Februaro Tres 2006
What is it about Mexico? It started with a California honeymoon day trip to Tijuana. Thirty-nine years later, here we are driving south on a coastal highway that connects to the Pan American Highway through to South America.
It is 88 degrees as we drive through Playa Del Carmen to our first sleep in Tulum. Our posada is in the south end of the town. Okay, okay it’s in the barrio. But it is clean and bright and colorful and sixty dollars U.S.
We awake on the second floor of Casa de Luna (house of the moon) on Sunday morning. Buenos dias! From our casita we can see into the locals’ backyards filled with chickens, roosters and a lot of turkeys -- and a lot of noise. Ranchero music is playing. Three amigos are passing around a bottle of rum. Hey, it's Domingo! A family is hanging out their wet clothes in the sun on their flat roof above the palm trees and red bougainvillea. So much happens on the roofs in Mexico. We learned this while staying in Centro on Isla Mujeres, which in Spanish, I think, means Cat Heaven.
Tom, Eileen, Sandy and I (Tomas, Elena, Alexandra and Roberto) are recuperating from dinner on the playa last night at the restaurant Zamas. There was a small, quite beautiful, wedding with Cuban style musica. The sky was full of stars. We dined in shirtsleeves and Tevas even though it was February.
Okay! Time to go . . . ANDALE! We are heading into unknown territory, the wild southern Yucatan towards Chetumal on the Belize border. The area between Tulum and Chetumal is new to us.
Our second posada is in Xcalac (ish-cal-ack). We were told to gas up in the village of Felipe Carrillo Puerta because there is no gasolina for the next 280 kilometers (172 miles). Three hours later we pull down the palm tree lined driveway of Costa de Cocos. Our casitas are next to each other on the white sandy beach. Tom, I mean Tomas, and Elena share theirs with a two foot long iguana who is eating the palapa from the inside out. Sandy and I only have small orange lizards that chirp like birds. Dinner here is always a four-course meal. There is one other place to eat in this small village but they don't put three shots of ta-kill-ya in their margaritas.
In the morning, not too early, we travel by ponga in luscious windex blue water thirty five miles along the white sand coast through the bay of Chetumal and into Belize for the day. The bay is chuck full of frigates flocking, terns, sandpipers, storks, pelicanos, cormorants probably from Marshfield, and very grande blue heron. Chuck would approve. We spend the day exploring Ambergris Cay (key) on biciletas.
Monday we bounce over conch shell roads toward Mahahaul. It is a thirty- mile drive that on a good day takes three hours. We only get ten miles because someone burned the bridge down. Tom is driving. Right after we do a tight U-turn he stops the car and says, "There's a problem." It is one hundred and three degrees by Tom’s watch. Someone during the trip said, "Where are you from?" Tom answered “Boston.” The guy said, "What latitude is that?" “Forty three,” Tom said with out blinking or thinking. We are safe with Tom.
The trouble is we have a flat. The problem is we do not have or can't find the manual, never mind the tools. We hope when we lower the spare that it is not flat also. We hold our breaths on the ten-mile return to our hotel. "A new tire, Si . A three-hour drive to Chetumal.” Can we get it fixed in the village? "Si, Gabriel can do it. But he is in Chetumal for the next two days.”
Good news! The fishing van has a flat also and the Capitan can take our tire and his and get them both fixed. Awesome! Later in the afternoon, “Buenos Tardes !“ but not so good for us. The Capitan forgot to take our tire. We are scheduled to leave for points even farther south. Our only option now is to drive spareless on a forty-mile road straight through the low wet jungle. We might see another car, and we might not. There are no buildings or houses or gas station or Friendly’s between here and there. During our stay, one of my dumb questions was "Are there any jaguars around here?” The surprising –to-me answer was “YES!”
This is Mayan country. Like the Maya who built the pyramids of Chichen-Itza. No, they don’t speak Spanish -- they speak Mayan. We know a few. Their names are Davido Puch Mex and Mario Pech Pot and Galixto Kaan Chi and Adalberto Alco Cohuo. From the side they look just like the carved face masks at the temple of Uxmal. In 1491 there were more people here than in Europe and they had way nicer cities. Two percent of the present Mayan population has seen a tigre or pantera or panther in the jungle. On our drive out we see two. They melt into the jungle just like the ghost ballplayers in Field of Dreams. “QUE MILAGRO !” Miguel our tire repair man says we “are blessed.”
Kinichna:
Next stop, Rancho Encantado, which is within easy reach of the Mayan ancient ruins of Dzibanche (c...blaunch ) Kuhunlicht, Balam Ku and the more famous Calakmul, and right on Mexico’s second largest lake, Laguna Bacalar. But smaller than Lake Chapala. The village of Bacalar has a beautiful stone fort with a moat. It was built to keep the pirates of the Caribbean out. Really! Laguna Bacalar has a connection to the Caribbean. So that makes the pirates, pirates of the Caribbean and now you know for sure how to spell Caribbean (I had to look it up).
Both sides of the high way are heavy with orange trees with New England Baltimore Orioles wintering in them. Mexico is noted for its speed bumps. Some are so large that vendors set up their stalls at them. A little girl was selling oranges at one. They peel them -- I guess because many have black spots and although that is quite normal, they do not look good to Norte Americanos. Any way I asked the senorita, "Como se Llama?" to which she replied "Daisy."
Questions:
What do you call some one who speaks 3 languages? . . . Trilingual.
What do you call some one who speaks 2 languages? . . . Bilingual.
What do you call some one who speaks 1 language? . . . Norte Americano.
Meanwhile, back on the highway, there are fields and fields of yellow flowers, pineapple, apples (manzano), cilantro, watermelon, sugarcane, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, corn, oranges, lemon – limes, really. The Maya call them lemons (lee-moans). Calabasa squash . . . Good night Mrs. Calabash wherever you are! Horse and cattle ranches . . . Wow! Only 26 more days left to this vacation . . . Is this Heaven?
Hasta Manana!
