Carnaval and Culture

Carnaval is upon us with all it's might: music blarring, people dancing, costumes being paraded around, churro and palomita vendors out in force, etc. Today we got Max a costume for tomorrow's fiesta at his school after all, he agreed that it would be okay to be dressed up as a gatito (little cat) - what made it okay to be a kitten but not, say Spiderman, nobody will ever know but it doesn't matter - as long as he actually puts on that gatito costume tomorrow, which I still very much doubt.

In the afternoon we all went down to the Zocalo to see the kids carnaval parade. It was mainly kindergardeners and pre-schoolers and I have to say no expenses where spared to dress up the little ones in amazing costumes. True to the motto of the Seven New Wonders there were little Maya warriors for Chichen Itza, little Chinese girls and boys (great Wall), little Brazilians in superfancy carnaval in Rio costumes (Christ monument), little Peruvians (Macchu Pichu) in wool caps (mind you it was only about 100 degress Fahrenheit out, so the wool caps came in handy), little Romans (colloseum, Rome), little middle-easterners (Petra, Jordan), and little Indians (Taj Mahal) and a few Egyptians (the pyramid of Gizeh, as the last remaining of the old wonders is an honorary member of the new ones as well). They were made-up and dressed up and did their little song and dance to loud music and the frantic applause of all the mamas, papas, abuelas/os, hermanas/os, tias/os and the extended families as well as the few strangers like us. In the process of photographing the kids I found out another secret about photography: put a big impressive looking lense on your camera and an determined and /or aloof look on your face and everybody will be impressed and nobody will even ask what you are doing there running around in the middle of the parade. Not even the police will glance at you twice. To make things even more believable I put my press pass from the New York Institute of Photography on my camera strap and people must have mistaken me for a pro (yipieh!) I hope that keeps working!

We have now been here for almost 2 weeks and a few things have struck me. Let me share: people are really mellow and friendly. Compared to American standards (and most European standards as well) they live very modest lives: the houses are small, not always in the best of conditions (to put it very mildly), many cars make even run down American models look spiffy, TV set are tiny, stuff is bought in tiny (hole in the wall and I mean it, not the 900 squarefoot "hole in the wall" know in the US) tiendas or on somewhat smelly markets but people seem genuinely happy and enjoying themselves. I have yet to witness any act of aggression, have yet to see a drunken person (in fact, I have hardly seen people drink at all despite the many fiestas), have yet to see a person glaring at me when Max bumps into them (which he does frequently). I have yet to meet an unfriendly or obnoxious person trying to push stuff I don't want on me (they are persistent but very nice and friendly) have yet to met a beggar that is aggressive or demanding. It all feels very save and secure. I can't guarantee that there are no pickpockets but so far we haven't seen, experienced or heard of any.

The pace is different. There are forever bunches of people hanging around the plaza or the governments building or the university in white shirts that you assume work there or somewhere and it is really not very clear on first, second or third glance what they are doing, other than amicably chatting with other people in white shirts, shaking hands, slapping backs and occassionally stopping for tacos or salbutes somewhere.

Everything is done in a crowd. It seems unthinkable that one person controls the entrance to a building or puts up seats for the parade or scrapes the dirt of a building or serves food: there are always at least two, mostly many more. We must have seen like a dozen people buzzing around a really small area the other day putting up a bleacher that between Max and myself we could have probably erected in 20 minutes flat. But where would be the fun in that?

Everything tastes of limes: chips, peanuts, tacos, soup, meat, seafood, everything. I love lime so its a good thing at least for me.

We met a German guy the other day who doubted the wisdom of staying in one place for 4 weeks (boooooring!!) but I have to say it is a very different experience from the frentic running/driving/flying around one normally does. It's funny how quickly we settled into our rhythm here, walking down the block to drop of the laundry, having lunch at the stalls at Santiago Park, listening to Mexican musci wherever we go, smiling at people instead of glaring when we bump into them on the small sidewalks, walking almost everywhere instead of driving, eating from plates I would desinfect at home, sharing your kitchen with mice and other critters (I am still working on getting used to that). It's actually exactly what I had hoped for.

For those of you who like pics, here are some of the little ones (more another day, it's gettig late):

The Challenge of being a Travel Photographer

Indulge me while I write about my favorite topic: photography. I used to leaf through the fancy travel magazines thinking what a cool and easy job it must be to be a travel photographer. One gets to go to really neat places, all expenses paid and all day walks around casually taking pictures of people. Well, in reality I didn't think it was quite as easy but I never realized how hard it really was until I got here. One thinks of Mexico and photography and color comes to mind: brightly painted houses, people in interesting colorful outfits, markets ladden with fruit, trinket sellers with colorful toys, souvenirs, heats, hammocks, blankets - all there for the eager photographer to snap away. Reality is so different, especially when traveling with a child and without an assistant and/or local guide. There are several challenges associated with people, most importantly they never hold still - damn it. Running around, turning their heads, looking the opposite direction, leaning partially into the shade partially into the sun (no camera can deal with that range of light and dark), making silly faces just when you push the button or - if everyhting seems perfect there is this guy walking into your picture the instant you are pushing down that right index finger.

Also people are - strangely - not always enchanted by the idea that some random person is taking pictures of them (being a woman helps, I think, if I was a guy I'd probably be in jail by now for being a perverted stalker). A less shy extrovert than me would probably walk up start saying some smooth thing, get a model release signed and the opportunity to take life altering pictures of that really strange looking old guy with one tooth. Haven't quite figured the saying-something-smooth-in-Spanish part out.

And then there is the lense thing, maybe its just me but I never seem to have the right lense mounted, I got the tele on and a wide angle situation presents itself, I fumble, unscrew protective lids, rescrew others, put on the short lense and by the time I am done the siutation has come and gone but now, over there, is that cool thing happening - if only I had the tele on I could actually take a picture.

And the light, its never right. The midday hours are useless - super-bright overhead light fades the colors and makes everybody look washed out. In the morning and evening the light is nice, the colors are intense but so are the shadows, faces are hard to photograph - not that I don't know how to deal with that situation, a reflector and the above mentioned assistant to hold it (and I am not talking about a fidgety 3.5 year old) would remedy it quite nicely but then, I only got that fidgety 3.5 year old plus his father who already has his hands full trying to keep the 3.5 year old from throwing himself into either pigeon poop or in front of a car. And then there is the night when everything cool happens in Merida and the light is a "beautiful" intense orange from the nearest street lamp.

So when I first read that a lot of travel photographer pose their shots, using hired models (often people they meet on the street, but posed carefully and paid for) I felt smug. This wan't the real thing, this wasn't doing it right, one was supposed to capture the moment, unspoiled, untinkered with. How happy I would be to have this local guide and the paid for models now, and pose them exactly the way I want them, make them look natural they way they never would be in real life, without the shoulder of that guy over there in a red shirt in the lower right corner, the overflowing rubbish bin in the middle of everything, and unattractive shadow hiding 2/3 of my model's face who is squinting anyway. While we are at it, a nanny for the fidgety 3.5 year old would be nice, too, because it's really hard to concentrate on taking award winning (or at least reasonably decent) pictures while your son is jumping up and down wanting to grab your camera because now it is his turn to take a pic.

I guess in the end I am just making excuses that I have been here 10 days alreay and haven't taken a single picture I would be proud of. But tomorrow is the childrens' carneval parade at 4 pm - I just got to get those perfect pics then. Here are some I sort of like - sort of.

Of Dirt and Fun

Long ago and far away I used to not mind dirt - as much. Some 20 years ago Annette I traveled budget through China and I remember finding the bathroom situation in particular a little yucky at times but nothing I couldn't handle (well there was the incident in the completely grimy bathroom of the all male foreign student dormitory where I slipped and fell - into the grime - completly naked just as a young Arab student opened the door to get in an take a shower - but I'd rather not be reminded of that story in too much detail). I don't know what happend to that person of 20 years ago - call it maturity, wisdom or paranoia - but I have become a lot less, let's call it accepting, when it comes to dirt. Sometime I feel like Bree Vandekamp of "Desperate Housewives" forever cleaning here and wiping there or running after Max with a "Wet Ones", a piece of kitchen roll or toilet paper in my hand. He is a kid and as such seems to be lacking any sense of dirt, yuck, ick, bacteria,viruses, etc. He'll walk along the streets running his fingers along the houses (strictly forbidden, I might add) picking up discharged cigarettes or Coke bottles holding them upside down (so they drip all over him) declaring with a stern face "some stupid person threw it here instead of a trash can" and then goes off trying to find the nearest trash can. Now, the "stupid thing" is Uli"s and my doing, we wanted to instill some sense of environmental protection in him early and obviously succeeded a bit too well. I never meant him to kneel on the ground in the middle of Merida picking up the pieces of a broken beer bottle.

And then there are the pigeons. Ever since in first semester of studying biology we had to disect a pigeon wearing masks and gloves because of possible salmonella threats I hate them with a vengenance. And, of course, Max loves them, loves to chase them, loves to feed them, loves to run around a big flock of them and I am constantly thinking: salmonella, dirt, pigeon poop - yuck!! There is this eternal internal fight going on:

"just run over and drag him out of this digusting mess"

"oh, just chill, it won't kill him and he is having so much fun along with 20 other kids who aren't excatly looking moribund themselves"

"But the dirt, but the salmonella, it's disgusting"

"stop being so German/Californian suburbs this is Mexico, a bit of dirt will just strengthen his immune system"

"Yeah, after nearly killing him with some rare nasty disease."

... and so on and so forth.

I am trying to settle on a middle ground, I let him play with the pigeons but he cannot run his fingers along the walls and more importantly he cannot eat ice-cream with the dirty fingers because he will lick off the first little droplet of ice-cream that sticks to his fingers dirt or not (just imagine). The whole idea makes me shiver in disgust ... where is that antiseptic wipe??

Carnaval

Preparations for carnaval are reaching its peak. Stands and bleachers have been errected today along the Paseo Monetjo and on the Zocalo for the spectators to view the parades (6 or 7 of them) everywhere people seem to be practicing their moves and rehearsing. This years they have an international theme (taking a clue from the Seven New Wonders) and so we heared Bollywood type music wafting through the streets of Merida the other night. A bit surreal. I wonder whether we'll hear Marachi in Kerala. Tomorrow the festivities start with the symbolic burning of bad moods and bad humor respresented by a life sized stuffed doll. Should be interesting. I hope I can take some cool pictures.

The kids at Max's school will have a little celebration on Thursday with everybody being dressed up - everybody but Max who can't be talked into wearing a costume for anything in the world. So he will go dressed up as what he likes to be dressed up best: a boy.

Not quite the first New Wonder

We had our first bigger outing yesterday and today. Of all the Maya temples and ruins to see in Yucatan Chichen Itza is the most famous and recently made it on the list of the 7 new wonders of the world. For those of you who haven't heard about these New Wonders - some Swiss not-for-profit group put up this contest to come up with seven new wonders as all but one of the ancient ones has perished (in case you shouldn't have the ancient ones on the top of your head, here is a remainder: Great Pyramid of Giza,Hanging Gardens of Babylon, Statue of Zeus at Olympia, Temple of Artemis at Ephesus, Mausoleum of Maussollos at Halicarnus, Colossus of Rhodes and Lighthouse of Alexandria). The new ones were established by popular vote (allegedly more than 100 million people voted). And the winners are:

• Chichen Itza, Yucatan, Mexico
• Christ Redeemer, Rio de Janeiro, Brasil
• Collosuem, Rome, Italy
• Taj Mahal, India
• Great Wall of China
• Petra, Jordan
• Machu Picchu, Peru

I had my doubts about this gargantum Christ statute in Rio beating out the Acropolis, Angkor Wat, the Easter Islands and the Alhambra. It all became a little clearer after I read about the massive "get out the vote" efforts in Brazil were the telecoms pushed "Christ" by sending people text messages urging them to vote and not charging for the calls made to vote. Anyway, I am deviating. If you now expect to hear about Chichen Itza I have to disappoint you as we made it only to Uxmal this time around. According to the people in the know (mainly European tourist who have seen every last temple in all of Yucatan, Campeche and Quintana Roo, Guatamala, Belize, ...) Uxmal is definitely second tier compared with Chichen Itza but we had a good time. One reason - and I can say that because I am German - was the conspicuous absence of German tourists in large busses with scholarly travel guides.


The pyramids are impressive but we did forego a guide because Max probably would have died of boredom after 2 hours of talk about Mayan Gods, architecture and religious practices(so would I, but Max provides a convenient excuse). So we basically stumbled around for a couple of hours climbing every last rock we were allowed to climb (good excerise) and telling and retelling the story of why one is forbidden from climbing the "super-big pyramine" (too dangerous- that thing is steep - and too precious - newly restored - see picture).


The atmosphere was relaxed, lots of Mexican families - Mexicans get to visit for free on Sundays - hanging about and surprisingly many kids, elderly and, well plus-sized people dragging themselves up the steep steps of the accessible pyramids (when have you last seen grandma in a white embroidered dress and flip-flops hiking up a 45 dregree incline, smiling and chatting away?)


Max, decked out in a cap with an ad for Mexican beer, Uli's small digital camera around his neck and a stick to help him climb the stairs again got his share of attention and approving stares for his pello rubio y ojos azules (and maybe the 22 moquito bites on his left arm).

In the evening we went back for the "espectaculo" or the light show. Spoiled by TV and all the fancy stuff one sees there we found it a little underwhelming but so did the Mexican visitors, the two people next to me were sound asleep 10 minutes into the espectaculo.


To round out the trip we visited the Tol Tun caves today and walked around in huge underground caves with stalcmites and stalactites (don't aak). Max did well on the long hike and made friends with Ricardo and his tour guide buddies by watching them play "with money" (some game that involved throwing coins) and learning a typically Yucatean word "pisima" which means "oops", although, in my opinion, one might be forgiven thinking it might mean something a little stronger.


Tomorrow it's back to school for Max and I am afraid, another trip to Wal-Mart for us (I know I won't hear the end of that).

Fiestas cada dia

After a week here and as many fiestas we run into by accident I can confirm that the Meridans love to party. Any occasions seems good enough to put up a stage, hire a band, get the food and toy sellers out and have a grand old time. At the moment we are caught in the middle between the big arts festival from Jan 5 to 21 and the beginning of Carnaval on Jan 30. But why slow down, let's have some after-parties and a bunch of pre-carnaval parties to bridge the gap.

Yesterday we went for dinner at nearby Santiago Park. The main attraction is a number of foodstalls that sell Yucatean food (surprisingly not at all spicy although it is served with spicy salsa on the side) and a market that sells all sorts of meat, fish and veggies during the day. For about $10 the three of us can eat and drink diet cokes and horchatas (Max's favorite sugary, cinnamony drink). I thought of it as a quick bite but as we were getting closer we heard the band play and as we entered Santiago Park there was a big crowd of mainly older gents in pretty outrageous-cool costumes: hair-dresses, feathers, glitter, high-heels and they were living it up. I am trying - unsuccessfully - to picture any of my older female family members in tight fitting, colorful, short dresses, golden pumps, feathers on their heads and gold-glitter eye-shadow dancing the cha-cha-cha or my older male family members swaying their hips and twirling those befeathered ladies around. Just isn't flying - not even in my imagination. But dance they can - I have to admit, there were ladies on the dance floor who could easily be my mothers shaking their substantial hips, twirling and cha-cha-chaing with the best of them.

Needless to say the Latino Dance Sensation, also called "Maxi" loved it. He was on stage in minutes, hopping around, running around on the dance floor, his hair wet with sweat his eyes wide open, all exicted. I was wondering whether it was actually a good thing to expose his young impressionable soul to so much fun and his little body with so much adrenalin. But he was on a roll. We finally dragged him off the dance floor and under protest I stuffed some food into him. While were eating the band packed it up and the befeathered ladies went home without Max really noticing it as he was sitting with his back to the dance floor. After a while he turned around, ready for the next round of dancing and saw what has happend. He was completely incredulous: "Everybody went home although it was so much fun!"
I caught myself just in time before launching into a lengthy monologue about how life is like that and this being a lesson he better learns early and it just not being fair but what can one do about it ....... and used the opportunity to introduce the radical idea of actually going home as well now and sleeping.

Today we went to the zoo and main park. Needless to say there was a pre-carnaval extravaganza as well which we skipped in favor of letting Max drive around on battery powered mortorcycles and riding merry-go-rounds that looked they have already greatly amused yesterday's befeathered ladies when they were kids. As usual Max got enough attention from the ladies (generally his parents or grandparents age) to last for at least a couple of years. His blue eyes keep attracting attention and a whole group of women today stroked his hair and told him how "guapo" (handsome) he is. He generally hides behind my back his head between my legs until the storm blows over. Can't even blame him.
Tomorrow we'll go see some more "pyraminen" in either Chichen Itza or Uxmal - two very famous sites with Maya ruins. I'll probably wont be able to write as I do not expect wireless Internet access out there but hopefully I will finally get around to taking some decent pictures of pyramids. And starting Wednesday Carnaval will be upon us in earnest with more fiestas than I can possibly count.

Of Vulcanos and "Pyraminen"

When I was young I used to annoy my extended family with my insistance to visit museums and spend hours exploring them. I remember one particular episode in Munich where I dragged my uncle and my cousine to the "German Museum" - a sprawling complex of a natural history museum complete with planetarium, artifical coal mine, chemistry department, airplanes, biology, every thing under the sun and many buttons to push that would put something in motion. I loved it - for seven hours - and everybody hated me. I didn't get why, being the little geek I was I couldn't imagine a better place to be.

Now I have a little geek on my hands and I am quickly developing an understanding for the tortured relatives. First it was tools: every tool, any tool, big, small, old, new the more dangerous the better. Every stick we found on the street was either a hammer or a welding apparatus, even extralarge cookies that look somewhat like the famous Austrian "Manner" were called "big axe-Manner". I spent hours in the garage, either freezing or sweating (somehow temperature control in garages is still a very developing science) hammering nails into boards and helping Max to pull them out again.

Now there are vulcanoes and most recently Majan pyramids ("pyraminen"). We own every single vulcanoe DVD suitable for kids, we have crossed the world and the seven seas numerous times on Google Earth to find where the most, best, most dangerous vulcanoes are, we clicked on pictures, read books, painted vulcanoes with and without lava, with and without magma chambers. We built sand replicas of every single of the Western US vulcanoes starting with Mount Shasta all the way up to Mount Baker. Once we were done with that we built Mt Fuji, Galleras, Pinatubo, Vesuvius, Etna, .... At one point we counted 27 vulcanoes in the sand box which we had to defend against unruly hordes of other playing kids who thought they were simple mountains which they could drive their toy cars over.

Now there are "pyraminen". Yesterday we went to Dzilbilchaltun (a word that Max now pronounces with amazing ease) the closest pyramids to Merida. We arrived there to the infamous "only mad dogs and Englishmen are out" hour (that is the hottest time of the day) and I was mentally prepared for a lot of whining along the lines of: "boooring, I want to sit in the shade, I want ice cream, sob!!" But there was my little blondie, his cheeks fire red from the heat, running up and down the pyraminen. We had to climb every single one and then he wanted to start over. I had to put my foot down, literally: no more pyramids, we are not climbing any more pyramids. You stop now and drink some water.

Today he wanted to go back to Dzilbilchaltun and climb the pyramids again. We took him to the beach instead - and build some vulcanoes with sand.

Here he is with - obviously - a very angry Mount St. Helens that has just errupted seagrass lava.

The advantage of being different and other tidbits

Being Different
Max stands out - undeniably and literally - he is inches taller than his fellow three years olds, blond, blue-eyed, skinny and knobby-kneed compared to all the dark-haired, dark-eyed stocky little Mayan warriors. And he is enjoying every minute of it: for the teachers at school he was "mi amor" within seconds and when he gets there in the morning it's all about "Maxi" as they call him. He get's to study with the older kids and more than his fair share of attention, he gets fancy hairdos with lots of gel, "sopa" for lunch because that's what he likes to eat. When we walk around the city every other person smiles at him, many pat his head, some give him chocolate and even small coins. At the Zocolo, the main plaza and preferred pigeon chasing territory, he makes friends in an instant and he can afford to be picky - everybody wants to chase pigeons with him.
His parents stand out, too, literally. Most man and all women I have seen so far are shorter than my 5'10" and Uli towers over everybody but the occasional tourist from the Netherlands or Sweden. Nobody has given us money yet, or chocolate, I guess they don't pat our heads because they can't reach them, and just like every other tourist we are targeted by the sombrero sellers, the hammock sellers, the Cuban cigar sellers, the "real wooden toys" sellers and a host of other hoping to make a living. Sometime being different isn't that much fun ;-(

The End of the Diet Coke Moratorium
I weaned myself off of Diet Coke, slowly, painfully, relapses and all. Not quite a 12-step program but pretty close. I fell off the wagon hardly two days into our sabbatical. What's a girl to do? One can't drink the water from the faucet which makes it impossible to drink pretty much any form of open beverage (juices, etc. ) as they are served with ice. I hate coffee (I know I am an outsider, but I do hate coffee), and a Margharita for lunch would have been a good choice 10 years ago but now it would only guarantee a midday nap that lasts until the evening with a three-year old hopping around on the bed next to me like a madman. What's a girl to do? So the Diet Coke moratorium has been vacated until further notice. Oh, the perils of travling to hot, humid and foreign places - it's not the poisonous snakes, lurking thiefs, strange spices, the occassional rat under the sink (we had that, too), or foreign languages that make it hard to say things like "I wish I could buy the wonderful products you are offering, honestly do, but unfortunately I am in no position to fit them in my limited suitcases space. Why don't you try your luck with the British people on the table over there?" - it is the imminent danger of falling back into a really bad Diet Coke habit.

Mayan wedding rituals
Today we are talking modern, current Mayans and I have heard this story now from a couple of people - so it absolutely must be true. An part of a Mayan wedding ceremony involves the following: The groom takes of his nice, new super-soft Panama hat, flattens it out, folds it over , rolls it up until it is so small that it will fit - lengthwise, of course - through the wedding ring (his or hers, I forgot to ask). After that, the groom will pour champagne into the hat and offer it to his bride. Now why that should prove eternal love rather than just the good quality of the hat (soft and strong) escaped me but I guess at the very least it proves that the groom has the financial means to treat himself to a little extravagance. Whether that bodes well for the marriage I honestly doubt.

It's hard to be a God

With Max at school - he went without drama, and, it appears, he has already been promoted to teacher's favorite - we went to check out the Museum of Anthropology. I have seem my share of broken pottery and tiny figurines and was a little weary that it would be just another of these experiences. But then we met Toni - a diminutive local with approximately two teeth left in his mouth, a dry sense of humor and excellent command of the English language. He offered a tour we agreed on a price and he walked us through Mayan history in an very captivating fashion and added a lot of is own spin. So here is the short version according to Toni (and a picture of him):






The western tip of Yucatan only emerged about 2 million years ago, hardly worth mentioning in geological time frames. For that reason this part of Yucatan, although tropical (or according to Toni, with two seasons: hot and hotter) doesn't have much top soil and therefore isn't blessed with lots of agricultural products and no rivers. So living here used to be hard work and the Mayan nobility (approx.15 % of the population) had to make sure to keep the commoners at bay and working hard in the fields so they could continue their lavish lifestyles. What better way to keep the common people in their place then declaring oneself a God. Little problem, though, the new Gods looked deceptively like everybody else on the street and so the whole scam wasn't all that believeable. So they came up with this plan: let's do everything possible to look different from the guys on the street whether it is healthy, makes sense or even looks good is secondary - as long as it is different.



So here is what they came up with:



They squeezed their infants' heads between wooden planks to give the heads completely abnormal shapes, either coneshaped or flattened or a combination thereof. They conducted some kind on manipulation (I didn't quite follow the how of this) that made them cross-eyed. The young men where cut severly in their faces and on their bodies and the scars where opened and filled with what didn't sound like a particulalry anti-septic mixture of sod, paint and ground up stone. As Toni pointed out: "It is hard to be a God." The end result must have looked something like this:



Finally they introduced rituals and used their superior knowledge of astronomy, architecture, and mathematics to come up with awe-inspiring special effects like the light of the sun falling through a little whole in a pyramid and illuminating something every March or September 21. These little tricks, combined with human sacrifices during those spectacles made sure - for several hundred years - that 85% of the population went out everyday in the scorching sun to work so that 15% could do nothing much (well some must have entertained themselves with mathematics, astronomy and architecture but Toni wasn't really clear whether the "smart guys" were nobility or rare recruits from the common people).

Then - acoording to Toni - the inevitable happed: Gods can't really mix with the common man, or woman, so they started marrying amongst themselves - like brothers and sisters - and the result of inbreeding is all to well-known to describe here in detail (not pretty). Eventually the masses had it with all that extravagance at the top and learned some mathematics themselves (we many, they few) and kicked out the degenerates who called themselves Gods. Now the problem was that all the knowledge, the bureaucracy, the adminstration, the structure was gone and the whole thing fell into disarray. The Toltecs, a much more warrior like people who could afford developing the "art of war" because they lived in very lush places with avocados and mangos basically falling into their laps - came and took over Maya-land around 1200 AC or so.

Now, in one felt swoop we also have explained the mysterious disappearance of the Mayan high-culture around 1100 to 1300 AC. If you ask me, it all makes perfect sense, it's completely logical, fake Gods and all. Call me jaded if you wish ....

Max's new school

Today we went out to find Max a new school. The property manager here suggested a local one which is very close to the house and so we went there. We had barely opened the door and started talking to the principal when Mac stormed the gates and was sitting there with the big kids (5 years and up) drawing vulcanos and space ships. I talked more to the principal about the hours, rates, meal times - the usual - and by the time we had agreed on a rate ($100 for the month including meals and extended hours from 12 noon to 4:30 pm) he had pretty much forgotten about us.
I had meantally prepared for a tearful good-bye, big sobs and promises to be a good boy if we just wouldn't leave him there but wasn't quite prepared for the brief conversation that took place:
"Max, dear, Mama and Papa are leaving now for a bit and you stay with the nice people here and play with the kids."
- silence - then "Mama, look, I am painting a vulcano. The people of Mexico City are very afraid of Popocatepetl."
"Honey, we are leaving now. Okay? You stay here - everything is great."
"Okay" - impatient wave of the hand meaning something like "whatever! Just go, don't you see I am busy."
So we went out merry way, looking at churches, fighting with the ATM machines - all the fun stuff grown-ups get to do, the phone in earshot in case they should call and let us know that Max is disolving in tears. No call. So finally we called and were told "Max is eating." Well good then.
By the time we got there after lunch our son behaved as if he had never been any place else, sported an new hair-do with lots of gel (along the lines of those he gets from Greislye occasionally) and didn't want to come home with us. He finally did agree on going home for a rest. To my great joy on the way back he said something along the lines of "when we come back I'll do ...." The rest I didn't hear, he was ready to go back - wow!
I am not quite exhaling yet but so far so good - easier than anticipated.

The ultimate Mexican experience

Today we immersed ourself in Mexican culture and the fine tradition of shopping - at Wal-Mart. I admit, this is a bit embarrassing but we missed the morning window of opportunity to shop for fruit and veggies at the local farmers market and going to a "real store" seemed like a good idea (as opposed to the tiny tiendas all around that sell a dazzling array of nuts and tortilla chips and a few bottles of beer plus neon-colored candy).
It was interesting, the store was rather upmarket, large, airconditioned and spacious with lots of stuff from dishwashers to broccoli but it was still only a fraction of the US versions. They had local fare, especialy the veggies, meats and pasteries (yummy) were local plus the usual ubiquitous brands.
Wal-Mart is at the end of what I dubbed "Calle Gringo" which has the usual names from Hyatt to Subway and Starbucks - two blocks in the middle of Yucatan that could be anywhere in the US but specifically reminded me of a somewhat posher neighborhood in San Jose I have recently been to. Quite curious.

Anyway, I don't feel too bad. I missed my once a year Wal-Mart shopping experience on Kauai where we always go crazy buying stuff we otherwise would never buy and then have to stuff into our suitcases just to drop it off at Goodwill some time down the road. So I was just making up that lost opportunity today and didn't even go crazy. Max had a good time, he got to choose from the local pastries (with the instinct of a sugar addict he choose the sweetest thing available) - if only his cruel parents wouldn't force him to have lunch before dessert.

I keep telling myself that I don't have to stress out, like normally on vacation, rushing here and there, doing this, and seeing that. We have time, plenty of time, and so what if we miss the traditional dance perfomance on the main plaza today, there will be another next Monday and the Monday after that ...

Day 1 - the transformation of Max

Here we are in Merida - been here for about 24 hours. The best I can say about the flights is that they weren't as bad as anticipated. These days that counts as a huge compliment. We even got bulk-head seats on the San Jose - Houston leg. I must have requested them a 1000 times before and was pretty much laughed off the phone line every time along the lines of "these are reserved for our Elite travelers, not shmucks like you" or

"these are for families with children"

"wait, I have a child, he's 3 years old."

"that's too old, only 2 year old or less counts"

"but, he needs the room more than a baby ..."

"sorry, Ma'm, there is nothing I can do!!! But we still have row 47 available, very convenient, right in front of the bathrooms."

So this time I didn't bother and got three bulk heads, next to each other. Maybe that should teach me a lesson?



We spent the morning exploring Merida by foot and ended up on the central square were the usual Sunday fiesta was going on only more so because it seems this was Merida's birthday today. And here is where our European-Gringo introvert morphed into a Latino. It took a couple of hours, he rudely ignored the attention of Primavera, 4-years old, who wanted to play on the see-saw with him but started to get into the swing of things by chasing pigeons. And then, our son, who - we decided 2 years ago - will definitely be an engineer when he grows up (or before), demanded to go dancing. So we took him where the music played and a bunch of grown-ups in zebra costumes put on entertaining activities for the whole family, including kids' dancing games and watched increduosly how Massisito - the Latino incarnation of Max, the Builder, - rocked away the afternoon. He charmed the zebra out of candy, didn't really participate in the game but was all over the place hopping, dancing, running and jumping (hacer ejercisios, correr, saltar y brincar) as I was later inforemed.

We had to drag him off the dance floor after the music games stopped, stuff some food into him and force him into bed for a nap (it took like 3 secs for him to fall asleep). When he woke up, he wanted to go dancing. Maybe he is going to make us a lot of money after all, not as a basketball player as I had originally envisioned but as Latino dance sensation. He even occassionally speaks Spanish to us now - something he has thrown screaming fits over in Sunnyvale - and so far tolerates me trying my Spanish with the waiters, shop-keepers, etc - another no-no at home.



So far Merida has been very enjoyable, lively, loud, dirty, authentic - sort of like southern Europe and very much not like Silicon Valley where everything seems to get wiped off with an antiseptic wipe every 30 minutes (I have to admit, though, that I occassionally have the strong impulse to get a whole bunch of wipes out and am debatting whether I should clean the floor in our house for real, not just distribute the dirt evenly).

One word about the food (those who know me know how much I dislike the Mexican food found in the US) - well, it's Mexican food BUT, I discovered, it's all about portion size and cheese content. The portions here are small, tiny by US standards, and so far I have yet to see a shred of cheese in or on anything. I don't feel stuffed at all, in fact after lunch a brisk walk, another brisk walk, some dancing with Max I feel righteously hungry - a feeling noticably absent for three to five days after eating Mexican food in the US.


Here his a picture of the Latin Dance Sensation in action:

Tomorrow!

Almost there! In 12 hours we'll be off to the airport checking in luggage and mentally preparing for the inevitable - another crowded, terrible flight with every seat taken and peanuts the only choice of food (I bought Sushi at Safeways for our discriminating boy today). Our American citizen son is all checked in online and set to go, his poor alien parents still need to go through several levels of security, scrutiny and checking before we can rest our weary butts in a worn-out seat.


The house is ready - sort of - for Luisa and the kids to arrive on Sunday. I never knew how much cleaning a generally clean home needs. I put my 24 years of formal education to good use over the last few days and weeks, rolled up my sleeves, put on my rubber gloves and scrubbed grime where I never knew there would be any. Oh what fun ...
People ask me all the time whether I am excited but frankly I am just too tired to be excited. Tomorrow I'll be - for sure.
We had an emotional farewell at Nelly's today. She's not going to see "her boy" for six months now and was sad about it (of course) but Max promised that he will return and come back to her. Almost made me cry as well ....



Another farewell is even sadder for me. My good friend Jutta decided to move back to Switzerland after 18 years of living in the Bay Area. I understand her motifs and reasoning and they make sense but it will be different here without her, without her infectious laughter and the opportunity to once in a while try my rusty Swiss German. For years now Jutta, Pamela, Sandy and I would get together once a week (big achievement considering that Jutta and Sandy live in Oakland, Pamela in San Francisco and I in the boonies) for girls night. I wanted to post a picture on our "last supper" last night at Le Cheval in Oaktown here but due to some modifications Uli made to my email account I can't access the pic Pamela, the gadget queen, took with her iPhone yesterday. Instead I am posting a warholed version of us four I made recently.
Okay, another sip of champagne and then I better go to bed because by 6:00 am my adorable rascal will crawl into my bed and after a few minutes of quiet will blurt something out like: "the capital of Burkina Faso is called Ouagadougou" or "Mount Saint Helens is very angry" or simply push his teddy bear in my face (hard) so I give him a "besito" and confirm that I do, indeed love both Max and the bear.

Tomorrow, the adventure begins ....

Down in the single digits

As of tomorrow we are down in the single digits - so much to do, so little time!
Finally the rental agreement for our house is signed and we have our first check in hand. Luis and Luisa, our renters, have been here a couple of times and I feel very confident that things will work out with them just fine. I think the arrangement is almost perfect, they move into our house on the 20th and stay until July 5th, we will return just a few days later. They like to use our housewares so they don't have to buy them and I am grateful that I don't have to pack every last towel, spoon and pan, let alone couches, desks and chairs. Good thing our music system is by Costco, the TV almost obsolete anyway and the art, though original, bought on eBay (my favorite piece, a somewhat abstract Tuscan landscape was a whooping $10).

That leaves just a few things to pack - I thought. I never knew how much underwear I had, and books and art supplies and picture frames and I really don't have very many shoes in the big scheme of things but when put on a pile they kind of add up.

10 more days - Merida we are coming!!

15 days and counting

Just over two weeks left until we take off. Though I intellectually know it is going to happen it is not quite real yet - I guess once everything is packed up in boxes and Luis and Luisa with their kids are ready to move into our house it will be real alright.

We have taken care of most of the important things but there remains that nagging feeling that we forgot something important, something crucial - but then I always have that feeling and there is very little that can't be replaced, bought or taken care of after we leave. After all we will move into a fully furnished house in Merida with wireless Internet access ;-)

Hopefully we will actually get to use the computer, Max has become quite obsessed with it and so generally during the day when he is home I don't even want to turn it on anymore to avoid the screaming fits:

"I want - whimper - work with Google Eaaaarth! Bahhh."

"But you can't, little silly face, you just surfed youtube for almost an hour."

"But I waaaaant." - pregnant thinking pause - "I'll just quickly go to Washington to see Mount St Helens, Mount Baker, Lassen Peak, Garibaldi, Mount Adams, Shasta and Shastina and then to Iceland to see Surtsey and to Fireland where it's cold and Mama doesn't like it and then to Antarctica because I loooove cold."

"Let's read a book, big boy."

"Nooooooo, I want .........." and so on and so forth



So, Merida. By all accounts it is a really cool place, artsy, lively, fun, allegedly the people are somewhat stubborn - but nothing I wouldn't be familar with - it seems to have a sizeable "gringo" expat community, good food and a convenient bus connection to Progresso which is the closest beach town. I am particulalry thrilled about the fact that we will be there during carnival. Not that I am planning to put on a costume (nor will Max who expressed his desire to dress up as a "boy" last Halloween and those of you who know Uli will know that it would take quite a bit of "convincing" to get him into anything more exotic than khakis and t-shirt) but Tina the photographer is superexicited. Now, I shouldn't forget to print out a bunch of Spanish language model releases, where is that to do list ....

This will be such a great photo opp. Uli calculated recently that we had enough storage capacity for 12000 pictures and I told him that this wasn't nearly enough with back-ups and all. He miscalculated by a factor 4 or 5 but I am still planning on having to pick up additional storage along the way. After Merida there will be colorful Kerala with hopefully at least one fun event and then Semana Santa in Andalucia with all the processions happening during that week.

Enough for today - where is that to do list?