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!