Akil 19

We had previously arranged that when we hit Merida, B and I would split off and head for downtown while the family continued on their way to the possible host family homes. We had no desire to sit around and listen to this and, besides, it was none of our business. B and I were going to meet them later at a prearranged destination downtown. We arrived on the outskirts of Merida and found the sign to “el centro” and Juan put on his blinker to indicate we should turn there. I already knew this but was glad to see that he was paying attention. We made the turn only to discover a block later that the road was closed for repairs and no indication of a detour route to the center of town! Typical. Visions of being lost with Jaimie danced in my head, only this time I knew that being lost would be a worse situation. Neither B nor I speak good enough Spanish to save ourselves if we were to get hopelessly lost. I was also remembering trying to find my hotel in Matamoras just a few short months previously. Thankfully, I made a series of well calculated turns and ended right back on the street leading into downtown.

We had no map of the city and, even though I had never driven there before, I was not too concerned about finding my way around. Merida is very well thought out with the street plans. All the streets are numbered consecutively, with Calle 62 being the center of downtown. Thus, when we passed Calle 30, I knew we had a long way to go! We continued on our way and finally turned onto Calle 62, passing by the park where we were to meet the family later. Another turn past the other side of the park and we found a guarded, off street parking lot and pulled in. And the rate was only 150 pesos for the whole day! That’s about $14. Life in the big city. We parked the Jeep and walked the block back towards the park and stopped at one of our favorite restaurants for breakfast. This is a chain found throughout Mexico, Biscuits.

With breakfast over, and a little over two hours remaining before we were to meet the family, we decided to go shopping. We both wanted to visit the downtown market again. This is a huge pavilion taking up about 4-6 blocks. It is possible to find everything here. The packed and narrow aisles are lined with various goods and each has its’ own section. There are sections with nothing but shoes, nothing but spices, nothing but birds, puppies and kittens. Sections with hardware, areas with tourist souvenirs and fruits and vegetables are stacked high on tables. The one area I wanted to avoid was the fish and meat department. This area contains freshly slaughtered pieces of animals hanging from hooks and displayed on tables. It is a dirty, smelly section which I find totally disgusting. I did not need to see rows and rows of pig heads, crusted with dried blood. Or tables lined with cow tails. Unfortunately, we did make a wrong turn and ended up in this section. We passed through it as quickly as possible, which was not quickly enough for my taste. We had to dodge around all the people haggling over the price of chicken feet or some other delicacy that remains a mystery to me. I kept my head down as much as possible and tried to hold my breath and only take little bitty gulps of air. I understand the need for such a department, but I would never purchase a piece of meat there. I would be afraid that I would never be able to wash it well enough to get the tons of fly poop off.

We passed through various other sections with no incident and ended up where B wanted to go. The section with birds. He thinks he wants to put a cage of canaries or something in the back terrace area. I hate birds and they hate me. I don’t enjoy the sounds they make and do not find it restful. They are just living chimes if you ask me. Impossible to control the noise. But B likes them and, contrary to what B will tell you, it is NOT all about me! He did find some lovely birds and interesting cages but for some reason decided that now was not a good time to purchase them. I think it was because he knew we had all the construction to live through and that the birds would probably not survive all the cement dust. Whatever the reason, I was glad to leave them there! So we next headed to my favorite area....shoes!

After passing what seemed thousands of pairs of women’s shoes, we did find a few stalls selling men’s shoes. All I wanted was a pair of good thongs. My favorite pair that I brought down here with me had finally bitten the dust and I needed to replace them. It was not an easy task but I eventually found a pair that suited my needs and happily purchased them. My island wardrobe was once again complete!

We left the market behind and browsed a few department stores and shops. B bought some plastic 15" long pencils that flop all around and are impossible to write with. Sometimes I don’t know what goes through his head. He thought they were just hilarious and wanted to give them away as gifts. Especially to our architect who is always digging in her purse for a pencil. We each bought a bottle of water since it was now blazing hot and headed back to the cooling shade of the park, where we were to meet the family in half an hour. We were scheduled to hook up at 1:30 pm, American time!

We tried three different locations in the park before we found an area that had enough shade and breeze to suit our needs. Also an area that we could survey all areas of the park, watching for the family to return. This park takes up a whole city block and is the center of town. Traffic constantly moves around it. Including horse-drawn carriages full of tourists and double-decker sight seeing busses.

The appointed time came and went. The next hour came and went. Then the next. Still no family. We had passed the point of being annoyed and were getting worried. Had something happened to them? An accident? Had there been a misunderstanding of our meeting place? All kinds of scenarios were discussed but finally we saw them entering the park from the other side, strolling along, taking in all the sights. We frantically waved to them and they sauntered over to where we were. We asked if they were ok and they seemed surprised by the question. Why wouldn’t they be? After all, they were only two hours late, no reason to be concerned at all. What they said next I found incredibly rude, thoughtless and selfish. They had quickly closed the deal with a host family and decided to go to the zoo! They knew we would be in the park and that we would wait for them and not go anywhere! Yes, Juan and family, that was very true. And we had a lovely time sitting on those wrought iron benches, getting hotter by the minute and worrying about where you were. Never mind. We were all together now. We had planned to meet up because we were going to go to a special restaurant that Juan knew. It was a place where you only paid for your beer and the food was free. We had to see this!

Since it was now 3:30 pm and we had not eaten since early morning, we thought we would be heading right out. Wrong again. Maria and the kids wanted to do some shopping first. (Maybe it would have been more appropriate to come downtown after the meeting and shop, rather than go to the zoo? Call me stupid I guess) Juan said he could give us directions to the restaurant and we could go ahead and they would meet us there. We were not going to fall for that trick again! We decided to tag along on the shopping spree. Maria and the kids quickly disappeared into the crowds, leaving Juan, B, me and Uncle Roberto to try to find them. We never did. After three stores that Juan thought they might be in, we had had enough. We said we would meet them back in the park. Take your time. We have all day.

Akil 18

We barely had time to catch our breath and Juan announced that he had to go visit an uncle in a neighboring town, Teabo. Did we want to go along? As soon as he said it was the town he was born in, we headed for the car! We had thought he had been born in Akil, but he moved there when he was eight years old. So just Juan, B and I headed out for Teabo.

Teabo is a tiny village of maybe 2000 people located about 30 miles northwest of Akil. It is situated on the side of a hill and most of a valley. The streets are quite interesting. Very narrow with the compulsory speed bumps but all at an incline. It made leaving town an interesting challenge and tested one’s ability with a clutch! We parked in front of Uncle Roberto’s house and waited while Juan went inside to conduct whatever business it was that he come for.

His uncle’s house was one of three that were all attached and shared the same front yard. From our vantage point we could look right in the open door and window of the house next door. A cousin of Juan’s was inside busily making a hammock. It is a fascinating process of weaving string on a horizontal loom. What impressed us was her speed. While we watched from the car, three children emerged from the house and watched us watch her. Eventually, after many smiles were exchanged, one of them worked up the nerve to speak. It was the oldest, a ten-year-old boy. He said, just barely above a whisper, but very clearly, “Hello. How are you” in perfect English. We beamed at him and said that we were well. He had learned a little English from friends and older siblings. We found out later that he was a friend of the family and not related to Juan. He was able to count to ten, which he did very proudly. He knew most of his colors, but white gave him a problem. He said it over and over until he could say it with almost no accent. He knew please and thank you. We were very happy to not hear the usual swear words and dirty sayings that the children usually learn come out of his mouth. They say these things without knowing what they are saying but people think it is funny to teach them.

Since we were throughly enjoying our time with this group of children, Juan returned all too soon and we had to be on our way. It turns out that his business was to arrange to pick his uncle up the next day and take him with us to Merida. From there we went to Oxkutzcab, where the only grocery store around was located. It is right across the street from the market. We wanted to go to this market sometime in the morning when it was a bustling hub for fruits and vegetables for all of the Yucatan. Since we would have had to be there by 7:00 in the morning, it never happened. Maybe next time.

Wednesday morning found B and I up and about at our usual time. We were thinking that the family would be up shortly after us, since today was the day we were all going to Merida.
Merida is the largest city in the state of Yucatan, with about 650,000 people. Even though it is a fairly large city, it has not lost any of its’ colonial charm. The influence of the Spanish conquest and occupation of this city is everywhere. Beautiful old buildings and churches, tree lined streets and lots of parks. The streets, loaded and bustling with traffic and pedestrians, are very narrow and the sidewalks are just wide enough for one person! There is much stepping into the street and avoiding cars there! Many of the lesser streets appear to be just a long wall with an occasional door placed in it. Actually, these doors lead into Spanish hacienda type homes and gardens and are really quite lovely. Some of them have been converted into restaurants or hotels. B and I last visited Merida in 2000 and we were anxious to see it again. In 2002, Hurricane Isador veered away from Isla Mujeres at the last minute and crossed the Yucatan peninsula, causing extensive damage and flooding. We had heard that many of the larger, older trees in Merida were now gone and that the city had lost much of its’ greenness.

About 8:30 am we finally heard Juan get up and this was followed shortly by his yelling at the family to get up and going. We were certainly glad to hear this since the trip to Merida was going to take a little over an hour, with no stops. Finally, about 10 am, we were on our way. The family in the car, B and I in the Jeep. We had to make a side trip back to Teabo to pick up Juan’s uncle. He was going to act as mediator in the negotiations that were to take place with the two potential families where Miguel was going to live. Miguel is the oldest (19) son who did not come with us. He is going to college in Merida and needed a place to stay while attending school. There is no such thing as a dorm like we know connected to colleges. Thus, host families had to be found and the cost of room and board negotiated.

Akil 17

After a very satisfying lunch, we all packed ourselves into the two vehicles and headed out for our next adventure. It was not exactly clear to us at the time where we going. Juan had told us to accept anything the man offered to us and not say we didn’t like it. This kind of worried us but we said ok.

We drove over to Maria’s sister Lourdes’ house and picked her up. Just her. None of her kids. Then we headed out of town for a short distance and turned onto a narrow road that led us deep into some kind of plantation. We recognized banana trees, lime trees, avocado trees and watermelon, but had no idea what the majority of the trees were. We stopped at what was clearly the central processing area for the plantation and all got out. We still did not know where we were or why we were there. And we had not seen a single person, which we thought was strange. Most of the plantations we had driven by were very busy places with people planting and harvesting constantly.

After a wait of a few minutes, a gentleman about our age drove up in a new Ford F150 pickup. Juan made introductions. It turns out that this was the owner of the plantation and a good friend of Lourdes’*, who had arranged for us to get a tour of the plantation. His name is Jose.
Jose proceeded to give an explanation of the history and reason for his plantation being in existence. It was all in Spanish but, between Juan translating some of it, and Jose being intelligent enough to realize that he had to speak slowly and simply, we understood quite a lot of what he was saying. We found it fascinating. Juan paid attention because he had to. Lourdes paid attention because she wanted to. The rest of the family either wandered off or whined that it was hot or that they were bored.

Briefly, Jose had a brainstorm some 25 years ago that the fruit mamey would one day take off and he wanted to be the one responsible for it in the Yucatan. He took his then life savings and invested it in this plantation. Since it takes 15 years for mamey trees to fully produce, he survived in the meantime by planting the bananas, limes and other fruits we saw. But his first love, and it was very evident from listening to him, was mamey. And now he was seeing the fruits of his labor and he was prospering. One could tell from his clothes, his demeanor, the way the plantation was set up and his truck, that he had a little money. And good for him. We found it to be a great success story and kind of a dream come true story. His story alone could make a whole book!

Mamey, what is it? We had never even heard of it before, let alone seen it. He thinks that they may have it in the markets of Florida, otherwise it is only known in Mexico and Cuba so far. There is no English word for it. There are three varieties but he only raises the best two. It is similar in size and shape to a cantaloupe but the flesh is a very dark pink. He let us try a sample of each.




First was the one he calls Number 2. (No points for originality to Jose) The texture was similar to pumpkin, as was the taste. A sweet pumpkin. Neither one of us cared for it too much. Juan had a taste but the rest of the family wouldn’t even try it. They were busy filling plastic bags with limes from buckets that lined the walls. I guess Jose had told them they could have some limes. I think he could tell we did not especially care for it because he smiled and brought out Number 1. “Now try this one!” he said. One could hear the pride in his voice. The difference was immediately discernable. The flesh of this one was the color of a pink eraser and looked smoother than the other. He handed us each a quarter slice. Even though I politely smiled and accepted it, I was dreading biting into another unknown, foreign delight. But delighted I was! It was like eating ice cream. Same texture, only not frozen or cold. The taste was kind of fruity melon with just a hint of bubble gum. Very odd but very delicious. Juan and Lourdes both accepted a piece. The rest of the family had now moved on to collecting oranges. We finished the piece we had and he gleefully offered us a second, which we took! It was evident that B and I were both enjoying this new found taste treat.

While we were devouring the second piece and looking for something to wipe the juice off our chins, Jose had disappeared into the large walk-in freezer. He returned with a large jar of the mamey we had just eaten. This had been processed and was the frozen pulp, ready for whatever. He gave it to me and said it was a gift. I was delighted to have it!

After some more pleasantries, we bade this very nice gentleman goodbye and headed back for the house. When we got back, I took my mamey into the kitchen to try to find freezer space for it. Maria and Lupe were in the kitchen and were both surprised I had it. They had been so busy scooping up “free” stuff, they had totally missed that he gave it to me. Maria wanted to know how much I had to pay for it. She was shocked when I told her that Jose had given it to us as a gift. I think she was offended that she didn’t get one. I don’t think she stopped to consider the value of the limes and oranges that they had taken away.**


* much, much later we discovered that Lourdes was having an affair with this guy. It all ended tragically with her becoming pregnant, her husband leaving with the kids and her boyfriend abandoning her.

** somehow, the mamey disappeared from the freezer and we were never to see it again.

Akil 16

B opted to not make the climb. I thought this was a wise decision, given his leg problems. The wiser decision would have been for me to stay behind also. I knew I was going to have to be very careful not to slip, jerk or fall on the climb. But, thinking that I am still in my thirties, I decided to make the climb. The path up had us scrambling over and around boulders, avoiding very slippery patches of mud and trying to maintain a firm footing on loose gravel. Many tree branches were grabbed for support. I looked very carefully before grabbing onto anything. I did not want to grab onto any kind of critter that may have been resting on a branch, especially the snake kind! We finally made it to the broken down steps that led up to the building that was perched on the highest point around.

The building itself was an achievement in building that astounded the mind. How did they get these large boulders up here? What a tremendous labor force it must have taken. But even better than the building was the view. I wished I had brought the binoculars. Miles and miles of green were visible in every direction. The location of this building had been well thought out. It was close to the Gods and afforded a vantage point and early warning system of any invading trouble makers.

As I was busy being awestruck by the view, I glanced down the hill and what do I see? B! He had decided to make the climb after all. I was not pleased about this, but it is his life. Since he could see the view somewhat through the opening in the trees at his level, he wisely decided to not make the final dash up to the building. I shouted to him that I would show him the pictures later! Having seen enough, and knowing that Juan was still waiting in the air conditioning, we made our leave of this place.

We joined back up with Juan and he announced that somebody was going to have to ride in the Jeep with us because Lizzie needed to continue to lie down on the back seat. Mickey and the two kids reluctantly got into the back seat of the Jeep again. For some unknown reason, they really wanted nothing to do with riding in the Jeep. I think maybe because it was so hot, even while driving. The wind generated by driving was a hot one, not refreshing at all.

We arrived back at Juan’s home in Akil and his brother and family once again piled onto the scooter, and with no fanfare, took off for home. No long Minnesota goodbyes in Akil! Juan told us that we were going to have lunch at home, which was why Maria and Lupe had stayed behind. They had been cooking all morning. Since Maria knew B loves chicken in mole sauce, she had been cooking that special for him. After lunch, we were going to go visit a very special plantation.

Akil 15

We drove a few more blocks and parked outside of a very pleasant house on a side street. It sat in the middle of a rather large lot. There was a little garden on either side of the sidewalk leading up to the front door. There was no grass but plenty of flowers and rose bushes. The side yard contained the obligatory avocado, lime and orange trees. It also contained a dog chained to a doghouse in the back corner and a hutch full of rabbits. I figured this was her version of hunting!

It turns out that this was the house of Lourdes, Maria’s sister who had visiting the night before and shared Margarita’s with B. We were invited in and given the tour of the house. In fact, every house we visited, with the exception of Juan’s mother’s, we were immediately given a tour of the house. We stayed there about 15 minutes and were on to our next point of interest. He had us drive past his other sister’s house but we did not stop. He doesn’t like her. He just wanted to show us where she lives. He had us pull over a few times and he exchanged greetings with some people he knew that we passed. We were definitely getting the impression that we were being put on display. Later he told us that one of Maria’s brothers was jealous of him because he had American friends. Juan said he told him that if he wanted to have American friends then he better learn to speak English. This thing of having American friends kind of ran parallel to things Jaimie had told me on my adventure with him. I just don’t see the fascination or the big deal. B and I are the ones who feel special because we have Mexican friends who have taken us into their homes, their hearts and their lives. I guess maybe it is a two way street.

MONDAY, JULY 12
Monday morning was no different than any of the rest. B and I up first, followed much later by the family. This was to be the routine every day, no matter what was on the agenda. Since we had no idea of what this day was to bring, we were not concerned and enjoyed just sitting leisurely over our coffee. It is mornings like that one, where just the two of us sit and ponder our lives, our future and our plans, that I am reminded of Carly Simon’s line, “I had some dreams. They were clouds in my coffee.” But I digress.

Juan joined us and announced that his brother that we had met the day before was coming over and would join us on our adventure today. I don’t know when he talked to him and made plans, but plan he did. We were heading back out on Ruta Puuc to see some lesser known ruins. “Oh boy” I thought. “More ruins. More old tumbling down buildings. More mosquitoes. More heat. More exhaustion.” I feel really guilty when I get like that. The culture of the Mayans and these ruins are actually quite fascinating and each one is well worth the visit. We were actually very, very fortunate that Juan knew of these places and we were being afforded the opportunity to see places most tourists don’t even know exist. So I bit my lip and forced myself to be exhilarated about the news.

Juan’s brother, Mickey, finally arrived about 11 am with his wife and young son and daughter. They all arrived riding on the same motor scooter. It is not unusual for whole families, including the dog, to pile onto one scooter. I could write a whole story about scooter life in Mexico. It was already blazing hot and nobody wanted to ride in the Jeep with us. They all opted to pile into Juan’s VW Pointer with the air conditioning. Lizzie was the only family member that went along. I didn't know why the rest of the family stayed behind. Maybe they had had enough ruins for awhile too.

What a great drive it was to the ruin of Chacmultan. The route wound around hairpin turns, over and around large hills with the great views again. Through small villages with people bustling about. I was amazed as we passed through one very small village with a one room school to see the school children wearing uniforms. I didn’t think the people in these teeny tiny villages would bother. Burgundy skirts for the girls with blouses bleached so white that they almost blinded you. Burgundy pants for the boys and bleached white shirts. Remember, washing machines are almost non-existent in these small villages. Everything is still done by hand.

We entered the park of Chacmultan and parked in the shade. We paid our admission of 30 pesos (about $2.50) and headed to the first group of ruins. I was disappointed to find that this site did not contain signage that explained the purpose of each building. Even so, they were very interesting. We wondered around and stuck our heads in the various chambers for as long as we could stand it. The mosquitoes were horrible. Further down the narrow dirt road that we were parked on was a long chamber building. Juan said that beyond and to the left of that was the great building, high on a hill. Since it had recently rained, the road ahead was covered with water. We were going to have to cross through this to get to the rest of the ruins. I was not about to try to wade through this red clay muddy mess. B and I opted to take the Jeep. Nobody wanted to ride with us. The rest of them waded through knee deep, hot, red water. Children were carried. I really felt like a foreigner, being too good to get dirty. I carefully negotiated this quagmire of mud and water and parked on the other side. I was glad I did. The chamber building was interesting and decorated with motifs that I had not encountered before on Mayan architecture. As I stuck my head in one of the chambers, I disturbed a nest of bats and they flew about overhead.

As we were discussing whether or not to continue on the road and make the climb to the large building on the hill in the distance, Lizzie started to cry. She said she didn’t feel good. It may have been all the pop and candy she had consumed that morning, both before we left home and on the way here. Juan diagnosed it as dehydration and said she needed to return to the air conditioned car. They would wait for the rest of us to go explore the last ruin.

Mickey and family situated themselves in the back seat and we headed out down the road. It was a muddy, bumpy, narrow two track road that cut through the jungle, winding its’ way ever higher up the “mountain”. I was lucky to get into second gear at times. Once we were on the road, we totally lost sight of the ruin in the distance and had to keep an eye out for a turn off to it. As we passed around one hairpin turn, we saw a likely looking path leading up the hill. It was totally overgrown, rock strewn and did not look like it had been used very much. We decided that this could not be it and drove on. At this point, the road started to go downhill again. This road was incredible. It was more like off roading than anything else. I don’t know how a regular car could have negotiated it. We traveled exactly two miles on it and decided that we had either missed the path to the ruin or the one we had seen was the correct one. The road was so narrow, and the jungle so close, I could not do a three point turn. I had to do a six point turn in order to face back where we had come! Bouncing and jostling along, and trying to avoid the big boulders in the road, we eventually got back to the path we needed. I let everybody out and forced the Jeep into the jungle, just in case another vehicle should come along this road.

Akil 14

After passing by several interesting shops that sold pots, we pulled over and honked for Juan, who had evidently forgotten about our zeal for earthen ware pots, to pull over and stop also. We all crossed the street and entered the shop. But not before Juan first warned us to only get prices here. He wanted us to comparison shop since there were so many pot shops in the area.
We found several things to our liking and obtained the price for each. Heeding Juan’s warning, we thanked the woman and left. I secretly was a little perturbed. I hate to shop and just wanted to buy what we liked and be done with it. Turns out the Juan was correct though.

The next place we stopped was even bigger and actually had the area where they made the pots and decorated them open so that the public could see the whole process. It was quite interesting and there was a dizzying array of pots stacked and displayed everywhere. Pots with feet, pots for the wall, pots in the shape of animals, painted pots, unpainted pots, pots so big you had no hope of lifting them. We bought three large pots for the back terrace. We wanted to get more but could not fit them into the Jeep. This place had really reasonable prices and we felt more like they were giving the stuff away than that they were selling it.

To Maria’s amazement, we bought five plain terra cotta 8" pots. She thought they were dull. We assured her that we knew what we were doing. For her part, she bought a matching set of pots for her kitchen wall. It consisted of three pots, small, medium and large. Each was painted a brilliant shade of cobalt blue and was further decorated with bright yellow and brown sunflowers. They had a rope around the neck, making it possible to hang them from the wall at any height one desired.

Juan bought a pig. A big fat ceramic pig, white with black blotches and a slit in the middle of its’ back. He announced that he was going to use it to start saving for Lupe’s “quince anos” birthday party. This is the coming out party that they have for girls here on their 15th birthday. Let me tell you, it is quite some party and thousands of pesos are spent putting it on. It is a very serious, and highly competitive, event. Planning starts years in advance. Lupe just turned 13.

With no further delays, we arrived back at Juan’s house in Akil. After unloading our purchases, Juan announced that he had to go see his mother and invited us to go along. With nothing better to do, and because we had already met her once before on the island, we agreed to go with him. Juan wanted us to take the Jeep. After showing him how to get into the back seat, we were off. His mother lives just a few blocks away. Or, I should say, her house is just a few blocks away. She actually lives full time in Cancun but maintains a house in Akil where one of the sons and his family live full time. We had a pleasant little visit there, admiring her garden of roses and avocado trees. There were also a few orange trees. Seeing avocados growing on trees was a totally new experience for me. I had thought they grow like pumpkins or zucchini. Juan just laughed at me when I said this. While we were there, his brother, who works nights, came out of the house. He was followed by his two young sons and very shy wife. After brief introductions were made, we took our leave. Juan had other stops to make.

Akil 13

We arrived at the plantation and were greeted by an elderly gentleman who had evidently been in some kind of altercation or accident earlier in his life. The left side of his face was badly scarred. It looked like he had been slit open by a knife or maybe a piece of glass from his eye all the way down past his chin. It had healed leaving a deep, angry red furrow running its’ length. It was also quite clear to see that he had lost quite a few teeth. Whether from the mishap or just plain life was unclear. Because he spoke with a toothless lisp, slobbered as he spoke and spoke very rapidly, I did not understand a single thing he said while we were there. We depended totally upon Juan for translation. But he was nice and very well informed about the different types of cactus being cultivated. The guy from Cancun was not there so we never did get to meet him or speak to him.

We saw many different types of cactus. Some native, some imported from Africa and Australia. I was not clear as to why he had foreign species. Perhaps just to make things interesting, perhaps because he truly loved cactus. At any rate, they were not for sale. We did end up buying a few smaller cacti to bring home but not many. The price on them was astronomically high.

There was a chair there that looked like a Mayan God of some kind. We all took turns sitting in it and pretending we were some sort of Mayan royalty. I tried to issue some orders but nobody paid any attention. They must have thought I was one of the lesser Gods. There was also a statue out front of a Mayan deity. The girls wanted their picture taken in front of it. After much careful posing and arranging and exchanging of shoes so that the best pair got in the picture, the mission was accomplished. What they did not notice was that I was standing in the background recording all of their efforts to strike just the right pose. They hate it when I do that. They firmly do not believe in candid pictures. Having your picture taken, to this family and their relatives, is a very solemn event and one must always, always, strike just the right pose. When a picture of Lizzie, the six year old, is to be taken, the whole family confers and positions her just so. Usually with her hands on her hips, pelvis thrust forward and head tilted ever so slightly. (Can you say Jon Bonet Ramsey?!)

Pictures taken, we headed back to Muno. I asked Juan to stop at the pharmacy in town because I wanted to get an anti-inflammatory for my back. He dutifully stopped, after I honked my horn and pulled over, since he had driven right past it. He went in with me and helped me get the right thing. The entrance was covered at night by one of those roll up metal doors. During business hours, they raise it. Only I forgot that they only raise it to Mexican height, not American height. Bang! I forgot to duck on my way out and got a nasty scrape across the top of my head. Exactly in the part where I am not bald. (or at least the part where I cannot see that I am bald!) It almost knocked me to the floor. I, of course, pretended that it did not phase me in the least and that I was quite used to banging my head into things. With great composure, I returned to the Jeep. It was only then that I let out a stream of cuss words and rubbed the heck out of the spot on my head that felt like it was on fire! B told me how stupid I was and should have been more careful. Always nice to get words of comfort from those who care about you the most! I took my anti-inflammatory and continued to rub my sore head as we made our way back down the twisting roads to Ticul.

Akil 12

Sunday, July 11, found B and I once again up and drinking coffee on the back porch by 7 am. This was the day we were to head out for Uxmal. This is probably the second largest Mayan ruin site in the Yucatan peninsula. Chichen-Itza being the first. We had discussed getting an early start the night before as it was going to be a long, hot, rough day. The longer we sat with no sign of the family stirring, the more exasperated we became. Neither one of us wanted to be climbing around in ruins in the midday sun. Besides which, my back was still killing me from my wonderful, but ill thought out, cave adventure. After considerable discussion amongst ourselves, we decided that when the family did finally get up, we would reluctantly tell them that we would not be going to Uxmal today. I did not think that it would be a good idea and I wanted to rest my back.

We heard the first sounds of people stirring around 10am. I thought for sure everybody would now get up since whoever it was that was up slammed the bathroom door loudly enough to awaken even the mummies back in Santa Elena! I was wrong. It was fully 30 minutes later before the whole family got up. The slammer turned out to be Juan.

We broke the news to Juan about not wanting to go to Uxmal. He totally understood and agreed that it would be a bad idea today. He announced that we would have a day off and just rest. Later, he said, we would drink a lot of beer too! Beer drinking seems to be the favorite indoor and outdoor sport in Akil! At least with Juan and his relatives.

When he announced to the family that we were not going to Uxmal, I could plainly read the kids faces. They seemed to be saying, “Oh great. Now we get to just sit around here and be bored all day.” Except for Carlos. His girlfriend had recently arrived back in town and he was jubilant to be set free to go spend the day with her. She is from one of the “better” (read rich) families in town. He can only spend time with her with a chaperone present. I didn’t think they still did that sort of thing, but looks like they do.

As we sat on the porch, finishing our last cups of coffee, Juan was reading the local paper. He turned it to us and showed us this article about a guy from Cancun who has transplanted to this area and started a huge cactus plantation. He knows that we are continually on the hunt for unusual cactus for our garden in front of the cabana. He suggested that we take a ride out there, since, in his opinion, it wasn’t very far. We readily agreed. Secretly, we sort of had the same thought as the kids about the day off!

So, after a quick breakfast of empanadas, toast and left over chicken soup, we loaded ourselves into our respective vehicles and headed out. B was driving today since my back was not up to it. I wish I had looked at the map we had first. I would have had some sort of inkling of the distance. Not that it was that far, about 70 miles, but since he had said it was close, I thought we drove for hours! We passed through Ticul on our way and located several shops selling earthen pots. We wanted to stop at some of these on the way back. Ticul is famous for pots and shoes. For some strange reason, it is the shoe selling capital of the Yucatan peninsula. Almost every other shop sold shoes. But women’s only.

Leaving Ticul behind, we entered into the high but gently rolling hills surrounding the area. There is a line of “mountains” that runs along this portion of the Yucatan, called by Juan the Yucatan Sierra. This protects the peninsula from really bad storms and hurricanes. I guess he forgot that hurricanes can also come from the Carribean like they did in 2002. The views as we traveled up and around these hills was breathtaking. Green and lush as far as the eye could see. Eventually we came to a rather strange place and Juan pulled in. It had lots of cactus and agave planted everywhere so he assumed this was the place. We doubted it. There was a large sign in English proclaiming this to be an RV Trailer Court! I couldn’t begin to imagine how many, or why, English speaking people would want to haul a trailer way up here, with nothing around, and camp. But evidently they do or it wouldn’t exist. I have to add though, it was closed with no campers in sight the day we were there. We told Juan that we thought this was the wrong place. He insisted it was the cactus plantation. We finally made him ask the caretaker who was lounging under the shade of a palm tree. Yup. The cactus plantation was further up the hill, just past the small town of Muno.

Akil 11

Back home and out came the ever present cervesa. I must say, a lot of beer is consumed by the three households on that corner of Akil. We probably drank 4 cases before the night was over.

Maria’s brothers came over and shared in the killing of the cases. They had brought the TV out to the front yard because Mexico was playing Argentina in the soccer playoffs. I bet one of Maria’s brothers that Argentina would win. I wanted Mexico to win, but he was being so smug about Mexico making it to the finals, that I just had to challenge him. About 20 minutes into the first half, Mexico scored and there was no turning back. Argentina never made a goal and I gladly paid Mike the 50 pesos I had bet him at the end of the game. After that, it seemed that everything that happened, somebody wanted to bet with me about it. I think they thought I was an easy mark! But I held onto my money and never bet again.

About 10 pm, Juan announced that he was going rabbit hunting again and went to change his clothes. Carlos and one of Maria’s brothers were going with him. So off they went, leaving B and I to visit with the remaining brother and Maria’s sister who had also shown up. She and B hit it off right away and drank Margaritas together. It was a fun evening but an exhausting one. Nobody spoke any English and our Spanish is bad, to say the least. However, we all managed to communicate well enough to decide around midnight that pizza would be good. B and Mike piled into Mike’s car and headed for the closest town with pizza, about 20 miles away. By the time they got back, everybody had grown tired and had either gone home or gone to bed. So they pull in with two giant pizzas and just me sitting there waiting! I think the smell worked because the kids and Maria miraculously appeared at the dining room table and merrily piled their plates. Their was not a single piece left from two large pizzas. The five of us managed to scarf it all down with no problem.

So, with a full belly and feeling more than a little tipsy, we trundled off to bed. Tomorrow was supposed to be the ruins at Uxmal and it would be a long, hot day.

Akil 10 of 31

On we went, passing through more villages. Again, we marveled at the architecture in these small towns. The Spanish and French influence was everywhere. Columns on front porches seemed to be the way to go.

We passed many plantations on the route back to Juan’s house in Akil. Mostly oranges, but a scattering of banana, avocado and limes. Every time I drink a glass of orange juice now, I think of those poor, hot, sweaty men laboring away in the blistering heat. It was so hot that none of them could wear shirts. Even while driving by you could see the sweat glistening off their bodies.
As we approached Akil, Juan turned off and stopped at a roadside restaurant. It was a very pleasant place....at first. A single large room with a cement floor, the standard array of plastic tables and chairs with Coca Cola advertising on them. The walls were of woven lattice and the ceiling was a large palapa. Shortly after we were seated, the rain hit. And I mean hit. Once again, it had been so hot when we started on the day, we had left the windows for the Jeep behind. The rain came down in torrents and the fierce wind was blowing it sideways. It did not take long for the interior of the restaurant, and us, to all get wet and miserable. The poor Jeep turned into a swimming pool. Thank goodness again for floor plugs so that we could drain the water out.

Once the rain stopped it turned stifling and muggy. Then the mosquitoes hit. Not the normal kind we are used to. The mosquitoes in the Yucatan were devilishly small little things. Like our no-see-ums or knats. You did not know they were there until the itching started and then it was too late. I almost scratched myself until I bled, such was the magnitude and ferocity of the bites. It would have been tolerable had we had a good meal. Everything we wanted on the menu was not available. Seems our only choices were chicken and pork. I opted for the chicken, which was not very good. There were nine of us in our group and each person got their meal at a different time. It took forever to get through lunch.

Finally lunch was behind us and we headed back to Akil. On the way, Juan pulled over across from some kind of factory. He came back to the Jeep and pointed out that this was an orange juice processing factory. It supplied most of the juice for the Yucatan peninsula. It hardly seemed likely since it was not a large place at all. But I really had no reason to doubt Juan so we appropriately oohed and aahed at the information since he was evidently very proud that this important factory was in his area.

Akil 9

The final climb was actually steps. Stone steps with higher than normal risers, but steps with a handrail none the less. There were over 100 of them that formed a switchback leading one back up and into the light. After many rest stops, and in much pain, I was the last one of our group to finally reach the top. B, Juan and Lizzie were waiting and we gratefully found our way to the conveniently located snack bar and sat down. Totally drenched in sweat, hurting, but glad to have had the experience. I highly recommend this site to anybody who ventures to that area of the Yucatan. Our group had gotten ahead of the Spanish language group and we patiently waited for the rest of the crew to join us.

After everyone had enjoyed the drink of their choice, we made our way back to the parking lot. Slowly, very slowly. I had not stopped to think that if we made our way underground for 1.25 miles, we were going to have to walk that far to get back to our cars! My back felt as badly as it had prior to my fusion surgery and I was worried and hurting and concerned. There was no place to stop and sit on the hard red mud and stone path and we were exposed to the blazing mid-day sun the entire way. But the trip was accomplished. Along the way, Juan announced that we were now on to Santa Elena to see the mummies that had been discovered in the church there. I thought that this one adventure was plenty for the day, but kept my silence. So back onto Ruta Puuc and the awaiting mummies.

We were greatly disappointed and a bit grossed out by the so called mummies. Evidently way back when, the church at Santa Elena decided to put on an addition. While they were digging next door, they uncovered an unknown gravesite. Amongst the rotting and rotted corpses were twelve children. For some reason, they had not fully decomposed but had mummified instead. This is what was on display. As a side note here, Mexicans do not embalm. One is buried and then nature takes her course with you. The children ranged in age from infant to about four years old. I took a quick glance at them and decided my stomach would be better off if I just stepped outside. So B and I exited and waited for the family outside while enjoying a smoke.

Akil 8

Lol-tun is a fascinating place and very unusual in that the Mayan people did not usually live underground. They actually only used the first three rooms as living quarters but evidence of them being in other areas had been found. They collected water, a very precious resource in the Yucatan since all rivers here run underground, in stone containers from the dripping stalactites.

So on we went, making our way over more slippery, poorly lit flooring from chamber to chamber. This was not made any easier by the attendant who followed along behind us turning out the lights as we passed. This cave had originally been an underground river, emptied when the great meteor crashed into the Yucatan many years before. There was evidence of this everywhere. Rocks worn smooth by rushing water and rocks with ripples in them from years of water flowing over them. The size of this cave is incredible. The ceiling rose, in places, hundreds of feet above us. There were no narrow passages and no feeling of claustrophobia. The journey kept taking us on a downward path, picking our way sometimes around or through giant rocks. The descent was actually very gradual and only in places did one actually realize that we were continuing to go down, not flat. We finally entered a small chamber to the side and found out how the caves got their name.

There were two stalactites that had dripped down enough to have actually joined together with the two stalagmites they created beneath them. These formed two columns which were hollow. How the Mayan discovered this is another long lost secret. If one were to pound on the left one, the sound it made resembled the Mayan word for flower. The one on the right, stone. Thus, in Mayan and Spanish, flower stone. We were all allowed the chance to pound our fist on them to recreate the sound. Since I speak English, I hit the one on the right first, changing the name to Tun-Lol, or Stone Flower. The guide was perplexed but B, Juan and I enjoyed the little language trick. Juan was to repeat this story many times later!

From there we entered into the largest chamber yet. It was purely dazzling. The guide announced that we were now at the lowest spot in the cave and that we were 350 feet underground! That is a lot of rock and dirt over your head! As we left this chamber, we did notice that the pathway started to ascend. It was an easy walk, except for the darkness and slipperiness of it. My legs were started to hurt by this point. Combination of old, out of shape and nerves still being messed up to them. We entered into a small cavern area and in front of us was a large wall of fallen boulders that had broken off the ceiling. The guide told us that this was the first of three large climbs to get to the exit and back to ground level. I mentally groaned as I looked at the path in the dim light. It was clearly going to be a challenge. We let the rest of the group go ahead and B, Juan, Lizzie and I made our way slowly and painfully up. At the top, which you could not see from the bottom because of the many boulders and twists and turns, a very irritated group and guide were waiting for us so they could continue.

We made a short detour into a side room that contained an enormous hole in the ceiling. The guide said that they had found all kinds of bones at the base of it, including mastodons. He claimed that the Mayans, being so smart, had driven animals to the edge, allowing them to plunge to their deaths. I think his history may have been a little off. I think the Mayans followed the mastodons by many years. At any rate, we left this room and started up our second of three agonizing climbs. By the time I reached the top, my legs were burning and my back was starting to throb. I was getting worried but no turning back.

Akil 7

Saturday morning found the two of us out of bed by 7am. Since the whole house was deathly quiet, we made coffee and retreated to the back patio to enjoy the early morning solitude. After discussing what adventure might await us this day, and probably solving all the world’s problem too, we finally heard people stirring in the house.

A groggy Juan joined us on the patio with his two rabbits in hand. We were regaled with the story of his adventure the night before. He actually did not go to the jungle but rather to a nearby banana plantation to hunt. Somehow, while looking for a rabbit he had shot at, he managed to stumble into a deep hole full of mud and very dirty water. We saw the clothes he had been wearing and did not doubt the story at all. The rest of the family took turns sticking their heads out the door and saying Buenos Dias and then retreating back into the house. About an hour after everyone was up, Maria called us in for breakfast.

She had outdone herself, making an American style breakfast. Scrambled eggs with Mexican sausage, juice, more coffee, toast for us and tortillas for them. We gobbled it up and learned what our day was to hold.

We were off to Lol-Tun, the near by cave home to the Mayans. Lol-Tun means Stone Flower. Or, literally translated, Flower Stone. So, after Maria’s brother Wilbur and his 5 year old son, Fabian, arrived, we piled into the vehicles and headed out. It was now 11 in the morning. So much for early starts.

We drove out of town aways and saw the sign for Ruta Puuc, the road to most of the Mayan ruins and sights in the area. After about 40 minutes of driving, we turned into the entrance of the cave.

Juan parked and promptly disappeared with his whole brood somewhere towards the entrance and ticket booths. We were again left to catch up. While approaching the ticket counter, an English speaking guide told us to hurry because the only English language tour of the day was about to start. We bought our tickets and looked around for Juan and gang. We finally found them by the snack stand and headed to the entrance. We divided into two groups. Juan and Lizzie came with us while the rest of the group headed off for the Spanish language tour leaving just directly ahead of us.

We descended about 50 steps, picking our way very carefully. They were polished smooth by the thousands of feet that had preceded us. It did not help that they were also wet and that there was not a handrail to be seen. By the time we reached the bottom I was thinking I was maybe not too smart doing this tour. At the top the guide had told us that we would wind our way around two kilometers (1.25 miles) of trails before emerging from the cave in a different location. And this would only be a partial view of the cave since many rooms and areas were closed to the public as being too dangerous or not yet fully charted. I was being very careful of my footing. My back has hardly bothered me at all since moving to this climate and I certainly did not want to slip, fall or jerk it into bothering me again. Our little group gathered at the bottom of the stairs while the guide gave us a little history.

Akil 6

While in the Yucatan, Juan’s favorite sport, right after drinking beer, is rabbit hunting. He had borrowed his uncle’s gun and while he prepared for the hunt, he explained to us how one hunts rabbits in the Yucatan. Evidently it is very different there from anywhere else on earth. Or, at least according to Juan. He drives out to the nearby jungle, parks the car and heads into the brush. He wears a headlamp, similar to a miner’s light. Whenever his light picks up the beady eye of a rabbit glowing at him, he shoots.

And mostly misses. But not always. He did get a total of three rabbits while we were there. We were treated to the sight and sound of him butchering them in the backyard the morning after. Four thuds and the legs came off. Another and gone was the head. I stopped looking when the knife came out for the gutting process. Lizzie was delighted to receive the tails and alternately jumped around pretending they were fluffy ears or used them as powder puffs to apply her imaginary make up. After they were butchered, we were never to see them again. The meat was evidently being saved for some special occasion in the future. Since the dead rabbits had lain all night on the dining room table, getting stiff as boards and not gutted immediately, my feelings were far from hurt.

After Juan left, the girls began their nightly ritual of showering and making themselves presentable for the public eye of Akil. Out came the iron and every piece of clothing that was to be worn was carefully pressed wrinkly free. We felt like slobs, just grabbing a shirt out of the suitcase and giving it a good shake to rid it of wrinkles! One and a half hours after the ritual began, we were ready to leave the house and go “downtown” for dinner.

Since Juan had taken the car, we all piled into the Jeep. Maria directed me to town center and we parked across from the town square. One side was lined with vendor stalls, selling cheap trinkets, jewelry and toys. We met up with one of Maria’s sisters and strolled through the tiny square. After oohing and aahing at all the junk for sale, we crossed the street and entered the only restaurant in town. It was a typical small place filled with plastic tables and chairs. The only food they served was a local favorite called panuchos. Fried tortillas with shredded chicken, avocados and a tomato sauce. Much like the everyday taco but different. They were quite tasty and were only 3 pesos each.

After eating, we headed for the Jeep and returned home. Still no Juan, even though it was close to midnight. Maria said we should just go to bed, he would be hours yet. So we did. Since we had discovered no pillows earlier, we rolled up our bath towels, which we had been smart enough to bring, and fell into the sleep of the exhausted.

Akil 5

We entered into a large room which was divided into a living room in the front and raised one step in the back to accommodate a large dining room table. The table was covered with a splendid white lace tablecloth, protected by clear plastic. The living room had a large, comfortable couch and chair, a TV and oversized entertainment center. The main focal attraction in the living room was a hand painted waterfall scene done in many colors on black velvet. We had expected to be roughing it but this was clearly not going to be the way.

Off to the side of the living room, and directly in front of where Juan parked, was another large room. This was the boys bedroom. It was probably 20' by 15'. The only furniture was a clear plastic wardrobe in one corner. Hammocks hung from hooks in the walls. Passing through this room and heading to the back of the house via a central hallway that ran the length of the house, was the kitchen. This was also connected by a doorway to the dining room, making a circular floor plan. Although Juan’s miniature white poodle did not make the trip with us this time, he assured us that she loved to run around this circle until she got dizzy!

A long hall ran away from the kitchen and this was flanked by the bathroom and master bedroom on the left and the girls bedroom on the right. We were going to be staying in the girls bedroom since it had two beds. Lupe would be sleeping on a hammock in the boys room with Carlos and Lizzie would be on a hammock in her parents room. We felt kind of guilty about shoving the girls out of their room. We did let them back in to watch the TV in there when we not sleeping or changing clothes. Both the master bedroom and the girls room had windows that looked into the hallway.

The entire house, every room, was painted the same shade of nipple pink. There were soft jade green accents here and there, mostly around the windows. Various pictures of the family were everywhere along with the many trinkets and figurines they had collected. All in all it was a very pleasant house and much, much larger than we expected.

There was a glass and wrought iron door at the end of the yard which opened onto a covered patio with a view of the back yard. We were expecting the lot that the house sat on to be like here on the island and that the house would be built right to the lot line. We were very wrong. There was an expansive back yard, big enough for an in ground swimming pool, should the mood and finances ever allow! For now, we enjoyed sitting out there every morning over our coffee and looking at the various wild dogs, cats, chickens, turkeys and iguana make their way among the orange and avocado trees.

Since we had had a late lunch, we assured Maria that we were not hungry and could wait awhile for dinner. The brothers came over to say hello again. I had met them once before when they visited the island briefly. We chatted with them for a bit over a beer and then they made their ways back home. Juan had decided it was time to go hunting.

Akil 4

So we left the Cenote and our first adventure of the trip behind. Juan continued driving his breakneck pace and I struggled to keep up. Thank goodness for the many topes along the way that forced him to slow down. B and I were getting just a little irritated by this point. We had envisioned a leisurely journey to Akil, stopping along the way to admire architecture and scenery and to take photos. This was, after all, our first trip together off the island to explore Mexico. Juan simply wanted to get home. We eagerly took in the small villages that we passed, admiring or gasping at the living conditions in each.

Some towns (and I use the term very loosely) had small concrete blocks home with Romanesque arches and pillars decorating the front porches. It seemed so strange to see this kind of architecture here. Others were simply made up of palapa roofed shacks. The construction was interesting though. They seemed to be put together of sticks, mud and straw. Like something out of Africa. Some of the villages had no visible electric wires. Some had satellite dishes on their roofs. There was no rhyme or reason to it. Some of the villages had stacks of concrete blocks and piles of sand in front of the houses. Juan later told us that it was part of the government project to help people build new houses that would withstand hurricanes, should another ever hit the Yucatan. We thought that this was a great idea. Juan grumbled that he had to pay taxes to help these people. Again, the difference in our cultures. We see poverty and think “we have to help these people.” Mexicans see poverty and just move along. It has nothing to do with them.

On we drove, turning onto M184 at Tzucadab. We passed the tiny village of Ticum and then through the slightly larger town of Tekax. Ten miles further down the road, and we saw the first tope of Akil and a sign claiming that Akil boasted a population of 9465 inhabitants. Population signs are very new in Mexico and the cities that have them are very proud of them. Just past the public market, we turned left onto a dirt street and, after a few twists and turns, arrived at Juan’s house. Juan pulled into the little driveway on the left and motioned me to pull in to his right, under the carport. Before unloading anything, we stepped the short way back to the street and surveyed the house.

It is not much to talk about in the front. It sits towards the front of the lot and the front is still a work in progress. On the left, where Juan parked, was going to be a front patio under the already constructed roof. We were parked in the carport area with a giant arch entrance and an open arch to our left, which we walked through to get to Juan’s car and the main entrance. No paint and still some construction debris lying around.

To the left of Juan’s, and occupying the corner lot, was the house of Maria’s brother, Wilbur. To the right was the house of another one of Maria’s brothers, Jaimie. This house had a small store in front which B found to be quite handy to keep his 3 pack a day habit going.

While we were unloading the Jeep, Maria and the kids had gone on into the house. Maria returned to the door and greeted us with the typical gracious Mexican greeting of “Bienvenidos. Mi casa es su casa.”, or Welcome, my house is your house. We thanked her and stepped in. The front of the house did not prepare us for the interior at all.

Akil 3

As you read the first two parts of this saga, I am sure you all have had as much trouble with the names of Mexican cities as I do! I checked with Juan last night and verified that we did visit the Cenote prior to lunch in Peto. It is so easy to get confused as to where things are actually located. Therefore, I have to backtrack a little.

We had already put the top up on the Jeep because the ladies had complained of the blazing heat from the sun. I had warned them, but it was a lesson they had to learn for themselves. We drove on and as we got further into the state of Yucatan, the sky began to change. We could see rain clouds ahead and knew that we would hit it eventually. I mentally groaned because I knew we didn’t have all the windows with us. Nothing to do but continue on and hope for the best. I asked the ladies if they wanted out and they didn’t. So on we drove until we saw the entrance to Cenote Keken. This is located very near the city of Valledolid.

As we pulled into the entrance, we were met by a flock of screaming, running children. They were everywhere and it was difficult to make any forward progress. They were grabbing onto the sides of the Jeep and the rack in back, shouting stuff in Spanish at us. I expected Maria to reply to them, but not a word was forthcoming from her mouth. I discovered later that she was way too dignified to converse with the trashy, poor children of this place. She, along with Lupe and Lizzie, totally ignored them. (my first close up encounter of perceived class differences and internal prejudices here) It was up to me to deal with them and to yell at them to get off my Jeep. B was not much help either. I think he was totally amazed at the behavior and stunned by it. I had encountered it many times before. Especially when Jaimie and I pulled into the parking lot at the ruins of Tajin in the state of Veracruz. So I gingerly made my way to the parking area and gently pushed children aside so that I could open my door. B and crew unloaded as best they could from the passenger side. They were all shouting to watch the Jeep for us, trying to sell anything they had, including baby Marmosets and holding out USA quarters asking for change. As B and I struggled to put the windows in that we had brought, the skies opened up. Everyone but us and several of the children dashed for cover. We were drenched to the skin in less than 15 seconds. I hired a boy to watch the Jeep for us, with the promise of pesos when we returned. B and I headed for the relative safety of the ticket seller office where everyone was gathered. We purchased tickets to enter the cenote, but had to wait until the rain let up before we could enter.

The entrance descended from the parking lot along a now muddy and slippery path. We carefully picked our way along the path, grabbing onto tree branches or whatever we could for support. The last thing I wanted to do was fall and re-injure my back. The path took a sharp turn to the right and we encountered a set of equally slippery stairs leading down into a large black hole. It was more like a vast cave entrance than anything else. The family rushed on ahead and B and I picked our way down as best we could. B had not even wanted to go into the cenote for fear it was going to be small. He has a bit of claustrophobia. As I picked my way down the stairs, I could hear him whimpering about tight spaces behind me. After ducking a few overhangs, we were able to stand up and view a totally incredible sight.

photo found on the web with no indication of copyright.

There before us was a vast inland lake, lit from above by the sunlight streaming in from a hole in the ceiling. Stalactites hung from the ceiling and dripped water into the pool and along the floor, adding to an already slippery condition. The front part of the pool had been roped off and people were swimming and playing in it. No way I would have gotten into that water. I can just imagine how deep it probably was and it was cold as ice, only having the sun shine on it for a few hours each day. Everybody posed for pictures and marveled at the rock formations and then we headed back up and out. Climbing out was no easier than the descent had been. Upon reaching the top where the stairs again turned to the path, it started to rain again. What a mess. Slippery red clay sticking to shoes, making walking a near impossibility.

We were quite tired of the rain by this point. But we made our way back up to the parking area and visited the souvenir shops lining it. I bought three wall plaques depicting different Mayan gods. I should have waited and let Maria buy them for me. I paid twice the price he quoted her when she asked. We find that a lot here. One price for the Mexicans, a different, more expensive price for the tourists and white people. (That’s what they call us)

I paid my Jeep watcher a whopping 10 pesos (about 90 cents) and B and I got in the Jeep under cover while we waited for the girls to finish shopping. As we waited, just like mosquitoes, the children descended on us again. I was eating the last of the cookies I had made for the trip so I shared them with the many outstretched hands sticking in my face. I don’t think they had any idea of what it was I was giving them. They watched me take a bite and tore into theirs. The look on their faces was incredible. I laughed out loud because I had been expecting it. Way too much sugar for them but they all politely swallowed the bite they had taken but did not take another! I think they eventually found their way to the multitude of dogs hanging about. Whimpers and pleas of “Give me money” surrounded us and we tried to ignore them. One just can’t start giving these children money or all hell will break out. Besides, I try not to encourage begging.

The family finally appeared and Juan said something in very gruff Spanish and the children scattered away from his car. He backed out and started out of the parking lot. I, in the meantime, was left to still deal with the children around the Jeep. They just would not go away. I put it in reverse and, with B extorting me not to hit any kids, I slowly started backing up. Of course, they moved, but they continued to run along side of us, asking for money and who knows what else.

Akil 2

It was a typical Mexican breakfast for them. Empanadas, tacos and Cokes. B and I had scrambled eggs with the local sausage. Juan disappeared after we had ordered and returned carrying something wrapped in what looked like paper towels from a truck stop bathroom. It turned out to be a large piece of deep fried pork with a stack of tortillas. The family immediately tore into it. Although not something we would ordinarily eat for breakfast, it was quite good. Since they were certainly enjoying it more than we, we declined seconds. After they gathered up all the leftovers into napkins and stuffing them into purses, we were back in the cars and on the road again.

A little further down the road we passed through Cristobal Colon and Maria yelled to pull over and stop. She wanted to pick up a few plants for the house in Akil, where we were headed. As they piled back into the Jeep, I noticed something on Lizzie’s shoe and all over the floor and back of the Jeep. Yup, dog poop. I located my emergency roll of toilet paper and handed it to Lupe to do the clean up. She used half the roll and just threw it over the side of the Jeep. Littering is a big problem in Mexico. The whole time, Lizzie was screaming and sobbing at the indignity of having dog poop on her shoe. After retrieving what was left of my stash of toilet paper, I gave B a big eye roll and we were on our way again.

Our route took us past Zaragoza, which is the turn off to Isla Holbox, thru Chemax and skirting Valladolid. We took the cut off to Peto and as we turned onto this road, Juan pulled over and ran back to the Jeep. He wanted us to know that this was a “good” road and ran for 100 kilometers. He wanted to be sure that we had enough gas since we would not be encountering any gas stations on this route. I wondered why he didn’t ask before we got to this point but kept my silence. Thankfully, I had enough. He also wanted us to know that the police did not patrol this road so we could drink beer while we drove. I assured him that our Cokes would do us just fine! So on we went and he was right. The road was in exceptionally good condition for the first 20 kilometers or so. Then the potholes started. It was a dizzying drive after that, scooting from one side of the road to the other. We had stopped before this to put the top up and Maria, Lupe and Lizzie decided that they had had enough Jeep adventure and went back to the comfort of the air conditioned car. Thank God.

Shortly after passing through Chikindzonot, the skies opened up and boy did it rain. We had not brought the back passenger windows with us, never expecting to encounter such a downpour. Besides, we didn’t have room for them. It didn’t take long for the back of the Jeep to turn into a swimming pool. Thank goodness the makers were smart enough to install drain plugs! So on we drove, dodging puddles of water that we had no idea of how deep they might be. All the time the windshield wipers on full blast but not doing much good. By the time we got to Xcocmil it had let up. I was glad for that just for the driving factor but also because this was a village that we had been looking for. It is the hometown of Rogelio, the mariachi singer that has his little boy, Roger, sing with him. We wanted to take some pictures to bring back to show them. We got our photos and proceeded on to Peto. Peto is a fairly large town and it was the first place we noticed bars on all the windows, just like in Cancun.

We stopped for an uneventful lunch in Peto. They informed us they had the best seafood available (miles from any coast?) but Juan was quick to point out to them that they were mistaken. He had the best seafood at his restaurant! So after a boring little lunch, we loaded back into the vehicles and headed out for our next stop, Cenote (water well) Keken, which was to be a wondrous experience.

Akil 1

The alarm went off at 5:00 am on Friday, July 9th and we groaned. This was the much anticipated day we were to leave for the Yucatan on our vacation. We were traveling with our good friend, Juan and his family. They consist of wife Maria, son Carlos, 17, daughters Lupita (Lupe), 13, and Elizabeth (Lizzie), 6. The 19 year old son, Miguel, had to stay behind to work.

We had just spent the night sleeping on a mattress on the living room floor and had not gotten much rest. The house was torn apart and all of our bedroom furniture was piled in the living room. New tile had just been put down in the bedroom the day before. I rolled off the mattress onto the floor and somehow managed to stand erect and make my way to the coffee pot. After a quick trip to the bathroom and feeding the cat, I started my daily routine of cajoling B to get out of bed. We still had lots to do and had to catch the 6:30 am ferry. One of the big drawbacks to living on an island is having to coordinate your life with a ferry schedule when you want to go to the mainland. I headed to the shower and yelled at B one last time to get moving. He was understandably tired from staying up late the night before taking care of last minute details.
All clean and spruced up, I headed out to finalize Jeep preparations while B finished the packing and making sure we were well prepared for the journey. It was already in the 80's and we were both covered with sweat as we attached the carryall hitch to the Jeep. Of course, it would not fit into the receiver hitch without a struggle and we were almost at each other’s throats by the time we got it fastened. Back into the house to grab all of our stuff and throw it into the Jeep. It was 6:20 am as we pulled away from the house and drove a breakneck speed of 25 mph to the ferry. We just barely made it and were the last ones loaded on. I left B sitting in the Jeep, next to the garbage truck, to catch his breath and composure while I headed to the bow to look for Juan and family.

I found Juan and Carlos sitting in his car, motor running and air conditioning going full blast. His youngest daughter, Lizzie, was asleep on the back seat. No Maria or Lupe. After feeding me a song and dance that Maria was not going because they had had a big fight, he finally broke down and admitted that she had not been ready in time to catch the ferry and would be taking the “people” ferry later and we would meet her on the mainland. We had to get gas right by the ferry anyway so it was no big deal.

We off loaded from the ferry and headed down the coast the short distance to the people ferry and gas station. Thirty minutes after gassing up, Juan sent Carlos across the street to find his mother and sister. They were running just a little late. They finally appeared, strolling across the parking lot with the typical (in my opinion!) Mexican what’s-the-rush attitude. This was to be the first of many cultural differences we encountered close up during the trip. We were our typical American selves, anxious to get underway; they were their typical Mexican selves, in no hurry at all.

After a quick feast of peanut butter kiss cookies that I had made special the day before, Maria, Lupe and Lizzie piled into the back seat of the Jeep and we were off. We had put the top down because the girls wanted it that way. They had no idea of how hot it could get with the sun beating down on you, but they would quickly learn that lesson!

We headed out of Cancun and I quickly lost Juan in the busy morning traffic of Cancun. I wasn’t worried though. The first part of the route I was familiar with. We were planning on stopping in Leona Vacario for breakfast. This is a small village on M180 on the way to Merida. We had been through here many times before on our way to buy cheap plants and cactus for our garden. About 5 miles out of Cancun, I spotted him dodging in and out of traffic ahead. Downshifting and making B very nervous, I drove like a Mexican myself and passed trucks, buses and cars on the narrow road and finally caught up. We entered the small village of Leona Vacario and had our first encounter with scraping on the speed bumps. (topes - toe pays) We were quite loaded down and the carry all was riding dangerously close to the topes. If I did not cross them at an angle, we scraped every time. Juan pulled over in front of a small restaurant, I parked behind and we all piled out for our first meal together on the journey.

Family Week in the Yucatan

In July 2005, we were afforded an exceptional opportunity as new residents to Mexico. We had been befriended by one of the restaurant owners here. Although he lives and works here on the island of Isla Mujeres, he owns a home in Akil, Yucatan. During the summer school break he and his family planned on going there for a week. He graciously invited us to go along.

We jumped at the chance to see how a typical (?) Mexican family lived their day to day life and what life in a small village was like. What follows is my record of this journey. Akil and some other places we visited are highlighted on this map with little red dots. You will probably have to click the picture to see them!

Ivan Aftermath 2

We headed through town, the NaBalam Hotel being our destination. We had heard that the water was actually over the bridge leading to the Avalon Resort. The road from Maria del Mar to the Avalon was blocked off but they were letting people walk down. What we saw was not the beach we remembered. The water had receded to just below the bridge but the cement walkway to the bridge was broken and lying at weird angles. Part of the railing was totally gone. As we looked over to the palapa where tourist boats dock, we could see that a huge piece of it was missing. Waves were still coming in at breakneck speed. But what amazed us most was that there was no beach left. None at all. The water extended all the way up to the bar and restaurant of the NaBalam. Gone were the palapas that lined the beach. No idea of where they ended up. We took some pictures and then headed back to Maria del Mar and North Beach. They fared a little better since the waves hit them sideways and not straight on. The water was a little high on the beach but there was still plenty of beach. I took some pictures but it was difficult there because the wind was still blowing strong enough to bend the palms.

We left town and proceeded to follow the road that circumnavigates the island. There really was not much damage to speak of. As we came back around to the ocean side, we passed by our favorite beach.

Just one minute down the road from us was a wonderful little beach. It was protected in the back by cliffs about 15 feet high. There was a nice half moon sandy beach for sunning. It was shallow and flat and the waves rolled in just enough that sometimes you could even body surf there. No more. The crashing waves of Ivan had ripped the cliff walls apart and they had fallen into the sea. No sand left at all. The whole thing now is just a jumble of pieces of cliff and huge boulders. Great piles of seaweed lay everywhere, rotting in the hot sun. I doubt that we will ever get that beach back. Not many people ventured down and through the cliffs so I have been able to find some beautiful conch shells there. One good thing about the storm I guess. Great shell hunting!

On the whole, we were very blessed that Ivan decided to turn at the last minute. Otherwise this would have been a totally different tale. The island would have been torn to shreds and who knows how high the water would have actually come. I think downtown would have been hit the worst since they are right at sea level. I do know one thing for sure, and I am unanimous in this, I will never stay on this island again for a Cat 3 or higher storm.

Ivan Aftermath 1

Tuesday morning we were up and at ‘em very early. We wanted to see what had happened to our island. We knew that there probably would not be too much damage since the winds never did increase to hurricane force. We totally forgot about the water damage.

As we set off for downtown in the Jeep, the waves and surf were still very high and scary. Not like the day before but still awe inspiring. There was debris and garbage all over the road, but nothing serious. About a mile from our house we encountered our first problem.

Just past the first little colonia, the road dips down and then up again before making a sharp left turn to get downtown. We followed the cars ahead of us but did not make it very far down the road . It was literally covered with rocks, boulders and assorted sea life. The size of these rocks that had been swept up and over the protective cliff to our right was incredible. No way we could get around them. So we turned around, very carefully, and headed back to another turn off to get through the colonia to downtown.

We saw an ever increasing amount of debris. Downed palm branches, brush and just plain garbage everywhere. Here and there were pieces of lumbar and other building materials. Nothing we could not navigate through or around though. There was water everywhere but it was mostly just big puddles until we hit the bay road leading into town.

What we call Bay Street, the street running the distance of the island on the bay (Cancun) side of the island, was totally flooded. The water extended from the bay all the way across the road. There was no telling where the ocean stopped and the island began. I carefully drove my way through this mess, watching for speed bump signs since they were not visible and I did not want to hit them at any speed. Not that I was traveling at a breakneck speed anyway. I never did get the Jeep out of second gear all the way to town. As we got closer to town, the water receded a little and people were driving on the sidewalk with their scooters. It was only about six inches deep on the sidewalks. At one point we looked to our left and saw a sailboat almost lying on its’ side on the beach. There was also a larger passenger ferry pushed up onto land.

Before this, we passed the high school. The whole cement block wall that ran along the street next to the basketball court was gone. Just smashed to pieces. Across the street is a vacant lot. It had become a graveyard for massive boulders washed up onto shore. The waves just ran across this lot and did not stop until they hit the wall across the street and knocked it down. When you consider that the three foot deep sea wall was breached and knocked over in places, I find it hard to believe that any structure could be built on this lot to withstand a real hurricane. (Note: Since then two houses have been built on this lot! We’ll see what the next big hurricane does to them!)

We swerved to avoid fallen tree limbs and brush and kept on going. We were headed downtown to pick up our friend to view the damage and then go check her car. She parks it very close to the bay and it was questionable as to what may have happened to it. The road to her house, which runs behind the military station and has the restaurant La Loma on it, was totally blocked off. The police were there directing us to go another way. We finally got to her house and she invited us to go out front and view the malecon from her perspective. She lives very, very close to the water. There is only about 10 feet of space that separates her back patio from the sea wall. The malecon was a mess. The paver stones were lying everywhere, tossed about like Lego tiles. Parts of the sea wall were leaning dangerously towards the water, looking for all the world like they were about to collapse. She reported that the night before she could hear the spray from the waves hitting her hurricane doors on the second floor! I certainly would have been out of there fast. Her second floor patio was a mess of seaweed and just junk, including miscellaneous shoes!

Hurricane Ivan - Part 7

Along with every visitor came a new and different update on the storm. Of course, they all swore that this was the latest news as issued by the mayor of the island. The police were also driving around saying stuff on loudspeakers which was of no value to us. Loudspeakers on the tops of cars are hard enough to understand in English, forget Spanish! First reports were that the storm was going to pass over us at 2:00PM. I was glad to hear this since if I had to sit out a storm, I wanted it to be by daylight. As the day wore on, this time changed to 8:00 PM and then finally 10:00 PM. Gone were any chances of seeing the after math or saving ourselves by daylight!

We spent the day alternately checking Ivan’s progress on the internet, talking to friends on the phone, visiting with our Mexican friends and watching the waves. Now that it is over and we are safe, I have to admit that it was a tremendous experience. Mind you, I can live with never seeing waves like that on my doorstep again, but it was terribly exciting.

It finally got dark enough that we had to go inside since there was nothing left to see. By this time, the surf was even with the road across from us. I was sure that it would cross the road at some time during the night. Incredibly, at 9:00PM, there were still people driving around, even though the wind was howling and bending over the palm trees. We just kept waiting for the big wind to hit or whatever it is that happens when a hurricane is right on top of you. It never happened. When I check the internet and discovered that Ivan had veered slightly to the east, I was so happy and relieved. I knew that we would still get wind and rain but maybe, just maybe, there was a chance we would survive and I wouldn’t get swept out to sea as shark bait after all!

Exhaustion finally kicked in and we fell into a fitful sleep about 10:00PM. I woke up at 12:30AM when the rain and wind changed. It was then that we had to first close the door to our little refuge room. Until then, although the wind was noisy, we were able to keep it open and keep some fresh air coming in. I tried to look around the corner of the house to see just where the water was. The wind hit me so hard in the face that it felt like it was going to blow my head off my shoulders. I quickly ducked back! I retreated into our room and, amazingly, fell back asleep. I next woke at 4:30AM and it was still raining when I looked out. Just a light drizzle but the wind was still really strong and blowing it about. I shut the door and checked the internet. The worst was over and none of Ivan was even still touching the Yucatan peninsula. I thanked anybody who cared to listen to me that we had been spared and the island and her people were safe.

Hurricane Ivan - Part 6

I was up early on Monday morning. Very early. I think it was around 4:00 am. I took the flashlight and went around to the front of the house on the balcony. I didn’t need it to see that the waves were even bigger. I had to hang on to the rail for support because the winds had intensified during the night. Since I really couldn’t see very much, I checked on Ivan’s progress on the computer and went back to bed.

By 6:30 am, it was light enough to see across the street. It was a heart numbing sight. The ocean had risen up even more and the waves were even bigger. The sound of the waves crashing was incredible. They were cresting and breaking slightly out from shore and the tremendous surge of foam was what was coming towards us at full speed. It was already ripping out the bushes along the shoreline and rolling huge boulders with it. I have no idea where they came from They were not on our beach prior to this. As far out to sea as I could see, the waves were rolling, cresting and breaking. It was like one of those shows on Discovery or PBS where an oil tanker has to be rescued because of the high seas washing over it. The waves were so high that the wind was blowing the tops off before they crested. My mind went numb as I watched. I went back to our little safe room and suggested again that we may want to revisit the subject of getting off the island. I was met with the same resistance. My fear and resentment hung in the air all day.

I had seen the pictures and read the accounts of Ivan passing over the Granadas and was very, very worried and scared about what it was going to do to us. Throughout the day the street in front of us was crowded with people. They arrived by foot, on motor scooters and in cars. They were here to watch this magnificent show of waves that nobody could remember seeing before. When Gilbert hit, it was in the dead of night and nobody expected it so all people saw was the devastation afterwards.

Possibly due to our location right in front of the ocean, we had visitors galore that day. It was amazing the amount of people that stopped by the house to see how we were doing. I was truly amazed at the level of caring our new friends showed. They were truly concerned about us and especially about me. They all know my fear of the water! Everybody reassured us that our house was very strong and that we would be fine. I appreciated the encouragement but did not believe them for a second! Even people we barely know more than to say hello to on the street stopped by! Most of them I didn’t even know knew where we live. It left me with a tremendously warm feeling that these people took time from their own hurricane preparations to soothe my nerves!