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.

Cool Vintage Furniture in My Hotel

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.

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."

Flying the Friendly Mexican Skies

So here I sit at the Guadalajara airport, looking out the window at my Mexicana plane that is in the process of unloading passengers and getting ready for those of us waiting here at the gate. On my wireless laptop computer.

For those of you who think of Mexico as a Third World country....I'm sitting at a Starbucks, a little table, polished marble floors gleaming, fancy Italian designer shops, national and international chain restaurants. Of course, Starbucks shouldn't be the definition of Third or First World. It's just that Mexico enjoys many international benefits. And--of course--a mountain of poverty. There's more here for a sociological discussion. But later....my plane is boarding. Tonight, Merida!

Here Today, Gone Tomorrow

For the last couple of days I've been in Guadalajara.
This was a "take two." I was here two years ago, when I stayed with a local family and studied Spanish at a language school. I didn't like Guadalajara then. It seemed way too big, dirty, and uninviting.

Guess what? The city hasn't changed. And (more importantly, I guess) neither have I. I still don't like the place. Right now, they are undergoing major public works, with half the downtown streets and sidewalks torn up. You walk across dirt where sidewalks once were....big gaping holes, trenches waiting for drain pipes, perfect to fall into. Dust blowing everywhere. My eyes and throat stinging. Where I'm staying, it's really dodgey. This hotel is clean and nice but....in the window they put a handwritten sign: Promotion! Rooms for couples, 8 hours, $160 pesos!! Hmmm, does that mean what I think it means?

Anyway, I'm on the road again. I fly this morning out of here to Mexico City and then on to Merida. I plan to go from Merida to Campeche (both on the Yucatan peninsula) within the next couple of days. I was in Merida a year ago, but never got over to Campeche. It's like an untasted chocolate in the box. Forrest Gump was right.