Feb 20, 20239 min read

Incidents of Travel to the Yucatan

My last bite to eat from a food tour in Merida, Mexico was a taco made with a flour tortilla; its primary protein sources were cheese and turkey meat. It was called, “A Gringa.” This begged a question, “Where did that name come from?” There are two answers: As an American tourist, decades ago made her needs known when her taco was being prepared, the surrounding locals, thinking it sounded pretty good, would come later and order, “Lo que la Gringa comía-” ie what the Gringa ate. Or, another suggestion: it is white skinned with flavorful contents….

Speaking of gringas: Consider googling Alma Reed, a Californian who worked for the New York Times covering archeological research in the Yucatan in the 1920’s. She met the state’s governor, Felipe Carrillo Puerto and apparently within a day of meeting him, fell in love. What a time and place to fall in love! In the early 1900’s the Yucatan was the most dangerous place in the Western Hemisphere for a light skinned person to be. This was a product of centuries of mistreatment by the federal Spanish/Mexican authorities, Mexican feudal culture, and the Mexican revolution which dove tailed in with the “War of the Castes.” This found poor Mayan natives at war with, “the authorities” who were mostly white skinned. It was a merciless and terrible war which in the end found Felipe Carrillo Puerto, a liberal with Mayan ancestry becoming governor after the Mexican Revolution. His agenda would be labeled “communist” these days but in defiance of wealthy land owners and an entrenched catholic church, he advocated for specific laws that redistributed land owned by the wealthy, allowed for women’s rights, family planning clinics, modern farming techniques, and the conservation and restoration of archeological sites. In a post revolutionary uprising (revolutions do have a habit of eating their own children), he was taken prisoner and executed while Alma was in San Francisco arranging for their coming wedding. Alma died in 1963 in Mexico City and is buried in Merida. She was a patron of the Mexican arts. Her Mexican lover commissioned a song, “La Peregrina” which celebrated her— becoming an all time favorite in Mexico.

So Randy, did you enjoy your stay in Merida—and why Merida?

Merida is where Kernie and I took our first vacation together — the first week of 1978. This recent trip was taken without Kernie as it was in part, to immerse in Spanish and meet my Zoom Spanish teacher face-to-face. Merida has changed a lot in the last forty-four years. What follows are some anecdotal experiences and things I learned about this very nice slice of life and Mexico.

In another life, I would have been an archeologist. I knew the views of Chichen Itza as a nine year old and longed to see them. I have been there twice, once with Kernie where the tour bus stopped and we walked the grounds with little company in 1978 and later, in the 1980’s with two children when it then had restaurants, buildings with AC, and bathrooms. In those days, they were preparing the grounds to provide laser light shows. On this trip, I elected not to go there but rather, took a tour to Uxmal which is actually a more extensive ruin. It too now has curio shops and places to refresh but it was mostly understated and our tour gave much information on the buildings which remains simple and very impressive. I picked up a book published in the 1800’s which had many of the iconic line drawings and watercolors of Mayan ruins that stimulated me and other archeological wannabes. It is titled, Incidents of Travel in the Yucatan by Stephens and Catherwood.

The tour to Uxmal included a look at a local cenote ie a body of water found below ground level and which connects to larger bodies of water under the limestone of much of the Yucatan peninsula. This cenote was in a very rural setting and once again, I counted my blessings as from the car I could look into cinder block houses set on the road with bare minimum furniture and the appliances we take for granted. The cenote had a guardian as preserving the quality this water is important to the village that it serves. A hand lettered sign in Spanish asked that one remove hair products, insecticides, and sun block before entering the water…….There were twelve or so people swimming in the water some thirty feet below us. It turns out, the aquifer that is attached to thousands of these cenotes is being degraded by industry and biological wastes of an expanding population.

We would see one other ruin on another day, at Xibilchatun twenty kilometers from the coast. This had few tourists and was only partially restored. Our driver, Memo told me that the Maya Train would have a stop here. The Maya train is an expensive piece of infrastructure being constructed by the Federal Government against the wishes of environmentalist who see the weight and vibration of a train system further damaging the limestone foundations that connect to the aquifer. The train is intended both for tourism and developing industry in this still-remote part of Mexico. A recent news article suggested a force of 4500 agents would be needed to keep the line secure as sabotage is likely.

Being seventy, I now indulge in city tours and this one was very interesting. The cathedral in Merida is the second oldest in the Western Hemisphere. Merida for hundreds of years has been one of the wealthiest states in Mexico. Mayan culture is foundational to the identity of the Yucatan. An old government house that has been restored had beautiful art that told some historical tales:

There was the priest, Diego de Landa who in the 1500’s befriended Mayan nobility and gained their confidence. Many codices (Mayan books) and religious artifacts were shared with him. Ultimately, in the name of his religion, he burned them all. To this day, there are but four codices intact in the whole world. The portrait depicting this is dramatic. The only silver lining our travel guide (Orelia whose mispronounced name led to her Facebook name, Ohreally!) related was his writing Relación de las cosas de Yucatán from which his methodical study led to a Latinized Mayan alphabet and the relating of much history and cultural commentary that has proven useful despite his role in the destruction of so much that was irreplaceable.

Recurring revolutions in Mexico led to various forms of slavery being abolished over and over. The war between Mexico and Texas was in part a reflection of American slaveholding being in conflict with Mexican law. And yet, Mayan peasants were sold to Cuba to work in sugar cane fields in the 1860’s.

Lastly, I thought of Merida as a quaint and backward town in 1978. The infrastructure seemed quite primitive and most importantly, one could not order a good cup of coffee—at least at the restaurants we could afford. The after dinner coffee invariably turned out to be a pot of hot water with packets of Nescafe. The city and environs have expanded since then (from 400,000 to 1.2 million people) and a good cup of coffee was easily found. Television series prime us from the United States to think of violence and crowded poor housing as a norm in Mexico. Flying in and out of Tijuana or Mexico City certainly reinforces this. The guide on our tour pointed out that Merida has a fantastic reputation for being green, for being safe, and full of cultural treasures and activities. “A manager or worker from Mexico City, Guadalajara, or Monterey would take a pay cut to move to Merida.” The flow of drugs and the violent culture associated with that flows North and the Yucatan appears to be in an area of calm that is out of the way.

Walking through Merida proved a bit daunting. There is a grid system with North-South streets being labeled with even numbers and East-West, odd. Calle 56 and 57 were not necessarily close to each other. The night we arrived, my map suggested my friends were only five blocks away but in the dark, I got hopelessly lost—and a little nervous—trying to find their hotel. The streets are narrow with narrow sidewalks, universally in stages of disrepair. There is no lighting at night—-one suddenly sees a stranger walking down the sidewalk and one of you has to step off the curb to make room. There were not many people walking at night so encountering that occasional stranger in the silent unlit streets was intimidating. I was uniformly impressed that pedestrian common sense and manners were the rule in this crowded (daytime) city. I did have a drunk middle aged Mexican woman laughingly ask me a question as I headed home after dinner, and when I looked puzzled, she kissed me full on the lips saying, “Happy Birthday!” How did she know I spoke English? ! ? I returned the birthday greetings in perfect Spanish and moved on.

My last day was shared with Dianne and Chuck; we saw some ruins and at the recommendation of a friend of Dianne’s we went to a local “hacienda” which turned out to be a high end spa. Tennis courts, a breakfast buffet, pools, iguanas on the lawn, and ancient Mayan Stella fragments could be found in the gardens within the walls of this place. The peace of that spot was contrasted upon entering the city with a visit to the Mayan Museum (Museo del Mundo Maya de Mérida) which also doubled as a modern business building with offices above the museum, inspired by the “bird’s nest” arena in Beijing. The artifacts in the museum were presented in a straightforward manner and the videos first rate. Not a word of English could be found. Our driver (Memo) that day was a short sixty year old with whom I got quite the Spanish workout. He limped and with some tactful questioning at the handicapped parking zone, I learned that he was getting a total knee replacement on the left in May. We compared symptoms and I commiserated with him as for me, it is also a question of when, not if.

No concerns with arthritis were evident the night before leaving: I had noted that virtually every night in Merida, one could hear music. The buildings being made of concrete made localization of the music hard but I came to appreciate that the central plaza was where almost nightly events were hosted. I came upon folk dancers backed by a brass band my last night. Poetry was recited dramatically and then a folk dance would ensue. The band members looked to be my age; the dancers were a bit younger and once more, I regretted never learning to dance.

The morning found me in a cab with empty streets. I was reminded of suburbs we had seen in 1978 that had refurbished exteriors and when taking a picture of one, we were invited by an elderly woman who was house proud. We saw in her garden and patio, that meals were taken outdoors on an ancient old table—linens and silver were set. There was a water hand pump in the garden. That had been an old house….

The drive to the airport, through security, and into a restaurant next to my gate took twenty five minutes. It was an entertaining few minutes with my taxi driver, (Nazy 9993222462) who was fascinated that I was an old gringo speaking passable Spanish. He tested me with enthusiasm and occasionally asked me to translate a word into English. On introductions, I used my Spanish proper name, “Ramón"

and he went nuts. He labeled me “Don Ramon” and proceeded to tell me his favorite character watching TV he was a kid was Don Ramon. At an intersection he pulled up a clip of a cartoon and the main character…..Don Ramon……….kind of looked like me when I was younger……

For those who live in Southern California, the travel in Mexico is facilitated, both by ease of use and reduced prices by crossing the border at the CBX gate which for a fee, allows you to cross a bridge from the United States, through Mexican Immigration, and directly into the airport of Tijuana. The flight out of Tijuana on Aeromexico was on time.

Contacts:

Ohreally tours can be found on Facebook

David Legaria was our food tour guide and he offers driving and touring services— davidlegaria@gmail.com

Art 57 was my hotel; it was pretty basic but centrally located and the service of the staff was 5 star. I would go back there but will look elsewhere when Kernie joins me. Diane and Chuck stayed at the Merida Santiago Hotel Boutique on calle 74A and it was definitely a step up —- and a good choice for next time.

from the mid 1800's

I am not actually Don Ramón but I play one on TV

Creation myth; the Gods tried three times and this represents the third--the first, men were so bad they were turned into wood. Second time, a flood was sent and the remaining humans had rescued themselves and became monkeys, and the third time was a charm and associated with the miracle of corn