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.

Arrival in Merida

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

We arrived in Merida after hours upon hours at the Raleigh-Durham Airport and Houston Airport. Customs and immigrations took an eternity since only two booths were open, a result of the late hour, and sadly no stamp or visa in my passport, though I did get a tiny form with stamps on it to keep inside my passport during the duration of my stay. I felt like the diva of the group with all her luggage, except for Sharon who had equally as much. Such comments as “Oh my god, your suitcase is enormous,” or “Shit, we could fit you in there,” don’t help to lesson the glares of my classmates, though two in particular seem to have gone out of their way to make me feel like an overdressed, over-packed, high-maintenance Paris Hilton. I predict that in the days to follow they will discover that they are unprepared and lacking certain necessities. In fact, I am told that if I’m not careful someone might just slice off my ear for my earrings. When people make such naïve comments like this I can’t help but think about all the places I have been and know that Mexico could not, and as I will soon find out, cannot be grouped on the same level with India or Myanmar.

It is hard to make any sort of judgement about a city when your first glimpse is in the dark. I remember having a similar feeling during my first few hours in Cambodia, which soon evolved into one of the most amazing experiences of my life. My first impressions of Merida are unfairly based on the airport, which was hot, the queue at the taxi, which was overly lit and swarming with bugs – I didn’t even have my bug repellant on yet – and the ride in the taxi, which was bumpy and awkward. Riding in an enormous van for 200 pesos, about twenty dollars, the four girls in the program and Sharon made a quick stop at an ATM in the city since the bank was closed at the airport. I refuse to use an ATM, especially in another country, so I will be broke until tomorrow when I can locate a currency exchange. I was glad to see that Leah was waiting for the same opportunity. In the shadows of the night I saw what promises to be some beautiful architecture, though as I have seen it happen before, it could melt away from the ghostly silhouette of an exotic sleeping city with the first rays of the sun.

The outside of the Hotel San Juan leaves much to be desired and I could feel my heart sink as we approached the front lobby. It is simple, hot, and the rafters are dangling in dusty webs of gray that remind me ever so strongly of the Muratie Wine Estate in South Africa, a place you would never walk through completely upright, but bent forward so as to avoid the streamers of cobwebs, and hoping that they are not frequented by their creepy owners. After we reached the second floor, I walked around the corner to an inner courtyard overlooking a beautiful pool that has some pretty amazing potential for the daylight hours and is truly the only light in this dark tunnel. The pool sits expectantly at one end of the unlit courtyard reflecting the light of the moon and the various plants surrounding its walls. Small bistro tables are arranged at the other end with umbrellas, though everything is hushed to a quiet grayish blue tone in the night hours. Upon entering my room I was visually assaulted by a bright pink wall and frilly bright pink duvet on the bed, almost as if a flamingo had vomited on the sheets and walls. The furniture is well used, scratched and faded to a dull finish, but the bathroom, bed sheets, and floor all appear to be quite clean and I have yet to spot a creepy crawly of any kind, including those that appear to inhabit the lobby downstairs.

The first task involved tinkering with the air conditioning unit. Secretly, I was prematurely cursing our luck for being assigned the only room with a malfunctioning unit, when Leah coaxed it into life. I took a brief shower, which has a rather short wall and door that foreshadow some very interesting issues in privacy. In fact when Leah walked outside to talk Pablo, Garrett, and Patrick the door to the bathroom was sucked open and I was left hoping that Leah would prolong her chat until I had sufficiently finished my shower and retrieved my clothes. There is now a nice chill in the room and I am ready for bed, hesitantly, but ready nonetheless.

Leah and I chatted in the dark like best friends at a slumber party until falling asleep, and it is nice to finally have the opportunity to connect with someone else on the trip that is close to my age.

Thursday, June 19, 2008

I woke up this morning around six o’clock unable to go back to sleep. A grayish light is pushing its way through the twenty-four little glass panes on the windows, creating a gray and white checkerboard over the white sheets on my bed. Another beam of light is slowly creeping onto the white tile floor from under the crack of the heavy wooden door. My sleep was peaceful except for the back of my earrings pushing through the skin on my neck. Considering how hot it was upon our arrival last night I am left clueless regarding the state of my wardrobe today, knowing that I will be uncomfortable no matter what I wear. An hour has passed and I am hesitant to get up and disturb my roommate on the first day. I cannot wait to see the courtyard in the sunlight. I hope that it will be easy to locate a currency exchange this morning during our tour of the city so that when the lunch hour arrives I will actually be able to purchase food myself instead of ingratiating myself with someone else on the trip who utilized the ATM last night.

Breakfast was served poolside and consisted of pancakes, scrambled eggs, toast, orange juice and coffee. After pancakes, I grabbed a small box of Frosted Flakes hoping they would serve as a last resort if my granola bars suddenly disappeared before my next meal. Our hotel is situated next to the beautiful park of Saint Lucia; there is a cambio exchange around the corner, and a pharmacy/drug store on the opposing street. Before departing for our tour, Leah and I walked down the street, passing colonial architecture, hotels much finer than our current establishment, and a colonial church where we discovered the cambio exchange, our pockets thicker after our departure from the Mexican pesos. We set forth for our tour from the Saint Lucia Park, spending two hours on an open bus seeing church after church after church. The air was extremely heavy and thick from the heat, which made it difficult to breath – the warm wind from the movement of the bus a welcome relief. Aside from the fact that I saw dozens of colonial churches, French and Spanish style mansions, and nearly twice as many parks as churches, I could not provide someone with the names or places that I traveled to this morning. We never debarked the bus for a walk in the various plazas, and for the most part nearly everything was better viewed from the left aisle of seats than from my location on the right.

Upon our return to the Hotel San Juan we ventured to the Palacio Canton, the Museum of Anthropology, taking much longer than I expected due to some over zealous photographers in our group. I am not sure why someone would want to document every single item in the museum, rather than actually see the artifacts at the sites themselves. Christa did not join us on our tour, and as a group we found ourselves down to six for the remainder of our siesta hours. We had to walk back to the hotel after the museum, and I am not exaggerating when I say that everyone, myself included, was dripping in sweat from head to toe. Leah calls it glistening, since the epidermis seems to take on a shiny, reflective quality, instead of a thick coat of sweat in a few regions. It was a relief to sit in the large throne-like chairs in the lobby for a few minutes before everyone decided that food was the next priority. I suggested the Café Santa Lucia around the corner, which overlooks the plaza, and naturally it was unanimous. I was particularly drawn to the place when we passed it earlier due in large part to its upscale appearance, and it did not disappoint.

Everyone decided to try a Yucatecan dish, except for Catherine who ate pizza. Catherine let me try her Chilada, a drink served in a tall glass with salt around the rim, limejuice and beer. It wasn’t too bad, kind of bubbly and perky in your mouth. Leah and I both enjoyed Queso Relleno, a chicken and green olive dish wrapped in melted cheese and served in a creamy tomato and cheese sauce that can be eaten as is or in a tortilla. It was extremely good, as well as filling, and I can see myself taking most of my meals there. It is certainly a convenient location, which means less walking, and as a result, less sweating.

During the last hour of my siesta at the Hotel San Juan, I could see the light passing through the twenty-four panes change from the warm yellow hue of a fierce sun to the cool periwinkle of a sky filled with melancholy rain clouds sent by yuum cháak, the god of rain. Our walk to the Palacio de Gobierno to see the Pacheco murals, a student of the famous painter and muralist Diego Rivera, was punctured by the sharp ping of raindrops on our heads and arms. We passed many sights and shops in a rush that I would like to visit in my free time for pictures and shopping. The rain continued to fall as we walked to the Unidad de Ciencias Sociales, which is where our Yucatec professor works, for a lecture on the henequen boom. With each leg of our outing we got farther and farther away from our lodgings, which means traversing an unknown path back to our hotel in the darkness of night.

After the lecture I went to dinner at Alberto’s, where the group was introduced to many friends of the program, including the famous writer Don Domingo Dzul Poot and an anthropologist from the University of Chicago, John Tuxill, who teaches the Yucatec program there, and the Yucatec Maya level two students. The inside patio of the restaurant was draped in exotic deep green foliage, which clung to the walls like an appliquéd quilt, interspersed with tiny sequins of light. It was already dark by this time so the interior of the restaurant was lit with candles, while the sound of rain plunked away on the tables in the overgrown patio. My feet were soaked from the rain, and I felt like a sticky blob sipping wine and waiting for my meal. It felt poetic, though surely ironic as well, when I heard Gabriel’s Oboe playing in the background.

Friday, June 20, 2008

I slept extremely well last night. The sun, heat, humidity, rain, and walking really takes a toll on your body. Dinner lasted until nearly ten thirty last night and so, after a quick shower I found it very easy to fall asleep just seconds after my head touched the pillow. This morning we walked back to the University for a lecture on Xocen. I have counted a total of six mosquito bites, all on my feet and ankles. In fact, I even have one on my big toe, which is slowly driving me to insanity. It is another unbearably warm day, but following the lecture this morning we have two days free, which means plenty of time in the pool.

We ate lunch overlooking the main plaza where I ordered an agua de jamaica, a cold drink made from brewing hibiscus leaves. It was extremely refreshing and the bright fuchsia hue pleasing to the eye. I was even more surprised that lunch only cost the equivalent of four dollars. We spent a good amount of time browsing a popular bookstore, where I bought a few children’s books about the Maya, unfortunately not written in Yucatec, but I will probably go to another bookstore near our hotel where I am told they have Maya literature. Finally, the time for shopping arrived and I purchased three items for two of my favorite people, sadly I haven’t been able to determine a gift for my third, though certainly not last, favorite person. We had planned to go to the market this afternoon, but after talking to several locals we discovered that it closes at three and that is only ten minutes from now. We are going to take a taxi to a restaurant this evening that Christa has recommended and I picked out a place for dinner tomorrow on the main square.

I can’t wait to go to Dzibilchaltun tomorrow and it seems that everyone besides Christa will join us. We have discovered that there is a cenote located in the center of the ruins, and that it is the only cenote within ancient Maya ruins that you can swim in. Though it is extremely hot, I am comfortable with out hotel arrangements, and knowing that things will change in two days makes me a little hesitant. Hopefully our next locale will be equally as comfortable. I can handle the lack of air conditioning, but please no bugs!

It is raining again, which leads me to believe that four o’clock will be the hour of wetness and misery here in Mexico. I had planned a dip in the cool waters of the pool, but now I am stuck indoors waiting for our dinner excursion this evening. We went to the UNAM bookstore where we stumbled upon s short collection of stories in Maya, which I bought in addition to a beautifully illustrated children’s book in Maya and Yucatec-English Dictionary so that I can cut out the middleman so to speak with the Spanish Dictionary. Catherine managed to contact the couple that runs Dzibilchaltun, and so we are going to have a ten o’clock tour of the site tomorrow morning.

x-Jeder signing out from Chapel Hill

Thursday, June 12, 2008

Sharon, the director of the program, gave a lecture today on the Mexico itinerary and events in Merida, Santa Elena, Valladolid, and Xocen approaching ever so quickly. The most unexpected news was the change in hotel during our Merida portion, which will now be at the Hotel San Juan. I will be rooming with Leah during our stay, which promises to be an interesting experience as we both try to tweak, pull, twist and beg our curls into some form of semblance. I think that everyone was shocked to learn that we are going to be individually assigned to a family while in Santa Elena and Xocen, which is a bit intimidating. Apparently, the arrangements in Santa Elena are at two different locales. The three guys will be housed at the Chac Mol in single bungalows with air conditioning, while the four ladies room in doubles without air conditioning at the Flycatcher Bed and Breakfast. Logically, this just doesn’t make sense to me.

It is a little daunting to know that I will spend about five or six hours a day with a Yucatec family, helping them to prepare their meals, partaking in their daily chores, and trying to overcome the language barrier. I feel like there are so many unknown variables in this trip that I will have to adjust in the blink of an eye. I am trying not to freak out about the lack of air conditioning in Santa Elena since we are there for two weeks, but it would be a nice surprise to find out that they have recently added this amenity. On the other hand, it will give me plenty of opportunities to practice saying, “It is hot, it is very hot,” in Yucatec.

Friday, June 13, 2008

The worst part about today is that it is Friday the thirteenth and my mind cannot help but stray constantly to another Friday the thirteenth, the weight of a small bronze urn around my neck a constant reminder. I wish more than anything that I were with my best friends in the whole world to celebrate the life of someone so special to me. Yet I am alone, again, and no one here could know how truly alone I feel today. How can I celebrate Nana’s life in some small way? I had hoped that I would at least make it back to the comfort of my apartment on campus before the tears came to my eyes, but it is hard to listen to others talk about their Friday the thirteenth feelings and feel like you are the only person in the room that actually knows what an awful day it truly is. I hope, or rather, I know that she is watching me, and that whenever I feel alone during the next four weeks that she will be right beside me. I never thought that she would be gone so soon, my Never too busy, Always available, Nurturing, Angel of mercy. So this is how I remember you, that classy lady with a keen and saucy wit.

This morning we talked about our Yucatec names and waited patiently as everyone received a shortened version for their time in Santa Elena and Xocen. There is always someone in the group that everyone gets to laugh at, or with, and x-Jeder, my Yucatec name, was certainly the class favorite, though I was laughing just as hard with them too.

We were given a translation exam to complete over the weekend and I am pleased to announce the title, “Sak Nik Te’ and the Three Jaguars.” Catherine and I have already spent a good bit of time working on our translations and laughing quite a bit. Secretly I am hoping for a little twist, perhaps a tidbit of Little Red Riding Hood to make it interesting.

After class Catherine and I went to Weaver Street Market to pick up a few groceries before returning for an early bedtime. During our ride on the bus, another passenger asked me what language my textbooks were in. He really didn’t seem to know who or what the Maya were, and asked if studying the language was useful. As soon as Catherine and I got off the bus we reenacted the conversation interspersed with bursts of laughter. Is it useful?!? Well, we certainly hope so! Tomorrow we have a hieroglyph workshop that will last four hours and I hope to finish typing up my notes.

Monday, June 16, 2008

It is so hard to believe that two weeks have passed and that Wednesday brings the start of the real adventure. My perceptions and expectations for the next four weeks keep changing with each new tidbit of information regarding our time in Mexico and even each new phrase that I learn in Yucatec. The weather has become quite pleasant the last two days – almost a calm before the storm, which of course at this point my emotions are quite turbulent like a stormy sky frequented by a glistening beam of colors from horizon to horizon.

Class continues to pass as the snail travels, or as we say in class as a turtle’s tear falls. Today seemed to be a day of crunching and munching every last ounce into our brains for the test that we are to endure each day during our stay with a Yucatec family. Of course, everyone is a bit unfocused as excitement builds, which is probably why the class discussion quickly veered into things that should not be said in English, and definitely not in Yucatec. Needless to say, one phrase sounds quite similar to a term we have known since the very first day of class, so everyone has vowed to stay completely away from the number three, even if it means lying.

Tomorrow we have an oral quiz, which I am trying not to stress over, and a presentation. I rather doubt that either activity will pass with much attentiveness on the part of my fellow classmates, and perhaps even myself. All I can think about is packing and the one trillion and one emotions running through my head. I don’t know what my Internet access will be like in Merida, but this will be my last post for a few days. I have some wonderful opportunities and contacts available in Merida, hopefully a morning trip to a nearby ruin and some time to explore the city.

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

I could definitely tell that today was the last official day of class before our adventure begins in Mexico. I seemed to be moving like a feather dropped from a skyscraper. Everything has been done in a rush, but with the most slug-like progress. This mornings class passed in a complete blur, even the oral quiz is already a distant memory. I felt like one of my questions lasted an eternity; even my classmates said, “I don’t remember a time when Heather wasn’t answering a question.” I cannot wait to have my presentation finished so that I can finally pack for Mexico and relax before our long day in various airports tomorrow. I was able to read some of Betty and Bob’s blog and found myself fighting back tears when I thought about looking out of a window to see the Explorer. I hope that I will have a chance to check their blog a few times during my trip. This is x-Jeder signing out from Chapel Hill, as they say, one heel of a town…till next time. Mexico awaits!

Megan in wéet ichil tu meen to’one’ iicho’on

Monday, June 09, 2008

It is hard to believe that this is the beginning of our second week in the program. My mind seems to be working a bit slower today, perhaps because Monday marks the start of a very long week ahead of us. Both classes seem to drag on for hours; days, weeks, or even whole seasons could pass while the seven of us sit in room 3033, yet we would never know since eternity seems to be ticking away within the confines of the classroom walls. The weather continues to be oppressive, forcing me to alter my morning routine to include a quick sprits of water to my already curly hair and a colorful ribbon to coordinate with my outfit.

During our afternoon class we split into three teams, Pablo, Garrett and I as the chakay, loosely meaning lobster, though the red fish is more accurate. It was a fierce competition in conjugation but of course the red fish won, claws down. After class Patrick, Garrett, Leah, Catherine, and I walked down to Franklin Street for pizza at Peppers, try saying that five times fast, where I enjoyed a white pizza with feta, fresh spinach, sliced tomatoes, and red onions. Oddly enough when you get a bunch of academics together they do nothing but talk about academics and literary pursuits. In fact we spent most of the time chatting about interesting books and movies before deciding that everyone should prepare a reading list to share with the group.

It was quite painful to return for another two hours of class after completing six hours already in quiet misery interspersed with bursts of laughter which only prompted quick glances at my watch to discover that two or three minutes had passed since my last peek. Though the movie was quite informative, even for a second viewing, I could not help but feel my heart sink as the minutes neared the hour of the final bus home. Sure enough, as Catherine and I dragged our barely alert bodies up the hill the final RU bus whisked by in a blur of white and blue, its orange digital letters mocking us in the growing darkness. The twenty-minute walk back was spent in stressful contemplation of our quiz tomorrow and the pile of homework left to complete.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

The only thing positive about Tuesday is that it’s not Monday and it’s one day closer to Wednesday, the midpoint of the week. My brain seems to be functioning a bit better today, at least mentally I am feeling more awake and prepared for whatever Yucatec is tossed before me today. We have finally moved into the past tense, so it is quite a relief that I can now actually say that I ate something, instead of constantly eating ja’as, bu’ul, and waaj (bananas, beans, and tortillas). I woke up thirty minutes earlier this morning to review for the quiz this afternoon and spent another ninety minutes studying over lunch, in addition to the hour spent in preparation last night. The material is overwhelming and memorizing a whole dialogue in one night is definitely testing my cognitive abilities, and reminds me of studying hieroglyphs for my weekly quizzes last semester, which after a few hours quickly turn into meaningless spaghetti spirals.

Shortly after taking the quiz we were handed our grades for the last two quizzes, which I am pleased to say that I received a perfect score on both. We spent most of our time this afternoon on definitions of relationships in Maya, which I will share my favorite with you here. Megan in wéet ichil tu meen to’one’ iicho’on. Loosely translated, Megan and I have the same/similar face because we are twins.

It has been a pretty relaxing evening drawing intransitive completive and transitive completive scenes for class tomorrow, my stick figures tapping their tiny stick fingers on crooked piano keys, drinking wine from glasses with tiny stems, and comically smiling as they purchase red and white flowers. I have spent about an hour typing notes from the last two days and feel a tinge of hesitation in pursuing this activity further tonight. Instead I will try to get through a few pages on the caste war and talking cross in Mexico, definitely with a glass of wine and brownie chocolate chip cookie, before perhaps turning to a few minutes of reading purely for enjoyment and bed.

Jach k'iilkab

Thursday, June 05, 2008

Jach k’iilkab. It is very hot! Today was a sizzling ninety-seven degrees and from the moment that I walked out the door I knew that I was bound to be a puddle on the pavement. Both the morning and afternoon class have melted away, along with my sanity, and were marked by an air of hilarity, a sure sign of the upcoming weekend.

There are still moments of prolonged silence and passing glances as my classmates and I get to know each other better, yet there are flashes of some future friendships built upon laughter, sweat, torturous oral quizzes in Yucatec, and beating grammar over our heads. The seven of us create an interesting blend, one of those Ben N’ Jerry’s concoctions with a really cool name like the boox báalam, or black jaguar, a blend of laughter, distance, sincerity, and even some differences of opinion. In fact the firm façade of our afternoon professor has begun to splinter on many occasions confirming that he is indeed more than just a linguistics robot. During lunch everyone seems to withdraw for a little alone time, yet it is not long before groups are formed and everyone is talking and laughing, though mostly about Yucatec Maya. I was very excited to share some stories from my Semester at Sea experience with Pablo who is a sophomore at UNC-Chapel Hill. He sounded very excited about the program and wants to hear more.

I was feeling very satisfied with my evening workload following the Popul Vuh movie until we were notified about an oral exam tomorrow in our morning class. I have absolutely no desire to study anymore tonight, and instead took a quick glance through my notes and went to bed. It seemed like we might actually get a few moments free of Yucatec since were spared a grammar quiz tomorrow afternoon, but I suppose that when you are learning a language in six weeks there is really no time to come up for air.

I have decided to type my notes from class in the hopes that it will prepare me for our grammar exam in a week and a half. There are so many components that are incredibly jumbled and if I could just get everything in order it might actually make some sense. It is time to do some laundry and I am resurrecting a technique from Semester at Sea to hand wash as many items as possible in Ziploc sized washing machines, all of which include a pre-wash, soak, and rinse cycle in a storage sized Ziploc bag filled with water and laundry detergent and rolled around on the shower floor.

The movie was extremely boring; especially since the last time I watched it was less than two months ago. Meanwhile, it was interesting to see the response of the students that had never seen the film. It would have been fascinating to hear the commentary in Maya. I feel like my time could have been better spent preparing for the exam tomorrow and instead I feel unprepared and a bit stressed. The streetlight is sending beams of light through the spaces in the blinds, while the background on my laptop is set to a beautiful orange washed sunset at the Schwedagon Pagoda bursting through the tiny golden stupas, and I am ready for bed. Tomorrow is the last day of classes until Monday, and though I am sure the hours will pass slowly a weight will be lifted from my shoulders at 4:30 when the weekend begins.

Friday, June 06, 2008

This morning I watched the minutes pass by…tock, tick, tick, tock…until eleven o’clock and the commencement of our oral exam, my nerves rising to a peak. As I successfully answered each question my anxiety lessened. I felt bad when someone else made a mistake, and in turn was thrilled with how well I actually performed. I was extremely excited when it was over and more so that it turned out to be less intimidating than I expected. Everyday class borders between really fun and really tedious, yet I am actually starting to understand the grammar better and can visualize using the language during our time in Mexico.

In the course of our lunch break Leah and I spent some time getting to know each other better, in fact I was pleasantly surprised to discover that she has twin sisters. In addition, we each reminisced about our years as competitive swimmers, which brought back a bundle of memories perched on a diving block waiting for the starting buzzer to begin an event.

It is over one hundred degrees outside and the heat is absolutely draining. I never expected it to be this hot in North Carolina in June, but I suppose that it is only preparing us for the inevitable as we get one day closer to our departure for Mexico. After class Catherine and I decided to locate the Trader Joe’s on Franklin Street. Our little adventure took over two and a half hours, but in the end we were successful. We have both commented often on our situation here in Chapel Hill. It feels like we are stranded on the moon. We have no laundry facilities beyond hand washing, no internet beyond the computer stations in the FedEx Global Education Center, we have no transportation beyond a public bus system that does not run on weekends, and trying to acquire food is like hoping for a breeze in this summer heat. Just before reaching Trader Joe’s we stopped at TCBY for an ice cream. My small cup of mint chocolate chip was extremely refreshing and created a chill deep within my being that I carried with me on our final trek to Trader Joe’s. I managed to find some bagels and crème cheese for breakfast, peaches to replenish my dwindling supply of fruit, bread for my peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, plantain chips, feta for my pasta and vodka sauce, and a bottle of Kris pinot grigio.

As we waited for the bus in the scorching, searing, violent heat I felt as if each car that passed stared at us, as if we were not standing at a bus stop at all but two Martians from another time and place just standing idly in the afternoon sun. Before long I began to wonder if we were waiting at a bus stop that hasn’t been used in decades, the sun bleaching the road sign to a pale Pepto Bismol pink and feeble blue. I felt so stranded as the minutes ticked on and on and on and no buses passed. In a way I sensed that the stares from young men passing in shiny convertibles were like vultures circling overhead. Just down the road a sign read Booker Creek and soon I was imagining a country song about the hookers from Booker Creek sang in a strong Southern drawl. After almost thirty minutes a bus, or wawa as I have come to know it in Yucatec, arrived and we headed back to Ram Village Apartments.

Returning to the apartment completely drained, I made pasta with vodka sauce and decided to have a glass of wine. Unfortunately a battle between suction and myself ensued…and as you can imagine suction won. My wine 911 was the result of a corkscrew on a pocketknife and a rubber cork that would not budge an inch. After an hour of hilarity attempting to remove the cork, both Catherine and I pulling with all our might, I gave in. Catherine has suggested that before the trip is over that I will at least try a beer, but I refuse to shift my preferences from grapes to grain. Before bed I did some laundry and finally put my head on my pillow in the complete darkness knowing that tomorrow I will have a break from Yucatec and a chance to revive my spirits.

Saturday, June 07, 2008

This morning I worked on my vocabulary list of Yucatec terms for travel, adding illustrations, and editing before leaving for the library on the other side of campus. It is over one hundred degrees today and the walk to the Union was splashed in a labyrinth of shade and sun created by the foliage of the trees and the rectangular forms of the buildings along the path. I can see how the walk would be pleasant in better circumstances, but lugging my laptop and Yucatec books to the library was a chore in restraint. Though it was exceedingly hot I only managed to comment on the warmth and humidity a dozen times or so. Catherine and I made a brief stop at the Union, where I purchased a bottle of tea to quench my thirst, before arriving at the library to print my project.

My first task was to obtain a guest card at the library from an antiquated machine that spits out a fancy plastic card that has to be fed back into the machine to add a balance. After several attempts to push, shove, and ram the card into the machine I finally walked away with a few dollars worth of printing and copying privileges. When I finally located a computer with a USB drive on the front of the central processing unit I opened my document and pressed print. Then I had to locate a print station to swipe my guest card and process the print job. After all of this I managed to print a copy but could not locate the printer that the document was sent to, so it was time to get some help from the experts, at least I had hoped. Apparently the students working in the library have no idea how to print a document or the location of the printers. Don’t they go to this school? Don’t they work at the library on a regular basis? Well the computer expert finally made an appearance and helped me to finish printing and locating my hard copies in a printer on the other side of the library. Unfortunately, I discovered that guests can only print in black and white, and while my project doesn’t have to be in color, it would have looked much snazzier. My other classmates have elected to handwrite and draw the illustrations on their projects, but I could not imagine subjecting someone else to my drawing of a bicycle, or a sad looking stick figure climbing an ancient ruin.

After a few hours at the library I walked back to the apartment alone, making a quick stop in the bookstore where I found a pocket Spanish/English dictionary to use in conjunction with my Yucatec/Spanish dictionary, so that I can finally understand some of the Spanish definitions in my Maya dictionary that have escaped my memory over the last five years since studying Spanish in high school. The UNC Student Store is very nice with a wonderful bookstore, snack bar, and gift shop, which among the Tar Heel novelties I discovered a corkscrew sure to open my stubborn bottle of wine. As I walked back to the apartment, sweating buckets, a surprisingly refreshing breeze swept me down the hill and back to the comfort of my air-conditioned room in the Ram Village Community.

I spent the afternoon writing and typing Yucatec notes, hand washing a few articles of clothing and chatting with Catherine about our adventures abroad. I enjoy talking to her about her experiences, dissertation, and of course the Yucatec class. We seem to get along very well and it is nice to have someone familiar around. At about nine o’clock Garret called and asked if we wanted to go out for drinks, so fifteen minutes later we were in his car being whisked down to Franklin Street and the Milltown bar for drinks. Though it was still very humid, we sat outside and talked for hours, a cool breeze sweeping over the patio as we laughed. The three of us seem to get along well, though occasionally Catherine vocalizes her opposition to many of his opinions. It is nice to talk to another student that can actually hold a conversation about hieroglyphs, iconography, and anthropology. We got back after one o’clock and I enjoyed a very restful sleep filled with thoughts of anything except Yucatec Maya and the knowledge that I have one more day of rest before another very long week.

Classes

Wednesday, June 04, 2008

I awoke thirty minutes earlier this morning to re-straighten my hair and review for a potential afternoon quiz. The straightening went extremely smooth and then I discovered a second use for hair irons when traveling. Ironing 101 for travelers – Clean the ceramic plates of the iron with a damp paper towel while it is still off and unplugged. After the iron heats to a moderate temperature you can utilize it like a traditional iron. In fact, it has an added bonus in that it is actually a double-sided iron and can remove the most threatening of wrinkles on both sides of the garment at the same time! This revelation is thanks to the little black dress, which strongly resembled aluminum foil after it has been mashed into a ball and is subsequently flattened out again.

I feel like every waking moment of every day is spent deep in Yucatec and even breakfast becomes an opportunity to study, though my Special K doesn’t appreciate this treatment much. In fact my morning meal is more of a rushed affair shoveling soggy rice into my mouth that no longer has that pleasant crunch when I chew. When I walked out the door this morning I was greeted with a thick curtain of moisture that refused to give way and so my careful attention to straightening my freshly washed hair became a kinky, bushy, frizzy disaster in moments. Thankfully sheer luck was on my side since I had adorned my lovely locks with a black ribbon. Thus my façade was ensured an appearance more like Goldilocks and less like Mia from the Princess Diaries before her royal makeover.

We have four rather large textbooks, a box of fancy flashcards, and five compact discs that we cart back and forth to class each day, added to the purse stuffed with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, pretzels, grapes, water, umbrella, and a jacket draped over your arm for the sub-freezing temperatures of the FedEx Global Education Center. Add to this the fact that your sandwich will probably not make it in a recognizable form – it will actually resemble a small child’s first finger painting by the time you enjoy it for lunch, and the knowledge that only a fur lined parka would provide adequate insulation. I imagine that my fellow classmates and I are quite a sight with our massive pile of Yucatec books. I am finding the morning class more enjoyable than the afternoon, probably because it focuses more on pronunciation than on grammar. This morning we spent some time just talking in Maya and though my heart stopped at first, it went much better than I thought. During lunch I tried to cram every last ounce of notes into some very dusty corners of my brain that haven’t been utilized since studying Spanish and Italian several years ago. This afternoon we got our quiz back from yesterday and I was very shocked to receive a perfect score, mostly because I am still trying to figure out what a verbal inflection is, but once again I know more than I think I know.

This afternoon’s class was filled with some pretty amusing moments. In Yucatec there is a distinction between a beautiful woman and a handsome man. Professor Mora-Marín asked for a volunteer to translate ki’ichkelem, meaning handsome. Garrett blurts out, “Man pretty,” which of course sends the whole class into fits of laughter in reaction to his “Me like Jane” Tarzanesque response. Shortly following this outburst of hilarity, Professor Mora-Marín demonstrates an example of a simple sentence, “JLuukas, A taatajen!” or “Luke, I am your father,” and Leah, not the Princess Leah, exclaims “Oh my gosh, you just made my day!”

After class I returned to the apartment and spent several hours studying. I am feeling less alone as I have fewer hours each day to think about my loneliness. I believe that I am eating, breathing, and sleeping Yucatec, and I look forward to moving beyond the “I have three red flowers. You have one black dog,” exercises. It is hard to imagine that in a few weeks I will be able to converse more or less in Yucatec. Until tomorrow, tak sáamal.

Arrival in Chapel Hill

Sunday, June 01, 2008

The key word for today was “alone.” I feel completely, hopelessly, one hundred percent alone. I don’t do well alone and as the hours pass from light into darkness my spirits drop. After an uneventful and altogether short flight from Baltimore to Raleigh/Durham I retrieved my luggage alone, took a taxi to the Chapel Hill campus alone, and located the Ram Village Apartments alone. It was seventy-five degrees outside and sunny, though it felt significantly warmer as I heaved my sixty-seven pound rolling red duffel down a flight of stairs to the buildings entrance. Though it was two hours before check-in I was able to register and access my four-bedroom apartment with two bathrooms, a kitchen, and a living room. Bedroom B, my home for the next seventeen days, contains a desk, a dresser and a bed, all in new condition with the addition of a new set of brown paisley sheets, green bath towels, white blanket, and pillow provided by the program, all in a state of complete newness with their packaging intact. The apartment complex appears to be a recent addition to the Chapel Hill campus, very nice, and certainly more comfortable than any of the ramshackle holes I lived in at College Park.

Since it was a very early rise I decided to catch a few z’s and woke abruptly at four o’clock wondering how much of the day had slipped by. A short taxi drive into Durham brought me to a Super Target where I stocked up on food for the week, alone, and returned to the apartment to unpack, eat dinner, and shower, all of which was surprisingly alone. I enjoyed a few pink grapefruit and berry blue jellybeans as my aching arms recovered from carrying my purchases back to the apartment where I sneaked in a short cry in response to my solitude.

Something I read earlier seems best to describe moments, or should I say adventures, such as this one. “Something lost, something found, something lost again.” I think back to Semester at Sea and the beginning days of the voyage…something lost, the familiar…and as the voyage progressed with each exciting new dawn…something gained, knowledge…and as I walked down the gangway on the one hundredth day…something lost again. I can feel it happening once more, the familiarity gone, but something thrilling and unknown frolicking in the days to come. The sun is setting quickly and a storm is brewing, thunder rolling in the distance. Tomorrow class begins and hopefully a distraction to my overwhelming state of loneliness.

Monday, June 02, 2008

After a very long but restful sleep that was interrupted frequently by short bursts in a semi-awake state I got dressed and ate a quick bowl of cereal before departing for my first day of class. Catherine and I located a bus stop at the corner of Manning Drive and boarded the campus shuttle labeled NU praying that we would end up someone near our desired locale. The morning was unseasonably hot for someone more acquainted to Chicago weather, but after three stops we arrived at the FedEx Global Communications Center, a short uphill walk from the bus terminal. Most of the buildings on campus could pass for each other – plan red brick architecture, except for the glass frame of the FedEx Building. It is quite modern, the interior filled with contemporary sitting areas, a Global Cup Café, Nelson Mandela Auditorium, immaculate classrooms and plenty of sunshine. My first class began with the usual round of introductions before jumping headfirst into Yucatec Maya pronunciation.

Class was absolutely numbing…there is just so much information. I think that my mind is going to explode and there are still forty-one days left to squeeze every ounce of Yucatec into my being. We are called on frequently to pronounce terms, answer questions, and read dialogues, all very nerve-racking, but I am becoming more confident in what I know and even in what I think I know that I know to make an educated guess. Plus, when you are wrong it is usually in a funny way and everyone just laughs, including you.

The afternoon class was filled with grammar, grammar, grammar, but it passed quickly with one exercise after the other and I can now hold an introductory conversation with someone in Yucatec and name the most common body parts…why this is important escapes me at the moment, but perhaps it will come in handy when someone steps on your foot, or ook. Coming back to the apartment required sheer luck…actually the digital sign on the bus was labeled “Reverse Shuttle” so I assumed that it operated in reverse of the route I took earlier in the day. I have spent the last few hours repeating Yucatec phrases, doing a few listening exercises, answering homework questions, and reviewing flashcards, interspersed with breaks for dinner, calls to my closest friends, and a shower. It is finally starting to get dark and I am ready for bed.