next episode, coming Tuesday! (Oh yeah, I forgot, we have Monday off for the holiday, so we are pulling a three-day weekend...wahoooo!)
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Indiana Jones and the Dead of Santa Elena
(Cue Indiana Jones Theme song)
Indiana Jones and the Dead of Santa Elena
We woke up Saturday morning bright and early to grab a bus to the Centro. Our destination: Ticul, a small pueblo to the south of Merida, where we could base ourselves for the day to see the Mayan ruins on the Puuc Route that we missed last year. We were quickly on our way and arrived after an hour and half later in Ticul.
The first thing I noticed was that there were shoe stores EVERYWHERE. Ticul is the hub of shoemaking in the peninsula. I found myself wondering how all the stores managed to survive if they were all selling the exact same thing. The second notable thing about Ticul is that there is a great deal of orange. Everything there is a dark orange color, from the church to the plaza to the buildings surrounding it. The streets are divided by cement boulevards, punctuated by sculptures of Mayan gods at either end. Some of these statues had flowers laid upon them, which gave me cause to wonder if there are still followers of the pagan Mayan religion in this area.
After poking around Ticul for a few hours, we found a collectivo to Santa Elena (once a Mayan city known as Nohcacab), which brought even closer to the ruins that we wanted to see. I had read about a small museum in Santa Elena that greatly piqued my interest…
Upon arrival, I did not like Santa Elena. It was a creepy little run-down pueblo that didn’t have much of a main plaza… just an impending orange church on top of a steep hill. In the plaza in front of the church was an almost-deserted carnival that had less than ten attendants, one of which included a three-legged Chihuahua. The whole scene was a bit strange, and I felt jumpy because a nearby car kept backfiring, sounding more like a gun than anything.
Because the church and the museum are the main attraction, we climbed up the slanted steps toward the church. It was locked, but the museum on the side was open for visitors, so Emily and I paid up and walked in. On the left side was a room dedicated to the harvest of henequen, one of Yucatan’s most lucrative products. You have all seen it before… it is fibrous and very course and used to make rope. The fiber comes from the long, tough, spiky leaves of the bush-like plant. In the middle of the exhibit however, was an object that (as far as I can tell) does not relate to henequen in any way…
In the center of the room in a prominent case of glass, a large stone replica of… male genitalia… seems to float in mid-air. There is no plaque or explanation to explain the presence of this strange finding, and I was too abashed to ask the woman who ran the museum, so I suppose that it will forever remain a mystery to me.
The rooms off to the right held an even more interesting and grisly find. Beneath the floor tiles of Santa Elena in 1980 were found several human skeletons, some of which had been naturally preserved and mummified. Apparently, it was traditional during the time of the Spanish arrival in Mexico to bury members of the congregation under the floor of the church, or even under the floors of their own houses. These remains, long forgotten because they were unmarked, were discovered almost 30 years ago when some construction workers were tearing up the floor. Four of these remains were in boxes; all of them are the remains of children between the ages of 1 and 7. Given the fact that they died in the early 1800s and that the Spaniards probably did not mummify them purposefully, their condition is both astounding and gruesome. Two of them were in excellent condition… everything from their decorative burial garb to the fingernails on their hands were intact. It was kind of sad to see… and rather frightening.
After we went to the museum, we say and waited on the steps of this impressively large church. The church itself is so high above the village. When the conquistadors came, they often built churches on top of great Mayan pyramids, making the churches visible for miles. I haven’t been able to find out if this is the case with the church in Santa Elena, but I STRONGLY suspect so.
Sooner or later, a nun came along with the keys. The church was too big and too empty. The mildewed ceiling and the graphic depictions of the suffering of Jesus gave the entire interior a very frightening mood. All of the statues of Christ had real human hair and were covered in blood.
Having seen my fill of the interior, I approached the sister to ask if we could climb up into the balcony. I had read in my trusty lonely planet that if you ask, they will unlock the staircase to get onto the roof of the church… but we had no idea what we were getting into. She looked at us severely and told us that she would unlock the door, but that we would be climbing at our own risk.
“The stairs are rotting out,” she said, “they haven’t been replaced since the church was built.”
Well, since when has Dr. Indiana Jones been stopped by a few moldy stairs?
“Okay,” I replied, “Well, if I am going to die, I think I would like to die in a church.”
Emily and I asked her to open the door and we began up the rickety staircase. “Rickety” might be a tad bit of an understatement. The spiral staircase consisted of a series of giant wooden steps that came together in the middle to meet with… what had once been a tall wooden support. The support however, was missing pieces and rotting in various places. About one story up, my legs began to shake. The stairs had gaps between them, so it was easy to see how for up you had come, and how far you still had to climb. The goal was 115 feet… almost twice the height I jumped last year in that cenote. We climbed and climbed… until we reached the balcony, which was almost two thirds of the way up. The walls of the church on the upper level crumbled at the touch. Along both sides were long hallways that stretched the length of the creepy church.
Upon returning from the balcony, Emily told me that she was not willing to go further. The steps above us grew thinner in width and the space between them was much larger than those that we had just climbed. I wan’t about to quit, though. I began to climb, putting my weight on three steps at a time in order to spread out my weight and to test the steps ahead of me. My legs were tensing up and I could feel adrenaline coursing through my entire body. Slowly but surely, I reached the top of the tower. The last few steps were impossible to climb without falling all the way down. The third step from the top had rotted out completely, and the two above it looked as though they were about to do the same. They top few hung out of the wall in midair like rotten teeth… I was just tall enough to peek out the window of the tower onto the roof. High! I paused there long enough to take a picture and revel in the fact that I had actually climbed this 250-year old wooden staircase.
The sister awaited us at the bottom of the staircase anxiously. I think she half-expected that I would have come crashing down with the wooden stairs all around me. I just smiled and thanked her, saying: “I survived.”
I don’t think my legs will ever be the same after that. They were tense and shaky all the way to the hotel, which might have been a good mile from the church. We stayed in a quiet little cabana that night, preparing to get up early the next morning to hit the ruins.
The next morning we grabbed a bus headed south that dropped us of at Kabah, which is a smallish ruin along the Puuc Route. The Puuc region is just south of Merida and is famous for its unique style of architecture. All ruins in this region are of similar architecture, which many of you read about in all of my emails from last year. In case you are the forgetful sort, or in case you are a new follower of my doings, here is a bit of history for you:
The Puuc region is a region rich with Mayan cities that generally date from the Classic Period, around the 6th century. The architecture in this region is unique because of it’s layout as well as its facades. Most Mayans in the Puuc regions adamantly praised Chaah, the rain god, who is typically portrayed with staring eyes and a long, curling nose. This is because there are no above-ground rivers in this region, and during the off season, there is hardly any rainfall. The Mayans therefore placed heavy significance on Chaac, whose image litters the ruins of the Puuc region. This image of Chaac, more commonly known as the Mask of Chaac, is made up of exactly 32 pieces of stone, fit together to create Chaac’s face. Also in this region are facades that are basically just a bunch of carved Xs. While this may not sound like anything special, it is pretty amazing to see wall covered with them, and it is VERY unique to this region… you won’t see it anywhere else.
The ruins we arrived at today were called Kabah, which I am told is Mayan for “Mighty Hand.” It was probably constructed sometime around 850 or 900 AD and reached its peak about a century thereafter. When the Toltecs invaded and took over the region, I know that they occupied Kabah for a while before abandoning it completely.
Kabah’s main attraction is the Temple of Masks, which has over 250 masks of Chaac covering the front façade. The sight of it is impressive beyond belief! I felt like I was right back at home again, clambering all over the ruins of Puuc architecture. This site is amazing because its carved limestone. The stone facades have lasted surprisingly long. Many Mayan cities used plaster for the facades, but the majority of Kabah’s architectural gems are still perfectly visible because they have been carved in stone. Ornate flowers and images of priests and gods and zig-zag designs… it was beautiful.
The whole site was very small… I would say over half of the centro is unexcavated and it would be more than safe to presume that there are unexcavated ruins in the surrounding selva. We did find a cool little spot… it was a small plaza to the side with images of flowers (or the could have been suns) on either side of the door. Emily and I decided that that must be the princess’s house and that we wouldn’t mind living there ourselves.
The return trip to Merida was uneventful… You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you that the entire weekend (food, housing, ruins, travel) cost me under $35.
The adventures will continue this coming weekend when I go to see the much-anticipated Caves of Calcetok.
In short: Stay tuned for next week’s episode of… INDIANA JONES and the OLMEC UNDERWORLD.
Indiana Jones and the Dead of Santa Elena
We woke up Saturday morning bright and early to grab a bus to the Centro. Our destination: Ticul, a small pueblo to the south of Merida, where we could base ourselves for the day to see the Mayan ruins on the Puuc Route that we missed last year. We were quickly on our way and arrived after an hour and half later in Ticul.
The first thing I noticed was that there were shoe stores EVERYWHERE. Ticul is the hub of shoemaking in the peninsula. I found myself wondering how all the stores managed to survive if they were all selling the exact same thing. The second notable thing about Ticul is that there is a great deal of orange. Everything there is a dark orange color, from the church to the plaza to the buildings surrounding it. The streets are divided by cement boulevards, punctuated by sculptures of Mayan gods at either end. Some of these statues had flowers laid upon them, which gave me cause to wonder if there are still followers of the pagan Mayan religion in this area.
After poking around Ticul for a few hours, we found a collectivo to Santa Elena (once a Mayan city known as Nohcacab), which brought even closer to the ruins that we wanted to see. I had read about a small museum in Santa Elena that greatly piqued my interest…
Upon arrival, I did not like Santa Elena. It was a creepy little run-down pueblo that didn’t have much of a main plaza… just an impending orange church on top of a steep hill. In the plaza in front of the church was an almost-deserted carnival that had less than ten attendants, one of which included a three-legged Chihuahua. The whole scene was a bit strange, and I felt jumpy because a nearby car kept backfiring, sounding more like a gun than anything.
Because the church and the museum are the main attraction, we climbed up the slanted steps toward the church. It was locked, but the museum on the side was open for visitors, so Emily and I paid up and walked in. On the left side was a room dedicated to the harvest of henequen, one of Yucatan’s most lucrative products. You have all seen it before… it is fibrous and very course and used to make rope. The fiber comes from the long, tough, spiky leaves of the bush-like plant. In the middle of the exhibit however, was an object that (as far as I can tell) does not relate to henequen in any way…
In the center of the room in a prominent case of glass, a large stone replica of… male genitalia… seems to float in mid-air. There is no plaque or explanation to explain the presence of this strange finding, and I was too abashed to ask the woman who ran the museum, so I suppose that it will forever remain a mystery to me.
The rooms off to the right held an even more interesting and grisly find. Beneath the floor tiles of Santa Elena in 1980 were found several human skeletons, some of which had been naturally preserved and mummified. Apparently, it was traditional during the time of the Spanish arrival in Mexico to bury members of the congregation under the floor of the church, or even under the floors of their own houses. These remains, long forgotten because they were unmarked, were discovered almost 30 years ago when some construction workers were tearing up the floor. Four of these remains were in boxes; all of them are the remains of children between the ages of 1 and 7. Given the fact that they died in the early 1800s and that the Spaniards probably did not mummify them purposefully, their condition is both astounding and gruesome. Two of them were in excellent condition… everything from their decorative burial garb to the fingernails on their hands were intact. It was kind of sad to see… and rather frightening.
After we went to the museum, we say and waited on the steps of this impressively large church. The church itself is so high above the village. When the conquistadors came, they often built churches on top of great Mayan pyramids, making the churches visible for miles. I haven’t been able to find out if this is the case with the church in Santa Elena, but I STRONGLY suspect so.
Sooner or later, a nun came along with the keys. The church was too big and too empty. The mildewed ceiling and the graphic depictions of the suffering of Jesus gave the entire interior a very frightening mood. All of the statues of Christ had real human hair and were covered in blood.
Having seen my fill of the interior, I approached the sister to ask if we could climb up into the balcony. I had read in my trusty lonely planet that if you ask, they will unlock the staircase to get onto the roof of the church… but we had no idea what we were getting into. She looked at us severely and told us that she would unlock the door, but that we would be climbing at our own risk.
“The stairs are rotting out,” she said, “they haven’t been replaced since the church was built.”
Well, since when has Dr. Indiana Jones been stopped by a few moldy stairs?
“Okay,” I replied, “Well, if I am going to die, I think I would like to die in a church.”
Emily and I asked her to open the door and we began up the rickety staircase. “Rickety” might be a tad bit of an understatement. The spiral staircase consisted of a series of giant wooden steps that came together in the middle to meet with… what had once been a tall wooden support. The support however, was missing pieces and rotting in various places. About one story up, my legs began to shake. The stairs had gaps between them, so it was easy to see how for up you had come, and how far you still had to climb. The goal was 115 feet… almost twice the height I jumped last year in that cenote. We climbed and climbed… until we reached the balcony, which was almost two thirds of the way up. The walls of the church on the upper level crumbled at the touch. Along both sides were long hallways that stretched the length of the creepy church.
Upon returning from the balcony, Emily told me that she was not willing to go further. The steps above us grew thinner in width and the space between them was much larger than those that we had just climbed. I wan’t about to quit, though. I began to climb, putting my weight on three steps at a time in order to spread out my weight and to test the steps ahead of me. My legs were tensing up and I could feel adrenaline coursing through my entire body. Slowly but surely, I reached the top of the tower. The last few steps were impossible to climb without falling all the way down. The third step from the top had rotted out completely, and the two above it looked as though they were about to do the same. They top few hung out of the wall in midair like rotten teeth… I was just tall enough to peek out the window of the tower onto the roof. High! I paused there long enough to take a picture and revel in the fact that I had actually climbed this 250-year old wooden staircase.
The sister awaited us at the bottom of the staircase anxiously. I think she half-expected that I would have come crashing down with the wooden stairs all around me. I just smiled and thanked her, saying: “I survived.”
I don’t think my legs will ever be the same after that. They were tense and shaky all the way to the hotel, which might have been a good mile from the church. We stayed in a quiet little cabana that night, preparing to get up early the next morning to hit the ruins.
The next morning we grabbed a bus headed south that dropped us of at Kabah, which is a smallish ruin along the Puuc Route. The Puuc region is just south of Merida and is famous for its unique style of architecture. All ruins in this region are of similar architecture, which many of you read about in all of my emails from last year. In case you are the forgetful sort, or in case you are a new follower of my doings, here is a bit of history for you:
The Puuc region is a region rich with Mayan cities that generally date from the Classic Period, around the 6th century. The architecture in this region is unique because of it’s layout as well as its facades. Most Mayans in the Puuc regions adamantly praised Chaah, the rain god, who is typically portrayed with staring eyes and a long, curling nose. This is because there are no above-ground rivers in this region, and during the off season, there is hardly any rainfall. The Mayans therefore placed heavy significance on Chaac, whose image litters the ruins of the Puuc region. This image of Chaac, more commonly known as the Mask of Chaac, is made up of exactly 32 pieces of stone, fit together to create Chaac’s face. Also in this region are facades that are basically just a bunch of carved Xs. While this may not sound like anything special, it is pretty amazing to see wall covered with them, and it is VERY unique to this region… you won’t see it anywhere else.
The ruins we arrived at today were called Kabah, which I am told is Mayan for “Mighty Hand.” It was probably constructed sometime around 850 or 900 AD and reached its peak about a century thereafter. When the Toltecs invaded and took over the region, I know that they occupied Kabah for a while before abandoning it completely.
Kabah’s main attraction is the Temple of Masks, which has over 250 masks of Chaac covering the front façade. The sight of it is impressive beyond belief! I felt like I was right back at home again, clambering all over the ruins of Puuc architecture. This site is amazing because its carved limestone. The stone facades have lasted surprisingly long. Many Mayan cities used plaster for the facades, but the majority of Kabah’s architectural gems are still perfectly visible because they have been carved in stone. Ornate flowers and images of priests and gods and zig-zag designs… it was beautiful.
The whole site was very small… I would say over half of the centro is unexcavated and it would be more than safe to presume that there are unexcavated ruins in the surrounding selva. We did find a cool little spot… it was a small plaza to the side with images of flowers (or the could have been suns) on either side of the door. Emily and I decided that that must be the princess’s house and that we wouldn’t mind living there ourselves.
The return trip to Merida was uneventful… You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you that the entire weekend (food, housing, ruins, travel) cost me under $35.
The adventures will continue this coming weekend when I go to see the much-anticipated Caves of Calcetok.
In short: Stay tuned for next week’s episode of… INDIANA JONES and the OLMEC UNDERWORLD.
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