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.