This is the rainy season in Oaxaca. So, it rains. Duh. Every day (actually every evening). Like clockwork, around 4-6 p.m. the skies open up. Monday we got socked really hard. As we used to call them in Missouri "gully washers." And I got caught up at the gringo library. I had only a small umbrella with which to venture out.
I ran into my upstairs neighbor lady, an Australian, at the library. All SHE had was a hooded rain jacket. So, ever the gentleman, I shared my umbrella and we ventured out together squeezed under its sheltering circumference. We didn't have far to go, just around the corner to a place called 100% Natural, a health-food restaurant. In the 2 blocks, we got SOAKED! But it was worth it. We both had a hot bowl of soup and waited out the rainstorm.
However, when we got back to the building, I found my pretty new apartment FLOODED. Not Katrina-level flooding, mind you, but a couple of inches half-way up the room. The ceiling leaks, water comes in under the gap in the door, and through the window frames. This is not a good thing.
Last night, it rained again. No surprise there. I only had small puddles this time. I sure hope the landlord gets around to fixing the leaks and gaps. A dry apartment in the rainy season is much valued.
Showing posts with label merida. Show all posts
Showing posts with label merida. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Ni Modo
I witnessed a little scene yesterday that I think typifies the Mexican personality (if you can generalize to that extent). Here's how the story unfolded:
It was in the middle of Carnaval (Latin equivalent of Mardi Gras....goes on for a week here). The city was crazy. About 200,000 people watching the parade. Most major streets in the central city blocked off for the parade. Lots of noise. I'm walking down the sidewalk, just minding my own business. A car, turning into a parking lot, turns left in front of me. The entrance is a stone archway....this clearly used to be a commercial or residential building. All that is left is the stone facade.
So the driver (with passenger), turns left....and doesn't cut it quite sharp enough. The car swings left, over the sidewalk, and SPLASH!! his front right fender bangs into the side of the stone doorway. You hear the "crunch" of sheet metal. All the bystanders cringed. Me, too.
So: what would you have done? Said a bad word (yep, probably)? Screamed? Pulled out your insurance card? Cried?
Well, the Mexican guy just smiles at us, shrugs his shoulders as if to say, "oh well...." backs up, and tries it again, successfully. No concern at all... In Mexico, there is a saying, "Ni modo." It means "no big deal."
At the time I thought how different the reaction of most folks back home would be.
------------------------------------------------
Show me the money:
Unlike the dour portraits of men on U.S. currency, Mexico has a woman's portrait on one of their currency bills, the 200 peso note. Sor Juana (Sister Jane) was both a Catholic nun and Mexico's first woman poet, journalist, musical composer, favorite in the court of the Spanish Viceroy, and and early intellectual (in the 1660's). Her life was impressive in any context, but especially considering the role of women in the 17th century. And the macho Mexican society honors her on their currency. For more information, here's a link to Dartmouth's Sor Juana Project-- http://www.dartmouth.edu/~sorjuana
------------------------------------------------------
Names of three local businesses I noticed as I was walking by:
The first, a muffler and wheel alignment shop called, "Miracle of God" Muffler Shop.
OK, I've had cars like that...getting anything to work right was a miracle of God.
The second: a bakery called, "The Return." So...they're advertising that customers return their products? What?
And the third: "1000 Jokes" Restaurant. Would those be jokes about getting sick in their restaurant?
It was in the middle of Carnaval (Latin equivalent of Mardi Gras....goes on for a week here). The city was crazy. About 200,000 people watching the parade. Most major streets in the central city blocked off for the parade. Lots of noise. I'm walking down the sidewalk, just minding my own business. A car, turning into a parking lot, turns left in front of me. The entrance is a stone archway....this clearly used to be a commercial or residential building. All that is left is the stone facade.
So the driver (with passenger), turns left....and doesn't cut it quite sharp enough. The car swings left, over the sidewalk, and SPLASH!! his front right fender bangs into the side of the stone doorway. You hear the "crunch" of sheet metal. All the bystanders cringed. Me, too.
So: what would you have done? Said a bad word (yep, probably)? Screamed? Pulled out your insurance card? Cried?
Well, the Mexican guy just smiles at us, shrugs his shoulders as if to say, "oh well...." backs up, and tries it again, successfully. No concern at all... In Mexico, there is a saying, "Ni modo." It means "no big deal."
At the time I thought how different the reaction of most folks back home would be.
------------------------------------------------
Show me the money:
Unlike the dour portraits of men on U.S. currency, Mexico has a woman's portrait on one of their currency bills, the 200 peso note. Sor Juana (Sister Jane) was both a Catholic nun and Mexico's first woman poet, journalist, musical composer, favorite in the court of the Spanish Viceroy, and and early intellectual (in the 1660's). Her life was impressive in any context, but especially considering the role of women in the 17th century. And the macho Mexican society honors her on their currency. For more information, here's a link to Dartmouth's Sor Juana Project-- http://www.dartmouth.edu/~sorjuana
------------------------------------------------------
Names of three local businesses I noticed as I was walking by:
The first, a muffler and wheel alignment shop called, "Miracle of God" Muffler Shop.
OK, I've had cars like that...getting anything to work right was a miracle of God.
The second: a bakery called, "The Return." So...they're advertising that customers return their products? What?
And the third: "1000 Jokes" Restaurant. Would those be jokes about getting sick in their restaurant?
My New Amiga
This is the owner of the hotel's new puppy. Her name is Lena, and she's my new best friend. The old dog, Whiskey, isn't sure what to make of his new playmate. Both are Scottish Terriers.
Going Native
Remember the story about the Indian princess Pocahontas who fell in love with and married the English colonist in America, John Rolfe?
Well, the Yucatan has its own similar story, that of Gonzalo Guerrero (pictured here).
This is the TRUE story, as described under the painting at the Governor's Palace:
"This brave mariner survived a shipwreck (in 1511) on the coast of Yucatan along with a priest named Jeronimo de Aguilar. When they reached land, they were captured by the Mayas, who kept them in cages. Eight years later, Hernan Cortes--who was passing through Yucatan--rescued Aguilar, but Guerrero, who had married the daughter of the chief of Chetemal (today Chetumal) and had a family refused to go with Cortes. Guerror fought beside the Maya against the Spanish and died heroically in battle on Aug. 13, 1536 in Puert Cabello, Honduras. Guerrero is considered the father of "mestizago" (the mixing of races) in Yucatan.
Painting by Fernando Castro Pachecho (1971)
this painting--one of 27 monumental works at the Governor's Palace in Merida-- represents the Mexican national symbol, an eagle devouring a snake. It represents a myth from the Aztec culture and is today on the center of the Mexican flag. The tricolor flag is represented in the background with red, white, and green.
Merida, Governor's Palace
Located on the main public square, across from Casa Montejo. It's built in the classic Spanish Colonial style around an open courtyard. Upstairs is a history exhibition with monumental paintings by artist Fernando Castro Pachecho (1971).
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Casa Montejo
This is the oldest building in Merida, built in 1549 (ahh...I remember it like yesterday)by Francisco Montejo, the conquistador of the Yucatan peninsula, who arrived in 1542, after a couple of failed attempts by his father to conquer the local Mayan Indians. It faces the main town square/park.
In the construction of this mansion, they used stones from Mayan temples they dismantled on the site. And, "to the winner take all," they incorporated a little attitude in the carvings surrounding the front entrance, which is flanked by two tall, elegant Spaniards dressed in armor(Montejo the Elder and Montejo the Younger), with their feet resting on the heads of two Indians. You can see from the open mouths of the Indians, they don't look particularly happy with this arrangement.
Currently, the structure is being renovated by Banamex (a large Mexican bank). They've built a modern banking facility in the center open courtyard. And they use some of the historic rooms for meeting rooms and offices. They will open parts of the restored building to the public when completed. Interestingly, you can still see the original stones "recycled" from the Mayan temple in the walls and walkways of the Casa Montejo. The are fossilized shells embedded in the stone.
Thing is, the Montejo family lived in this palace from 1549 until 1970. 400 years in the same house? Wouldn't you get tired of the wallpaper or something? Maybe want to move the kids to a better neighborhood? The max I've ever spent in one place is five years. Clearly, I'm not cut out to be a conquistador.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Hotel Mucuy in Merida, A Great Place to Stay
I love this little hotel, The Hotel Mucuy. It's a 3-star place (rated by the Mexican government) and the rates are 255 peso/night ($18.50 US).
Ofelia, the owner, lives here and is around all day. I've gotten to know several guests: Canadian, American, French, and Swedish. It's a neat international ambience.
The 20 rooms are along one side of an open courtyard with a garden filled with plants, a small pool, and a second-level terrace with umbrella table. That's where I have my breakfast every morning.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Of Condoms and Pink Onions
Some random observations about Mexican culture:
Every time I go into a restaurant, I am served a little side dish with condiments. One, which previously had been unidentifiable, is little pink crunchy vegetable slices. Finally I asked a waiter. What? The mystery solved: they are pink onions. And how did they get pink? They are soaked in beet juice. This isn't just one restaurant, but restaurants all across Mexico. Me? I'm perfectly happy to take my onions in plain old white. But pink must be considered something extra fancy here.
----------------------------------------------
In the U.S., we say it's "black & white." In Mexico, it's always "white & black." Why? I don't know, and I'm not going to do any linguist anthropology here.
------------------------------------------
Last night, bored, I turned on television. It's a real treat to have TV, since my hotel in Campeche was TV-less. Here, it's not cable, but just local stations (in Spanish). To my SHOCK, I happened to turn on a COMMERCIAL. In the commercial, a mouth, speaking into a microphone, was reading off a list of veneral diseases. All of a sudden, a hand places a condom over the microphone, and the list is silenced. Clever...it made its point. But it's a commercial that would never, ever, be allowed to air in the U.S.
----------------------------------------------------
Since I enjoy wandering around in bookstores, I've done that in Mexico, too. Some thoughts.
1. There are many fewer bookstores in Mexico. Only in larger cities, or near universities will you find bookstores. Reading for pleasure is done at a much lower rate than in the U.S. or Western Europe.
2. Most are independent bookstores. Nothing is like the big U.S. monsters, Barnes & Noble and Borders
3. The selection here is much more limited. Fewer books and fewer titles.
4. Surprisingly, the Mexican bookstores always have a much richer assortemnt of poetry titles. Those romantic Latins!
5. And the most frustrating--Whereas in the States, booksellers do everything they can do to get you to thumb through their books, including allowing you to take them into the instore cafe and browse over coffee....in Mexico every book is shrink-wrapped in cellophane. What are they afraid of: that by looking through a copy you might actually want to BUY a book? Duh!
6. Think maybe #5 and #1 are correlated?
-----------------------------------------------
In U.S. department stores, women's fashion is always placed near the entrance on the first floor, men's stuff on the second floor. In many stores in Mexico, I've noticed the reverse. Men's on the first, women's upstairs. Probably the remnants of the macho male-oriented society.
-------------------------------------------------
A year an a half ago, I had an astrological reading done by an astrologer based in Utah. She knew nothing about me other than the time and place of my birth. In our conversation, she (unprompted) said, "do you know Merida, Yucatan? It's a very good place for you to be." And here I am. Hmmm...
----------------------------------------------------
When I was here in Merida two years ago, I met a guy at the American Library who had a Mexican friend who runs a tourism school here. I took down the name and address and walked over to ask about teaching English there. Fast forward 2 years to today. After checking in and getting settled in my hotel (which I found on the Internet), I went out for a stroll. Directly in front of the hotel, across the street....the very same tourism school. Chance? Maybe.
Every time I go into a restaurant, I am served a little side dish with condiments. One, which previously had been unidentifiable, is little pink crunchy vegetable slices. Finally I asked a waiter. What? The mystery solved: they are pink onions. And how did they get pink? They are soaked in beet juice. This isn't just one restaurant, but restaurants all across Mexico. Me? I'm perfectly happy to take my onions in plain old white. But pink must be considered something extra fancy here.
----------------------------------------------
In the U.S., we say it's "black & white." In Mexico, it's always "white & black." Why? I don't know, and I'm not going to do any linguist anthropology here.
------------------------------------------
Last night, bored, I turned on television. It's a real treat to have TV, since my hotel in Campeche was TV-less. Here, it's not cable, but just local stations (in Spanish). To my SHOCK, I happened to turn on a COMMERCIAL. In the commercial, a mouth, speaking into a microphone, was reading off a list of veneral diseases. All of a sudden, a hand places a condom over the microphone, and the list is silenced. Clever...it made its point. But it's a commercial that would never, ever, be allowed to air in the U.S.
----------------------------------------------------
Since I enjoy wandering around in bookstores, I've done that in Mexico, too. Some thoughts.
1. There are many fewer bookstores in Mexico. Only in larger cities, or near universities will you find bookstores. Reading for pleasure is done at a much lower rate than in the U.S. or Western Europe.
2. Most are independent bookstores. Nothing is like the big U.S. monsters, Barnes & Noble and Borders
3. The selection here is much more limited. Fewer books and fewer titles.
4. Surprisingly, the Mexican bookstores always have a much richer assortemnt of poetry titles. Those romantic Latins!
5. And the most frustrating--Whereas in the States, booksellers do everything they can do to get you to thumb through their books, including allowing you to take them into the instore cafe and browse over coffee....in Mexico every book is shrink-wrapped in cellophane. What are they afraid of: that by looking through a copy you might actually want to BUY a book? Duh!
6. Think maybe #5 and #1 are correlated?
-----------------------------------------------
In U.S. department stores, women's fashion is always placed near the entrance on the first floor, men's stuff on the second floor. In many stores in Mexico, I've noticed the reverse. Men's on the first, women's upstairs. Probably the remnants of the macho male-oriented society.
-------------------------------------------------
A year an a half ago, I had an astrological reading done by an astrologer based in Utah. She knew nothing about me other than the time and place of my birth. In our conversation, she (unprompted) said, "do you know Merida, Yucatan? It's a very good place for you to be." And here I am. Hmmm...
----------------------------------------------------
When I was here in Merida two years ago, I met a guy at the American Library who had a Mexican friend who runs a tourism school here. I took down the name and address and walked over to ask about teaching English there. Fast forward 2 years to today. After checking in and getting settled in my hotel (which I found on the Internet), I went out for a stroll. Directly in front of the hotel, across the street....the very same tourism school. Chance? Maybe.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Another Day, Another Town
After 11 days in Campeche, boredom set in. It is a neat little town, but I had done everything there was to do. I took a 2.5 hour bus ride, and now I'm in Merida.
I was in Merida (the capital of the state of Yucatan) two years ago. Surprisingly, it was at this same time of year, during Carnival (Mardi Gras) season. Merida has one of the most important Carnival celebrations in all of Mexico. The 3 biggies are Merida, Veracruz, and Mazatlan. So, the city has erected grandstands for viewing parades. There are 6 distinct parades, one each day beginning this Thursday through next Tuesday.
Tomorrow's (Wednesday)celebration isn't a parade but a ceremony in the main square, the burning of "Mr. Bad Attitude" (Mal Humor). I can certainly participate in that, although Mr. Bad Attitude hasn't been around much since retirement!!
I'll be here about a week, then over to Playa del Carmen south of Cancun to visit with my Chicago friends Barb & Ian.
I was in Merida (the capital of the state of Yucatan) two years ago. Surprisingly, it was at this same time of year, during Carnival (Mardi Gras) season. Merida has one of the most important Carnival celebrations in all of Mexico. The 3 biggies are Merida, Veracruz, and Mazatlan. So, the city has erected grandstands for viewing parades. There are 6 distinct parades, one each day beginning this Thursday through next Tuesday.
Tomorrow's (Wednesday)celebration isn't a parade but a ceremony in the main square, the burning of "Mr. Bad Attitude" (Mal Humor). I can certainly participate in that, although Mr. Bad Attitude hasn't been around much since retirement!!
I'll be here about a week, then over to Playa del Carmen south of Cancun to visit with my Chicago friends Barb & Ian.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Reflections
A look back.....and forward (without the use of a mirror, thank goodness!):
Today is Feb. 10. That makes it a full month that I've been on the road again.
In that time, I've seen Mazatlan, Puerto Vallarta, Guadalajara, Merida, and now Campeche.
This make 22 towns I've seen since I started on this journey, trek, walkabout, perambulation (whatever you want to call it) last November. Now that I've counted up the number, it is really a bit overwhelming. By way of analogy, it's as though you'd traveled to most of the major towns in the U.S.....and not just in one region, but Midwest, South, Northeast, West Coast...the whole country. That's a lot of traveling.
I've realized that I like to travel.
Which shouldn't be surprising to anyone. I got the “bug” immediately after graduating from college back in 19 (uh, hum...) whatever. I gave myself a European tour for a graduation present. And I had a ball. And then—some of you remember—I worked 6 years for that international travel company (Thomas Cook Travel). During that time, I went all over the world: Russia, China, Europe, South America, Africa, Fiji, New Zealand....you name it, I went there. And, being a travel agent, mostly for free (or for very little). Not bragging, just grateful to have had the chance. So now that I'm having my second childhood (did the first one ever end?) it shouldn't surprise anyone that I simply said---as the name of the blog clearly denotes—“to hell with it, I'm out of here.”
Why Mexico? Well, it's closer than Chile or Argentina, for one. And cheaper. I can be back “home” in the States (wherever that is....not sure any more) in a half-day's flying time. Mexico is a Spanish-speaking country, and I want to improve my Spanish. I find the people, by and large, sweet and friendly. I'm getting accustomed to the pace of life. It's slower. I want to start a radical movement : “DEATH to Multi-Tasking!!!” God didn't make us to do six things all at once. Now I don't have to.
On this trip I've been to coastal places, to mountainous places, to hot places, and cold places, to urban places, and hick town places. Why so many? Partly because I'm having fun doing it. And partly because I didn't start out with a clear idea in my own mind of what I was looking for. That's clearer now: I don't want to be in a big city. I've done the Chicago and Phoenix thing; now it's time for something slower. I don't want to be cold; after nine years in Phoenix, hot is better. And being close to water is awfully nice. In Chicago, most of the year you could find me at the lakefront.....running, biking, walking, sunbathing. I find water soothing. So, anyway, I'm getting closer. It won't be Utopia, but it will be my own little slice of heaven.
Snapshots of Campeche:
Sunday night, and on most weekends, they close off the streets surrounding the main town square/park. This last Sunday, they had the Campeche Symphony playing open-air, under the stars, free....right in front of the town's decorative bandstand. Several of the restaurants ringing the square take advantage of the festivities and move tables out into the street for diners. I took advantage of the dining alfresco service at Hotel Campeche. I sat having a nice spaghetti dinner, watching the orchestra, with a gorgeous big full moon in the sky right behind the illuminated main cathedral. Wow! It was a stunner of an evening. After the orchestral “set,” another group came on stage, this time an Andean music group from Chile. Since I spent several months living in Chile about 17 years ago, this was a pleasant trip down memory lane. They even started off with a bit about the crimes of the Pinochet regime. All very familiar, since I was down in Chile in the year or so immediately following that period.
I go to the public library on the main square each day to read the local newspaper. It's a handsomely renovated colonial structure, with completely modern facilities inside. I like to sit at the long tables in the reading room, each table lit with a long built-in florescent overhead. The librarian asked me to please NOT reshelve books after I'd thumbed through them and came me a little slip of paper, a call slip, to fill out in order to request a book. In her free time, she crawls up a set of moveable stairs and dust the bookshelves. It's so “Marian the Librarian.”
Each evening around sunset, I like to go down to the Malecon (seaside walkway) to sit and watch the sea, and folks out for evening strolls. It's kind of a small town, enjoyable pastime.
Yesterday, I took the city's official tourist trolley (sponsored by the office of tourism) on a 45-minute ride around town. There were only eight of us, so we got a personalized version. Folks from the U.S. (me), Holland, Germany, and Mexico. One of the stops was at the church which marks the site of the very first mass said by Cortez and his crew when they first arrived in Mexico. In another neighborhood, San Román, we stopped to see the Black Christ.
It was a long, but fascinating, legend. It goes like this (from www.campeche.ca):
The legend goes that a beautiful crucifix hand crafted in Civita Vecchia, Italy was sent to the church via the port of Veracruz. A man by the name Juan Cano was to take it from Veracruz to Campeche City. Looking for someone to take him and the crucifix by sea he came upon a protestant Englishman who refused to take him on his ship. Another man, a Spanish merchant, agreed to take Cano to Campeche and in fact removed some merchandise from the ship to make space for the Black Christ. During the journey up the coast of the Gulf of Mexico, there was a terrible storm. However, the ship made it to Campeche on September 14, 1565. The Englishman's boat dissappeared during the storm and no one ever saw him again. And that was the first miracle attributed to the Black Christ.
My miracle was, the day after viewing him, I found out the State of Illinois had sent me a letter saying they are holding unclaimed property (money) in my name. I have no idea from where or how much. But every little bit of sunshine is welcome. One more happy tourist. One more miracle.
Today is Feb. 10. That makes it a full month that I've been on the road again.
In that time, I've seen Mazatlan, Puerto Vallarta, Guadalajara, Merida, and now Campeche.
This make 22 towns I've seen since I started on this journey, trek, walkabout, perambulation (whatever you want to call it) last November. Now that I've counted up the number, it is really a bit overwhelming. By way of analogy, it's as though you'd traveled to most of the major towns in the U.S.....and not just in one region, but Midwest, South, Northeast, West Coast...the whole country. That's a lot of traveling.
I've realized that I like to travel.
Which shouldn't be surprising to anyone. I got the “bug” immediately after graduating from college back in 19 (uh, hum...) whatever. I gave myself a European tour for a graduation present. And I had a ball. And then—some of you remember—I worked 6 years for that international travel company (Thomas Cook Travel). During that time, I went all over the world: Russia, China, Europe, South America, Africa, Fiji, New Zealand....you name it, I went there. And, being a travel agent, mostly for free (or for very little). Not bragging, just grateful to have had the chance. So now that I'm having my second childhood (did the first one ever end?) it shouldn't surprise anyone that I simply said---as the name of the blog clearly denotes—“to hell with it, I'm out of here.”
Why Mexico? Well, it's closer than Chile or Argentina, for one. And cheaper. I can be back “home” in the States (wherever that is....not sure any more) in a half-day's flying time. Mexico is a Spanish-speaking country, and I want to improve my Spanish. I find the people, by and large, sweet and friendly. I'm getting accustomed to the pace of life. It's slower. I want to start a radical movement : “DEATH to Multi-Tasking!!!” God didn't make us to do six things all at once. Now I don't have to.
On this trip I've been to coastal places, to mountainous places, to hot places, and cold places, to urban places, and hick town places. Why so many? Partly because I'm having fun doing it. And partly because I didn't start out with a clear idea in my own mind of what I was looking for. That's clearer now: I don't want to be in a big city. I've done the Chicago and Phoenix thing; now it's time for something slower. I don't want to be cold; after nine years in Phoenix, hot is better. And being close to water is awfully nice. In Chicago, most of the year you could find me at the lakefront.....running, biking, walking, sunbathing. I find water soothing. So, anyway, I'm getting closer. It won't be Utopia, but it will be my own little slice of heaven.
Snapshots of Campeche:
Sunday night, and on most weekends, they close off the streets surrounding the main town square/park. This last Sunday, they had the Campeche Symphony playing open-air, under the stars, free....right in front of the town's decorative bandstand. Several of the restaurants ringing the square take advantage of the festivities and move tables out into the street for diners. I took advantage of the dining alfresco service at Hotel Campeche. I sat having a nice spaghetti dinner, watching the orchestra, with a gorgeous big full moon in the sky right behind the illuminated main cathedral. Wow! It was a stunner of an evening. After the orchestral “set,” another group came on stage, this time an Andean music group from Chile. Since I spent several months living in Chile about 17 years ago, this was a pleasant trip down memory lane. They even started off with a bit about the crimes of the Pinochet regime. All very familiar, since I was down in Chile in the year or so immediately following that period.
I go to the public library on the main square each day to read the local newspaper. It's a handsomely renovated colonial structure, with completely modern facilities inside. I like to sit at the long tables in the reading room, each table lit with a long built-in florescent overhead. The librarian asked me to please NOT reshelve books after I'd thumbed through them and came me a little slip of paper, a call slip, to fill out in order to request a book. In her free time, she crawls up a set of moveable stairs and dust the bookshelves. It's so “Marian the Librarian.”
Each evening around sunset, I like to go down to the Malecon (seaside walkway) to sit and watch the sea, and folks out for evening strolls. It's kind of a small town, enjoyable pastime.
Yesterday, I took the city's official tourist trolley (sponsored by the office of tourism) on a 45-minute ride around town. There were only eight of us, so we got a personalized version. Folks from the U.S. (me), Holland, Germany, and Mexico. One of the stops was at the church which marks the site of the very first mass said by Cortez and his crew when they first arrived in Mexico. In another neighborhood, San Román, we stopped to see the Black Christ.
It was a long, but fascinating, legend. It goes like this (from www.campeche.ca):
The legend goes that a beautiful crucifix hand crafted in Civita Vecchia, Italy was sent to the church via the port of Veracruz. A man by the name Juan Cano was to take it from Veracruz to Campeche City. Looking for someone to take him and the crucifix by sea he came upon a protestant Englishman who refused to take him on his ship. Another man, a Spanish merchant, agreed to take Cano to Campeche and in fact removed some merchandise from the ship to make space for the Black Christ. During the journey up the coast of the Gulf of Mexico, there was a terrible storm. However, the ship made it to Campeche on September 14, 1565. The Englishman's boat dissappeared during the storm and no one ever saw him again. And that was the first miracle attributed to the Black Christ.
My miracle was, the day after viewing him, I found out the State of Illinois had sent me a letter saying they are holding unclaimed property (money) in my name. I have no idea from where or how much. But every little bit of sunshine is welcome. One more happy tourist. One more miracle.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Three Foot High Sidewalks
Some (not all) of the sidewalks in the Old Town historic center of Campeche are three-feet tall. Imagine! They come up to my waist. There are little cut-out steps to get up to the top level. During the rainy season, there are heavy rains and flooding. By making the sidewalks this high, and the doors to homes and shops that high, it helps to prevent a good interior soaking. Notice, no guardrails. Fall off one of these puppies, and it's to the orthopedic surgeon with you. Do not pass "Go."
Hotel Atrium
These are shots of the central courtyard/atrium at my hotel. Interesting thing is that it's open at the top. There IS a roof, but it sits on legs about two feet above the level of the top of the atrium, so that light and air circulate. In the super-hot summers, the heat rises from the atrium, and can escape around the four edges, rather than being trapped inside.
Blast from the Past
Check out the super-antique switchboard used at the Hotel Colonial in Campeche.
The other shot is of their second level sitting room.
All this furniture is handmade.
The floor tile is pretty cool, too. Vintage 1930 I'd say.
Scenes from Campeche
That turret-looking thing is a "baluarte" (English, "bulwark"), part of the defensive walls which once ringed the city. Large sections of the wall remain, and 7 of the baluartes. Some now function as museums or public gardens.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Pretty, Historic, and Cheap
No, not me, silly! Campeche.
That's where I am right now. It is the capital of one of three states in the Yucatan peninsula. Campeche State, Campeche city. The town is located on the northern coast of the peninsula, facing the Gulf of Mexico, directly south of New Orleans. Recently, the city was granted the United Nations (UNESCO) World Heritage Site designation. They call it “Patrimony of Humanity.” And, as a result the city fathers (and mothers) VERY wisely decided to spruce up the town. Within the historic center of the city, which is encompassed by the remnants of the original town walls, they have repaired the facades of all the old buildings and painted them in gorgeous pastel colors. And they've hired a crew of street cleaners and trash removers. As a result, the place is lovely—clean, pretty, architecturally interesting. I plan to walk into the local tourist office and compliment them on their sound planning. I suppose they are looking to increase tourism, and this seems an excellent way to go about it.
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I flew from Guadalajara, via Mexico City, to Merida. I'd been there before...a couple of years ago. So I only stayed one night before taking the bus over to Campeche (it's only a 2.5 hour ride). Watching local television in my hotel room in Merida, I was taken aback by a couple of things: first, as I was in the bathroom, I heard the 5:00 newscast come on and I simply could not understand it. I thought, well, maybe I'm too far away to hear properly. So I went into the bedroom where the TV was. Still couldn't make out anything. “Gosh, I'm losing my Spanish skills,” I thought. Then, the title came on the TV screen: “News in Mayan.” Ummm, no wonder I couldn't understand. The Mayan language isn't one I've mastered.
The second odd thing was a commercial came on TV for an upcoming bullfight. I watched with great interest because I like bullfights, and have been to several (I know that's not politically correct). But this bullfight---get this—was a bullfight with MIDGETS as matadors. It seemed to my Americanized sensibilities shockingly politically incorrect to see these little people running around in the bullring, dressed as matadors. I didn't attend. It does, however, represent a different, Mexican, take on life. I've written earlier of how Mexicans think nothing about calling friends: “whitey,” or “darkie,” or “fat-so,” or “shortie.” I had one explain it to me as, “if that's the way God made you, why should we try to tap dance around it?”
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W.C.'s
Water Closets. I never clearly understood until now why bathrooms are called “water closets.” The hotel I'm staying at in Campeche, the Hotel Colonial ($14/night), is an incredible time machine. It was a centuries-old mansion, converted into a hotel. I will post some photos of its plant-filled central atrium here. In my room, a bathroom has been literally carved out of a space the size of a closet. A tiny stand-up shower that's impossible to turn around in (no shower curtain). A tiny hand sink. And the toilet set off from the shower by a narrow wall. The whole thing is enclosed in a wall that doesn't reach to the ceiling (ceilings are about 20 feet). So, indeed, it was added as a much later afterthought, a closet with water pipes. Oh, and a footnote about the toilet itself: I've never seen one like it. The flush mechanism isn't a tank with a lever, but a turn-valve right on the water intake pipe. Works just fine. Just have to remember to turn the handle completely off, or it will run forever! The toilet seat is built right into the porcelain. No plastic seat. So, not to be indelicate, but you sit right on the porcelain. And, of course, it always feels like you're going to fall in. But it's not the normal rim of a toilet, but a maybe 6-inch wide porcelan lip all the way around. Never have to remember to put the seat down. However, this is a fine idea for girls, but for boys, not so much.
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Also in my room are two thick metal eyes, about 3” in diameter, mounted right into the stone/cement walls at opposite corners of the room. Look like they've been there for a century. What's the purpose, you ask? Ahh, hammock hooks. In the olden days, folks here didn't have beds, just hammocks. Better air circulation all around your body on those incredibly hot nights without air conditioning.
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Another weird little thing I've seen in most drugstores: a plastic nose insert. Yep, they've got a poster with photos showing how to use the things. The local indigenous population is Mayan. The Mayan people have a prominent hooked nose. This device, when inserted into the nose, reshapes the nose (temporarily) into a more aquiline profile. I suppose that's someone's idea of more beautiful. But we Americans can't talk. We've got tattoos, piercings of more body parts than I want to know, Botox injections, and lipo. Oh, Sweet Vanity, you are truly cross cultural.
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My taxi driver told me a famous saying by Benito Juarez (Mexico's much-loved Indian president...sort of a Mexican Abraham Lincoln). It goes like this:
“Among individuals, as among nations, respect for the rights of others is peace.”
Nice, huh? This from the guy who ordered the assassination of Emperor Maximillian (after the French intervention in Mexico). Sort of like "you be nice to me, I'll be nice to you. If not, I'll murder you."
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