Empty airports, contrast and choice

Happy July 4th everyone.  What a time to come back to the States and what a contrast in worlds and environments.  First, the Cancun airport, even in low season is a veritable zoo of humanity leaving the world of beaches and going who knows where. Feeling a little silly at arriving three hours early (just in case there were unexpected delays in route to the airport), I felt justified when I saw at least 200 people in line before me.  In varying states of undress and some still on a tequila buzz, travelers - having passed through security, spilled into a barrage of Duty Free shops and a dizzying overload of everything from tequila and vanilla to Gucci.  Re-entry to the world of consumerism continues to be a little brutal.

Being in an empty airport all night is an experience.  Those of you who saw the YouTube of the man trapped in the Vegas airport filming his own music video with Celine Dion's "All by Myself," may have wondered how he got all those shots with NO ONE in the background...  Well - here's San Francisco's airport to the right.  

An interesting re-discovery of US air carriers was the fact that even on a 5 hour flight, there's no free lunch - not even peanuts. Contrast this with Ethiopian Airlines that managed  a three course complimentary meal complete with wine on a three hour flight.  However, customs in San Francisco was thankfully easy, and I hoped this bode well for over-nighting in an empty airport while I waited for a 5:50 AM connecting flight to Oregon.  The gift in that was being met by the sweet PCV friend who had to return to the States after being hit by the drunk driver in Uganda.  The last time I saw her she was packaged ready for MedeVac to South Africa.  What a great reunion! But that still left 6 sleepless hours. 

Such an environment is ripe for introspection and remembering other airports, other trips, and other transitions. I realized I've lived in each of the four corners of the US and then some:  Lousiana/Texas,   Florida, Southern California, West Virginia and soon - Oregon.  I don't know that that says anything in particular - just part of the Gypsy mentality I guess.  

The walk I took yesterday afternoon through one of the amazing forests near Mt. Hood and along the Salmon River triggered an awareness of the contrasts inherent in the last two places in particular: the heat, sunlight, blindingly white

sand and  turquoise waters of Playa to the cool,  fern covered, moss draped banks along the tumbling waters of the Salmon River.  And it all shifted in a day's time - a real statement about the times in which we live.  Things, places and situations can change in a heartbeat.  

A good Peace Corps friend of mine reminded metoday of where we were on July 4th one year ago:   Zanzabar!  I have tended to fold my memories of Peace Corps into one envelope labeled Uganda and it feels like it was both yesterday and in the far past - yet it was only a year ago.   I'd lost this beautiful memory of a fabulous time with friends in the over-arching memory of the difficulty of living in Uganda.  That's a loss,  but it has colored my perceptions of the present and my ideas of the future, which unfolds in front of me like one of those sticky fruits roles where every little bit that unrolls is stuck to what preceeds it.

As I acclimate to the "first world," having used Mexico as a transition to lessen the incoherence between the third world and this one, I gradually shed or at least become aware of the baggage brought with me - the stuff sticking to me. While in Uganda, I never went out after dark: too dangerous.  In Mexico, I began poking my head out and discovering there's really not a boogeyman in every shadow.   In Playa I went to a friends' house for breakfast and coffee and realized I was scooping up the extra salt on the plate - leaving no grain behind - only after my friend said, "You know you don't have to clean the plate - you're not in Uganda anymore."  There are other holdovers:  a continuing - though reduced - hyper-vigilence, conservation of every resource, meticulous management of consumables - not quite realizing things are readily available and don't have to come in care packages, dread and hyper-preparedness around travel.  Now in the States I marvel that I can drink water from the tap and it's OK to take a bath because I won't drain the water tank doing it - not that I had a bathtub there anyway.  

Since I now have a US phone, I suppose that makes me a citizen again - albeit not a very active one because  I don't exactly know how to use it.   It turns off at its own will - not mine, and seems to have a prima-dona attitude,  unlike those tough  little phones in Uganda that tolerated being dropped in the mud, coming apart in three pieces and still working when you put them back together.  It beeps at me for reasons unknown  - I don't know it's beep-language yet, it not being English, Spanish or Acholi.   But time heals all wounds - or  wounds all heels - right?  I suppose I will catch up, but am not at all sure that's what I want to do.  

So here I am in Welches, Oregon at the base of Mt. Hood where the beauty almost makes you weep - the pure richness and accessibility of it - picturesque little towns, bright purple and pink baskets of Petunias, giant evergreens and trails populated with families carefree enough to hike in the woods with the family dog, cold water rapids from melting snow.  I suppose in part it's being in a culture where despite our problems and the complexity of life, we have enough disposable income and time and feel safe enough to go climb a mountain,  to travel, to expend energy in ways other than finding food and to think about what we'd like to do rather than endure what life has dished out.

What strikes me as one of the most salient characteristics of the developed world is the presence of choice.  It doesn't mean that those choices are easy or that we even recognize the reality of their existence, but for the most part, they are there in every breath.  It includes things as mundane as food choices: not IF we can eat,  but which of many possibilities are we in the mood for.   The down side is that few realize just how much opportunity to choose we have on a moment to moment basis and therefore don't really exercise the right to choose, living instead by default.

So, in gratitude -  here's to choice and all that that entails, including the responsibility to choose wisely and often lest the freedom inherent in the privilege is lost.

Happy 4th of July!

Place of the Turtles - Akumal

 It's closing in on my last week in paradise and I'm grasping at ways to hold these times close and be present.  Surrounded by tourism as much of Yucatan is, sometimes I forget to simply close out the rest of the world and see where I'm standing. 

It's easy to get caught up in "what should I do next" and "what will I be sorry I didn't do when I look back." As in the rest of life, it can be a challenge to be fully present and filter out the background chatter. And on a tour, there's plenty of chatter. Last week I went on a snorkeling tour to Cozumel, supposedly the best-of-the-best in the Costa Maya.   As tours go, it was more relaxed than some, but still constrained. Sadly, there are so many tours and so much boat activity there, the reefs are dying and it was disappointing.  What is even worse is the fact that this area's economy depends on such activities and that very activity, badly handled is killing the reefs.    But there's the sense of "I'm HERE! I need to do it all." So I'm still glad I went and know what's there, but it was a reminder that you don't have to be IN the water, to be bowled over by what there is to see. 

Here, there is so much natural beauty about the sea it's just mind boggling.  I usually don't take my camera, because then I'm always taking a step back to try to get the perfect shop.  But then I realize, I don't have any pictures. So a few days ago I took a walk with my camera to capture my morning walk and here it is. 

I'm on the north end of the beach, the tail-end of the tourist district and it's pretty tranquil. That's a left turn when I get the sand and it's a world apart from what I see if I turn right where there are wall-to-wall hotels, bodies, beech chairs and music.  My end is more populated by the locals fishing, couples walking hand-in-hand and sand-covered toddlers squealing with delight.   Dogs cavorting in the surf are having at least as much fun as their owners and one followed me last night with a ball in his mouth looking for a "throw."   The only structures for a while are a few Palapas like the one at right built for a little shade.

About a mile down is a small lagoon fed by cold water coming from the underground rivers.  You can see a bit of it at left.  The water stays deliciously cold until it merges with the sea. A few nights ago, I heard drumming and the call of a horn made from a conch shell.  There, gathered at the lagoon were about 50 locals participating in a ritual cleansing ceremony complete with feathers and smoke... and the Virgin Mary.  I was expecting a Budha, but it's a Catholic country after all. 

I waited 'till today to venture to Akumal,  Mayan for "Place of the Turtles,' since the beaches and the water there boil with humanity even on off-season weekends.  It does live up to its name.  My  turtle researcher friends first told me about it since they have been there often to count and tag the local green turtles that like the grassy patches there. It's a turtle sanctuary.

Before it got too stiflingly hot, I walked the two miles to catch the local version of what Ugandans would call a Matatu, but thank goodness the similarity ends there!  These are nice, new Toyota vans that  hold about 12 - 16 people and are the middle alternative between buses and Taxis that charge a round trip fee because they are regulated by district and can't pick up a return fare.   Because of that, they'll will wait up to a few hours for you if you choose, but that fare is about $55US.  The collectivo on the other hand charges about $3US, is air-conditioned and one leaves every 30 minutes!  For the budget minded-and that would be me-the collectivo is perfect.

The collectivo  drops its riders on the highway at the mouth of a pedestrian bridge that empties onto cobble-stone walkway into the town. You know you're getting close to the beach when the hawking of tours begins.  Luckily the dive shops rent gear, lockers and showers without requiring a guide or a tour.  What they do require is life jackets, so I paid my $15US, donned my life jacket and gear, stashed my loot and footed it to the water a little apprehensive about actually finding turtles, considering some of my previous water adventures.

This time the reports were true: by the time you're up to your chest in water you're in turtle territory. Find a dark grassy spot or a gaggle of snorkelers and you can be pretty well guaranteed turtles.  The water's a little murky because of the surge,  but I followed about 8 turtles around, mostly solitary, but some in pairs or a group.   There were a few real granddaddies out there - probably 2.5 to 3-feet long.   They forage on grass and periodically come up for a gulp of air and go about their business.  They really are beautiful and prehistoric looking and since it's shallow, they're very close.  Another plus were the sting-rays gliding along the bottom and a few schools of fish.   A real treat to be this close to these guys.

  

Swimming with the Sharks - Whale sharks that is

Swimming with the Whale Sharks was my one big splurge for this trip - and as splurges go it was worth it because these are endangered species and rumor has it that this is the last year that getting in the water with them will be allowed here.  I understand why after being part of the chaos that ensued as part of the process.  While I'm ever-so-glad I did it, it was frenetic. It's only after the fact that I can look back and realize what an amazing experience it was.  The reason it is so managed has to do with the balancing of government regulations with the need for tour operators to make a profit.   It's rather a classic example of the precarious relationship between the environment, profit and the man's insatiable hunger to experience something more. And this was definitely in the "something more" category.

More on the chaos in a minute,  but first - to these gorgeous, docile creatures who bear little resemblance to their toothier cousins - the Great White.   Tiburon Baleena in Spanish, these gentle giants are baleen or filter feeders and have no interest in people-eating. That's a good thing, since they have cavernous mouths that could easily swallow a man whole - giving credence to the myth of Jonah and the Whale.  It's hard to imagine the immensity of these fish: 47,000 pounds and the largest measured at 41 feet in length.  It's a bit daunting to be in the water with one of them, let alone a school of them.  So when I remembered that they migrate along the Yucatan coast from May - September, I knew I had to do this NOW.

At 6:15 AM I was the last in a van of ten to be picked up for the hour drive into Cancun, where I realized there were waaaay too many people going to do this.  We noshed on fruit, sweet breads and coffee - although in my typical pre-travel frame of mind, I woke up through the night, ultimately gave up on sleep at 4 AM (hold over from Uganda...) and had already fixed and eaten a real breakfast, packed a bag with camera, sea-sick meds and Sea-bands,  epi-Pen, mask and flippers, hat, sunblock, TP, kitchen sink and so-on by 5 AM.  Once in Cancun, we discovered we either had to wear life-jackets while snorkeling (bad-idea due to the bulk interfering with mobility and speed) or rent a wet suit for buoyancy and to accommodate insurance regs. Wanting the most from this experience I rented the wet suit...  a charming little number that took me back to the days of girdles. As a writhed and wriggled to get into it, I thanked God, Gloria Steinem  and the women's movement first  for panty hose and then for liberating us from such instruments of torture!    Once into the wetsuit I felt like a sausage ready for steaming - and the humidity and heat seemed up to the task.  

A total of 10 boats just with our tour company were headed out.  I lost count of how many others I saw loading up.  That's 10 boats, each with 10 people... do the math. That was the second reality check announcing that this would not be the Zen experience I had envisioned.  As we were the last of the boats to leave, it looked like the great Exodus as the boats spread across the horizon trailing deep wakes as we sped to open sea. The first task was to find where the sharks are feeding and in that respect it's a little like lion or elephant spotting on a Ugandan  safari.  An hour later (we were lucky) we arrived at a site with other boats who had found an unsuspecting loner.   Location depends on where the plankton is found and that depends on currents and water temperature. The waters of the Atlantic and Caribbean come together to make for ideal conditions just north of Isla de Mujeres so that's where we found them.  Sometimes the hunt goes on for hours before a pod is found.  In this picture, all those little spots in the background are food - plankton. I didn't have an underwater camera and frankly, had I had a one, the dive was so fast paced that I don't think I would have had the presence of mind to take pictures.  Government regulations require that you enter the water with a guide and no more than two people at a time can be with that guide.  The guide was helpful in part because it all happens so fast that if you don't have someone helping direct your focus and movement the first few times, the shark will be gone before you realize what happened.  The guides are also there to be sure divers respect the creatures, don't get too close, don't touch, etc.  Along with other rules like "no sunscreen" etc. to keep from introducing chemicals into the water they take in - these regs are to protect both fish and people. If you happen to be smacked by the tail of a 22 ton fish - well it's a caress you'll likely not forget. Anyway, all that humanity in the water clamoring to look at the same few creatures - has to stress the animals.  It also takes some of the pleasure out of the experience; but again, that fact fades into the noise when you consider what an extraordinary gift it is to be able to be in the water with primordial creatures.  Just amazing.

My first time in the water we were deposited   right at the mouth of the shark and the size of it is just mesmerizing making it almost impossible to get yourself moving to keep up with it.  Regardless of the fact that these are essentially  eaters of plankton and small fish, instinct takes over in the water and it literally takes your breath away to be near the open mouth of one of these fellas.  Note the relative size of the divers and the mouth.  While they move pretty slowly (about 2.4 miles an hour), it's a hustle to keep up with them.  Moving that speed on land is nothing, but in the water it takes some energy and if you want to swim along side, you've got to really got to put on the steam.  They are so beautiful and  showed absolutely no aggressiveness toward snorkelers.

Dives are managed in such a way as to give everyone on the boat a few times in the water.  While a few divers are in the water, others are waiting in the boat, recovering from their time below or sitting on the gunnels all gear up waiting to slide in for the next peek when others are climbing back into the boat. While you're just waiting, said boat is rocking and wallowing in that gyroscopic way that maximizes nausea.  As I mentioned, it wasn't the calm be-in-the-moment almost spiritual experience I'd hoped for - but I managed get through the miasma of nausea. I've lived on a boat - why didn't I remember this part!?  Must be a little like childbirth...  Oh yes - we were on a sailboat - not so prone to wallowing!

Why the rush to get people in and out, on and off?  The government regulates time in the area per boat - 3 hours - and they are clocked by call in times.  Combined with the rules dictating the ratio of divers/guide,  tour companies want to make money and keep costs low enough that folks will pay. Consequently, they fill up the boat instead of taking fewer people and charging more.  So there it is.  It reminds me of how fortunate we were all those years ago to experience the islands with just the kids and not a whole horde of other people - i.e. tourists.   Now - I'm one of those tourists - but still lucky to have the chance no matter what. 

Wasn't sure I would pull off a second dive as the boat motion was so intense while we were waiting, circling to pick up divers and find the next whale that my Sea-bands and two Dramamine couldn't keep up.  Misery...   except when in the water "your turn."   Determined to get the most out of this experience, I pulled it together and jumped back in.  That time in I found myself in a school  of sharks - and hundreds of smaller fish all feeding on plankton - everything and everyone going in different directions.   At one point I was directly over a shark and there were probably six other snorkelers within 6-inches to two feet of me all going in different directions with flippers kicking into other divers, dislodging face masks, etc.  Once again pretty chaotic, but balanced against the chance of a lifetime to be in the water with the largest known species of fish on the planet...  priceless.  

An extra perk of the trip was the presence of a couple of giant Manta Rays on the surface of the water - also enjoying a plankton feast.  The fin span was about 15 feet!

Just when I thought I'd reached the point of no return with seasickness,  we mercifully started heading back. Even the young ones on the boat were exhausted by the time we left. but by the time we reached Isla, where we were deposited for a little reef-snorkeling, we were back to normal.  Sadly, the reef was not terribly interesting - over diving having taken it's toll and all but killing the reef. With the exception of some stunning purple sea fans and a hand-full of fish,  it would have been a huge disappointment had it been the only snorkeling venue.   I'm SO glad I didn't spend money doing that while on Isla!  The Bahamas and Caymans still win the prize for the absolute best conditions, easiest access and largest variety of spectacular fish to date.  Really glad our family had the opportunity to experience that when decades ago.  It's getting harder to find healthy reef systems and those earlier dives will always be my benchmark.

So that's the story on Whale Sharks.  Don't know how I will top that before I go home.  May try to manifest a dive with sea turtles in the Tulum/Akumal area.  Now that time to leave is approaching, I am filled with a mixture of excitement over  going to Oregon and angst over getting the last bit of whatever from Mexico!  Here's to whatever!

To be continued...

Playing in Playa

Aaah - finally in Playa!  I caught the bus up from Bacalar last week and it rained all the way.  Got a taxi - in the rain - found the place - in the rain...  And it has been raining off and on every since.  Seems some disorganized system has been moving across the peninsula and while it has certainly kept the tour business depressed, I still LOVE being here.  I might feel differently if it were my only week, but having the month the rain is actually lovely.

Casa Maya Condo, Playa del Carmen

When Helen, the condo owner, was talking about her place, she mentioned the agent kept putting plastic flowers around the place, even after being told not too.  Then she mentioned that said agent was decorating one of the units in chartreuse!    When I walked into this place of understated-elegance, muted colors, beautiful local crafts and artwork I really thought I must have stepped into the wrong place, so prepared I was for plastic-flower-decorating!   Honestly, I was disoriented and it took me a minute to understand why. Made me realize again how "visual" I am:  having heard a description, I'd made it real in my mind's eye.  Whew - lovely surprise this one!  If you're looking for a place to getaway, this is a great value and a great place.   There are cheap flights into Cancun and from there, a short ride on an air-conditioned bus just blocks away from the condo!  I want to give this place a plug as a thank you for a fabulous month! Here's the link: http://www.homeaway.com/vacation-rental/p3768686#photos. 

First things first - get some food in here. I borrowed an umbrella and walked to the market, came back and reveled in a place of peace and tranquility.  I loved my time in the hostels and Bacalar,  meeting so many really wonderful people - some of whom I will remain in touch with in the future.  But sometimes, being anonymous - especially after two-plus years being in the fish bowl of Uganda is also fantastic.

It really is wonderful - one block from the quite end of the beach, good kitchen, lots of fans, pool. I walk the beach twice a day - early morning and dusk - more when it's overcast. A few nights ago I came upon the scene of about 20 men trying to hold a big twin-screw fishing rig in place and get it into position to get onto a trailer. It looked a little like some of those You-Tube fiascoes you see.    The cockpit was full of water and it was low tide so the slope was not making it easy to get anything done.  Seems they had underestimated the reef - probably having cleared it at high tide when the left in the morning and not calculating for  low tide ole in the fiberglass hull.  Ouch!    This operation had been going on a while before I got there and I stayed an hour to watch.  As it got dark, they had just barely gotten the bow a nudged onto the trailer. 

Next morning, the boat was still there but this time they'd removed the trailer and drag it out over  8"diameter metal rollers on the sand (think of moving stones to build the pyramids) but lacking slaves.  And someone had to stand guard over the boat all night to be sure the two monster  outboard motors were still attached in the morning. A crane truck waiting to hoist it onto a waiting trailer.  Not including the damage to the boat, it must have cost a bundle to just get it out of the water and onto the trailer.  It took me back 35 years living on a sailboat - a different creature - but a boat none-the-less. The definition of a boat as "a large hole in the water into which one throws money" came to mind... Sometimes it's good not to have a boat...

Anyway -  I've been walking the beach and the town - a lot!  The picture (left) is the walk north is quiet and away from the hard-body tourist area.  I love scoping out new places and since the only major place to shop and get meat is a couple of miles away, I get a lot of opportunity to do that.  Playa does live up to it reputation of being a tourist town, but it's possible to bypass some of it.  Avenida Cinco is the heart of shopping and the tour hawkers really have their banter tuned, but it's been good humored and fun, until you've had enough! Then you just find a different route to go places.  One oddity I noticed was the use of silver duct tape to hold road tiles in place  Not everywhere but often enough to hint that it's not an accident. Doesn't seem to be working, they're still moving. Ya gotta love duct tape...

There's a huge expat community and some of the merchants seem to think I live here.  I think it's because I'm wearing clothes....  I mean enough to cover the vital areas.  And I'm not holding a drink in my hands... dead giveaway.   Lots of dogs on leaches here - locals.  Well cared for pooches these. Such a contrast to Uganda.

If all this sounds too tame,  don't worry - I have not lost my taste for some adventure. Tomorrow I'm going swimming with the Whale Sharks!   More on that if I don't get scooped up in one of those gigantic mouths designed for plankton, but big enough for a person - whole!

That's about it.  More when there's anything worth reporting.  Looking forward to heading to Oregon, but am to get everything possible out of these last couple of weeks.   Might head back down to the Tulum area - there be Sea Turtles there!

Mayan ruins, Armed troops and Jaguars?

OK - I lied.  I said my next post would be from Playa del Carmen, but this surprise trip dropped into my lap and it was full of surprises.  I'd just finished my three mile walk and was sitting sweaty in the 98% humidity waiting for what has become my favorite breakfast:  fresh local fruit, topped with homemade yogurt, honey and granola assembled by the tiny cafe under the hostal.  A man walked up and asked what's good for breakfast and I - of all people - offered with my Spanish.  Then another traveler came in and the three of us began comparing notes about the area.  

The breakfast seeker was down from New York (Jersey Actually, but has a B&B at the edge of Manhatten) and another who had just walked away from a tennis coach job in Playa and was off for cooler climbs. As the conversation meandered along, the man from Jersey began talking about raising his twin, eleven year old ADD/ODD grandsons!  I don't know many men who would do that as a single grand-parent and I was really taken by his commitment, humility, grace and sense of humor while also running a few businesses.  As we talked about ADD, I shared some information from the consulting I used to do and before long he invited me to share a trip to see some Mayan ruins I hadn't seen, and surely would not ever see without going with someone who has a car. 

Instinct told me this was a good guy and I kept telling myself this as I went into Uganda mode and grabbed a sun hat, camera, TP, bug spray, water and a loaf of bread, some ham and mayonnaise to build sandwiches on the way.  My steady diet of murder mysteries prompted me to get Alex - the hostal owner - to plug his phone number into my phone and promise to send out the search party if I didn't come back by bed-time.  This precaution was reinforced by remembering what a new friend - a former librarian - told me about the Halloween parties the librarians would throw.  Each person  came dressed as their favorite Dewey Decimal Number.  My friend came dressed as herself, representing 364.1523, because serial killers looked like normal folks...   

Since I've lived to tell the tale, you can assume he was not of the criminal type. Turns out he was in fact a really nice man and a great travel companion. So engrossed in conversation were we that we managed to miss the (badly marked) dirt road several times. Asking directions from some locals who must have wondered about these Gringos, we managed to bracket a lot of  "that-way" hand signals and finally located the small gravel road heading into the j-u-n-g-l-e. 

As we headed  down the road, we nosed into an offshoot that turned out to be the trail to a small, private landing strip.  Realizing our mistake, we backed up and evidently that seemed a little suspicious to the fierce looking occupants of a huge military vehicle, that looked like a tank. Bulging with guys armed with assault rifles literally hanging off the floorboards and bumpers, the tank pulled to the side as we pulled back onto the road. All these big, scary looking men in full camo and decked out for Armageddon jumped off the vehicle and blocked the road with guns at the ready, motioning for us to stop.   Simultaneously we said, "This can't be good..." but considering the lack of alternatives, stop we did.  Neither of us had brought passports and the combined pulse rate in the car escalated as fear fogged the windows. 

Once stopped with the window obligingly rolled down six enforcer-types clumped our way and were looking way to serious.  Oh man - how did I spend all that time in Africa, only to come to Mexico and find trouble? Seems I'd read too many reports of tourists being hauled in at gunpoint, drug deals gone wrong, etc. because these guys just wanted to know where we were going, pointed us down the road and wished us a good day.  It was still unnerving and took a while to get back to normal breathing.  Seems that a while back, there had been a huge drug-drop at this little landing strip and our brief investigation of the road tweaked their radar. There is still some military presence in the area and they are watching....  I guess we didn't look like drug smugglers - although we'd have been the perfect disguise: mild older pair posing as tourists...   I would have loved a picture, but thought I might be pushing my luck to ask them to pose and say "Queso!"

Propelled forward by the adrenaline rush we proceeded on our way and found the ruins, by which time it had begun to rain - again.  Nevertheless, we climbed out and spent the next couple of hours climbing ruins, trudging around in a sprinkle, providing lunch for the mosquitoes and being generally entertained by a local guide.  

Left is a close-up of a bed carved for the King. You can see the beginnings of Martha Stewart DNA in the use of under-bed storage. It was the main bedroom in an area about 1500 square feet.

 Just in case you needed to visit the Underworld, here's the door on the right.   Under the huge platform housing the bedroom and known as The Acropolis, there existed an entire other  structure and this creepy little door is part of that earlier city. Apparently this was common practice among the Mayans - to build one city or structures on top of the previous ones.

Among other vegetation in the area, there were Elephant Ear's big enough to use as a dress, Kapok trees, Bromiliads (?) like the one below and huge trees rooted on top of the ruins, showing how much excavation had to be done to reclaim the ruins from the jungle.

Along the way we'd passed a place named Explorean, a gorgeous all inclusive resort tucked back into the jungle.  On the way back, I was treated to a fine lunch in the gorgeous dining room overlooking the pool and the jungle. We met some great folks here from Key West and learned a group from Texas was there doing a conservation study - tagging Jaguars in the area.

Jaguars? Military?  Where am I?   Ah!  Mexico. I love Mexico.

We fared well in all respects.  Since the Jaguars are a little further in and we manage not to antagonize them or the men with many guns, we had a great time, a fun excursion and a good lunch. Another lovely friendship was born.

It'll be hard to leave new friends found in Bacalar.  Alex and Veronica, the owners of the hostel are fabulous and make me want to open a hostel down here somewhere.  Sorta.....  It's a lot of work of course, but could still be fun.

Can't wait to see what Playa holds in store!

Campeche and Bacalar

Life has definitely slowed down.  To perk things up a bit, I decided I'd take a few days and go to Campeche on the other side of the Peninsula from Bacalar. Having heard it is like going to an old walled-city in Spain, I didn't want to miss it while I'm down here. So at about noon a couple of weeks back I caught a Colectivo - a taxi carrying several people and charging a fraction of a private taxi - boarded a Primero Clase bus for a six hour ride across the peninsula.   Once there I caught a tiny chartreuse taxi and made my way to Hotel Navigante, there not being but a few hostels in Campeche and none of them discoverable online.   Tucked into a cluster of sherbert-colored houses, I'm glad I picked a hotel in the old historic district. Within this portion, everything is concrete - not a patch of grass anywhere as you can see.

I was relieved to escorted to a big room with a balcony, AC, a deep TUB.  I'm thinking, "boy this is going to be great!"   It was already dusk when I set out to find dinner, but had no idea where to go and the desk clerk was singularly disinterested in helping even when I used my best Spanish.  So I ended up grabbing a yogurt from the little kiosk next door, just as the sky opened up and a heavy rain drenched the city.

Perfect night for taking a long hot bath - right up until I discovered that there was no way to get the shower off and the tub faucet on. So I decided to let the shower fill the tub, left the room and looked up to see to see a river of water cascading out of the bathroom because the shower wasn't adjusted properly and would require a ladder to reach it.  So much for the bath idea...

Next day, bright and early I went down for breakfast of weak coffee and five different kinds of bread.  Does anyone know how to boil an egg?  OK - I'm being tacky. This is a hotel for chrissake - not a hostel and even hostels usually have a pretty decent breakfast!  The edge of hunger having been softened, I left with map of sorts in hand and went off to explore and find a decent cup of coffee.  My mood improved dramatically when my search was rewarded with frothy cup of cappuccino and a piece of something like apple pie with fresh apples.

Inside one of the bastions

Campeche lived up to what I'd been told: it is a classic representation of a old walled Spanish city, which began as a Mayan town and  became a completely walled entity because of it's constant bombardment by pirates.   The Spanish built an eight sided wall  around the entire  town, which is now just a small part of a pretty decent sized city.  Not much of the wall remains, but the bastions and portals are still pretty much in tact and a lot of restoration is going on.  One of the bastions has been reclaimed as the town's Botanical Garden and it offered a beautiful place to sit on a hot day.

The gardens

It is quiet town and within this historic district not much is going on.  Many of the streets are entirely devoid of people or cars and one wonders how it survives.  But it's pretty with its rows of colonial houses which share walls and are all meticulously kept and freshly painted.  It was amazingly clean - not a speck of litter anywhere, but has a very serious character about it.  In every town I've visited in Mexico, people are friendly, say "Hola! Buenas dias!" to passersby or at least respond when spoken to.  No so here.  Very few smiling faces and this was later mentioned by Veronica, one of the hostel owners here in Bacalar.  I don't know what created such a personality of a town, but this one has it's own perculiar energy which was not particularly welcoming.

Interesting interface with the Gulf of Mexico though.  There have been so many hurricanes that have hit Campeche that there is no more beach.  It is entirely sea wall, but has a beautifully developed hike and bike trail running the length of the historical area.  There are even stopping points with gym-type equipment to do a workout!   Unlike most beaches I've been to the waves run parallel to the beach, and don't break against the seal wall.  No doubt the geographic configuration of the land, but it's just a little weird.

Mystery flower...

There is a stunning Cathedral there and one street closed to to traffic and devoted to extraordinary sculptures. One of the lovely things abut every town I've visited is the accessibility of art and it's inclusion everywhere in public areas. There were a few old colonial homes turned museum that I was able to visit.  Glad I got to see what all the fuss was about, but not particularly captivated by the feel of the place.  Merida held more interest, but nothing so far has compared to Guadalajara.  I will not make it (this trip) to some of the more interior places that I hear people rave about: like San Christobal, San Luis Potasi, Palenque or San Miguel.  But the alur of the Yucatan Peninsula is definitely Mayan Ruins and beaches.

So, time to go back to Bacalar.  The trip back was an hour longer for some reason I never figured out and was made even more interminable by the kicking of my seat by a small child (old enough to know better) sitting behind me with his only slightly older brother.  The mother and the grandmother wisely sat on the other side of the isle. The kicking started before we were even out of the gate and my Spanish dictionary was tucked safely inside my back pack in the baggage compartment when I desperately needed a word for "kick."  Waiting a while, not wanting to be the ugly American being hateful to a small child, I turned around kneeling in my seat and reached my hand down to try and still his kicking feet and uttered, "Por favor, no."  Well that earned me a look from the mother - who did nothing to intervene, nor did it impress the kid enough to change his behavior.  Obviously I was too nice... Won't happen again.

The kicking continued - and having raised two boys with a lot of energy I realized this kid was just bored, but still...  if he was already bored and we hadn't even gotten on the road, it was going to be a loooong ride.  After three more attempts at being reasonable, I got the mother's attention and using the only Spanish I could muster for the occasion: pointed at the still swinging feet and said: "Por favor, esto es una problema."    Would like to have known how to say  "Dammit, stop kicking my seat or I will eviscerate you!"  But that might have created an international incident and I'm not sure my travel dictionary has the word "eviscerate."  Must learn the word for "kill."

So!  Back in Bacalar, the toursists have all gone home, the rainy season is creeping in a little early and I like it.   It's lovely to be back in this sweet little town.  Every morning I walk my three miles and see the same people building a house on the lagoon, setting up to offer tours or just tending to their chickens, riding their bikes or scooters to work.  On the right is the beginning of my route with some of what I see along the way below: gorgeous Bougainvillea, Flame Trees and bits of jungle.

Coral Bouganvillea

The Mayans are very sweet, friendly - always 
have a greeting and I love seeing them with their families in the Plaza at night.  The kids are happy and there's so much family presence.  Have met a few expats living down here, but am not sure I'm ready for that - still need to be more contributive (not sure that's a word...) than that usually allows. Though this community seems different and more integrated into the regular town and its population than most expat communities.  Houses are tucked in along the way and spread out throughout the area as opposed to being clustered together and a neighborhood unto themselves. 
  

A private path to the lagoon

My free month in a condo a block off the beach in Playa del Carmen is nine days away and I'm soooo excited!  Can't remember if I mentioned that a woman I met in Merida has gifted me the use of her condo for the entire month of June, my paying only utilities.  She lives in D.C. and the condo has no one scheduled for the month.  I feel like I hit the jackpot and am eternally grateful!

Next post: Playa del Carmen!

A slower pace and Rocks that BREATHE

I wanted a slower pace in a normal little Mexican town and that is what I have found in Bacalar.  So slow in fact, that I have fallen into a rhythm of trying to find things to occupy myself.  Those of you who know me well know that I am project driven and accustomed to being busy.  Which is EXACTLY why I chose Bacalar, because old habits die hard and sometimes need some coaxing.  I have to say - once the guilt of doing nothing subsides,  I am rather enjoying learning to take a breath and respond to the amazing synchronicity occurring here.  I have the offer of a free condo to stay in in Playa del Carmen in June and there's no way I'm giving that up.  So!  Bacalar and calm for now - subletting from friends I met in Tulum (one of those synchronous events) I'm living in their place while they are off doing research on sea turtles! They return at the end of May, by which time it'll be time to leave for Playa.

Bacalar is really interesting with a history dating back to Mayan times, early trade routes and pirates a plenty. The town itself having been built in 1545, when the Spanish Fort anchoring one end of the Plaza was built.  The picture on the right was taken from the top of the fort built to guard the town as pirate ships came to raid the area, known for a wood that produces dyes valued in Europe! Appropriately named Laguna Siete Colores, the lagoon lives up to its name and looks for all the world like the Caribbean, but is fresh water and gets its colors partially from high mineral content and sandy bottom once away from the marshy bottom at the shoreline.   It's very low key and the place I'm staying, Pata De Perro, is right on the square, which comes alive at dusk with Mexican families.  I've not really gotten into swimming the lagoon - there's really not a beach, one needs a dock to go off into the water. I admit to being squeamish about treading into a marshy bottom and wading through grasses. That's a little of my Louisiana swamp history coming to bite me.  But once you're out about 20 feet from the shore the bottom is sandy and beautiful.

When the local tourist season, which consumes much of April, settles down, I'll take a tour of the lagoon and get to see the Stromatolites (left), one of Bacalar's claim to fame. Stromatolites date back 3.5 billion years and contributed to the creation of earth's atmosphere, being oxygen producing structures that look like rocks. There are areas you can swim among these structures and there are only a few places on the planet where they exist.  Can't wait till the crowds leave and Bacalar resumes it's quite existence.   

In the meanwhile, I'm plotting my next move, doing a lot of reading, using the few hours of the morning before it gets deathly hot and humid to walk and get to the market.  There's no real shopping here, so the first thing I had to do was find cooler clothes.  While there are beautiful embroidered shirts and tops available here, they're not cool, nor easy to wash.  It grieved me to do it but I had to venture into Walmart and get something to wear.  God forgive me - but there was no choice - no little shops here with anything but little kid clothes.  So a friend and I hopped the bus, went into Chetumal and approached said store with foreboding.  But there it was - three t-shirts and two thin, hot weather dresses and an exercise ball later, I'd spent less than $50 US.  

Oh yes - can't forget this... Another reason tourists flood to Yucatan - and believe me it HAS been discovered - has to do with the Cenotes that pepper the area.  These are huge sink holes that have filled with water and are (often) connected via an underground river that can be transited through the cave system, giving rise to a lot of Cave Diving tourism.  I may not be describing it exactly right, but they are pretty amazing and a little creepy.  One near here is called Cenote Azule and is about 90 feet deep. As you can see, it's enormous.  There are others that are part of the lagoon and I plan to explore those soon. 

At the moment I have a giant lizard clinging to my screen.  At night there are barking geckos and a tiny night bird that chirps outside my window.   On Saturdays,  I shop for fish and shrimp in the local market and much to my surprise some of the spices I considered basic for Mexican food are not to be found down here!  Yucatan food is different from central Mexico and that's different from northern (which is most like what we get in Texas).  So ground cumin is not available, but every kind of pepper is in abundance and I've discovered some new fruits.  The pork is amazing and served with the marinated red onions and lime.  Fortunately, it's a healthy walk to the source and usually only available early morning. Otherwise I could see becoming as round as the source of said pork.

Lovely people run this hostel and I'm forming some strong friendships - another reason to stay put for a while, although tomorrow I'm getting the bus to Campeche for a couple of days. On the Gulf side of the peninsula and a six-hour bus ride non-stop,  I've heard it's like a visit to Spain - the old town being completely walled with only 2 - 3 entrances.  Lots of history there.  

Hasta luego!