Remember the last time you went to have your eyes examined? The optometrist places your head so that the chin is resting on a little support thingie. Then he slides over this big apparatus which tests for various lens strengths. “Look through here, “ he says, “which is better? One....or Two. Now again, Two....or One?”
I thought about that last night in the context of which typical Sunday evening experience was better for me, One or Two.
Lens One:
Last night, I sat in the town square park on a wrought iron park bench watching the Municipal Band (love those tubas). Even though the day had been hot, the evening—at 7 p.m.--was pleasant, with a light breeze blowing off the Gulf. Families were out with their kids. An older gentleman sits down next to me on the bench, and we begin a conversation about Campeche's weather and hurricanes and the cost of living. His wife arrives a few minutes later and they scuttle off. Snapshots: a little boy cruising on his tricycle with a pull toy trailing behind. A balloon vendor walking around, followed by a roving cotton candy seller. Couples, old couples, walking around the bandstand holding hands. A little girl in her starched pink Sunday-best dress. The (electrified) gaslights lit. The lower level of the double-decker bandstand is an open-air cafe, where you can order “just a lemonade, please” and they're perfectly happy to serve you. A couple of girls training the tiniest poodle puppy I've ever seen, bouncing along behind them. The cathedral lit up like a pastry confection, doors open to all. The streets on all four sides of the square are closed to traffic, and the long stretch in front of the church is given over to 10 tables or so of the local variant of Bingo, “Campeche Lottery”: same idea, just different pictures in the squares instead of B-5, etc. The “caller” turning the handle of an enclosed basket with the various lots, drawing them one by one and calling the names into a microphone. And the ladies (almost all players were women) playing multiple cards with exactly the same intensity as you'd see back home in a church basement bingo hall or casino. A few street vendor ladies with carts selling cookies and cakes made at home. I swear Norman Rockwell would grab his paintbrushes. It is a little slice of 1940. Very sweet and charmingly old fashioned.
Lens Two
Rod at home back in Phoenix. It's Sunday night. I walk the dog, watch a little TV, maybe iron a shirt for work Monday. So, which is better One or Two? Again, Two or One. You guess.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Saturday, February 14, 2009
A Valentine's Day Present from Campeche
Here are some shots of sunset over the Gulf of Mexico. They speak for themselves. I hope your day is this wonderful.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Raindrops are Fallin' on my Head
Last night, I got caught in the rain. One of the few times on my entire trip.
I was headed down to the waterfront for my nightly session of sunset and sea breeze, when I noticed the sky clouding up—completely. I'd mentioned the cloudy weather to the guy at the pool (more about that later) this morning. “No,” he assured me, “it never rains at this time of the year.” OK, he lied.
As I got about three blocks from the malecon, I felt a great big drop of moisture on my head. “That must be rain,” I surmised, not being one to let anything slip by me! And then another (nope, clearly not bird poop). By the time I reached a sheltering overhang on the side of a building, it was a full downpour. The streets were running rivers. “So that what it must be like during hurricane season,” he said wisely.
Girls with sandaled feet were sloshing about, hair plastered against their heads. I felt sorry for one motorcycle courier who was (neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail) going to make a go of it. He unbuttoned his shirt and was sliding his parcel inside for protection, when—just in time—a buddy pulled up in a car and gave him a (dry) ride. I just hung out for half an hour or so along with a dozen other folks. When it finally let up, I made a zigzagged dash over to the library, about two blocks away. It was perfect weather for sitting with a couple of newspapers, and slowly paging through them.
About the pool thing: I discovered that Campeche has a municipal sports center. It's as big as an airplane hanger, and looks something like that. It's all open-air, with a huge roof covering the courts area. There, they have basketball and martial arts competitions. Around on the other side are tennis courts and a baseball field. And, on the corner overlooking the Gulf of Mexico, is an olympic-sized pool. I inquired, and between 10 a.m. and 2 p.m., it's open to the public for $1.75. Other times, it's used by swim teams and school kids. I've taken advantage of it the last two days running. Cool, clean, refreshing. Today, I had one of the athletic trainers work on my shoulder and back. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!
The day before yesterday, for my big outing of the day, I went over to one of the super-modern chain stores, much like a Super Target or Super Walmart (groceries + other things). I was just killing time, wandering the aisles, looking to see what was there, when I had two quite different experiences:
Experience #1: I get called “Whitey” again. This is no longer new or shocking. So, I responded to the guy, “So?” This is inside the store. He comes over—drunk or stoned—and asks if I want to buy drugs. “No.” I figured no explanations were necessary. Then he launched into a long story about getting beaten up and robbed, and would I give him $10 pesos (about a dollar). “No.” End of experience #1.
Experience #2: In the same store, about 15 minutes later, and older Mexican couple comes up to me. “Where are you from?” “The U.S.” That launched a lengthy conversation. They had had some good American friends here who recently “threw in the towel” and moved back to the states (Springfield, MO) at ages 92 and 90. They asked if I'd like to go over to the little cafe in-store and chat. So we did....for almost an hour. It ended with them asking me if I'd like to come over for coffee some day, or they would be happy to show me around town by car. Incredibly nice, and not something that would likely happen in a store back home. As a blond, pale, gringo I stand out (especially in non-touristed towns), which has its “rock-star” qualities. Some good, some annoying.
I'm falling into my own little routine here. Get up at the crack of 8 (didn't know 8 had a crack, did you?) Have a little breakfast of fresh tangerine, banana, and a croissant I've purchased the night before. And I snack at a small table in the open atrium right in front of my room. Then time for a walk around town. Then a swim. Then lunch at the same place, The Parish Restaurant, which serves a 3-course special of the day for $3.50. They have a WI-FI connection there, so I bring my laptop and do some computer work after lunch. Then it's home for nappy time (essential, after a hard day). When I get up, I walk down to see the sunset, then over to the library for a quick look at the day's papers. A light supper is next, then hanging out in the town square/park.
I'm liking retirement. A lot.
I was headed down to the waterfront for my nightly session of sunset and sea breeze, when I noticed the sky clouding up—completely. I'd mentioned the cloudy weather to the guy at the pool (more about that later) this morning. “No,” he assured me, “it never rains at this time of the year.” OK, he lied.
As I got about three blocks from the malecon, I felt a great big drop of moisture on my head. “That must be rain,” I surmised, not being one to let anything slip by me! And then another (nope, clearly not bird poop). By the time I reached a sheltering overhang on the side of a building, it was a full downpour. The streets were running rivers. “So that what it must be like during hurricane season,” he said wisely.
Girls with sandaled feet were sloshing about, hair plastered against their heads. I felt sorry for one motorcycle courier who was (neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail) going to make a go of it. He unbuttoned his shirt and was sliding his parcel inside for protection, when—just in time—a buddy pulled up in a car and gave him a (dry) ride. I just hung out for half an hour or so along with a dozen other folks. When it finally let up, I made a zigzagged dash over to the library, about two blocks away. It was perfect weather for sitting with a couple of newspapers, and slowly paging through them.
About the pool thing: I discovered that Campeche has a municipal sports center. It's as big as an airplane hanger, and looks something like that. It's all open-air, with a huge roof covering the courts area. There, they have basketball and martial arts competitions. Around on the other side are tennis courts and a baseball field. And, on the corner overlooking the Gulf of Mexico, is an olympic-sized pool. I inquired, and between 10 a.m. and 2 p.m., it's open to the public for $1.75. Other times, it's used by swim teams and school kids. I've taken advantage of it the last two days running. Cool, clean, refreshing. Today, I had one of the athletic trainers work on my shoulder and back. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!
The day before yesterday, for my big outing of the day, I went over to one of the super-modern chain stores, much like a Super Target or Super Walmart (groceries + other things). I was just killing time, wandering the aisles, looking to see what was there, when I had two quite different experiences:
Experience #1: I get called “Whitey” again. This is no longer new or shocking. So, I responded to the guy, “So?” This is inside the store. He comes over—drunk or stoned—and asks if I want to buy drugs. “No.” I figured no explanations were necessary. Then he launched into a long story about getting beaten up and robbed, and would I give him $10 pesos (about a dollar). “No.” End of experience #1.
Experience #2: In the same store, about 15 minutes later, and older Mexican couple comes up to me. “Where are you from?” “The U.S.” That launched a lengthy conversation. They had had some good American friends here who recently “threw in the towel” and moved back to the states (Springfield, MO) at ages 92 and 90. They asked if I'd like to go over to the little cafe in-store and chat. So we did....for almost an hour. It ended with them asking me if I'd like to come over for coffee some day, or they would be happy to show me around town by car. Incredibly nice, and not something that would likely happen in a store back home. As a blond, pale, gringo I stand out (especially in non-touristed towns), which has its “rock-star” qualities. Some good, some annoying.
I'm falling into my own little routine here. Get up at the crack of 8 (didn't know 8 had a crack, did you?) Have a little breakfast of fresh tangerine, banana, and a croissant I've purchased the night before. And I snack at a small table in the open atrium right in front of my room. Then time for a walk around town. Then a swim. Then lunch at the same place, The Parish Restaurant, which serves a 3-course special of the day for $3.50. They have a WI-FI connection there, so I bring my laptop and do some computer work after lunch. Then it's home for nappy time (essential, after a hard day). When I get up, I walk down to see the sunset, then over to the library for a quick look at the day's papers. A light supper is next, then hanging out in the town square/park.
I'm liking retirement. A lot.
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
Germans in Yucatan
I went to Sam's Club and to Wal-Mart today. Yep, just like back home. They are super popular here in Mexico.
When you get homesick for a little touch of Missouri, you can always stop into a Wal-Mart de Mexico. And, today, it was even MORE like Missouri. I thought I had been magically teleported from here back to Warsaw, Missouri. There in the food court sat three large families of blond, blue-eyed Mennonites in bib overalls, and the ladies in bonnets. Little tow-headed kids running around. Speaking German (and Spanish as well).
It really is startling. Just when you've become accustomed to a mestizo Mayan Indian/Spanish cultural setting....zap....you're in the middle of folks that look like Missouri country farmers. I know that there was a large Mennonite settlement up in Chihuahua. Very successful. But I didn't know that they were down this far southeast in the country.
Here's an explanation from Global Anabaptist Mennonite Encyclopedia Online:
Land shortage led the Old Colony Mennonites of the Durango Colony at Nuevo Ideal, Durango State, Mexico, to look for new tracts of land in the early 1980s. A number of states made offers, but always problems with "ejido " lands (communal land destined to be cultivated by landless Mexicans) loomed on the horizon. When in 1983 the State of Campeche offered several thousand hectares and conditions seemed favorable, the mother colony in Durango decided to buy the land. Immediately settlement began with 88 families near the town of Hopelchen. By 1987 the new colony had 737 inhabitants, of which 211 were church members. Six schools, with as many teachers, were in operation. Two of them also served as meetinghouses for Sunday morning worship services.
The two colonies in Zacatecas State, La Batea and La Honda, also had daughter colonies in Campeche, the former consisting of about 30 families, adjacent to the "Durango" colony; the latter, consisting of ca. 40 families and located 50 km. (30 mi.) to the southeast. The La Honda colony, begun in 1987, was optimistic about the choice of terrain and more families were expected to follow.
In all colonies High and Low German only were used in church and school. Agriculture, with accommodations to the regional climatic and soil conditions, was the main occupation.
When you get homesick for a little touch of Missouri, you can always stop into a Wal-Mart de Mexico. And, today, it was even MORE like Missouri. I thought I had been magically teleported from here back to Warsaw, Missouri. There in the food court sat three large families of blond, blue-eyed Mennonites in bib overalls, and the ladies in bonnets. Little tow-headed kids running around. Speaking German (and Spanish as well).
It really is startling. Just when you've become accustomed to a mestizo Mayan Indian/Spanish cultural setting....zap....you're in the middle of folks that look like Missouri country farmers. I know that there was a large Mennonite settlement up in Chihuahua. Very successful. But I didn't know that they were down this far southeast in the country.
Here's an explanation from Global Anabaptist Mennonite Encyclopedia Online:
Land shortage led the Old Colony Mennonites of the Durango Colony at Nuevo Ideal, Durango State, Mexico, to look for new tracts of land in the early 1980s. A number of states made offers, but always problems with "ejido " lands (communal land destined to be cultivated by landless Mexicans) loomed on the horizon. When in 1983 the State of Campeche offered several thousand hectares and conditions seemed favorable, the mother colony in Durango decided to buy the land. Immediately settlement began with 88 families near the town of Hopelchen. By 1987 the new colony had 737 inhabitants, of which 211 were church members. Six schools, with as many teachers, were in operation. Two of them also served as meetinghouses for Sunday morning worship services.
The two colonies in Zacatecas State, La Batea and La Honda, also had daughter colonies in Campeche, the former consisting of about 30 families, adjacent to the "Durango" colony; the latter, consisting of ca. 40 families and located 50 km. (30 mi.) to the southeast. The La Honda colony, begun in 1987, was optimistic about the choice of terrain and more families were expected to follow.
In all colonies High and Low German only were used in church and school. Agriculture, with accommodations to the regional climatic and soil conditions, was the main occupation.
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."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)