La Ruta Maya

Hello, everyone!

I recently returned from the Ruta Maya, a 12 day bus trip around the southeastern part of Mexico. At the risk of overwriting the whole thing, I intend to give a thorough description of the trip, emotionally and aesthetically, as well as a few thoughts on it and the things I learned. This is necessary because, unfortunately, I forgot my camera in a taco restaurant in Veracruz a week before we left (though fortunately it has now been recovered, and should be returned to me soon), and thus I have only the pictures I have pirated from my companions on Facebook. You should all look up these sites on wikipedia and google images, to get a more complete sense of them than I can give with words.

November 2 - We left in a bus for Veracruz in mid-afternoon. Claire and Marlene and I were accompanied by police Captain Pablo Rios and his wife Lucha "Luz" who were to be the chaperones of one bus throughout the entire trip. After an uneventful bus ride, we arrived in Veracruz, greeted by Rossey and Pepe, two Rotarians, and Paulo, the Brazilian who is staying in Coatza. Soon after, we were packed off with our host families for the night. I was to stay with Paulo. Our hosts were two tall, curly-haired boys only slightly older than myself (Paulo is only 15, so perhaps they are more than slightly older than him?) They were really "cool" and we listened to music and they talked about girls and stuff while we drove home. Their house was extremely nice, one of the more luxurious homes I have seen in Mexico. We stayed out in an attached back part, with a bedroom, a living room, and two bathrooms. While it was attached, it seems that it there is no way to pass from the entrance to the back except through the dog's open-air yard, which seems kind of odd. Anyway, they had a very excited puppy, some sort of white-brown-black dog. Paulo convinced me to play Rock Band with him for a while, and we ate Domino's pizza for dinner and played until about midnight. The game was boring, but addictive, of course, and Paulo played until like 1:30. Typically of him, he had expressed to me earlier that he wasn't going to sleep at all, but of course he did anyway. The bed was big and very comfy, with green sheets. I felt very optimistic and clear in that bed.

November 3 - We watched the news over cheese sandwiches and fruit for breakfast before meeting the rest of the exchange students at the bus. They miscalculated something somewhere, and we had to load up far too many students in one bus on the way to meeting the second bus and the rest of the kids in Orizaba. We all sat three every two seats, but somehow for the first leg of the trip I ended up sitting in the tiny space between the back seat and the bathroom. I am not sure if I am just masochistic, or lazy, or if reading about the confines of prison cells in the Gulag had made it seem more acceptable, but I didn't say or do anything about this until Megan and Lia, who were sitting in front of me and blocking my escape, decided to stand up, at which point I could as well. There was no room to stretch out my legs, and my shoulders were pinched inwards because the space between the wall and the seat was a few inches shorter than my shoulder width.

This will be a good place to insert a description of the buses. They were identical: red on the outside, with those big rabbit-ear floppy mirrors. Inside, they were bluish mostly, though the seats had patterns on them with some yellows and reds also. There was a bathroom in the back, though when using it you had to brace yourself against the door because the roads are so bumpy. The bus drivers took turns, of course, and when we took night long trips, the one who wasn't driving slept in a tiny compartment down by the luggage. The seats reclined a bit, but not much, and it was difficult to sleep in them unless you had a towel or sweater, or best of all, a real pillow.

Finally, we arrived in Orizaba. There we met Yana, the district Chairwoman, the rest of our group, and the second bus. Yana distributed our t-shirts, some choice advice, and some bottles of water. I bought the water bottle I used for the rest of the trip here, 1.5 liters for $12 pesos. On the bus, we saw the most delightful parade of landscapes - starting in the verdant mountains of Orizaba, we eventually crossed into the arid cactus world of Puebla, and as we entered Oaxaca, the mountains became even more beautiful - no longer smooth, here you can see all the lines water has carved out - it's as though the land has been scrunched up.

From my journal on the bus, cleaned up a little for order: "Mountains near Orizaba: There is an odd juxtaposition of colors here: light blue sky with huge white mountain-clouds over dark green pines and bright green grass and cacti. Sheep, goats, horses, and cows graze. There is one kind of broad-leaf cactus bush everywhere, as big as a man at its biggest. There is one mountain with a tree line, and another with snow. It is starting to look more dry and brown here. Some kind of plant, a cactus I assume, is like a tall, thin reed. By the road, there are small, round, white, domed shrines topped by crosses housing gilded figures of Mary. A cemetery full of bright white graves is decorated with bright colors and big piles of golden marigolds. Cactus trees blur the line between pines and cacti.

There is a sense you get when traveling by car or bus or train, arising from the quick glimpses of things you get of things you'll never see again, things you'll never understand, and sense that lends everything an air of magic and mystery. Two examples:
Two men sit on the median of the highway in front of the gas station in Orizaba. They sit on packs, reading short books that are falling apart. Their clothes are stained and dirty. It is not clear what they are waiting for; presumably hitch-hiking, though if so, they weren't trying very hard.
An old woman dressed in royal blue, with a shawl and dress of the material, climbs a mountain path lined by grazing cows."

We arrived in Oaxaca (capital of the state of Oaxaca) rather late. After unloading our luggage and settling into our rooms, we headed a few blocks down the street for dinner. Oaxaca, like all the old capitals, is a very colorful, historic-feeling town reminiscent of Europe. The streets were dark by this time, and the atmosphere was very warm and enchanting. The restaurant, however, was divine! We ate in what should have been an open-air courtyard, but that a small tree growing in one side had been permitted to stretch its branches out over the area (supported by a grid of wires) to form a multi-layered tree branch roof! The food was decent, I suppose, but the highlight of the night was the grasshoppers. I was tricked by the Rotarians into trying them despite my vegetarianism, because they didn't tell me what they were and I trusted them. They are like crunchy herbs; very flavorful, though not particularly good.

The hotel was three floors, with a long rectangular courtyard in the center that all three floors opened out onto. Each floor had a mezzanine on three sides that allowed access to the rooms. The centerpiece of the courtyard was a big tree with a fountain installed in it. Minerals had encrusted the part of the tree over which the water flowed.

At this point, I want to make a note of some things. First of all, the most important written rules for the trip:
7. Smoking is prohibited on the bus, in hotel rooms, and in front of Rotarians or Coordinators.
8. It is prohibited to bring alcohol into hotel rooms or to drink in front of Rotarians or Coordinators.
9. Amorous relationships are prohibited.
10. Leaving the hotel or the group, in the form of going independently to other places, is prohibited. You may only go out with permission from the Coordinators.

By the way, the Coordinators/Rotarians are Pablo "Capi" and his wife Luz, and Rossey and Pepis, two married Doctors from Veracruz. I was in Capi's bus the entire trip, except when we separated by gender. Keep these rules in mind as we go along.

Anyway, we got back to the hotel that night after dinner, and kids wanted to go out to discos and bars. The Rotarians said they could go, but they had to sign out and sign in, and be back by 2 AM. However, I believe none of this ever happened - though I am not sure, because I went to bed immediately. My room situation was lucky, because my roommate and I got a room and a bed each to ourselves, while the rest of the kids had four to a room and two to a bed. My roommate for the whole trip was Frederico, from Brazil. He is tall and thin and laid-back. He is very nice and considerate, and always made sure to ask me several times to make sure I didn't want to go out and drink with him.

November 4 - The morning in Oaxaca was cold - we ate a delicious breakfast of Mexican "french toast" in the hotel restaurant, and afterwards I bundled up a bit with socks and a sweater, which proved to be ill-advised in the long run. Another quick note: I wore my silly kindergarten glasses (the ones I stole from Claire after our recent visit to the Kindergarten, remember?) the entire trip except when I felt bad, which wasn't often. I decided the glasses should represent fun and happiness and should only be worn when one is having fun and happy, so sick people are out.

We were headed out of Oaxaca to the east, towards Mitla, though still within the city itself, when our bus gave out a great big cloud of smoke from the back, and we had to move to the other bus. Thus, once more, we rode a bus overcapacity, though this time with even more people. Mitla, however, was worth it. The town is a sparse desert town with a clear, close blue sky. It is surrounded by desert mountains. The main attractions are the market, with little square tables covered by tarps, run by indigenous craftsmen selling cheap wooden animals or jewelry, and women practically giving away big white shirts and blankets they've made, the church, an old building with three big red domes, built overtop of Zapoteca ruins, and the main ruins themselves, a royal palace with exquisite patterns and two tombs. The ruins are incredible, of course; these intricate designs are constructed by the careful placement of rocks, not by carving or even using any kind of cement. This particular site was not very big, however. It was surrounded on all sides by a cactus fence.

I met a black puppy sleeping in the shade of a cactus pot alongside the church. I gave him a piece of my watermelon because he seemed interested in it, but he didn't eat it. He seemed to enjoy licking it, though. I hope he didn't get bothered by ants coming for the sweet fruit.

Next, we visited a mezcal factory. Mezcal is an alcoholic beverage made from the agave cactus, the same plant used to make tequila. They grow the cactus to maturity, cut all the branches off, leaving the "heart" of the plant, and then cut those up into pieces. They throw the pieces into a round hole in the ground overtop of heated stones, and then they cover the hole and let it cook for several days. Then the plants are removed. At this point, they have a very delicious, sweet meat, which we got to try. Then, they grind the pieces with a millstone driven by a horse, collect the pressings, and ferment them and distill them. After this explanation, they gave each and every one of us a free sample of a grape flavored variety, and after that we could ask to try specific flavors. We could also buy whatever we liked - Frederico bought 750 mL of some deep purple variety. I tried one of them, and surprisingly it actually tasted really good, contrary to any other alcohol I've ever had. However, it was very strong alcohol, and I can't imagine drinking it in any amount.

After that, we went to the town of Tule, to see its tree, El Arbol del Tule. It would do for all of you to go find as many pictures of this tree as you can. It is absolutely beyond words - the magic tree to end all discussion about magic trees. It is the widest tree on Earth, easily bigger than your bedroom, no matter how big it is. I was in awe, and took a ton of pictures with Capi's camera. The entire thing is swarming with insects, gilded by the sun. If normal trees are magic, this one is unreal - beyond the imagination. The tree lives in a modest but clean and appealing horticultural garden, with a big white church.

We ate lunch at a restaurant just outside of Oaxaca, an open air buffet with a playground out back, and two excellent marimba players for entertainment. They served each and every place with a little plastic shot of orange mezcal - though this one tasted foul and no one liked it. Claire asked me to play the marimba, so we went up together and they let me play my Paganini. Only a few people saw, but they all complimented me on it.

After eating, I never really felt well again the rest of the day. However, this was the worst by the time we were back in the hotel, and I didn't want to eat again (for some reason, we ate, then came back to the hotel, beat, and they had us eat again). My neck was tight and my skin felt hot and burnt. I stayed in the room and read for a while, and then Frederico brought Dennis the Belgian and Viktor the German in to help him with his newly purchased mezcal. They made sure several times over that I didn't want any, and then Frederico took three glasses and divvied up half the bottle between them. They took them in a gulp, and I went downstairs to find medicine.

The doctor, Rossey, took me up to her room and examined me, and determined I had a fever. She gave me painkillers with mineral water (ew) and told me to drink and rest. I went back to the room and drank a bunch of water and read in bed. I felt much better fairly soon, and then took a shower. That shower was absolutely incredible - there doesn't seem to be hot water in my house, so it was a luxury to have it in all the hotels we went to. In addition to that basic aspect, the window in the bathroom was open and it was a chilly night, so it created that cool effect where the hot water feels even more invigorating in contrast with the cold air.

November 5 - This morning we ate an equally delicious breakfast in the hotel restaurant. This time I knew to endure the morning chill, so I was better dressed for our hot day on the mountaintop. I read The Gulag Archipelago (my book for the entire trip; any reading I do in this account is this book) on the way up the mountain to Monte Alban. Monte Alban was an important Zapoteca royal city for several hundred years. It looks out over the modern city of Oaxaca, and of course, as it is a mountain in the midst of mountains, there are valleys on all sides. The old city included several smaller surrounding peaks and the city ruled the valleys around it, as well. They told us several things about the history of the city and Zapoteca culture, but I will save that for the end, for those who are interested.

From my journal: "I am beginning to doubt my capacity of expression - these ruins seem to be getting progressively cooler, and I am already beyond words at the second of them. The thought that struck me at the time was that it was like heaven. I don't mean this in a hedonistic, "Mountain of Ice Cream," "kid in a candy store," sense, but rather aesthetically. It is at the top of a mountain, there are trees all over, of all types, and many varieties of wild flowers (each tended carefully by flitting bees). The trees smell strong and musky in the wind. Butterflies dance everywhere, underneath a close blue sky filled with what may be my favorite kind of cloud: cirrus (known to some as "wisps"). Birds dart into the sky, as well, and once a big vulture dove down just off the side of the mountain. And then, of course there are all the ruins. There are no ads, no technology, no pavement - to be there alone, in the night!"

After Monte Alban, where we spent a considerable length of time, we went back to the same restaurant. From there, we separated into girls bus and boys bus. However, ironically, I ended up sitting with a girl, Connie. As there are more girls than boys, they had a spillover, and she was one of the five trusted girls allowed onto the boys bus for the night. The reason we were split up was that we were traveling all night to Palenque, and they wanted to avoid kissing and etc on the bus at night. Keep this carefully in mind as we go as well.

November 6 - From my journal the morning after arriving in Palenque: "We slept in the bus, and not poorly, either. I am afraid I am becoming a morning person - at least, when I have enough rest. I feel great this morning, even after a bus sleep. An observation about bus trips: A decent part of their nature is to tire, discomfort, and distort the traveler's perception of time and reality, while giving them extensive time for philosophizing."

This was true - I felt very good and energized this morning, oddly. We spent a while recuperating in the rooms, and then headed the few miles to Palenque. Before we left, I looked up upon leaving and saw the incredible mural above the doorway to the hotel. It seems to be intended as a sort of summary or encapsulation of the Mayan worldview - all sorts of sky and earth and corn imagery, jaguars and such. I like these a lot.

Palenque itself is another archaeological site, this time in the jungle. We stopped in a parking lot and checked out the merchants and artesans. Those on the right side wore typical fieldpeople clothes, while the women wore traditional colorful black dresses (that is, they are black but covered in beautiful colored patterns). On the left, however, they all wore long white "dresses," men and women alike. Beneath, they were clothed normally, however. These in white are Lacandon natives - this is the Lacandon Jungle of Chiapas, famous for the now six Declarations of the Lacandon Jungle, made by the Zapatista Army of National Liberation or EZLN. I bought Alex a present from the Lacandon people.

We were led along a gravel path through the jungle the short distance from the parking lot into the site itself. I am not sure you can get used to emerging from a totally normal jungle into a complete white stone city - it is breathtaking. Still no words for it. It's something that has to be experienced, perhaps. There was one plant with leaves each taller than a man, big enough to wrap yourself up in, that was worth mentioning.

Our guide, a young man native to Palenque named Victor, had an extremely impressive knowledge of the site and its history, apparently due to his history degree. As Palenque is Maya and not Zapoteca, the style is completely different. The stones are white and not brown, and they are much smaller than the Monte Alban stones. There are also still people working there - a man was pressure washing the steps of the center building, and there was scaffolding up over the tomb of King Pakal, where men were reconstructing the building with hammers and stones.

We returned to the hotel after spending plenty of time wandering around Palenque with Victor and learning everything we could from him; a note: every time we visited a site like this, me and never more than 5 others, typically less, would stay with the guide. Then we ate and went to rest. I went to bed immediately and slept, and didn't wake up all day or night. The others swam and ate and partied and drank a lot, and had karoake and all that shit. I guess they had a good time?

November 7 - I was startled awake at 7:50 in the morning the next day, still in my clothes from the day before. It was Frederico's cell phone; Pepis was calling, and apparently the buses had already left without us! We scrambled to get all our things together and ran downstairs only to find that a bunch of them were still finishing up breakfast, and that we had plenty of time. We ate quickly and boarded the buses for Agua Azul.

Having slept through the afternoon and all night the day before, I was the only one awake on the bus on the way. The bus driver who wasn't driving invited me down to the front to look with him, which was nice. I overheard something about Zapatistas, and inquired. Apparently, we were already in Zapatista territory! I began to look for differences, evidence. Things here looked the same, and I am still not convinced he was right about this, especially in light of later evidence. Anyhow, it was beautiful; the lush mountains, poor jungle people carrying produce home or to the market, and the houses full of shirts and dresses made by local women to sell to tourists. The area does look poor, and as we passed higher into the mountains, I could begin to see a difference. The houses were made of aluminum (which is normal for the poor here) and wood (which I hadn't seen before). It seemed they were constructing a lot of new buildings, as well. Big sections of the jungle along the steep mountainside had been clearing and planted with corn.

When we got close to Agua Azul, we were stopped at a little white hut with a red "EZLN" star on it. There were women with banana chips on the left and a group of youngish men stacking wood on the right. An older man approached the bus and explained the situation: we were entering Zapatista territory, and we were being charged 10 pesos per person to enter. I payed 50 to support them. The guys were great, all smiley and friendly and laughing. They were neither armed nor uniformed. Their shack had posters on it that said things like "Drink with a conscience: Don't drink coke!"

Agua Azul itself was lovely. It is not one big waterfall, but miles of waterfalls; or so it seemed. I tested this experimentally as far as I could, but I did not have time to go miles. When we got there, I headed off alone immediately, politely disengaging the girls selling sugar cane, bananas, and chestnuts. One tiny girl, probably about 4 years old, handed me a chestnut and said "Un regalo," that is, a gift. Besides the waterfalls themselves, I saw three huge ants, black but with bright yellow-white bums, a beautiful tiny bird striped all over in tiny slices, like the flesh of an orange, black-white-blue, went off into a jungle path (a banana garden, I guess), fell in the mud and washed in the river, at which point I saw two Lacandon women bathing downstream. I went back earlier than I had intended, hoping to find a free bathroom and borrow Capi's camera, but by the time I got back, it was time to go already. I felt like a real explorer, though. The jungle is ever so beautiful, though. My heavens!

I began to feel quite nauseous on the bus from all the curves we were taking. I switched seats with Winston so I had the aisle, which helped a lot. The mountains near San Cristobal look exactly like Michigan, (except for the Mexicans, of course). San Cristobal itself was wonderful - cold, with amazing architecture reminiscent of Europe, hip people with dreads and long hair and tattoos, and a lot of those "Mexican" weave sweaters. Also, on almost every block, there were two or three stenciled pictures and messages, things like "Stop Fascism," "End military and police torture of indigenous people" etc.

Our guide was great - a tall long haired man who took me and Connie to a store so I could buy batteries for my camera (the one my family lent me) that didn't work anyway. We ended up alone with him the whole time we were there, and he told us a ton about the EZLN, as well as the history of San Cristobal itself, which involves a lot of tragedy for the indigenous people, of course. He took us to see the first building the Zapatistas took in '94, from which Marcos delivered the 1st Declaration of the Lacandon Jungle, and the church where they signed the first peace agreement, which the government broke violently. Apparently, his mother was a close friend of the bishop of this church, and had been "in love" with Marcos at the time. She asked and was permitted to cook for him during these first talks. He also took us to see the first theatre in San Cristobal, where they were showing a play in Maya, called "Palenque Rojo." Of course, we were going to Tuxtla that same night, and couldn't see it.

From there, we went to Tuxtla Gutierrez, the capital of Chiapas. We went at night, and we saw the twinkling city lates of all the land in between the whole trip, as we were in the mountains and got a great view.

November 8 - In Tuxtla, we stayed at a really commercial hotel, a chain that was very impersonal and lacking in plants. The breakfast we had this morning was unlike any other we had in the trip, in that it was a typical American continental breakfast, and was horrible. The others were all good Mexican cooking. Anyway, I ate a bit but not much.

That day, we spent the morning on a tour of the Canyon of the Sumidero, which of course I had already seen with my family. However, it was good to see it a second time, though this time the waterfalls were dry, because we saw many more animals. We saw a sleepy spider monkey, iguanges, hundreds of birds (big black vultures resting in flocks on tree branches at the banks or floating in great circles in the sky, and herons, floating downstream on branches or like branches), and even an unmoving, completley dormant crocodile. After that (around noon), we boarded the buses and, without eating lunch, drove the five hours to Villahermosa. We ate seafood, which it didn't seem like anyone liked much, and the "vegetarian" plate they gave me had jam and some weird green strips they told me were chicken, in addition to the typical uncreative vegetarian fare here, raw vegetables.

We watched "Take the Lead" and "Mamma Mia" on the bus on the way to Cancun after dinner, which are both sufficiently beautiful and provocative films. During Mamma Mia, we were stopped for several hours between something like 4 kilometers of traffic from where a truck had hit a Beetle, killing all four young passengers. (Speaking of beetles, a big black one flew into my room and is hanging on the ceiling by my light as I write this)

November 9 - In the morning, we arrived in Cancun, which is ugly. It is all hotels, and everything is in poor English. We didn't stay long that morning, but instead, after unpacking our bags and resting for a while, we went on to Xcaret.

Xcaret is odd in that it is a theme park, built on the beach on top of Mayan ruins in the jungle, whose theme is Mayan culture and history and the jungle and the beach. It is a very sterile and commercialized version of the same things we saw across the whole trip, and yet was cool in a few ways, because it is very beautiful. When you first walk in, you see a flock of Scarlet Macaw and Military Macaw, which are both very beautiful birds, and behind them a flock of flamingoes. Further in, there's a Brahma Bull, a Tapir, and a family of white-tailed deer.

I spent my afternoon there going there a completely sterile and boring underground river with three Thai girls, and afterward wandering around lost with Noah, from the Philipines, who hung around with me at first because he speaks English well and has only three weeks of Spanish. That night we all gathered together for the show. It is a mock reenactment of the Maya culture and the Spanish conquest, complete with the ballgame and the flaming ball game, and then the second half was a smattering of traditional Mestizo songs and dances from all over Mexico.

That night, I slept, and the rest of the kids went out to Cocobongo, which is supposedly one of the best and most famous discos in the world. It was $50. Supposedly it was cool, with characters and stuff. They all got the Open Bar, and stayed out until 4 or 5 or all night. Some, however, didn't go to Cocobongo, choosing to be economical and stay at the hotel bar, where everything was free! Capi went to Cocobongo, however.

November 10 - The next day, I was tired, despite having slept, and the others were even more tired, since they had hardly slept at all. They slept in the bus, instead. I slept too, this day, however, avoiding the boring bus ride down past Xcaret to Tulum. Tulum was dusty and hot, and we had to trek on foot for about fifteen minutes along a dirt road to get to it. Once there, we passed through the thick stone wall into the city itself. Tulum is distinct from the other sites we'd seen thus far because it was hot, low, by the sea, and there were few trees. The ruins weren't particularly impressive, because many were just stone foundations, but there were a couple cool temples. There were iguanas sunning themselves of ruins and rocks everywhere.

The main attraction here was the beach. It is rocky and hidden, and very small. It has the same beautiful baby blue water as Cancun, but in front of a romantic rocky cove at the bottom of wooden stairs instead of in front of hotels and hotels unending. On the hill from which the stairs descend sits the most impressive temple of the site.

I was going to go Scuba diving that night, a night dive at 6 PM, but we got back too late. I watched TV, conversed, and saw two simultaneous programs on the South Pole before going to sleep late. The beach in Cancun is nowhere near as cool as the one in Tulum, but it does have an attractive distinct sky blue color along the beach, and a lot of clouds.

That night the kids went to Hard Rock Cafe or again stayed at the hotel and drank. Connie later told me that this night she and Eika had met some jazz musicians from San Francisco and went to their hotel with them, and she and a saxophone player sat on the beach drinking rum and talking about important things, and watched the sun rise.

November 11 - We did very little this day - we woke early, ate early, and waited hours for something or other. Then we boarded the buses and slept on the way to Merida.

Merida was supposed to be really cool but I guess I didn't get it. It was nice, but nowhere near as cool as a lot of the other cities we saw. Our hotel, the last one we would stay in the whole trip, was an old hotel with a french name (Hotel D' Champs) and poor lighting. It had a pool, and a lot of plants, however, and I thought it was fine, though the Rotarians and a lot of exchange students were complaining about it.

From my journal: "We arrived in Merida after 4; I spent a short while soaking my feet in the pool and getting my left fingernails painted by Jade from Belgium, and then went out to dinner with Claire and the Rotarians. After dinner, we took a carriage tour of the city center. The guide, Jesus, hardly spoke, which was disappointing for those of us interested in history. He was a mountain of a man in a blue shirt, with a thin stripe of facial hair along his jawbone. Our horse was named Big Boy, ironically, because he was small and the driver was huge. Merida is cool, I guess - not particularly impressive but not ugly. There are a lot of sculptures along the sidewalks, and people are smily when you wave to them.

After the tour, Connie invited me to dye my hair with her and Eika. We ended up going out with Dennis and Noah as well, and never finding dye. We ate (or rather, they ate, and I drank horchata) and walked into the plaza to find ice cream. Connie and I laid down in front of the cathedral under the Moon, the others left us, and we talked there, gazing up at the stark face of the cathedral and the glowing moon, until the police politely ejected us. We bought a tub of freezer-burnt ice cream from 7/11 around midnight and ate it under the flagpole in the center of the plaza, in the company of skittering almost-invisible tan bugs, similar to grasshoppers but not as long and moving more like cockroaches. There was a shy cockroach around as well.

Before too long, a 44-year old man with alcohol on his breath came and talked to us without any provocation for probably an hour. He is a native Yucateco who grew up in the country and moved into "La Blanca Merida" for work. He claimed to be a sportsman, that he played soccer and traveled all over Mexico and boxed and went to Cancun, Las Vegas, and Africa. He has two sons and one daughter, and has been divorced for ten years. His wife taught him to cook, which he claims he now does well and enjoys, and take care of clothes and clean. He claimed that he once killed a min, that he hit him or beat him to death in the street, and that he's been paying the consequences ever since. However, he claimed that the man's time had come, and that if he hadn't killed him, he would have died in some other manner instead. As with all drunks, it seems, he was very Christian, and talked a lot about how imperfect we all are, talking of how we can never be satisfied or content or comfortable; he also made the First Mover argument for God. He pointed to a nearby tree moving in the breeze and asked "Who's moving that tree?" Connie replied "The wind," and of course he countered, "Who moves the wind?" This seems like a remarkably anthropocentric question. He started to repeat himself and I had to pee, so we left and took a taxi back to the hotel."

November 12 - The next morning we left for Chichen Itza, which was very impressive but absolutely crawling with tourists and artesans. We scarcely had two hours there - though that was good in a way, because it was oppressively hot. Our guide lost everyone except me; even Connie went off shopping among the fantastic things the artesans make, and he started to look annoyed that this one kid was keeping him from some rest.

We ate, also very quickly, and went to a cenote - an underground lake with a hole in the roof that lets rain in. It is full of stalactits and accumulated minerals, and the lake is fresh, cool water. It is very deep - 20 meters - and you can hear bats chittering in the ceiling and see them fly around. Not knowing I would need it, I didn't have time to bring my mask and snorkel, and thus missed the best opportunity to use them. I cut my big toe on a rock, and kept trying to knock Connie and Eika off one of the ropes they had put across the water.

This was our last hotel/free night of the trip. After trying to make us learn some awful reggaeton dance for about an hour, everyone left for bars and discos, like always. I hung out in Dennis' room with him and Eika and Connie, and later Marco, who made a mess with water and shaving cream. Filipe from Brazil came back and wanted to go to sleep (for this was already quite late, and we had to get up early the next morning), so I convinced them all to move to my room. We watched TV for a while with Frederico, who seemed to like TV a lot and always had it on whenever he could, even to sleep. I sat down on my bed, Connie on Frederico's, and Dennis and Eika lay down on mine and starting making out with their heads literally pillowed on my right thigh. This was fine for me, but Connie went to go to bed, and Frederico decided we should leave them their privacy (and our room). As a note, the Rotarians had long gone to bed by this point. However, their room was literally right next to ours. They never checked rooms at night.

I can only assume that at this point Dennis and Eika had sex in my bed, and indeed there are a lot of things that indicate this is the case. I went to meditate on the steps near the pool, and Frederico began to wander with Paulo, in the same situation. Eventually they two went out, which made me feel less bad. I had no time to meditate, as Connie came back and we talked alone for hours, which was perfect. An interesting note is that in all of these long conversations we had, we could never see each other. By the cathedral, we were watching the sky, at the flagpole, we sat with our backs to it, facing in different directions, and this night, we sat face to face but in the dark.

Around 2:30 AM, she went to bed, and I went to investigate the lovers. Dennis answered the door, freshly showered, and asked for two minutes. They took longer than that, and then let me in. They decided to sleep in my bed, and so I slept in Frederico's. He got back about a half hour later and joined me. Remember that this was how every other boy on the trip slept every night - we had merely gotten lucky, so this wasn't particularly bad or anything.

November 13 - We didn't get up until 8:30 the next morning, though we were supposed to be up by 6:30. Nothing happened; people were just now gathering in the lobby to leave, and a group was still eating breakfast. We were mostly already packed, so we all ate except Dennis (I feel bad he didn't eat, since I was supposed to get them up earlier), and gathered in the lobby. We were awoken by the Rotarians, and they did catch Dennis and Eika in our room, but she didn't say anything more than "Get your things, hurry!" and they were never punished or yelled at or anything.

This, the last day of the trip, we spent in Campeche. Campeche is just beautiful - though not perfect. The buildings are are all light, bright pastel colors, and there are old colorful churches spattered around. We arrived in mid-afternoon, saw a fort, which had been turned into a museum housing ancient Maya treasures, and then went to the main plaza. The plaza was to me like a quintessential Spanish plaza, with a big gazebo in the center, a ring of rare Carribean trees (gifts from the Cuban government) just inside the square fence, and pigeons everywhere. Off to the north lies the cathedral, the typical Mexican design with the two-towers-bridged-by-an-arch face and a buttressed dome behind it. To the west, the library, which we will get to later. To the south, there is a refurbished antique historical house, which will be our first destination.

What was perhaps the most sublime experience of the entire trip took place while we were walking from our rendezvous in the center of the plaza after dinner toward the little visitor's center next to the cathedral. It was something extremely simple, but completely beyond words. As we were walking towards the gate at northwest corner, all the pigeons in the plaza took wing and formed two clouds over our heads. They crossed through each other and quickly settled back down into the trees. I was left stunned, with my mouth hanging open. I don't believe anyone else noticed.

The house was like the rest, colorful, but with antique replica furniture. The central part was an open air courtyard with a cistern for storing water. I suppose it was cool, but not particularly interesting. There was no history - everything was complete supposition to make a nice tourist attraction.

Next, we took a guided tour around the city in a little open-air bus thing. We saw the city, the old city, with all its vibrant, UNESCO-dictated colors, the new city, with its ugly modern buildings and Wal-mart, and the beach, with numerous scultpures and statues, and the sunset. The sunset was beautiful, colored like the city itself, more reds and pinks than golds. We stopped to take pictures.

Returning from the tour, we were given free time. I tried to convince Connie to go to the library with me, but she wouldn't have it and struck off on her own with Eika. I went alone, and discovered its beauty and charm. It is a typical building, long-faced, with a second floor section hanging out over a sidewalk, supported by columns. Upon entering, you find a large, circular desk of dark wood. To your right, the one room of books, and ahead, an open courtyard with a Day of the Dead altar. In the staircase there is another of those "Mayan Worldview" murals, this one most notably with a little ear of corn whose kernels are floating off to form a man. At the top of the stairs there is a room full of glass-encased beautiful old books from the 1800s. The selection in the library itself is good, with few but essential classics. The room is full of tables, occupied by giggly uniformed Mexican students.

I went back when I though the free time was up, and discovered we had about 15 more minutes. Connie was there again, and this time I was successful in luring her to the library, along with Carolin. Carolin (from Austria), I had discovered in the bus the day before, shared my love of Herman Hesse, and she gave me a pile of recommendations of German and Austrian authors for my list. We went to the library and gazed upon its wonderful-library-ness, its mosaic-pattern tan tiles, beautiful dark hardwood shelves, and books! Carolin found a favorite Rilke poem in German(!) and a bunch of obscure Austrian children's books.

After the free time really was over, we went down a few blocks to get a drink. Two middle-aged women served trays of beer (on our own account) and took orders for things that weren't beer but never served them. Connie and Dennis and Eika and Noah and I talked about future plans, and I helped Eika write a note in Spanish in Connie's sentimental notes book for the trip. Eika speaks better English than Spanish, being Japanese, and though she's got better Spanish now than she had before, she's still more comfortable with English.

After a short time for beer drinking, we went back to the buses to get to our final Campeche destination: a smaller, out-of-the-way plaza with much less traffic, located in an area with no businesses or shopping or anything of the kind. Very nice, hidden, and romantic. Upon arriving, we had nothing to do but wait for the restaurant people who were catering our last dinner to set up folding chairs and tables. Paty gave Maria Carla (both from Brazil) an extensive sharpie tattoo covering her entire left arm while we waited.

The most important incident of the night, however, was something Connie and I spotted at the same moment, and moved off to investigate together. A group of hippies (or whatever should be the appropriate term, I have no idea) were sitting on the curb outside the fence, talking to some of the musicians I guess had been hired to play for us that night but never did(?). Anyway, there were two Mexican guys with djembe, hand-carved, wooden djembe. The first looked like Omar from the Mars Volta. Further, there was another Mexican, a firetwirler, who had long black hair. Beyond him, Sebastian: a shirtless Belgian with long, dirty light-brown hair and a firestick, and a Swiss girl with those long claw-like firesticks.

They were smoking a joint and talking, and we talked to them for a while before we were called back to eat. They soon came into the gazebo and performed for us, so it was alright regardless. The two djembe-players played aggressive sixteenth-note patterns while the firetwirlers took turns and danced in groups in front of them. The Mexican was by far the best; Sebastian had started upon arrival in Mexico, about two weeks before. He was taking a trip throughout the area, and perhaps further down into Central America, he told us.

After they had finished performing, the rest of the exchange students moved in around them, and supplied tips. Most of them were looking for weed, which they didn't get. Elise, from Norway, got pretty friendly with "Omar," which was funny. They did some chill playing and rapping for a while, and then later I played the djembe for a while and Connie freak-tribal-danced along (something she is naturally very good at).

I was naturally very excited by all this, and said as much to the Mexican firetwirler. He gave me the standard but good advice "Just pack your backpack and jump!" I made sure they were fed, and the Rotarians were kind enough to permit them to eat. Our food was delicious that night, too. Very spicy and tasty.

On the bus ride home, we watched a Coen Brothers film (Burn After Reading) which was typically awesome (I guess this movie just recently came out? I had no idea. It was pirated, like all the movies the bus drivers showed). I wrote the most tear-jerking, eloquent letter I could in Connie's awesome journal, which she was using to collect such notes. I am jealous of that journal. I slept fitfully all night, and we arrived in Mina the next morning around 8 - we were the first stop!

A bit of business - I made a note about the rules before we really got going, and I'm sure that if you paid attention you realized that the Rotarians did not take these seriously in the least, and allowed us to take our lives as our own responsibilities, something which does not typically happen in organizations of this size and with this level of responsibility. Anyway, there was never a good time to note that easily over half of us smoked at every available opportunity, whether there were Rotarians around or not. This made it very difficult to talk to people while we stopped for bathrooms and such, and was supremely annoying.

Notes Regarding History
Monte Alban - A Zapoteca royal city founded in 500 BCE, lasting until it was abandoned approximately 500 CE. We saw several houses first; the notable thing about them is that they buried their dead underneath their own houses, for generations. They built several pyramids around the top of the main, most royal and reserved part. There was a ball court, the same game they played in the Maya civilization, but in their culture this was not a ritual activity, and there was no sacrifice involved; it was merely a game. They lived on the top of a mountain, and did no agriculture there; all their food was brought from the valleys below. Their water came from a cenote that is allowed to fill with rainwater. Back then, the area was more like Mina is now - very rainy. Currently, Oaxaca is dry and arid, and a city like that could not live on the little water there during the dry season. This seems to be the reason the city was abandoned. The mountaintop was flattened by the Zapotecas themselves, and the rock they removed was used to construct all the buildings there. The ruins there nowadays are 30% original, 70% reconstruction. There were several observatories there, and the plaque on one of them had this cool quote: "Astronomical observation was an important part of daily life, and had a strong influence on urban planning."
Palenque - The main topic treated was Pakal and his son, and some of the Mayan worldview. I have forgotten too much of this; Victor told us a mountain of information. Pakal was one of the more famous and powerful kings of Palenque. His son, K'inich Kan B'ahlam, was apparently a genius in astronomy and math, and calculated many of the most important discoveries of the Maya civilization. They named a supercomputer after him in Mexico City because he was so smart. Apparently he also led his city to victory against the armies of Calakmul, a neighboring city. There was a spined tree in front of the tombs; it symbolizes the Mayan world, with the roots being the underword, the trunk the human world, and the branches the heavens, of course. They used the spines for self-mutilation. In the tombs, there are three (I believe) 13 year old boys laying with Pakal's wife. They were sacrificed to accompany her in her apotheosis after death as servants. The most interesting thing about these ruins is touching even the outer edges of what it would be like to believe this and be killed at 13, or at any age for that matter.