mexico travel | Travel Thru History

Feliz Navidad From Isla Cozumel

Yucatan, Mexico

by Jett & Kathryn Britnell

Celebrating Christmas in the tropics promised to be a grand family adventure this year with no snow, no tree, no turkey, no stuffing and zero stress. During the traditional season of gift giving, Cozumel was the present we gave to ourselves!

“That was one of the best dives I’ve ever done,” Kathryn proclaimed after surfacing at Cozumel’s Tormentos Reef. Comprised of coral pinnacles towering approximately 20 to 30 feet high and interspersed with wide, sandy areas. The colorful coral heads are adorned with purple and orange sponges, brain and whip corals. Tormentos is a veritable ocean garden where the reef’s maze of twisting tunnels, overhangs and barrel sponges provide shelter for marine life. Teeming with shoals of bream fish, French grunts and yellow snappers, I lost count on the number of blue tangs, pork fish, trigger fish, black durgon, file fish, big eyed jacks and parrot fish we saw. Lurking within the ledges, nooks and crannies were Caribbean king crabs, spiny lobster, giant hermit crabs, juvenile spotted drums, spotted moray eels and delicate-looking arrow crabs. Grey and French angelfish seemed unwary of the divers in their midst as were the barracuda seen hovering over the patch reef on the hunt for their next meal.

Beneath a jagged coral overhang, we encountered a seven-foot nurse shark resting motionless on the sandy seafloor. After taking a few pictures, we left the shark behind only to come upon a green moray eel swimming out in the open that was clearly being escorted by an enormous black grouper. Normally a solitary fish, this grouper was clearly hunting with the eel. Marine biologists who have studied this remarkable behavior in other parts of the world estimate both fish were five times more successful at catching prey cooperatively than separately.

While our dive at Tormentos Reef was quite literally off the scale, we equally enjoyed our dives at other well known Cozumel dive sites. Interestingly, we seemed to be seeing more large animals on every dive than I could recall ever seeing here over two previous trips. Nurse sharks, sea turtles, Southern stingrays all seemed to be in greater abundance. Our decision to bring our family to Cozumel for Christmas and New Years felt entirely right. This year, the gifts were indeed under the sea.

Nestled just 12 miles off the Yucatan Peninsula’s coastline. Cozumel is Mexico’s largest island. Measuring roughly 28 miles long by 10 miles wide, it is a predominately jungle-covered, limestone and scrub plateau. It’s main waterfront town, San Miguel, was a sleepy little fishing community until 1961 when famed undersea explorer, Jacques Cousteau shot a television documentary here and proclaimed the islands fringing reefs to be one of the most beautiful scuba diving areas on the planet. Since that time, Cozumel has established an underwater marine park system to protect the delicate balance of its impressive long stretch of coral reefs & lavish assortment of tropical fish. The sea life is absolutely amazing and depending on the season, underwater visibility ranges between 100 to 200 feet. Modern day scuba divers still rate Cozumel’s mighty Palancar Reef system as being one of the top five diving destinations and tales of hidden undersea treasure from old Spanish galleons still arise during après dive discussions while downing a few cold cervezas.

San Miguel’s quaint downtown zócalo (Plaza del Sol) extends for about eight blocks along the waterfront and for several blocks back from the water. The tiny municipality exudes a casual relaxed ambiance with excellent shopping, superb night life, an exceptional number of fine dining restaurants, more than 200 gift shops, souvenir stalls and jewelry outlets that sell everything from T-shirts to fine silver jewelry, pottery, wood carvings, leather goods and tourist kitsch. While prices tend to be fixed when cruise ships are in port, bartering is relished by shopkeepers on the side streets located as little as ½ block in from the water. In fact, the potential for striking a great bargain increases the further you stroll back from the waterfront.

On Christmas Eve our trip got off to a festive start with a delicious dinner at Pepe’s Grill, followed by bananas flambé for desert, which is simply to die for! After some shopping at some waterfront shops we attended Midnight Mass, which the Mexicans call “la Misa Del Gallo” or “the rooster’s mass,” at the beautiful Cathedral of Corpus Christi. One does not need to be religious to appreciate familiar Christmas carols or a church service performed entirely in Spanish. Curiously, we noticed several church patrons were carrying and hugging a baby Jesus doll. We soon learned the building of the “El Nacimiento” or “Nativity scene” is a seasonal tradition here. During the holiday season, most Mexican families construct a Nativity scene in their home. At midnight on Christmas Eve, a figure of baby Jesus is placed in the nacimientos to commemorate the Lord’s birth.

According to Mayan legend, Cozumel was the home of Ixchel, Goddess of Fertility and wife of Itzamha, the supreme Lord and Sun God. At least once during their lifetime, Mayan woman were expected to make a 12-mile crossing between the Yucatan mainland and Cozumel in a dugout canoe in order to worship and pay tribute to Ixchel. It was believed that in return Ixchel would grant her loyal servants the promise of good marriages, healthy children and would send her favourite bird as a symbol of gratitude and good fortune. This explains why the ancient Mayans revered Cozumel as a sacred shrine and named this tiny island, “Ah-Cuzimil-Peten”, or “Island of the Swallows.” Today, at many scattered sites around the island archeologists are still unearthing small dolls that were presented as a sacrifice during fertility rituals.

Palancar Reef, the second largest barrier reef in the world, is Cozumel’s claim to diving fame. Its reefs form part of the Belizean Barier Reef that extends southward from Isla Mujeres, a tiny Mexican island north of Cancun, to the Bay of Honduras in Belize. Palancar’s reef system is comprised of a three and a half mile long stretch of patch reefs, sand channels, impressive drop-offs and towering housed-sized coral buttresses, the peaks of which rise to within 60 to 100 feet of the surface. The walls of these monolithic edifices are honeycombed with tunnels, ballroom-sized caverns, passageways, and swim throughs. Peer over the edge of Palancar’s abyssal drop-off and you will be gazing at the Undersea Temple of the Mayan Gods, the 3,000-foot deep ocean trench that separates Cozumel from the Yucatan Peninsula.

Another notable feature that sets Cozumel’s waters apart from other Caribbean dive destinations is the Yucatan current offers endless opportunities for drift diving. These continually flowing ocean currents are often less than half a knot and tend to flow in a south to north direction. Sometimes the current can be fairly strong, attaining velocities of two knots or more. Essentially, the dive plan for drift diving is simple. The dive tender drops you in the water and follows your bubble trail, standing by to pluck you from the water when you surface.

Shafts of sunlight shimmer through the openings in the cave ceilings and winding archways at Palancar Gardens Reef giving the interior a cathedral-like atmosphere. The picturesque Garden’s presents divers with a varied reef terrain of towering rock spires, cliffs and numerous swim-throughs that are decorated with orange elephant ear sponge, gorgonian corals and lots of the usual tropical fish. Sea turtles are pretty much a sure thing on every Palancar dive. It would seem the Mayan Goddess, Ixchel, also rewards divers who are willing to make a pilgrimage to her fabulous undersea temple.

While spending Christmas in the tropics may not be everyone’s cup of tea, our entire family thoroughly enjoyed our Yuletide tropical adventure. Perhaps the Goddess Ixchel weaved her magic in other ways during our stay as after attending Christmas Mass, both our Über cool teenage boys actually thanked us for taking them to Midnight Mass. That’s the wonderful thing about dive travel, it provides one with unique experiences you will never forget. As the Mexicans say on New Years Day, “Prospero Año y Felicidad.” A prosperous year and happiness!

3-Hour Certified Scuba Diving Tour with Two Tanks in Cozumel

If You Go:

Cozumel Quick Facts
♦ Diving Season: Year round
♦ Language: Spanish and certain Mayan dialects. English is spoken throughout tourist areas
♦ Currency: Mexican peso with U.S. dollars and major credit cards accepted by most establishments.
♦ Time Zone: Central Standard Time Zone
♦ Estimated Population: 90,000
♦ Water: Tap water in Mexico is generally not potable, and it is safest to drink purified bottled water. Even locals do not drink the tap water. Bottled water is widely available.
♦ Climate: Subtropical, average temperature is about 80° F with the warmest weather in July and August. The coolest months are December and January where temperatures hover in the 70’s. Ocean temperatures average 80° F year-round, dropping one or two degrees in winter.
♦ Time Zone: Central Time Zone. Cozumel does not observe daylight savings time.
♦ Accommodations: Cozumel offers many choices for places to stay. All inclusive hotel packages are now popular and a fantastic option for families. Prices for hotels vary greatly so consult with a dive travel agent or surf the net to find something that suits your budget and satisfies your specific needs.

Cozumel Diving Day Trip from Cancun

About the authors:
Jett and Kathryn Britnell are award wining internationally published diving photo journalists.
Web: www.jettbritnell.com
Blog: jettbritnell.blogspot.ca
Matador Network Ambassadors
500px
Ocean Artists Society (Photographer)
BC Association of Travel Writers
Professional Photographers of Canada

Photos by Jett and Kathryn Britnell.

The Mystery of Otut-Tun

Palenque, Mexico

by W. Ruth Kozak

Many civilizations believe in reincarnation, a return to life after death. The credibility and mystery behind this doctrine has always fascinated me, in particular on those rare occasions when I have encountered a feeling of déjà vu. I recall an unusual dream I had and the strange occurrences that followed.

I am in a small room with walls made of white stone. The room is bare of furnishings except for a narrow bed covered by the pelt of a black animal, possibly a jaguar, and heaped with brightly colored cushions. In one corner is a large urn with a brilliant turquoise glaze, the most distinctive object in the room.

I am accompanied by another woman. We are both dressed in long gauzy garments and wear flower head dresses. She indicates to me that I am a captive and she is a servant.

I look out the narrow T-shaped window of the room and see a hilly landscape. A vista of lawns and foliage border a wide avenue that connects distant pavilions with curved roofs decorated by elaborate combs. Among the gardens and terraces are scattered other white stone buildings with carved lintels over arched doorways that are shaped like open serpents’ mouths. A stairway descends from the entrance of the room and below a crowd of people is assembling. The iridescent feathers of their headdresses make them look like a flock of exotic birds; the brilliantly dyed cloth of their garments swirls in a riot of colour as dancing men whirl to the pulsating bet of drums. The crowd screams and I see four people who appear to be captives being dragged up the steep stairs of an adjoining building. The moaning wail of a conch trumpet echoes off the hills. The hubbub of excited voices and the sound of scuffling footsteps on the stairs frightens me.

Two men enter the room. Both appear to be noblemen. They are dressed in garments of fine cotton cloth resplendent with painted and woven patterns. One is a full head taller than his companion. He is a handsome man with a beautiful sculpted face, high cheek-bones and a high-bridged nose. The short kilt he wears displays his bronze-skinned muscular body. He is adorned with exquisite jewelry, bracelets and rings of silver set with precious stones: turquoise, jade, lapis lazuli and pearls. Over his shoulders is draped a cape of brightly embroidered cloth and he wears a fabulous headdress of emerald-coloured plumes.

The men are conversing hushed, troubled voices in a language I do not understand. The tall, younger man joins me by the window. He looks down at the scene below. The mood of the crowd has intensified and the plaza resounds with the throbbing of drums and the piercing shrill of flutes.

He gestures “trouble” and stands in front of me, placing his hands on my shoulders. His dark eyes penetrate me with their intenseness. A sharp pang of grief cuts through me. He stands quietly allowing me a moment of reflection. I realize then that, although I am his captive, I am also his lover.

His eyes are sad and speak of tragedy. “You must go. I will help you escape…” He speaks his own language but makes me understand. He smiles to reassure me and embraces me. I smell the delicate fragrance of the perfumed oils he uses to anoint his body. “You must leave here,” he says. I protest. I do not want to leave him.

The other man who is waiting near the rear doorway with the woman servant interrupts, addressing his friend by name: “Cho’oc…Cho’oc-B’alam!” He speaks urgently in that strange langue of clucking sounds which I can not understand. Cho’oc pushes me toward the door. “You must go quickly…”

It is then that I wake from my sleep, but the dream, so vivid and real haunted me. Who was the man, Cho-oc Buhlum? Where was that place? Why was he sending me away?

It wasn’t until nearly a year later in a place thousands of miles away in south-eastern Mexico that I would find some of the answers. I was traveling with two friends by van from the Mexican Caribbean coast of the Yucatan to the humid jungle area of the Chiapas, heading for the archaeological site of Palenque. We planned to spend the day exploring the ancient Mayan ruins. As I entered the site I was awed by what I saw. A mysterious jade-colored aura shimmers over the entire area where temples, palaces and pyramids with roof ornaments carved in stone preside magnificently over the gloomy, mysterious rain forest that surrounds it. It is easy to imagine every building in its perfection with the terraces and gardens that gave Palenque the reputation of having been one of the most beautiful of the ancient Mayan cities.

Known as a garden city of the Maya, Palenque was probably built some time after the fourth century AD when the Mayans developed a technique of constructing buildings of stone. Lost in the dense tropical forest, when it was rediscovered over 150 years ago, the jungle was set on fire in order to get at the collapsing buildings. Many of the priceless stucco reliefs crumbled and fell away. What remains is enclosed by a great green wall of jungle.

The Spanish named it “Palenque” which means “Palisade City”. Chol, a Mayan dialect still spoken by the natives translate the name as “Otot’(house) and “tun” (a stone) Otot-tun: Houses of Stone.

I wandered around the site from one building to another. The stone houses are abandoned now, these buildings and temples once occupied by venerable priests and Mayan nobility. The Grand Palace stands on a platform close to the middle of the city. The pyramids and temples group around it. My footsteps echo in the empty chambers. Water drips from the ceilings of dark passageways leading to underground galleries. The perfection of the architecture in Palenque is enhanced by the profusion of stucco reliefs found on the walls, cornices and pilasters of the palace. They rank among the finest works of Mayan art. It is dominated by a four-storied square tower known as the Observatory. Sculptures, burial chambers, inner courts and sandstone stelae flank the stairways and terraces. Across from it, the Sun Temple with its pierced roof comb, faces directly into the rising sun. I recalled seeing a building like this somewhere before: a vista of lawns and foliage bordering a wide avenue connecting distant pavilions that had curved roofs decorated with elaborate combs…

I walked from temple to temple. In each of those cool, damp sanctuaries, the spirits of former inhabitants whispered, waiting for recognition. The air was humid, carrying the fragrance of decaying and luxuriant growth and the scent of tropical flowers. Birds twittered gaily and fluttered about the roof-combs where they nested, the only inhabitants now.

The Temple of Inscriptions dominates the scene, named this because of the three existing panels in the interior which bear the Inscriptions of Mayan laws. It is perched atop a massive pyramid. Deep inside the bowel of this pyramid is concealed the burial chamber of a Mayan priest-king, Pacal the Great.

I ascended the high steps to the top and sat to rest, contemplating the magnificence of the vista below, the lush landscape and surrounding monuments that lay scattered about the area of the temple-city. I imagined how it had been long ago when young men, chosen by the priests to be offered as sacrifices, climbed those steep steps, stopping on each platform to pipe a tune on his clay flute, then breaking the flute on the step as a symbolic gesture to the gods. I visualize people gathered in the plaza below, strange, beautiful people decked out in fantastic clothing covered with plumes of tropical birds.

At that moment the dream came back clearly to me. It was as though the missing pieces of a puzzle had been found and the picture became whole. I knew instinctively this was the place in my dream. I had been there before. And I knew that somewhere, among the surrounding temples, I would find the little room and perhaps the answer to the questions that had haunted me for so long.

Temple XII is a small stone house next to the huge pyramid of the Temple of Inscriptions. I had overlooked it when I first began to explore the site, because it is dominated by the massive structure of the pyramid and is set back among the trees. I made my way cautiously through the weeds and over the piles of stones, all that is left of a ruined terrace and crumbling stairway. As I entered the little room, a chill ran through me. I felt light-headed and my heart throbbed with excitement. In the dream, I entered the room through a small garden terrace. The rear wall of the structure was now partially crumbled and the terrace overgrown with vegetation and shattered mortar. The chamber ws much smaller than I remembered, yet I knew it was the same one. I remembered everything that had been in that room: a narrow bed covered by a jaguar pelt, a large urn with a brilliant turquoise glaze, the handsome dark-skinned man.

As I stood by the narrow T-shaped window and gazed out over the scene below, a sharp pang of remembered grief cut through my reverie. I was looking back into the past, imagining every building in its perfection with its terraces and painted ornaments carved in stone, a magnificent, awesome city with gardens of fragrant flowers and paved avenues. I summoned the strange foreign people of my dream who I imagined were gathered in the plaza below the steps. What had happened that long-ago day in Palenque? Who was Cho’oc B’alam, whose name means “The Young Jaguar”? Why had he wanted me to escape from there?

According to the guide-book, in another small temple – Temple XVIII – located behind Temple XII, excavators found a crypt containing the bodies of a young prince-priest and a girl who had been buried with him. Driven by insatiable curiosity, I decided to explore this site.

Dense underbrush had overgrown the path. I attempted to climb over the tangle of vines and foliage but it was impossible to locate the trail. I remembered that Palenque has also been called “Na-Chan”, City of Snakes, so I decided to turn back. But just then something caught my eye: a brilliant iridescent green feather. I remembered then, Cho-oc had worn a fabulous head-dress of emerald-coloured plumes.. Was this an omen? An answer to my questions? I turned back, unable to go any farther. The jungle would keep its secrets.

Later, I studied the photographs taken in Palenque, hoping to discover additional clues. A photo of Temple XII shows a close-up of the stucco relief carved at the base of the pillar at the front entrance. It is a carving of one of the Mayan death gods – a skull, outlined with decorative scrolls, after all these years unmarred by time. Strangely, there appears beside the pillar a mysterious vertical aura of purple light. The skull grins cryptically, keeping its secret and the secrets of the dead who still haunt the little stone house of Otut-tun.

Palenque Archaelogical Site Tour and Misol-Ha Waterfall from Villahermosa

If You Go:

Palenque Ruins, Chiapas

Mayan Ruins, Palenque

About the author:
Ruth is a historical fiction and travel writer. She had never forgotten the strange dream or her fascinating visit to Palenque. You can read more of Ruth’s published stories on her website at www.ruthkozak.com.

Photo credits:
Palenque by Jan Harenburg / CC BY
All other photos by W. Ruth Kozak

Mexico City Blues: Following The Beat Trail to La Roma

by Ellen Johnston

Very few people are indifferent to Mexico City. Love it or hate it, it truly is a megalopolis – the sprawling, carbon monoxide spewing juggernaut of Latin America, but also its cultural heart. And while its exterior might seem grimier than Eurocentric Buenos Aires or less fashionable than beach-ready Rio de Janeiro, the city contains a great soul buried just beneath the surface: one that reaches far back beyond the time of the Spanish conquistadors and continues on today, forever trying to balance modernity with the past, and the New World with the Old. Mexico City bears the torch of progress in a conservative country, and as such, has always attracted artists, activists, intellectuals and writers from all over Mexico, Latin America and the outside world, all looking to draw upon the cultural wealth of the mestizo nation and to find a place for themselves within it.

Over sixty years ago, two members of America’s Beat Generation did just that. First William Burroughs, then Jack Kerouac, came to Mexico City, searching for freedom, beauty and surreal inspiration in its storied, hallowed streets. They were drawn to a neighbourhood called “La Roma”, an enclave with a spirit that remains decidedly bohemian to this day, despite rising prices and gentrification spilling over from the neighbouring Colonia Condesa (“colonia” is the word that denizens of Mexico City, Chilangos, use for “neighbourhood”.)

Located just southwest of the city’s historic centre, La Roma is a locale of French-inspired architecture, built largely by the Francophile dictator Porfirio Diaz at the turn of the 20th century. To walk in the footsteps of Burroughs and Kerouac is to trod a path laden with shady public plazas, dusky mezcalerias, and galleries filled with young people basking in the promise of one of the biggest cities on earth. And while La Roma is not, by any means, the cheapest neighbourhood in Mexico City these days, it remains wonderfully affordable in comparison to more famous Beat haunts like North Beach or Greenwich Village, where artists were priced out years ago.

La Roma is still the kind of place where a drag queen can live off the proceeds of her costume designs. Believe me, I met her. She lives in a small apartment off of Avenida Insurgentes and a red light shines from her window day and night, like a beacon, signalling to those who are wild and crazy and wonderfully artistic that they still can, unlike their Gringo counterparts, afford to live in a beautiful, central and historic neighbourhood.

William Burroughs moved to Mexico City in 1949 because he was on the run from the law. But he stayed there for five years because it appealed to his sensibility, being, as it was, a melting pot of New World mysticism, cheap sex, liquor, and the drugs that fuelled him to write and live voraciously. While Mexico City has changed a great deal since then, there are still a few traces of Burroughs and his fellow Beats to be found. On Orizaba street in La Roma, a sign indicates his most famous address, Orizaba 210, where Kerouac visited him, and where they became known for late night drug-fuelled rambles through the neighbouring streets, and to Plaza Luis Cabrera nearby.

Today Calle Orizaba is one of the most beautiful in the neighbourhood, and the walk from 210 Orizaba north to the Insurgentes metro station is fantastic, taking you past historic homes, galleries, and the previously mentioned Plaza Luis Cabrera. It also passes the even lovelier Plaza Rio de Janeiro, where a replica of Michelangelo’s David towers above the square. Several intersecting streets are also worth exploring along the way, especially Colima and Durango, for their brightly coloured buildings, independent boutiques and art-filled watering holes. Casa Lamm, at the intersection of Orizaba and Alvaro Obregon is a cultural highlight, as is MUCA Roma on nearby Tonala street, a satellite gallery of the National Autonomous University of Mexico. Located in an old historic home, it contains several floors of modern art, as well as one of the few free public washrooms in the area. These institutions are a testament to the dichotomy between historic preservation and gentrification that is now occurring in La Roma. On one hand they have kept art thriving and alive in the neighbourhood, and on the other, they have made it easier for businesses like American Apparel (Mexico City’s only outlet) to move in. It’s a double-edged sword, and you can pick your side amongst the al fresco dining options that surround nearby Plaza Rio de Janeiro. Orígenes Orgánicos, a corner café, represents the new, serving healthy vegetarian organic options on a private patio, bucking the trends in a country known for its love of meat. The dishes are not cheap by Mexican standards, about 90-120 pesos each (8-10 dollars), though they can provide welcome relief to travellers weighed down by a lack of plant-based options. For a new take on an old favourite, try their Nopales Huichapan: grilled cactus served with organic cheese, tomato and avocado. If you’re feeling more traditionalist, however, you can load up on birria tacos, made from stewed goat meat, around the corner for 6 pesos each, and eat them in the more democratic shade of the Plaza. Both are delicious.

For a less trendy, more downhome perspective of La Roma, head to Roma Sur, which, for those of you who are Spanish-deficient, is the southern section of the neighbourhood. Centred around the Chilpancingo Metro station, Roma Sur is less pretty than its northern neighbour, but offers many cheaper, more authentically Latin American experiences. Right outside the Chilpancingo Metro station, on Avenida Baja California, La Espiga, a Mexican bakery, serves up delicious pastries for around five pesos, and fresh out of the oven Bolillos (buns) for even less. Walk a few blocks east and you hit Calle Medellin, home to Colombian restaurants and bakeries, and the Mercado de Medellin, a huge indoor market where you can do your produce shopping, buy fresh juice, or, if you feel like it, sit down to a delicious meal of chilaquiles con longaniza or enchiladas verdes for less than four dollars.

While you could spend several days in La Roma alone, there are numerous places nearby that are also worth exploring if you’re looking for a Burroughsesque fix of art and dissolution. La Clandestina, a five minute walk away, in Colonia Condesa, is one of the best watering holes in the city, serving up Mezcal to the young and creative Chilangos who flock here. Mezcal is Tequila’s smoky and rough-around-the-edges cousin, and Clandestina serves it as it should be, not in bottles, but draft, from large plastic jugs that look like they were produced in the owner’s backyard. More than sixty varieties are on tap, and glasses are served with chile-sprinkled fresh orange slices on the side, to cut the liquor’s bite.

If Condesa’s “fresa” scene (Chilango slang for the upper class trendsetters who frequent the neighbourhood) seems too trendy, head over to Plaza Garibaldi in the historic centre, where Mariachis play late into the night and public drinking is allowed. Jack Kerouac famously began a late night ramble here in the 1950s, and it’s still popular today, a place to bring your friends and a bottle of tequila, and to simply sit back and enjoy the live music. The Centro Historico can be easily reached from La Roma and Condesa by Mexico City’s efficient, clean, and shockingly cheap metro (only three pesos.) Keep in mind, however, that both the Metro and buses stop running around midnight, so unless you want to mimic Kerouac and take a very long walk home, get in a taxi.

Mexico City Food Walking Tour: Pozole, Tacos and Quesadillas

If You Go:

♦ Mexico City is called the city of eternal spring for a reason! The weather is almost perfect, thanks to its high altitude. But beware, it can get cold at night, especially in winter. Central heating is not common, so bring layers.

♦ Don’t believe the hype! Public transit is safe, especially the Metro and the Metrobus. The trains can get very crowded, however, so if you’re a woman traveling alone, take advantage of the first three subway cars, which are designated women-only during rush hour.

♦ Walking alone at night is safe in the Condesa and Roma neighbourhoods, however it’s worthwhile to watch your bag if you head into the Historic Centre, which tends to be more deserted after hours.

♦ For information about Mexico City’s current writers-in-exile, check out Casa Refugio Citlaltépetl, in Colonia Condesa. Founded in 1988, it houses writers from all over the world who have had to leave their countries of birth. They host lectures, poetry readings and other literary events.

Mexico City Private Tour with Teotihuacan, Murals, Guadalupe Basilica

All photos are by Ellen Johnston:
Art in the couryard of Casa Lamm
En route to San Angel
The National Autonomous University of Mexico, now a designated UNESCO World Heritage Site.
A bus set up next to Plaza Luis Cabrera to host alternative theatre performances
The classic “Porfiriana” architecture of La Roma

About the author:
Ellen Johnston is a cultural nomad — a traveller, writer and musician who bounces all over the world. Originally from Vancouver, Canada, she has West Coast roots, a Mediterranean soul and a Chilanga heart, thanks to a recent stint in the Mexican capital. She currently resides in the San Francisco Bay Area, trying to soak up a little of all three. You can find links to her other writing and photography at www.chamacaloca.wordpress.com

In the Footsteps of Ancient Maya

Yucatan, Mexico

by Ronald D. Kness

Maya ruins are each unique in their own way. Chichen Itza, Coba and Tulum are no different. Chichen Itza has two cultures; Tulum is a walled city and Coba is 95% unexcavated. I have visited each of these ruins, and found it very humbling to walk in the footsteps of the ancient Maya.

Chichen Itza

Chichen Itza (meaning mouth of the well of the Itza tribe) spans two distinct periods of time. The first one, Old Chichen, spanned from 324 to 975 A.D. During the Early Classic period of this time, from 324 to 625 A.D., external influences from other cultures disappeared and the typical Mayan traits developed.

During the Flowering Period, from 625 to 800 A.D., architecture, sculpture, mathematics, astronomy and hieroglyph writing flourished. Chichen Itza was at the height of its culture during these years.

Next, came the Decline, from 800 to 975 A.D., when the Mayan culture started to disintegrate eventually reaching a level culturally almost equal to where it was right before the Early Classic period began. It was also during this period when the Maya abandoned their cities and ceremonial centers for reasons still not fully known.

As I walk by the Old Chichen temples, called the Date Group, carvings of the Mayan Rain God, Chac Mool are still visible. The most important temple of the Date Group is the Temple of the Initial Series.

Its importance comes from the fact it holds the only hieroglyphic date yet found in Old Chichen. Carved in classic Maya data on a lintel, the date translates to 879 A.D.

The other temples of the Date Group are the Temples of the Four Lintels, Three Lintels, the Owls and the Atlantes.

The second period, new Chichen, began about 975 A.D. when the Toltecs arrived and merged the two cultures. Usually when one culture collides with another, the weaker culture is suppressed (and usually wiped out) while the dominant culture prospers. Somehow the Toltecs and Maya were able to merge both cultures and satisfy the beliefs of both groups. This alliance lasted until 1200 A.D. when it began to decline.

Once inside New Chichen, Chac is still visible, but the Toltec Sun God, the Feathered Serpent Quetzalcoatl, is superior – evidence the two cultures merged. The most impressive of the monuments in New Chichen is the Castle or the Pyramid of Kukulcan.

Kukulcan, Maya for the Toltec Sun God, is classic Toltec. The castle measures 24 meters (78 feet) high with a 55 meter (180 feet) square base. Its nine recessed stories represent the nine planes of the underworld. On each side of the pyramid is a 91-step staircase. The steps from the four sides, plus the small temple on the top, equals 365.

If you are there at 3 pm on either March 20 or September 21 (the equinoxes), you would see the sun forming a series of seven triangles of light and shadows on the ramp of the north staircase of this temple creating the impression of an undulating serpent.

At the bottom of that staircase two carved serpent heads greet me. Worshiping snakes was part of the Toltec culture brought to the Maya and is not found in Old Chichen structures.

Two other New Chichen impressive structures are the Temple of Warriors (also known as the Temple of a Thousand Columns) and the Ball Court. The Temple of Warriors is a magnificent structure having a base measuring forty meters (131 feet) along each side and twelve meters (39 feet) high. Its tiers, with sloping walls, are topped with a carved cornice depicting jaguars and eagles devouring human hearts. It is well documented the Mayans used human sacrifice in their religious ceremonies. Also, this temple has a staircase with carvings of serpents running along each of its sides. At the top of the temple is a carving of Chac guarding the entrance, showing the Old Chichen influence in the New Chichen era. It is even more impressive seen from standing on the top of the pyramid. Use the rope handrail both going up and down the pyramid staircase.

The Ball Court is typical Mesoamerican architecture measuring 168 meters (549 feet) long and 70 meters (229 feet) wide making it one of the largest in the Mayan world. The playing field is bordered on the east and west by vertical walls each with a stone ring. The top of the two walls are flat and more than likely used as seating for spectators. The north and south ends of the field each have a rectangular temple where royalty sat. To win, the captain of a team had to put the ball through one of the stone rings. His prize was losing his head and in doing so believed it provided him with a direct ticket into heaven instead of having to negotiate the 13 steps other Mayans had to endure after death to get to heaven.

Cobá

Cobá, (Mayan for “water stirred by the wind”) lays situated around two main lakes which is an oddity in the Yucatan. Occupied between 632 and 900 A.D., scientists estimate between 40,000 to 50,000 people lived here. Then, for some still unknown reason, just like Chichen Itza, it was abandoned.

The uniqueness of Cobá lays in its mystique. Being about 95% of the 44 square mile site remains unexcavated today, it is easy to fantasize what still remains undiscovered as one looks around. Scientists believe Cobá has about 6,500 structures. The main excavated part of this site is the El Castillo pyramid of the Nohoch Mul Group. Standing at 42 meters (136 feet) high, the seven-level El Castillo is the tallest pyramid in the Yucatan. Once atop El Castillo, I see in the distant the shimmering Lakes Macanxoc on the left and Cobá on the right. As I look out across the jungle canopy, I can see the white Temple of the Church pyramid pushing its way up through the green trees.

The Temple of the Church or La Iglesia is a nine-level rounded corner pyramid 25 meters (80 feet) high and part of the Grupo de Cobá or Cobá Cluster. Another structure found in the Cobá Cluster is the ball court.

Cobá is also known for its sacbeob. These roads or causeways, 78 kilometers (120 miles) of them in all, were made by the Mayans by piling stones one to two meters high, then covering them with a mortar coating. Forty of these roads radiate out from Cobá in all directions linking it with other ancient Mayan cities some as far away as 37 kilometers (60 miles).

Evidence points to Cobá being a great trading center linking port cities, such as Tulum with cities in the interior, such as Chichen Itza.

Tulum

Tulum (Mayan for trench or wall) flourished from the 1200s to the late 1500s A.D. and was still inhabited when the Spanish arrived. It was an important trading post for the Post Classic Mayans. During this period, the Maya started using large 11-15 meter (40-50 feet) seagoing canoes hewn from local hardwoods.

Canoes revolutionized trading in this part of the Maya world because other Maya cities moved their goods by carrying them which limited how far they could range. With the advent of canoes, Tulum’s trading voyages ranged from the Gulf of Mexico, the coast of the Yucatán peninsula and extended to what is today Honduras, Costa Rica and Panama.

Apart from its coastal setting, Tulum is unique because of the wall surrounding it on three sides. The wall averages seven meters (23 feet) thick and three to five meters (10-16 feet) high. With the ocean on the forth side, I can see how Tulum was easily defendable.

There are about 60 well preserved buildings on the site of Tulum. One of my favorites is the Temple of the Frescoes. On the interior, frescoes are still visible depicting typical Mayan motifs. On the outside, carvings cover this interesting temple. One image seen on this building, and throughout Tulum, is the diving god.

The Temple of the Frescoes is built in three levels, symbolizing the three realms of the Maya universe – the dark underworld of the dead, the middle level of the living and finally heaven, where the gods lived.

The most impressive building of Tulum is the castle, El Castillo, perched on Tulum’s highest cliff overlooking the sea. This temple-topped pyramid also served as a watchtower and a lighthouse. Legend has it there were two torches on top of the temple. When lined up one behind each other, it provided a safe path through the reef to shore.

If you are a Maya ruin aficionado, these three sites will provide an enjoyable two-day diversion from the normal beach routine. As I walked through each of these ruins, it was humbling for me to realize I was walking in the footsteps of the ancient Maya.

Private Tour Chichen Itza, Cenote and Unique Mayan Ritual in Temazcal

If You Go:

To Chichen Itza

From Playa del Carmen, go north on Federal Highway 307. In about 20 minutes, you’ll pass through Puerto Morelos, where you should fill up with gas. You won’t pass another gas station for almost 200 kilometers and from Playa to Chichén Itzá, it’s about 280 kilometers. Keep going towards Cancun for about another 20 minutes and you will see the exit to Mérida. Turn left on Federal Highway 180D towards Mérida. You’re now on the cuota highway, which is a toll road. After 90 kilometers you get to the border between the states of Quintana Roo and Yucatán, where there’s a toll booth, restrooms and a kiosk. The toll for a car is 145 pesos or about 14 USD. After passing the border, keep going for another 105 kilometers. About halfway there’s a gas station. By the next toll booth, turn left onto Highway 13 and follow signs to Chichén Itzá/Pisté. The toll here is 40 pesos or about US$4. After about 10 minutes you get to Pisté. Once in Pisté, turn left at the sign to reach the ruin. After the turn, it’s only a few minutes to the ruin; keep right in the Y-crossing and you’re there! Parking is 10 pesos or about US$1.00. Entrance fee is 80 pesos (US$8.50). The ruins open at 7 am and closes at 6pm. It is open 7 days a week, 365 days a year.

To Tulum

From Playa del Carmen, go south on Federal Highway 307 for 60 kilometers. This will take you about 50 minutes to drive. Turn left at the stoplight on Boca Paila Road. At the tee in the road, turn left to get to the Tulum Archeological site. Entrance fee is 35-40 pesos ($3.50 – $4.00 USD). Kids under 13 get in for free. There’s an additional charge of 30 pesos ($3.00 USD) if you want to use a video camera. The ruins are open 8am – 5pm every day. There are plenty of guides offering their services for a fee.

To Coba

From Playa del Carmen, it is the same as going to Tulum. However, instead of turning left at the stoplight , turn right on Boca Paila Road. There’s a sign to Coba. Once you get to the village of Coba, follow the paved road through the town and you’re there. Coba is about 30 minutes from Tulum. The site opens at 7am every day, 365 days a year and closes at 6pm. There’s parking right by the entrance for 10 pesos. The entrance fee is 38 pesos ($3). Children under 13 enter free.

www.en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maya_civilization
www.locogringo.com/past_spotlights/apr2002.html
www.locogringo.com/past_spotlights/oct2002.cfm
www.locogringo.com/past_spotlights/aug2002.html

About the author:
Ron Kness is a travel writer/photographer with articles and photos published in various house publications, in-flight magazines and other media sources. Ron is keenly interested in ancient Mayan history of Mexico.

Photo credits:
First Chichen Itza image by edtribo from Pixabay
All other photos are by Ron Kness.

Mexico: The Siren of Barra de Navidad

by Doug Matthews

I have recently taken a mistress, a bewitching, beguiling siren. She’s quite a lady. Sometimes, I lie beside her and watch the measured breathing of her bosom. At others, I swim in the warmth of her naked wetness. She’s beautiful, and I’m absolutely captivated.

My siren is a small part of the Pacific Ocean that roars eastward onto a long, curving arc of golden beach whose southern end is occupied by the quaint, west coast Mexican town of Barra de Navidad, about 20 minutes’ drive north of the Manzanillo Airport.

There is no doubt that this siren rules the town and the 7000 or so souls who live here. In winter this number swells by several hundred more, mostly white-haired Canadian snowbirds, plus a few American eagles infiltrating the flock. We—my wife and I—are among this privileged group, all on extended stays to experience the sheer beauty of the siren and all that she represents. Most of us are here for at least a month, some for up to five months, escaping the snarly, growling old man of northern climes in favour of our sweet siren.

What is it about her that is so attractive? Well, for starters, she rules over a leisurely life. It’s one whose pace is measured by the diurnal rhythms of nature: the pre-dawn calls of roosters and geckos; the silent footsteps of a surfer walking the sandy beach towards morning waves; the snoring of humans and dogs lolling in the afternoon shade of coconut palms and tiled roofs; the soft chugging of fish boats returning with their daily catch from the siren’s endless bounty; and finally, the sustained applause of Margarita-sippers as the sun falls into her body at the end of each perfect day.

Occasionally, though, the siren vents her anger. She has done so twice in the recent past. In 1959, an unnamed hurricane howled through the sleepy town, demolishing palapas and flooding the streets. A quaint story is narrated to me by a survivor, Sr. Gabriel Uribe Ruiz, who was about 29 years old at the time. Apparently all the men of the village were hanging onto the roofs and beams of their palapas trying to prevent them from blowing away in the wind. At the same time, all the women, supposedly devoutly Catholic and who should have been praying for salvation from the tempest, instead were singing an irreverent Mexican song, “Let the Ugly Ones Die!” Luckily, these particular prayers were not answered and nobody died in Barra. However, there were 1500 killed in nearby Manzanillo.

In fact, Barra itself has come to be associated more with a second big hurricane. This time, the siren took a name: Lily. It was September 1, 1971, the same year that Sr. Ruiz married his first wife. As he describes his experiences, Sr. Ruiz gesticulates and makes the whooshing sounds of the storm.

I can almost picture the terrified inhabitants who have come to his small store to take shelter since it is one of the more strongly constructed buildings in town. Most of the other structures are still palapas, made of wooden posts and palm fronds. Lily berates the little town for most of the night, finally ceasing her fury early in the morning, around 5:00am. It’s at this time that the town’s women, entrusted to take care of the church, arrive to find it full of water. But there is another surprise. The arms of the large, plaster carving of Christ have fallen from the cross behind the altar, and hang limply by his sides. A little boy runs to the nearby town of St. Patricio de Melaque to tell the priest what has happened. The priest arrives and supposedly chastises the townsfolk for not covering Christ’s statue to protect it. However, one “inspired” person utters the word miracle which, a few days later, brings a newspaper reporter from the city of Guadalajara, and the rumours begin. The women tell him how terrible the storm was, with waves of 50 meters, and how the storm ceased when Christ put his arms down. Five or six months later, a new priest asks what happened, as do succeeding priests. With each one, the story gets bigger and soon becomes a legend, the legend of “El Cristo del Ciclon.” Some time later, the bishop comes and asks Sr. Ruiz to tell the story. By this time, it is so ingrained in local lore that he is called a liar and unbeliever. Today, Sr. Ruiz—in fact a very devout Catholic himself—laughs at the extent to which the truth has been stretched. But his story also brings out more of the real truth about Barra de Navidad: how genuinely friendly, honest, and supportive the people of Barra really are.

It takes a bit of a longer stay in this little chunk of paradise to even begin to get to know them. It’s not a place to rush, not a place for a quickie vacation full of partying and tourist excursions. One must readjust to the rhythms of their life, and that becomes our first challenge, to get over our Canadian desire to be in constant mental and physical motion from one activity to the next. After a couple of weeks we begin to get the hang of it. The raucous horn of the gas truck comes shortly after sunrise. The light claxon of the water truck follows in late morning. The friendly calls of roaming fruit and juice vendors come in the afternoon. We learn to prepare for each as our needs dictate. An aural community it is indeed. But it’s not our kind of aural. There are no sirens, virtually never any crying babies (although babies abound), seldom a voice raised in anger. Instead, greetings of “Hola” or “Buenas Dias” welcome passers-by from open stores, laughter echoes around the “jardin” or town square, and the latest gossip is passed excitedly between friends.

We decide we want to be part of the enchantment and take Spanish lessons. Another converted Canadian, Bonnie Gibson, is our instructor. Her Spanish is flawless, the result of having spent five months of every year in winter hibernation in Barra. As for us, it has been her refuge from the rain of Vancouver. She is also an accomplished singer and performs weekly at Sea Master, one of the town’s many excellent restaurants. Bonnie takes us to the point where our fear of making fools of ourselves in a second language is overcome. We strike out boldly. Within a few days we have struggled our way into numerous halting conversations with vendors and other locals. We begin to feel their approachable friendliness even more. We meet some of the town’s characters: Norma, the cake lady, who makes the most wonderful “tortas”—flans, moist “tres leches” cakes, cheesecakes—far too tempting on our nightly walk by her booth near the town’s “boardwalk,” the Malecon; Rosie, who runs a French coffee shop—although she is Mexican—and her husband, a local tourist policeman; the friendly congregation at Sunday masses; Arnold, one of the servers in the Sunset Bar where every sunset is cheered, who wants to visit BC; and of course, Sr. Uribe, the unofficial town historian. We gradually begin to feel more connected—and adjusted.

But in Mexico, there’s always a surprise waiting.

One day, the circus comes to town. It could have been a hundred years ago. It invades in multiple trailers. The big top is erected just over the wall from our condo and we watch it in anticipation. Part of that anticipation is a tinge of fear, knowing that at least four of the trailers carry full-grown Bengal tigers and jaguars, which children and adults alike can walk up to in their cages and, if stupid enough, thrust their fingers inside. Hmmm…so much for risk management and liability. We attend one of the performances. Not top draw entertainment but exciting enough that they get an almost capacity crowd of locals who lap it up, many of them becoming participants in the show. Then, as quickly as it came, it leaves, unfortunately tearing down all throughout one sleepless night of constant hammering and clanging.

On another evening as we take our regular after-dinner stroll along the waterfront and the beautiful Malecon, there is a sudden eruption of high-level fireworks directly in front of us. One of the pyrotechnic signs is alight with the words, “Buen viaje, Alicia.” OK, it looks like Alicia is going on a trip. Well, it’s a trip all right—her final send-off. Everyone stops and enjoys the show. Then we resume our stroll as if nothing had interfered.

And that really is what Barra de Navidad is all about. Approachable. Welcoming. Surprising. Beautiful. And it’s all because of my siren mistress.

Barra de Navidad Tropical Tour from Manzanillo

If You Go:

An excellent web site with a great deal of information on Barra de Navidad and the surrounding area, known as the Costalegre, can be found at www.tomzap.com/barra.html

About the author:
Doug Matthews is a writer based in Vancouver, Canada, with previous careers as an aeronautical engineer and special event producer. His writing ranges from technical engineering papers to general interest pieces for newspapers and magazines. He has also published three books on special events and is working on a third dealing with ancient spectacle. Check out his blog about special events at www.specialeventguru.blogspot.com and more photos of Barra de Navidad at www.flickr.com/photos/showbizinbc. Contact: gear6@shaw.ca

Photo Credits:
All photographs with the exception of the one of Sr. Ruiz (courtesy of Bonnie Gibson) were taken by Doug Matthews.