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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.