Xocen

Monday, July 07, 2008

After a breakfast consisting of a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich and black tea, which tasted more like coffee, I said goodbye to Cherylie and Joe for the day and waited with my peers on the steps of the Meson for our transportation to Xocen. Garrett has become weaker with each day since our arrival in Santa Elena, so Sharon thought it best to see a doctor in Valladolid, leaving only six to venture to our first field experience in Xocen. Two prearranged taxis arrived and we climbed inside the musty, hot interiors nervous to meet our new host families. Though the ride to Xocen was short along winding roads, the open windows combined with the high velocity of the vehicle created a cyclone within the small interior. By the time we arrived most had undergone a drastic transformation in their appearances – for some hair was blown into a faux mohawk as I smiled at my peers crazy do’s. I was so thankful for my hair band and ribbon restraining my thick locks into a ponytail at the base of my neck.

Upon our arrival we waited for Don Teodoro and the other members of our host families before we embarked on a walking tour of Xocen. From a glance, the village of Xocen appears quite different from Santa Elena, quieter and more private. The glances and stares from the children made it all the more obvious that tourists are a very infrequent occurrence here. Walking along the small roads it was hard not to compare the nonperishable structures of Santa Elena to the sticks and thatched roof abodes of Xocen and I knew that family time here would not be sitting around a wooden kitchen table but in a very different setting.

After visiting the school, library, and church, I was greeted by Donna Venustiana with her welcoming smile. We walked side-by-side until we arrived at her home along with Donna Gregoria who rushed out into the yard to meet us and impart a warm hug, her eyes sparkling with delight through her large glasses. It broke my heart to meet the two young girls, identical twins, dressed in their matching huipils. It has been nearly six weeks since I have been with my twin, and seeing their smiling faces and arms around each other’s shoulders weakened my already uncertain emotional state. Thankfully I had two of my best friends waiting for me back at the Meson. Their home is comprised of a thatched hut with two worn hammocks, a hearth for cooking, two permanent one-roomed buildings for sleeping and religious worship, a small garden, and a pig pen for their two enormous pigs, and eight piglets.

We spent the day resting in the shade of the hut while getting to know each other and practice our Maya. The first few hours were spent making tortillas, while the two ladies asked me about myself. They complimented me on my tortilla-making skills, so I was quite pleased with the techniques that Donna Francisca had taught me in Santa Elena. Since I had been warned by Sharon, it was not a shock when Donna Gregoria asked if I had a boyfriend. Her response to my status in the dating department indicated that being single was the worst sin imaginable. But she proudly said, “You are too pretty not to have a boyfriend.” I was even more surprised by the ladies candidness when a tortilla placed on the griddle carelessly with a raised peak elicited much laughter. Donna Gregoria said in Maya, “like your boyfriend.” I suppose the largely separate life of men and women here makes for some interesting antics from the women as they spend hours around the hearth preparing the daily meals.

The afternoon was spent lounging in the hammocks until Donna Venustiana brought out her sewing to show us the huipils she was working on. It was amazing to watch her stitch the delicate flowers. When Donna Gregoria retrieved her own sewing I thought I was in for a very quiet and relaxing last hour until she passed me her stitching and commanded me to finish a brightly colored flower. I was extremely nervous and did not want to destroy the beautiful huipil with my poor craftsmanship, but it actually turned out quite well with Donna Gregoria’s direction. After saying goodbye to my new family and a short, hot walk back to Don Teodoro’s to get the taxis, I arrived back in Valladolid where I spent a short time by the pool soaking in the cool water with Cherylie and Joe. We took a quick walk outside the Meson to select a second huipil from the hundreds for sale before another wonderful dinner in the courtyard. Cherylie ordered Caribbean chicken which was prepared tableside, while I enjoyed chicken tacos, and Joe, not surprisingly choose pomodoro chicken.

Overall it was a pretty amazing day and I felt so comfortable with my new host family. I even felt like a small light bulb had been turned on in my brain as speaking and comprehending Maya became easier and easier. Even stitching a flower freehand on a Mexican huipil was exciting and I cannot wait to see what tomorrow will bring.

Ek Balam

Sunday, July 06, 2008

The morning began once again with the incessantly loud calls of the alarm clock screaming in my right ear from its spot on the nightstand. I enjoyed three fluffy pancakes for breakfast, as had already become my routine at the Meson in comparison to the egg omelet at the Flycatcher in Santa Elena. It was less of a shock today to see our dilapidated jalopy waiting for us at the entrance to the Meson. Unfortunately, it was with much hesitation that I crawled into the back of the taxi trying to avoid the most questionable stains on the upholstery since I had foolishly worn khaki Bermuda shorts.

It was a short ride to Ek Balam, where once again we were joined by an English speaking tour guide, who seemed no more than a teenager versed in the basics of Maya art, mythology, and daily life. Our tour guide spoke quickly though without certainty as to the meaning of his words as we whisked by the four sided arch and the small ball court to the main temple. Just like yesterday at the Nojoch Múul, Joe assumed the role of the official photographer as Cherylie began her ascent and I dashed to the top in a barely recognizable blur of khaki and blue. As we made our ascent, Cherylie discovered the fossilized remains of seashells within the stone steps and so she felt quite like the archaeologist making a grand discovery. I was actually surprised to see them myself and amazed at her perceptiveness.

Reaching the first platform I whirled around to face the vista of bright green and cerulean blue for my photo shoot with the world famous photographer at the base of the pyramid. Nearly a hundred frames later, at least that’s what it felt like, Cherylie finally arrived and we stood in awe of the stucco masks adorning the façade. It was quite different from anything I have seen on this trip and likewise it is hard to believe that something so intricate was preserved so well. From the top we saw an ancient chultun used to collect water with a gorgeous blue and green bird perched on the edge of the stone well, its tail feathers moving from side to side like the hand of a clock – tick, tock, tick.

On our return to the entrance we stopped to see a building undergoing excavation and restoration with many portions covered in a vinyl blue tarp and piles of stones waiting patiently for a place to call their own in the once crumbled temple. Everyone was physically drained, but I decided to climb one last temple solo before leaving Ek Balam behind. It was a quick task to climb the mid-sized temple for a wonderful view of the main pyramid across the plaza and Cherylie and Joe standing at the bottom like small ants.

Upon my return to the Meson, I ordered a cream of corn soup before retiring to our comfortable accommodations to work on my homework for class tomorrow. Cherylie and Joe decided to go on a walk to purchase more Xtabentun as gifts since Cherylie and I had sampled it yesterday during our outing. As we stood in the souvenir shop, the vendor presented us with a shot glass and a sip of Xtabentun, Cherylie’s face scrunched in a look of consternation as she thought, “Where did you get that glass, boy?” and “How many people have used this glass before me?” I could not help but bubble over with laughter, and I was sure Joe would get the same treatment with a shot glass whisked off the shelf and a cold bottle of Xtabentun produced for the delight of his taste buds.

Feeling less stressed about my homework, especially since the waiters are quite familiar with me already and are more than happy to help me practice my Maya, Cherylie and I finally got the opportunity to enjoy the sparkling pool just feet from the entrance to our room. It was so refreshing to soak in the water without a care in the world for once on this trip. As the afternoon progressed I heard the familiar sound of Leah’s voice and looked over my shoulder to see her smiling face standing on a balcony overlooking the pool. I was so excited to learn that Leah and I would be rooming together at the Meson since we both enjoy a room as a cold as an icebox.
With Joe feeling under the weather Cherylie and I went to dinner alone where we ordered a bottle of white wine to celebrate the wonderful memories we have experienced the last few days. I ordered pasta carbonara and was so eager to enjoy something as far from Mexican cuisine as possible, which was extremely light and extremely satisfying.

After finishing our meal I reunited with my classmates for a quick meeting to discuss the upcoming week. Garrett has finally succumbed to some illness, which would eventually affect all but me and one other student before the end of our adventure. I took a quick peek at my new accommodations, which barely compare to the luxury of the suite I currently reside in. I feel overwhelmed by the final week of my trip and worried about the stark difference in the two rooms I will occupy here at the Meson. All in all, I am anxious and nervous about tomorrows excursion to Xocen, especially since I will be sharing a host family with Christa.

Coba

Saturday, July 05, 2008


At seven o’clock the alarm screamed obnoxiously from its resting place on the wooden nightstand. This is the second morning of my weekend with Cherylie and Joe and so far I have learned one thing. Joe likes to pick one song to sing each morning over, and over, and over, and did I mention over again. Yesterday was a particularly good rendition of a song by Oliver Mtukudzi. Today, we were blessed with a performance of the lime in the coconut verse followed by another particular fruity number, the banana boat song. Just wait until tomorrow! Once again we enjoyed breakfast in our peaceful courtyard before beginning our tour to Coba. It was quite a shock as we climbed into the back of a taxi with a Spanish speaking driver for our short journey to the ruins. The taxi was like an ancient, dilapidated relic, which left me shocked that a travel agency would provide such a lousy means of transportation. The seats were covered in a worn, threadbare, dirty material, juxtaposed against the comfortable interior of the grand marquis that had taken us to Chichen Itza yesterday. I am sure that the three of us were all wondering what kind of travel agency we were dealing with here in Mexico. Our ride and driver to Chichen was extremely nice, so I was confused by the presence of a Spanish driver, as if they were not really prepared for our arrival. When we specified a private car and English speaking driver we never had this in mind. It certainly felt as if we had been misled. Regardless, we still had to get to Coba somehow, so we took the dingy taxi and sat in semi-silence as our driver did not speak English.

When we arrived at Coba an English speaking guide joined us for a forty five minute tour of the site. There were only a handful of structures restored in the main group, so we stood in the shade of a tree listening to the tour guide ramble off the most basic facts about Maya life, art, and architecture. A group of vultures were perched at the zenith of the principal pyramid, their wings opened in a strange dance with the sun silhouetting their strange profiles against the gray and black ruins. I felt as if our guide talked far too long and was only too happy to duck into an interior chamber with the sun pouring in through a small opening in the roof. I gave Joe my camera to take a picture of me in the small chamber. “The pictures all black,” he said. Only then did I realize I had given him the camera with the lens cap attached and so we had to repeat the process with tourists pushing their way in impatiently.

The Nojoch Múul, or big mound in Maya, was located quite a distance from the main group, thus we decided to pay for two rickshaws to the pyramid instead of walking the distance in the blazing heat. Joe’s rickshaw started with a lurch and soon was so far in front of us that he was a small dot in the landscape of green trees and brown dirt path winding through the overgrowth. Though my own rickshaw began at a much slower pace, we gradually picked up speed and even came within arms distance of Joe on his rickshaw like a royal throne carrying the king to the temple. We were even more satisfied when we reached the Nojoch Múul with our decision to purchase the rickshaws given the distance and the time allotted for our small excursion. I know that we would never have made it to the mound in time to climb the forty two meters to the top and return to the entrance in time for our departure.

As I changed from my worn black flip flops, thanks to small, sharp stones piercing through the sole at Chichen, into my sassy Privo shoes for climbing, Cherylie darted for the base of the mound and began her ascent placing each step carefully one after the other. And while her climb was not speedy, in any way imaginable, I did manage to switch views rather quickly from her backside as she ascended to her face in heavy concentration as I watched from the top. I wanted to laugh when she said, “If you’re waiting for me, you should go on ahead.” Well, in all fairness, I am younger and have climbed my fair share of pyramids. Joking aside, she made it to the top, both of us out of breath and sore from the climb. We waved to our official photographer at the bottom who had captured our arrival at the summit, since he had decided, based on our labored progress to wait at the bottom. We both spent several minutes catching our breath and rehydrating while appreciating the vista of green with occasional temples peaking a glimpse through the canopy of trees. I knew we had overstayed our welcome when a large dragon beetle flew out from the nearest treetop and hovered over our heads. It was perhaps the largest bug I have ever seen in my life! Fortunately m y prayers were answered and the beetle did not land on my head as I imagined it would, so we began our descent, which was more exhausting given our already weakened limbs.

Of course, once we had reached the bottom, feeling much like a bowl of jello, we had lost Joe and so we began our search for the third member of our party while wiping sweat from our faces with biodegradable wipes and drinking as much water as possible. Near the end of the plaza we found our photographer resting under a thatched roof and so we soon began our ride back to the main gate in our hired rickshaws. The breeze was extremely pleasant as we soared past tourists on foot making the long walk to Nojoch Múul. And our driver wasn’t about to let Joe win the race back either.

Upon our return to the Meson in Valladolid, Joe exited the taxi, tipped the driver, and began a marching band parade with his cane held high, raising his knees higher and higher with each step. Of course this talented display came to a screeching halt with the highly astounded sing-song “Jo-ey,” echoing from Cherylie directly over my shoulder, followed by laughter from all three of us. After a delicious lunch in our courtyard we decided to browse the nearby shops, visit the Yalat gallery where I would soon make my most expensive purchase, and try, being the key word, to pick a huipil from the hundred displayed along the square.

I began my search for the perfect huipil by pointing to one that showcased bright pink, yellow, and turquoise hues. “Mas grande,” said the vendor. “No, ma,” I replied. Both Cherylie and I motioned with our hands to represent a smaller huipil, at which point every lady lining the street began to present us with the smallest huipils. They must have been eager to make a sale, and so after debating over colors and patterns I finally settled on the very first small huipil that had been presented to me. In fact, it actually fits me quite perfectly. The rest of the evening was spent in quiet relaxation, no songs from Joe, and a wonderful shower in the largest shower I have ever seen. Dinner was equally as wonderful, at least until I was threatened bodily injury if I did not stop scratching my seventy mosquito bites. So far, four mosquito repellant brands later, and I am still too sweet for any of them to actually work. But we knew that already.

Arrival in Valladolid and Chichen Itza

Thursday, July 03, 2008

The morning started in a frenzy of anticipation as I awoke at the early hour of six o’clock, to restless to sleep, to finish packing my suitcase and putting my clothes back into the space saving bags. Very few rose for our final breakfast in Santa Elena. I feel like I am leaving the Giraffe Manor in Lengata, Kenya, thanks to the charm of the accommodations and the gracious hospitality of our hosts. I only hope that my path will lead me back to the Flycatcher in the near future.

I took a few last pictures of my small oasis in the jungle before hauling the red beast down the gravel and stone path to the van bound for the outskirts of Merida and its final destination in Valladolid. It seemed as if everyone was bound to a different direction on the map, and so with the last bag loaded into the back of the van and its five passengers comfortably spread out in the spacious air-conditioned interior, we were on our way.



Shortly after my last glimpse of the Flycatcher, the Chac Mol, and Santa Elena, John Tuxell turned to me and handed me our driver’s phone. “It’s for you,” he said. Who would even know my driver’s phone number in Mexico! So I took the phone, put it to my ear and whose sweet, wonderful voice should I hear but my very own Cherylie. Wait! How is that possible? She explains that they have already arrived and that their driver, who picked them up at the Cancun airport, mentioned taking an archaeologist and some students studying Maya along the Puuc Route from Santa Elena on Friday. He remembered Sharon, and he even remembered me. Later as my parents neared Valladolid, their driver was talking on the cell phone when they heard my name, followed by their driver asking if they would like to talk to me. It was such a shock to discover that their driver was on the phone with my driver on our way to Valladolid. Surely this proves that it is a small world.

The remainder of the drive was long, but uneventful, dropping John and his family off in Merida before arriving two hours later in Valladolid, at which point I tried to call my parents to tell them I arrived, but was unable to reach their cell phone since it does not have international roaming. So what’s a girl to do, but call her sister in Chicago to have her call her parents in Mexico to tell them that their wonderfully cute though probably unrecognizable daughter has arrived, at last. That’s when I heard a familiar cell phone ring and saw the shadow of someone sneaking up behind me to give me a giant hug.


We spent the afternoon in a jumbled flurry of conversation, hugging, laughing, and sharing pictures. I enjoyed lime soup for lunch, followed by shopping and walking around the central plaza. My room at the Meson is huge, light, and wonderfully cold, thanks to our remote controlled air conditioning. Everything is extremely clean and extremely new. The bathroom is bigger than my kitchen in my Chicago apartment, and the shower large enough to accommodate twenty individuals at once. The back wall of the shower is made of glass overlooking a small tropical oasis that at night creates ferny shadows from the small lights hidden in the gravel. It feels like I am showering in the middle of a tropical paradise. I like to keep all of the lights off at night, except for those in my private jungle.

Just outside our luxurious room is a glistening pool surrounded by deep green ferns, tall palms, and various types of strange fruit trees that occasionally drop their fruits onto the pavement with a plunk. Dinner was enjoyed by the glow of candlelight and the sound of water laughing as it escaped the mouth of a stone fountain. My pasta carbonera was light and tasty, a welcome change from Mexican cuisine, if only for a day. Tomorrow is our first excursion to Chichen Itza and the xK’éek’en Cenote, meaning pig in Maya.



Friday, July 04, 2008

It is hard to believe that today is July 4th and I will spend the holiday at Chichen Itza with two of my favorite people, minus one. This morning I awoke refreshed and energized for the long weekend free of class. Breakfast consisted of three fluffy pancakes with butter and syrup, as well as black tea, which like Kenyan, tastes more like coffee because it is so strong and takes quite a professional to add the right amount of sugar to tone it down. The atmosphere of our courtyard is extremely relaxing and peaceful. We departed at nine o’clock for our drive to Chichen Itza with our private tour guide who was friendly and very knowledgeable. I think that it made him a little nervous that I was a student of Pre-Columbian art, but unlike many tour guides he seemed to know more than just the surface fluff of Chichen Itza.



I suppose I assumed that seeing the Castillo and Caracol would be one of the most awe inspiring sights, yet I was more impressed with Uxmal’s Nunnery and Pyramid of the Magician. The Castillo almost does not live up to my expectations after so many years of study. In fact what is most impressive is that it stands alone, and at the early hour of our arrival, it appeared quite desolate in a field of well-trimmed grass against a sky filled with threatening clouds.

Fortunately the ballcourt left a much better impression with its sculptural facades and massive proportions. I found many examples of intertwined serpents at the site, which means more research! After ninety minutes or so we sat facing the Castillo in the shade of a few trees eating oranges and bananas generously supplied by our guide who insists on feeding them to his clients to prevent mopping his overexerted and dehydrated tourists off the ground later in the day. The dark clouds pushing themselves over the ancient city finally brought a quick morning shower that while brief, was extremely refreshing in the oppressive heat. We donned our hats to avoid the small droplets of rain, which fell with a plop on our shoulders and arms instead.

It is disappointing that Chichen Itza has become so commercialized that it is impossible to actually see anything except from the dusty earth at the foot of the many temples and complexes. As the hours passed the site became a Disneyesque attraction filled with hundreds of tourists bumping shoulder to shoulder in the blazing heat. The peace of the morning was long gone, and seeing the tourist industry at work reminded me of a similar feeling standing at the base of the Taj Mahal. Though we were quite hungry from the exertion of our morning activities we decided to continue on our expedition to the xK’éek’en Cenote. What was I getting myself into?

Upon our arrival we took a few short minutes to change into our swimming attire in a rather inadequate closet with a gaping hole near the knob. Soon we approached the mouth of a cave, and I could only imagine what we had gotten ourselves into. We clung to the ropes along the side of the steep steps into the belly of the earth, nearly bent in half to descend into the pit of darkness. I couldn’t help but imagine what punishment Cherylie would receive for demanding this adventure. The passage opened into a huge dark interior, a hole in the top casting a ray of light into the clear waters of the cenote. Bats flew in circles along the ceiling of the cave, weaving their way through the hairlike roots of trees that dangled into the dark abyss. We made our way carefully down the slippery moss covered steps into the chilly water, where large dark fish swam in circles near the walls of the cenote. It was an extremely different experience from the cenote at Dzibilchaltun in the open sunlight filled with the scent of flowers like an expensive spa treatment. Everyone found it amazing to gaze up into the void, but I could not help but imagine a bat taking a dump into my open mouth, so I kept my gaze averted to the shimmering depths of the cenote and the coolness of the water circulating through the network of underground tunnels.

After our swim I felt extremely refreshed from a morning spent largely in the sun. We enjoyed a lunch at the Cenote Zaci , which is partially exposed to the open air. It was so much fun to introduce my parents to the cuisine that I have become familiar with during the last few weeks. It was an extremely long day and so after returning to the Meson, Cherylie and I went in search of a huipil fit for a small Maya princess such as myself, while Joe took a much needed and well-deserved nap. Upon our return, more pictures and stories were shared before a quiet dinner in the courtyard. Tomorrow we are going for a shorter trip to Coba followed by an afternoon relaxing by the wonderful pool.

The Scorpion King

Monday, June 30, 2008

I awoke this morning knowing that I would have only a few minutes to myself at any given point during the day. We spent three hours this afternoon with our host families, while still attending a morning and evening class, in addition to a Maya Tsikbal Kaab, or spelling bee, and of course the ever torturous dancing. Class seems to be slowing down as we begin the final chapter in our textbook, marking the completion of six chapters and over three hundred pages of material in only five weeks. After class, Miguel drove us to our host families, since two of the homes are a thirty-minute walk from the Flycatcher. Leah and I are paired with Don Alfredo and Donna Francisca, the parents of Estella, who cooks all of the wonderful meals at the Chac Mol Restaurant. Their grandson is chan Miguel, our seventeen year old, sterner than stone, dance instructor. Don Alfredo and Donna Francisca own a small store that is attached to their house. They have a kitchen with a large table, tiled sink, and gas stove, a living room, bathroom, another room that serves as a pantry of sorts, and a typical Maya hut in the backyard that contains their stone hearth for cooking, cages for their turkey, rooster, and several chickens.

We spent the afternoon with Donna Francisca sitting at the wooden table in her kitchen reading the bible in Maya to perfect our pronunciation. I thought that it would feel awkward to sit in a complete strangers house, eating their food, and trying to converse to them in Maya, but Donna Francisca and her husband are extremely warm and gracious. Only minutes after we arrived they told us that while we were in Santa Elena we were a part of their family and that their home was our home. As I write this entry I have finished my stay in Santa Elena and already miss the wonderful hours spent with my family. It brings tears to my eyes, and I cannot imagine never seeing them again. It certainly makes me want to participate in level two of the program just to see Don Alfredo and Donna Francisca again. For our first day together Donna Francisca made chochinita piibil with black beans, cucumbers, and tomatoes. She even put Leah and I to work in the kitchen making tortillas for the very first time. We laughed all afternoon as we stood at the worn kitchen table spinning our tortillas around on the surface and trying to make them as thin as possible. Donna Francisca amazed us with her skill, as Leah turned out extremely thin tortillas that looked as if they had been chewed on the sides, and I the smallest tortillas with the prettiest, smoothest edges. Donna Francisca pointed with her tan finger and said, “jach jats’uts, chan waaj,” meaning “very beautiful, small tortilla.” Then she pointed to Leah’s and said “k’aas,” or “ugly.” We laughed until our sides hurt. Donna Francisca gave us each a beer, which she squeezed a whole lime into both and coated the top of the can with salt. Yum. Leah and I were stuffed from the most wonderful meal we have had since our arrival. It was truly an amazing experience and we could not wait to return the following day.

The beginning of our afternoon class brought my first encounter with a real live, scary, horrifying, spine-tingling scorpion perched above the door to our room. It was three inches of midnight black that made my heart sink. For the rest of the day the scorpion, no name, sat above the door like an unwanted visitor. Even as I unlocked the door after dinner and dancing its presence was felt. I still don’t know what was worse, knowing it was outside the room all night, or praying that it wasn’t in the room in the morning. Both scenarios caused much anxiety.

Before dinner, the level one and level two students participated in a tsikbal kaab, or Maya spelling bee. Students dropped out left and right as glottal stops and high accents were misplaced or missing altogether. Soon we moved from the one hundred words we had studied to the harder words we had not. Every time I approached the board my heart stopped. I listened, pushing my hearing and comprehension of the words to the max, and each time I managed to find the answer somewhere in my overworked brain. Soon it came to Grant, a level two student, Christa and myself. Sadly I misspelled the verb “to get drunk.” Well, since I don’t drink much, I guess I never thought the word was too terribly important. Third out of nine is not bad though, of course second would have been better. I’m horribly competitive.

After dinner we continued to master the three dances that we will perform on Wednesday in traditional costume before returning to my room, and waving good night to the scorpion.

Tuesday, July 1, 2008

Once again Donna Francisca had us practice our pronunciation from her bible while she prepared lunch. Today we enjoyed the traditional lime soup with a side plate of fresh bananas and melon. The soup was absolutely delicious – nothing can compare to the home cooked version of this Yucatecan dish, whole slices of lime floating across the surface with crispy tortillas piled atop each lime like passengers on a majestic vessel setting off to sea. Right before lunch Leah rose to wash her hands, the weight of her bag hanging on the chair toppling like a domino into a glass front cabinet. She was absolutely mortified when she turned around and saw that the glass was shattered in a million little pieces. My mouth hung open in astonishment, while Donna Francisca, who had a look of pure shock on her face, tried to calm Leah. “Accidento,” she said over and over and over. I felt so bad for Leah, and yet I was so glad that it had not been me. Donna Francisca was very compassionate and told Leah not to worry about something that was not intentional.

After dance practice, chan Miguel gave each of us our huipils for tomorrow night’s performance. While my pink and white terno was a marvel of delicate embroidery I found my skirt slipping off my waist, bunching around my ankles, and my top cut so large that certain parts that should not be displayed in public were generously accentuated.

Later I would discover that my huipil was the largest of the bunch. I am not sure what I will do for tomorrow nights performance, but one thing is clear – I cannot wear this huipil since my poor partner will see clear to my belly button when I bow, rotate under the ribbons, and spin around in circles.

I had a huge cramp in my upper leg during practice tonight and was forced to sit out of the last dance, which sadly means that I will be lost tomorrow for the final performance. I keep going over the steps in my head and now as I fall asleep the melody for our third dance keeps repeating in my mind like a broken record. I am actually nervous for tomorrow and hope that chan Miguel comes to visit his grandmother tomorrow afternoon as usual so that I may discuss my huipil malfunction with him.

Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Classes continued as usual with the twelve o’clock hour bringing our last trip to Donna Francisca and Don Alfredo’s cozy home. It took thirty minutes in the hottest part of the day to walk to the main plaza before turning left and walking another three blocks. Leah and I could tell at once that something unusual was occurring at our host family’s house. Everyday dozens of family members come and go, while today, family members, neighbors, and friends had gathered to prepare a feast. As we approached the house, the heavy wooden doors to the tienda were closed tight, sealing everything in except the amazing smell of something cooking. We walked through the parking space to the right of their home and into the backyard where Donna Francisca, several of her daughters, including Estella, and her closest friends were rushing around a central fire with a huge pot in the middle. The aromas were delicious as fresh ingredients were incorporated into the boiling pot. Hundreds of banana leaves waited patiently on the table behind us, piled high in glossy stacks of green foliage.

We spent the afternoon learning how to make tamales, and watching the hustle and bustle of our hosts all dressed in gorgeously bright huipils. As we retired to the kitchen for lunch, chan Miguel arrived and placed a plate of food beside us, the four of us eating, laughing, and talking about nothing and everything all at once. Much of our conversation focused on the excitement that was clearly felt throughout the town in preparation for the evening’s festivities. Fortunately I had the opportunity to discuss my terno complications with Miguel, when Donna Francisca’s daughter offered to lend me one of her huipils. Though I will be the only one wearing a huipil, I could tell at once that it was significantly smaller than all of the others. I was so grateful for her generosity, and could not wait to prepare for the event so that I could show off her gorgeous huipil with pride. One of the girls from the Flycatcher offered me a skirt to go with the huipil, and I cannot help but feel grateful for everyone’s contribution. Certainly, huipils are generally huge, but I just could not see how I was going to dance with a skirt down around my ankles and top falling from my shoulders and showcasing certain body parts.

Leah and I had prepared a letter to our family as a thank you, which Leah also included a few pesos to compensate for the damage to the cabinet. As soon as she handed the letter to Donna Francisca she spoke, “taak’in!” or “money.” She did not want to take it, but Leah pleaded with her, saying it would make her feel better. Donna Francisca gave us each a hug, handed her Maya bibles over to us and promised to see us dance at the evening gala. I could not stand leaving my family and now I feel a certain uneasiness about my Xocen family. They have large shoes to fill.

Our afternoon class brought us to a traditional Maya hut where the owner spoke to us in Maya about its construction, the various kinds of fruit and vegetables growing in the yard, and gave us a demonstration on how to make rope. As we tromped around the yard, our shoes were quickly covered in red mud, making me ever so glad for my Old Navy flip flops, which will take a bath in the shower and look good as new. After class, preparations began for our evening celebration. The light outside began to fade as I pinned my hair in a bun, added copious amounts of huge red flowers with the help of Leah, and put on my huipil for the first time. I was shocked when I looked in the mirror following the fiasco with my terno, but the red and orange embroidery went well with my skin tone and actually looked rather good. The embroidery was heavier than I thought it would be, but I felt girlie and festive for the first time on this trip. I decided to wear my silver filigree earrings, necklace, and ring, which added to the overall feel of a Maya princess.

We were served Pina Coladas when we arrived at the Chac Mol, which did wonders for my nerves. Sadly it would have taken many more to make my grand entrance as a dancer less stressful. I did not think that I would be nervous about performing, but as the minutes ticked by my appetite faded and my heart pounded quicker and quicker. I was so pleased to see all of the girls in their huipils and even more entertained by the guys in their white shirts and white linen pants. It was a wonderful sight to see the local girls that have been dancing with us arrive with the same red flower pattern on their terno’s. After a delicious dinner of tamales, everyone retired to the courtyard where the first notes began to play and the dancing begun. Seconds passed and my nerves calmed. We spun around the maypole praying that our memories would not fail. After completing our first rotation and the unweaving of the ribbons, it was obvious that things had not gone as planned. Still, we kept dancing, trying to avoid the tangle of ribbons still adorning the pole. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when the music stopped and the crowd clapped. Our final two dances were performed to perfection, as we were spun by our partners across the floor. Afterward, everyone selected someone from the audience to dance with in a freestyle jarana. Don Umberto agreed to be my partner, and it was the funniest thing to see him dancing like a pro and spinning me around in circles on the floor. He seemed like a Gene Kelley of Yucatec dancing and had the happiest grin on his face.

Tomorrow we will depart for Valladolid and our free weekend. I cannot wait to see the faces of my parents, tour several more sites, and share all of my experiences with them.

Ooh La La...

Puuc Route

Friday, June 27, 2008

I began my day earlier than usual as the group prepared for the Puuc Route to Labna, Kabah, and Uxmal, our journey taking from eight o’clock this morning until nine o’clock tonight. The kitchen had prepared a wonderful selection of baked goods, including chocolate muffins, cornbread, and banana nut bread. I never enjoy being a part of a group since, as is usually the case in my disciplined manner, I am always waiting around for everyone else to arrive. In fact, even our tour guide, Tomás Gallareta who worked at Labna, left everyone standing idly this morning and wondering why he or she had gotten up so early. The weather was strangely cool with cloudy skies and occasional rain showers. I was absolutely dreading the trek around the úuchben múul (ancient mounds) in the oppressive heat, but the day was surprisingly cool, though quite wet at times.

Our first stop brought us to the ruins of Labna, a small site that contains one of the two freestanding Puuc arches. Our umbrellas made occasional appearances as the rain clouds ebbed and flowed like the coming of a tide. The gray of the sky lent a sense of mystery and awe to the moss covered steps and rain soaked temples, which contrasted with the frequent plunking of raindrops on the surface of my umbrella. Experiencing the elaborate Puuc style for the first time certainly made an impression, each Chac intricately carved to perfection one atop the other. I was able to put my knowledge of the glyphs into practice with the appearance of a small calendrical inscription, which contained the Ahaw glyph, and offered a feeling of contentment in my ability to interpret the catalogue of information before my eyes. An interior chamber brought my first experience with bats, swooping fiercely over my head and shrieking in general disgust at their disturbance. I ducked as each dive-bomber swooped overhead and quickly retreated to the dull glow of the overcast sky.

As I return to my pictures of today’s excursion I am left with the overwhelming feeling that pictures do not impart a thousand words, as we so easily believe. Each corbel vault, lintel, column, decorative molding, and cornice cannot begin to exemplify the scope of standing in an ancient Maya city. Tomás Gallareta talked at length during our tour through each site that at times became quite tedious. During these forays into social organization and site planning I found myself placing a heavy burden on my two cameras, which returned with over one thousand pictures. Truly I could reconstruct a miniature three-dimensional version of the city in precise detail.

After Labna we made our way to Kabah, where a large palace complex sits majestically. Palm trees guard the ancient city, with tears dripping down their fronds from the early morning showers. It was as if the palms wept for the defeat of a magnificent era in art and architecture that could never be captured by the reconstructions of today. First we ventured up the narrow steps of the palace to the second terrace overlooking the large central mound. The rain soaked steps were slippery and our progress was slow. Sour orange trees dotted the perimeter of the palace, tiny raindrops glistening on their green skin like diamonds in the brief moments of sunlight.

We climbed from the level of the palace to the peak of the main pyramid where hundreds of stones, mostly decorative moldings waited patiently for a return that will never pass. My heart was overjoyed to see the twisted cord spiraling around the building in perfect detail, joined below by a floral motif of intricate rosettes, almost as if you could grab each petal in your hand or smell the fragrant scent. We crossed the main highway and walked quietly through the jungle to the second freestanding arch, which was even more impressive than the first in its solitary presence among the foliage. Tomás pointed down a partially cleared path through the trees, “There’s you shortcut to Nopat. Any takers?” Although the experience was amazing, I’ve had my fill of hiking, trekking, clinging to rocks and tree trunks, and removing ticks, at least for a few days. So I leave Nopat to its solitude.

After a rushed lunch of Yucatecan cuisine we arrived at Uxmal. I can still remember my first glimpse of the site as we emerged around a bend in the path. The Pyramid of the Magician stood as proud and unyielding as a king. Its presence is so grand that even hours after glimpsing its sturdy walls and upper temples from various viewpoints, it still offers an imposing façade that seems almost supernatural and reminds me of the myth describing its construction in a single night. As I moved beyond the gaze of the pyramid and around an upper terrace I was confronted with a beautiful ballcourt to my left, and the Nunnery Quadrangle to my right. Descending into the Nunnery finally brought the reality of this complex to life. I have studied the symbolism and art of this complex for so many years, and yet it never really made complete sense. As you stand in the middle rotating three hundred and sixty degrees, the Maya worldview confronts you in its many facets. It is overwhelming, in a way that the word overwhelming can never explain. Once again cords, intertwined snakes, and double headed serpents leapt from the surface of the stones to the heavily burdened memory stick in my camera. The Nunnery Quadrangle provides a perfect example of the twisted cord motif in its many manifestations juxtaposed with its very complex role in the Maya cosmos. I cannot wait to research this in more detail.

I left the quadrangle sadly, wanting to linger in its grand presence, but the ballcourt waited patiently. A sign reading, “Please do not hang from the ring,” made me laugh, but I am quite sure that it has happened or INAH would not feel the need to verbalize this decree of cultural respect. Next I came to the main pyramid, my thighs aching from my adventure at Nopat yesterday and my climbing exploits earlier this morning – it was like Cambodia all over again. The steps were incredibly narrow and even reaching the first landing left me gasping for air. I should have felt like I was clinging to the ancient stones with all my strength, yet it felt more like they held me safely in their sturdy arms, lifting me toward the top and the spectacular view of the Pyramid of the Magician and the Governor’s Palace. Roof combs projected above the treetops, sneaking a quick peek at the white-skinned visitors tromping around without much care, disturbing their sacred landscape.

The day seemed to drag on as the rain continued to fall in quick bursts and the humidity rose. Descending the pyramid was an act in patience as I took each step one at a time. The flat ground was a welcome retreat as I walked through the tall grass and a small field of red and blue wildflowers to the House of the Turtles. Dozens of stone turtles circled the roof of the building, though many limbs and heads vanished over the centuries. Finally we reached the Governor’s Palace, where unfortunately I was exhausted beyond belief and looking forward to getting off my feet with a cold glass of jamaica or a chelada. It was equally as impressive, but my senses were dulled by the hours upon hours of touring dark temple rooms, clinging to ancient steps, and getting mud slung up the back of my legs. We returned to the museum and shops of Uxmal where I purchased two phone cards and talked for ten precious minutes to my loved ones from the foot of the ancient mounds before a brief spurt of wonderful shopping.

After dinner we watched the light and sound show at Uxmal, which while rather tasteless in its narration, was worth seeing the shadows of the sculptural facades as each building was lit in different hues of the rainbow. As I sat in the center of the Nunnery my imagination created a portrait of the ancient ruins, as they would have appeared in the flash of small fires.

Saturday, June 28, 2008

The highlight of today was my lunch at the Pickled Onion, which is just a short walk up the main highway from the Chac Mol. A Canadian woman owns the picturesque yellow restaurant and yellow adjoining house, which means the food is typically American and safely prepared in bottled water. I enjoyed a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich with a glass of jamaica followed by a brownie just out of the oven. Three weeks ago the owner, Valerie, installed a small pool and so for the price of a meal you can relax in the refreshing water for hours. While I was unable to partake of this luxury today, I have decided to take a swim tomorrow following my visit to Sayil.
I walked to the Internet after lunch only to discover that it was closed and so I had to make a second trip in the blazing heat, returning to the Chac Mol around four o’clock to meet with a young Maya writer. Sharon purchased air conditioning for us since a large wedding reception was located quite near the Flycatcher in the hopes that it would help drown out the noise. The weather has been getting progressively warmer and so the chill that greeted me upon my return from dinner was most reenergizing.

Sunday, June 29, 2008

Today was a bit of a solo adventure for me. Since all of my classmates drank themselves silly yesterday, very few awoke for the eight thirty breakfast, which pleasantly included fresh banana nut bread. Thus I was left to create the itinerary of my dreams on my own time and not someone else’s. It was absolutely wonderful to be alone, except for the bird that decided to drop the digested version of its morning breakfast all over my right arm. Since in some countries this is a sign of luck, I interpreted this rather pitiful turn of events to symbolize the start of a splendid day. As I write this entry I am sitting in the shade at Sayil, awaiting the eleven thirty bus due to arrive twenty minutes from now. If at any point in your life you have the opportunity to tour a site solo, to be the single inhabitant passing over the ancient stone steps, don’t let it slip through your fingers.

After breakfast Sharon offered to drive me to Sayil since the Loltun Caves excursion was canceled and I really wanted to visit the site, even if it meant going alone. A short drive brought me to the archaeological site where Sharon introduced me to the overseer and his wife, who happens to be the sister of the gentleman that owns the Chac Mol. Sharon conversed with them for several minutes and introduced me as an acquaintance of Tomás Gallareta, which instantly gave me a free pass into the archaeological zone. It is absolutely amazing what a name can do. So I have wandered the ruins of Sayil by myself without any other tourists and just the dozens upon dozens of purple, orange, and yellow butterflies floating lightly through the air to keep me company, and of course that darn bird that left its morning bowel movement on my arm. I looked in both directions for something, or somewhere to wipe the foul substance, but alas I had only my other hand and a leaf. A shower is definitely in order upon my return followed by the prompt burning of my morning attire, which is covered in red Puuc mud from the dew-covered grass.

My goal this morning was to see the North Palace, which presents a splendid example of the diving god iconography assembled centuries before its appearance at the coastal site of Tulum. I am so excited to be alone except for the solitary squeaking over my shoulder that announces the presence of a gecko, whom I will not befriend and play tic-tac-toe with to pass the time. Yet, hangman has some definite potential if I change the name to hang ch’o’ kaan, (literally means “mouse snake”) which is the Maya term for gecko.

The overseer and his wife helped me practice my Maya until the bus arrived carrying tourists to Uxmal. My new friends made sure the driver would drop me off in Santa Elena, which is for all intents and purposes in the middle of nowhere. I sped off down the highway enjoying the continual bursts of air conditioning until I disembarked in Santa Elena. It was pretty exciting to see the tourist’s expression as they wondered why I was getting off in the middle of nowhere. Upon returning to my room, Catherine and I walked back to the Pickled Onion for lunch, which was followed quite shortly by several hours soaking in the sun and refreshing my spirits in the cool water of the pool. Once I returned to my room and the sun began to soak into my skin I found myself nodding off to sleep, only to wake at the hour of dinner.

Nopat

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Class days always pass very slowly and generally there is nothing too terribly exciting to share. My afternoon session was passed in discussion with Santiago, who has been working with Garrett and I on our Maya. In fact, our discussion sidetracked into hieroglyphs, and so tomorrow we are going to spend an hour with Santiago teaching him about the basics of understanding glyphs. I am really excited about being able to share my knowledge and passion for reading the ancient texts.

As night approached I was left wondering about what terrors would arrive in my sleeping quarters. I always expect a gecko and so each night that passes without one only makes the following night more likely for the return of Barney. Tonight was marked by the appearance of several, rather large beetles, thus I have named it “The Night of the Beetles.” These unwelcome visitors were easily removed and I fell asleep quickly after beginning my fourth novel, and the last one that I brought with me for enjoyment. I will have to read it slowly, but I predict that I will finish in about a week.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

This morning breakfast included fresh banana bread instead of toast, which was a wonderful surprise to the palate. For several days I have been praying for something familiar on my plate – my prayers were answered. As soon lunch was brought before me my eyes grew wide with anticipation. What was the cause of my excitement? A sandwich. I know it was just a sandwich with french fries, but it was the most deliciously appetizing thing I have eaten since I arrived. It is not that I don’t appreciate the local cuisine, but my taste buds were dying for some old favorites. Of course, since lunch was an unusually significant spot in my day, dinner was not. The kitchen had prepared a special dish not usually served to visitors and I can easily predict why. I cannot even think of how to explain the flavors involved in this meal, or the consistency. I would compare it to a casserole or lasagna, but made with a leaf and scrambled eggs molded into a semi-green, semi-yellow mound with a tomato-like salsa on top. Sadly, they had also prepared a juice from this local plant, which was horribly green and horribly unpalatable.

My walk to the internet this afternoon took nearly half an hour in the worst heat of the day which left me sweating in a room with no air conditioning, writing home on a very slow computer where I was attacked by a silverfish-like bug. On my return to the Flycatcher, Leah, Catherine and I stopped at the ice cream parlor for a frozen treat. I selected a lime ice cream, which was really more like a sorbet on a popsicle stick. It was absolutely amazing and certainly occupied my thoughts about the blazing sun on my walk.

Garrett and I spent an hour talking to Santiago about hieroglyphs and translating the frame on a mirror in our classroom, which is really a suite, since so many of the guests want to know what it says. We also helped him to translate Santa Elena, or Noh Cacab into hieroglyphs. I am very excited about going to Nopat tomorrow to see what ruins look like without being cleared, excavated, and restored. Several students have decided to skip the trip since they have so many things going on here, though what exactly that means I am not sure. I cannot imagine missing an experience like this, especially since someone that grew up here is going to show us around and share stories about his experiences as a child exploring the ruins. This is one of those adventures that you just cannot replace and no excuse is worthy of missing.

Thursday, June 26, 2008

We decided to visit the ruins of Nopat after our discussion regarding aluxes a few days ago with Santiago. It is an unexcavated site less than five minutes away on the main road before veering off into the jungle for nearly twenty minutes. We met at the Chac Mol around two o’clock where we climbed into the back of a truck for the windy, bumpy excursion through the jungle. The ride along the main ride was absolutely exhilarating as I clung to the metal framework with the wind coiling through my hair. The weight of the humidity on my lungs was quickly replaced for the first time since my arrival in Santa Elena making it possible to breathe with ease. After a few minutes of invigorating air, the truck quickly veered off the main road, drove past a field, and slipped into the mouth of the jungle as if the gaping green jaws of the forest devoured our small rusty truck, never to be seen again. We drove along a narrow dirt path like the main artery of the jungle, ducking quickly as branches reached out into our path to grab at our arms, necks, and hair. Leaves descended into the truck bed and only once we stopped for Santiago to cut a large branch hanging sharply above our heads, foliage falling like a winter snow onto our shoulders and backs.

Suddenly the engine creaked to a halt, we applied our last layer of bug spray, rolled down our shirtsleeves, donned our hats and walked off into the mist of the jungle. Throughout our journey the metal clang off machetes rang through the leaves. The chaos of leaves and earth was disorienting, but the silver hack of metal on wood served as an efficient homing beacon in the void. Soon our footing became unstable – brown, deadened leaves covered crumbling, ancient stones that rose sharply in a jumble like a jenga tower after it has collapsed. I climbed slowly, clinging to each stone above me, my knuckles already red and scratched from the branches scrapping along my skin as I clung to the bed of the truck. Minutes passed slowly, perhaps an eternity, and the trees cleared, my back straightened, and we stood on flat ground once more. The top of the pyramid peered majestically over the treetops for miles in every direction. Gray sky replaced blue sky and the clouds rolled in as the first raindrops fell, a strong breeze cooling the sweat on our face and arms. I stood between two parallel walls of stone, knowing that once this opening marked the summit of the main staircase. We descended quickly, clutching vines and tree trunks in our palms to sturdy our path. The solid ground below us brought an escape from the rains above, the abundant jade foliage like a thick cloak above us letting no drops pass to the ground below.

We hiked for many hours, first on flat ground, then on rigid, bumpy earth, the concealed rooftops of ancient Maya kings forming a new landscape of dirt, leaves, and trees sprouting from their roofs. Much of our time was spent picking our way along a precarious path across the vaulted roofs covered in trees and crumbling into oblivion. Many buildings only retained two or three walls, though one offered four with the original entrance no more than a small cavity as earth filled in and surrounded the lower half of the temple. I crawled in, ducking my head to avoid the low ceiling. When I emerged into the dark interior I placed my hand along the wall to sturdy my footing. I realized my mistake at once. A sticky residue coated my fingers, and even in the dark I could see the gray fibers of a very well, made thick spider web. Instinct quickly brought my hand to my pant leg and wiped viciously to remove the delicate textile.

Time seemed to stop as we trekked through the leaves; on many occasions I spotted the familiar Puuc X lying alone in the middle of a path, or half buried by other stones. A stela, split in half, showed the disintegrating form of a ruler. Sadly, all of this majesty will pass into nothingness. One temple brought us to a looters pit deep inside the cool darkness of the interior. Flashlights eerily illuminated our surroundings where a slab or rock along the ground had been removed. We crawled to the lowest spot, bent our backs and necks to peer into an underground tomb. The contents were missing, but my imagination filled in the emptiness with a lush setting of elite portable objects left for the underworld ancestors. It is unlikely that Nopat, which some believe to be as large and grand as Palenque, will ever receive funding to be excavated and restored. Most sites are maintained simply for the tourism industry. As long as Uxmal continues to bring in the business, Nopat will never receive attention. It is amazing that we have no idea what is there, no clue what we are walking on, and I want to know more than anything. Who will bring Nopat back to life? I am pretty sure that I want to be a part of that journey. Stephens and Catherwood visited many of the sites in the Puuc region, even Nopat. They drew the stone aluxes that have long been stolen from the site, but which Santiago remembers seeing as a child. He took us to the chultun that brought him his first encounter with the aluxes and how frightened he had been. My mind is filled with wonder about Nopat and the other sites that I will visit tomorrow, and I realize that while I am more than familiar with Catherwood’s drawings of the ancient ruins, I have never read their book, Incidents of Travel in the Yucatan. I’ll have to get a copy when I return to Chicago.

The ride back to Santa Elena seemed much shorter, perhaps because my mind was left exploring the ruins in detail wondering what lay beneath. Dinner passed quickly and soon we were dancing. Miguel has chosen three dances for us to learn and perform next Wednesday in full Maya regalia; secretly I think he has lost his mind. I can barely remember the steps for the first dance, let alone three. After returning to the room and showering, I was applying band-aids to my blistered feet when I discovered a strange looking scab on my heel. Though I have never had I tick, my mind told me at once what I did not want to believe. It was so tiny that the tweezers barely grasped it. It seemed to take forever, try after try after try. Peech, the Maya term for tick and the name I have chosen for this small intruder, must have been rather annoyed at this point with all of the prodding. Suddenly peech let go and started crawling, my tweezers quickly removing him from my skin. I am still shocked. Of course this prompted a very thorough search that produced another tick crawling across my back. At first I thought it was a freckle, but those are generally stationary, and this was of course moving. Now I am constantly checking freckles, moles, mosquito bites, and scabs – paranoia has definitely set in.

Santa Elena Surprise!

Saturday, June 21, 2008

Casa Catherwood proved to be a most delightful little bistro with an open air dining area lit by tiny lanterns and infused with the rich scent of incense rising slowly from the roots of several large palms. It was a high-class atmosphere and the food was delicious, sophisticated, yet not over pretentious. I enjoyed a foccacia sandwich with the freshest bread I have ever eaten in my life. The entire downtown area and main plaza was closed off from traffic, with restaurant tables pouring onto the main square and side streets like the roots of a giant ceiba feeding off the energy of the main truck, while musicians and bands set up at various locations for a night of good music and great food. We decided to take advantage of the excitement and atmosphere and found ourselves at Pancheco’s for drinks and popcorn. We walked through a beautiful dining area, past a shining bar, and out onto a patio concealed in the leaves of a jungle. The area was lit by tiny lanterns swaying in the cool night breeze from lush palm trees and strings of lights twisting around the thin trunks – their light dancing in the reflective glasses and tableware. I decided to try a frozen margarita jamaica, which was absolutely amazing and the prettiest shade of hibiscus pink. We were perched high above the rooftops among the palms overlooking the patio with a vista of colonial churches lit eerily by the full moon peeking out from behind the clouds.

Sunday, June 22, 2008

We departed Merida around noon today for the Hacienda Ochil. The scenery changed slowly from the hustle and bustle of the city to the rolling green hills and rocky outcrops of the Puuc region. We traveled via a large van, and found ourselves on the sweeping grounds of the hacienda in less than two hours. Lunch was served overlooking a large amphitheater of rocks and stone cut steps surrounded by lush vegetation. I have tried to be adventurous in my food selections, tasting as much of the local cuisine as possible, but what I really want now is a slice of ham, some scalloped potatoes, a serving of baby peas, and a side salad of spinach leaves, onion, dried cranberries, feta, and green bell peppers, topped with fried wonton noodles. At this point I would probably pay an arm and a leg for a chocolate chip cookie, offering up the most mutilated limbs of my body, probably the right leg, in exchange for some chocolate or even ice cream. Also a glass of iced tea sounds delightful, as all of these strange fruit waters, aside from the jamaica that I will truly miss, are leaving a trail of pulp and seeds in my mouth that I find rather distasteful.

After lunch we toured the grounds of the hacienda where we stumbled upon a silver shop that makes the most delicate jewelry you have ever seen. You could spend hours admiring the fine filigree work, but I don’t want to give too much away about my newest purchases that are sure to be a favorite.

Another hour on the road brought us to the small town of Santa Elena and my home for the next two weeks. My heart dropped as I saw the living conditions among the local population and the abundance of red clay earth that promises a rather disturbing mess when wet from the daily rains. We dropped the level two students off at the Sacbe, where I am delighted to not be staying, as the simple bungalows are practically one with nature. The guys were dropped off at the Chac Mol Hotel where we will be eating lunch and dinner, and once again I was also glad to continue on my way given the flock of geese and chickens wandering around the yard. Upon our arrival at the Flycatcher it became quite obvious that an American ran the bed and breakfast. The rooms are well decorated and extremely nice, with none of the oddities that you usually find in the décor of a foreign hotel. After winning the coin toss, I choose the brighter of the two rooms, which while smaller than the other is not located out in the middle of nowhere. Because it is smaller the fan circulates the air more efficiently, and so I was glad of my choice, or at least I thought I was until after dinner.

It has happened many times, so I should not have been so surprised, but no matter how nice a place is it still becomes a nightmare after dark. Upon our return from a late dinner and local entertainment, I was distraught by the sudden appearance of a gecko on the ceiling directly above my pillow. Catherine is extremely easygoing with the appearance of bugs and lizards and has removed several creepy crawlers to the outside. She was more than willing to switch beds, which left me farther away from the gecko but without the breeze of the fan on my face. I read for a while before Christa knocked on the door and Catherine left to direct her to her room. Of course, Barney, as we have decided to call the gecko, took this opportunity to move around and facilitate much uneasiness on my part, before slipping out the crack above the door - the only reason that I slept peacefully and my heart returned to its normal pace. This does not make me happy in the least and I feel very uncomfortable with my sleeping arrangements for the next two weeks, dreading my return from dinner to see what creatures of the night will inhabit my room.

I have now counted a total of forty-three mosquito bites on my body that are swollen and red. No amount of deet seems to keep them away. Moreover, no one else seems to be afflicted by the same level of bites, nor are they as irritated as the ones covering my body. Pretty soon it will look like I have a bad case of the chicken pocks, and I can only imagine how great I will look on my first day of work wearing a skirt with fifty giant mosquito bites screaming for attention on my legs.

Monday, June 23, 2008

The days are always better than the nights, but as the hours pass my spirits sink with the setting of the sun. I absolutely dread what I will find when I return to the room after dinner. I was very hot last night and awoke many times to rinse cool water over my face. We have learned that the Flycatcher does indeed have air conditioning, but that it will cost us an extra ten dollars a day. While the price of my sanity makes me more than ready to dish out the pesos, my roommate is not so eager, which means that I suffer two-fold.

I am really not sure what to do about the situation, especially given that we have three free days this weekend, which will be spent largely relaxing in our stuffy, humid room. What is even more frustrating is that the guys at the Chac Mol don’t have to pay out of pocket for their wonderful air conditioning. I have also found it frustrating that our visits to various museums are not pre-paid, but rather that we are expected to pay the admission ourselves. Shouldn’t the program cover these fees…if not, what exactly did all of that money pay for?

Once again the room appeared welcoming as the morning sun reached through the leaves of the jungle and seeped through the sheer drapes floating over the windows. Class resumed in the main suite of the Flycatcher after a simple breakfast of fruit and toast. Our hosts at the Flycatcher have removed the beds from the suite and replaced them with tables, chairs, and a large dry erase board. Our morning classes last from nine o’clock until noon, while our afternoon sessions run from five o’clock until seven and are taught by Santiago, who runs the Flycatcher with his American wife. This afternoon Santiago shared stories with us about aluxes, the Maya forest spirits.

After dinner Miguel, our Maya dance instructor, began to teach us the araña, which we will be expected to perform in full costume next week. I cannot imagine how silly we will look in our huipils and traditional dress, especially in combination with our inadequate attempts to learn the very difficult steps of the araña. Pablo and I are the only two that have been paired with a local from Santa Elena, which, at least for me, makes for some very difficult attempts to master each step as I speak very little Spanish and Ricardo speaks no English, so we are left with only Maya as our means to communicate.

My right index finger, thumb, and palm is suffering from an irritating heat rash that seems to be spreading with each day and is becoming increasingly irritated with the heat and sweating. The number of mosquito bites covering my body continue to escalate each day, especially after an hour outside in the courtyard at the Chac Mol learning to dance. I was extremely thrilled to find absolutely no geckos this evening, and even the removal of a rather large arachnid did not rattle my nerves, though sleep is still difficult given the heat.

Seven Dolls, spiders, and cenotes...oh my!!

Friday, June 20, 2008

We took a taxi to Eladio’s this evening and for the first time all seven of us ate dinner together. After ordering drinks, I had a Chelada, we were brought between eight and ten tiny plates of authentic Yucatecan cuisine…almost tapas style. We passed the dishes around and everyone sampled the delicacies, while listening to the live band. It was an evening filled with much laughter and everyone letting down their guard for probably the first time. After our many free appetizers everyone decided to order soupa de limon, a lime soup with chicken, tortillas, tomatoes, and onions – very tasty. The lime flavor is amazing. Most of the group went out for more drinks following dinner, but I was exhausted, as were a few others, so we opted for bed.

Saturday, June 21, 2008

It was another early morning and I could feel the heat seeping in from under the door. After a quick breakfast, always pancakes and scrambled eggs, everyone but Christa hoped aboard a very comfortable little bus for a thirty minute ride to Dzibilchaltun, where we met with Ruben the archaeologist that runs the site. He only spoke Spanish, so Pablo translated for us, but he was very patient and a wonderful tour guide. The two ends of the site are connected by a long sakbe; at least it felt long in the heat. We started at the Temple of the Seven Dolls where we climbed to the top to find a most pleasant breeze. Ruben led us through the many pyramids, up their crumbling steps to see stela, and even down into their dark interiors to see stela embedded in the walls. One such foray brought me face to face with a rather large spider. It was like being back at Angkor Wat, holding the excess of my skirt in one hand and feeling the burn in my thighs as we climbed each step to the top. Ruben took us to the far reaches of the site to see the ballcourt and even to the unexcavated portions where tourists are not permitted.

After wandering around the site for three hours, our cameras suffering from too many photos and our bodies from a combination of too much heat and dozens of new mosquito bites, we took a refreshing swim in the Cenote Xlacah. There were many lily pads floating across the surface and hundreds of little purple fish dancing below the surface; the crystal blueness of the water was so refreshing and a welcome relief from the heat. In fact the water even smelled like flowers. The rocks around the cenote were covered in lush carpets of spongy green algae and reddish purple leaves drifted across the surface. It was an absolutely amazing feeling to splash in the cool water with the crumbling remains of the ruins standing watch.

This evening we are going to the Casa Catherwood for dinner, which has a museum upstairs housing the original Catherwood prints. I cannot believe that I am going to see the originals, in addition to seeing the Xiu family genealogy this morning at the museum in Dzibilchaltun, a sixteenth century document that I have been using in my research on the twisted cords. Tomorrow we depart for Santa Elena with a stop at the Hacienda Ochil. The mosquito bite tally has risen to twenty-three, all except for four are on my feet, ankles, and lower legs. The last four of which are on my shoulders…and as I am writing this I have just found number twenty-four on the bottom of my heel. I miss my built in photographer; I even set the camera on the self-timer a few times. It just seems like anytime I ask someone to take a photo they do a really bad job. Leah took a great one though and so now you will have the first of the photos…enjoy. I wish that this had been more detailed, but I wanted to get something up before tomorrow and will probably add more to this posting later.