BUS, BEACH, BANANAS

Being out here in the working-class neighbourhood brings a very different rhythm from being "in town". Ladies do their laundry outside, below our window. The Cristal (drinking) water truck glides by and we get a 20 litre jug for about $2. A kid on an old scooter circles the streets nonstop selling hot tortillas. Thing is, he also honks nonstop on an old-style bike horn that makes it sound like Chico Marx is out there getting Groucho's attention!

We pack up and try to walk to the corner in time to get the one-and-only public bus. It should pass by every 35 minutes, but hey ---- manana! About 40 cents for the 3 mile ride to the end of the line at the market. The white-sand beaches are mostly deserted til 11 am or so. Great for solo snorkeling and the shoals of fish always seem as eager to see us as vice-versa. Best spots are under the wooden bridge or around the rocks in the shallows.

Back home to avoid the searing midday sun, there's always tropical fruits to snack on. Did you know iguanas like bananas?? Me neither, but they're not getting my pineapple!

NEED GLORY IN LA GLORIA

For our first week on the island we are in a $35/day 600 sq. ft. rental apartment above a carpenter’s shop. One bedroom, good kitchen, cross breezes all day in every direction. Two balconies (facing east to ocean and west to channel) and open staircase to the roof for the nightly sunset show. Bananas are ripening at the carpenter’s level, but I can’t quite grab them from the balcony rail. Send monkey.

We’re in the working-class Mexican neighbourhoods called “colonias”, hoping to immerse in more authentic culture than touristy downtown. (Quite a prosperous building boom going on as homes up and down the street are adding a second-storey of cement blocks.) The colonias are named after heroes (col. Zapata), functions (“col. Meteorlogico” = weather station), trade contacts (col. Japonesa), and religious/military themes. We are in col. La Gloria, the last category listed. Across the street is the pounding surf of the rocky side. Down the road is a progressive attempt at a living green roof. At the southern tip of this 5-mile island are the rusting remnants of a 2008 international sculpture competition. The mainland hotel strip of Cancun is visible across the 8-mile channel.

It’s all very interesting although groceries and snorkeling spots are 2 and 3-mile walks. And the biggest problem so far is that we do not have an internet connection after 2 days of trying to contact the owner. This blog is being sent out from an internet shop in Colonia Desperate! Maybe we should have a talk with Ixchel, the Mayan goddess of good medicine, and considered “God’s mother”! More glory for La Gloria --- just send wifi!!

C 2 C, SEE??

Yesterday seemed like the final sprint of this trip. Up and out of Merida early on a 5-hour bus ride through ancient Mayan areas to the made-up zone of Cancun. Scenic views overwhelmed by 4 nonstop gratingly loud movies on bus. Had to take a frantic taxi on next leg, like on TV's The Amazing Race.  Time made up, we jumped a local crowded collectivo minivan to a farflung ferry dock. Schlepped onto ye good olde truck ferry for crossing to Isla Mujeres. I have been coming here for 33 years, with Pat for 15. Despite continuous degradation by so-called "development", it still has beautiful clear waters.

Old favourite diner called "Poc Chuc" serves up belly-busting' Mexican specialty. Old favourite Hotel Carmelina recognizes me as "amigo!" and we crash for the night. We have completed crossing Mexico from the Pacific Ocean over the mountain ranges to the Caribbean Sea in the last 59 days. C 2 C, See? Si, Si!

NO PROGRESS IN PROGRESO

Last night was a typical Sunday night in the zocalo across the street. Balmy breezes, vendors hawking deep-fried sweet dough ("churros"), Mexican kids pleading with their doting fathers to buy them an inflated Hello Kitty or the truck from "Cars". But the main event of the day and evening was gentle folkloric dancing followed by the hottest Latin band I've ever heard.

The dance groups entranced with versions of bullfights, drink trays balanced on heads, and  an intricate ribbon-weaving. The band set the crowd on fire with blazing Spanish guitar finger-picking and romantic effortless harmonies. Hundreds bopped in the street, impossible to stay still. Can you see the 6 band members, just under the arches? Really exciting but exhausting ---- one number was 35 minutes long!

This morning was a 30-mile bus ride north to the beach town of Progreso, 2 nights planned. Our hostel looked like a grand old mansion from a distance but inside it's a vast fixer-upper project I wouldn't even try. And the town itself was a sprawling hot jumble punctuated with houses in rubble. The only attraction of note is the longest pier in Mexico ----- it extends out 8 kilometers before the ocean is deep enough for container ships! But weren't allowed to walk it. Of interest was a (voodoo?) ritual on the shore where a woman seemed to bless a pregnant girl by rubbing her belly with red liquid. And then literally ripping the shirt off the guy! But the instant impression of Progreso was deadsville, so we left without unpacking.

Back in our Merida hostel overlooking the town square! The ceilings are about 18 feet high for ventilation. And local fishermen blocked off streets below our balcony, angry that their government is destroying their livelihood. No progress OR Progreso today!

ON TO MERRY MERIDA

Smooth travel day yesterday as we took the Harvard award-winning Mexico City airport bus. Then chose $110,  1 1/2 hour flight over $70 24-hour bus to Merida (MER-ee-da). Extinct volcanoes poking out of clouds, higher than 25,000 feet en route.

We're now in Yucatan on the eastern side of the country. Much lower altitude, air not so dry or dusty, flat terrain. Our luck continues as Hostel Zocalo is right across the street from the ---- zocalo!--- the main square of town. The hostel's owner/manager (?) cooks the free breakfast buffet, washes the dishes, and drives travelers around! There are cyclists pedaling to Peru, mature Mexican ladies going el cheapo, and a tattooed/pierced/nouveau-hippie mother from France traveling with her 9-month old son. All of this is a new level of variety for us at hostels.

Merida has the highest concentration of indigenous population in the country (60% Mayan). The lowest crime rate. And the highest level of education achievement. The colonial cathedrals, statues, and other stone buildings date from the 1500's and  have been maintained and lit up beautifully. The historic main street is lined with elaborate mansions you would see in any older European city; they date from the era of wealth and European land-grab.

On Sundays like today Mexico continues to impress us with activities for the locals. Main streets are closed to traffic to allow bicycling, rollerblades, kids playgrounds, ad lib painting lessons, and all kinds of outdoor exercising. Chairs and awnings are put out to create a pop-up stage for clowns and dancers, etc. And the parks are dotted with "matrimonios" ---- concrete chairs where courting couples face each other. What are these two smiling about??