Now taking duty free orders

My last post is going out to Sergio, my lovely baile instructor who helped me take my very first baby steps on the path to shaking my bottom like a latino. Muchos besos para ti Serg.

In three day's time now we'll be sitting either in on an aeroplane or in an airport, making the long journey home. It's fairly incomprehensible so I'm trying not to comprehend it at all, and will try to be ignorant of the fact until it's time to pack. Enough said, before I cry.

We are currently sitting in Ajijic, a small village nestled between a beautiful lake and the deeply creased, tropical green mountains which roll up around it. It's a bit like living in the sky. You can watch the clouds blow in over the water or snuggle up to the hills, every hour the light has changed. The clouds are always very low and there is a perfectly dramatic thunderstorm every day. Ajijic is a hotbed of US and Canadian retirees and rich weekend Guadalajarans ('tapatios' they call themselves). Still, all lovely people and the village has enough of a working local population to keep it interesting. Plus all the gringos make for great restaurants.

We have a lovely ex-hacienda style house on the lake which is very nearly perfect. It's a long U-shaped building with high vaulted ceilings around a courtyard and fountain. (If you can imagine, the courtyard is in place of what might be a hallway in regular houses, except much wider). The courtyard leads into a shady garden with citrus trees, green grass and a jacuzzi. The house isn't fancy but wonderfully comfortable, perhaps the only place which has gone with big old leather lounges instead of the general Mexican penchant for right-angled wooden "couches". The knives are sharp, the showers are hot and strong, the scotch glasses are crystal and heavy (Mexican scotch = añejo tequila. Fantastic). It's so quiet, only the occasional horse hooves on the cobbles outside. A very nice place to rest up and read.

Some final sentimentality, and some good times to remember - just off the top of my head;

• 5 hours in Santos Café, Guanajuato, sheltering from the rain. Sopa azteca y muchos copas grandes de vino tinto con Anna; los niños sentado en la ventana viendo 'Batman' de los 1960s.
• Hours upon hours of hammock-swinging and Belekin beer.
• Disco-dancing with a Guadaljaran truck driver, his sister and friend in a crazy, uber-hip, lollipop-sucking, strobe-lit club. Yelled a lot of drunken Spanish because no one could hear me anyway.
• The toucan.
• Home brew in Morelia with a bunch of beautiful first-year students and a 2 week old chihuahua.
• Getting in touch with my inner cyclist (if not my inner thighs) as we bonded with the kids watching Le Tour over cornflakes each morning in Ajijic.
• Lying in the pool in Campeche, gazing at the stars, listening to the jazz festival.
• Party in San Cristobal at Beth and Hunter's. Great night, had to be there I guess.
• Eating what probably amounts to over AUD$2000 worth of avocado, mango, lime, cilantro and papaya over the past 6 months for a tiny fraction of the cost.
• Watching Artie and LuLu play soccer with wonderful local chicos in a wide array of locations - including steep callejons and sushi restaurants.
• Enjoying the love of life with a festival and/or parade in every town.

And of course meeting so many interesting, intelligent, hospitable, warm people in so many beautiful, vibrant, history-soaked places. 

The dream is over, what can I say. This trip was better than the Beatles.


Thanks for all being such an attentive audience and for your support in those moments when I felt far away. Lots and lots of love everyone. Hope to see y'all very soon. 


xx


(Doesn't really look like much, does it?)

Some things about Mexico

There are so many small, delightful things about life in Mexico. I'd like to write one or two of these down as much for my own benefit, so we can remember them.

Walking en el centro of any city, every second doorway is a home, and every third is a (work)shop, where people are making their living and filling the niche of need in their particular few blocks. You see people working simply and consistently all day. There are smells alternately of leather, paper, glue, bread, paint, petrol, meat, ink - there are tortilla machines cranking, paper shuffling, knives cleavering, sewing machines whirring, hammers banging away. It makes the whole experience of being in a metropolis feel so much more human. Rather than being shut up in offices, peoples' workplaces are open to the street or housed in the big, bright courtyards of what were once homes to the uber-rich (so gorgeous those old houses). There is an easy flow between people and workplaces, between homes and businesses, it seems. Cities are "lived" in (in a literal and a more spiritual sense... like sneakers, tal vez?) and cities show their respect by giving their communities public spaces, events, facilities and fabulous opportunities for community life. Even as a temporary resident these things are evident, and feel right.

Mexico is also a great place to think about and to view the mechanisms of world economics, capitalism and the general way of things. Just being here - during out time in Chiapas especially - engenders an immediate awareness of how the "system" effects lives and how it might be resisted, or at least subverted. Great coffee in Chiapas too, perhaps no coincidence. My theory is that Subcomandante Marcos and La Comandanta Ramona of Zapatista fame were driven to greatness and such clear-thinking by a consistent supply of great coffee. Revolution is tangible too in Chiapas (in one or two communities state and federal police are not allowed), and in Mexico more generally as they had a big one just 100 years ago. The one tricky thing about revolution is that it does seem to require violence, even though the rhetoric might try very hard to deny it. Quite by chance I happened to be reading "Life is Elsewhere" in Chiapas, which is a very clever and subtle (if a little clunky) little allegory of revolution and the rise of communism (albeit in Eastern Europe). Would like to read similar stuff if anyone has any recommendations. Sometimes I feel we are so duped in Australia. Sorry Australia, you just never look so great through Mexican eyes.

Another cool thing here - people have such a respect for and knowledge of national heroes, and their artists in particular. Even Lucien knows 90% of the people represented on Mexican currency. There is a little shrine to Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera in nearly every home, and historical figures like Morelos, Allende, Guerrera and Hidalgo are present as statues and street names in every town (less so Pancho Villa and Zapata, although they should be). I am ashamed to say that I probably know more about Mexican history just from hanging around here for 6 months than I do about Australian history.

Fashion in Mexico confuses me. Many of the women (chubby ones included) wear ridiculously tight clothes, full makeup (even to the gym) and the craziest, highest, pointiest platform stilletos made even more suicidal by the cobbled streets and flights of stairs everywhere. Now I'm not quite sure what all this is in aid of... Women seem quite free to walk around like this whereas if I even step outside with an ankle showing apparently I'm up for it. Boys too spend heaps of time on their appearance, especially immaculately blow-dried hair (a sort of emo-50s cross), and are not afraid to wear diamond earrings or fully pink tracksuits (with matching sneakers). Of course many Mexicans are extremely gorgeous with impeccable fashion sense, but some of the others... it's beyond me. I'd be interested to know how the men/women thing plays, the dynamic just isn't obvious. I suspect men have an easier run of it. Perhaps surprisingly for such an overwhelmingly catholic country gay men seem to be relatively accepted, supported and public (as much if not more so than at home). Often an indicator if gay women don't have it so easy (which is my impression here). But I ramble.

There are some things I will not miss about Mexico - for example, if anyone ever comes near me playing a horrendous Mexican polka on a piano accordion and/or tuba again I will shove the thing down their throats. I also will not miss the random scent of wee (but perhaps you get this everywhere, I can't remember). I look forward to lamb, peking duck, matured cheeses, sourdough, coconut milk, sesame oil, and I am ashamed to say it, weetbix and vegemite toast.

Well, after this I guess there's only one post left, and then I'm back in Oz. Please, if any of you have a heart, schedule me in for a lengthy pub session. I'll leave you for now with a little haiku -

My poor baby boy
Evil scorpion stung him
Hiding in his pants.

: (

Michoacan

Morelia - with its wide walls of pale pink and grey stone - there must be a missing mountain somewhere that built this town. During a pink and grey sunset the effect is quite stunning. Square flags of red and yellow (state colours) hang from big square buildings. Pointy metal bits with Spanish flourishes stick out of roofs and pavilions (I think they take away rainwater), there are archways, bells, roses. And fountains - short and squat, tall and spiralled, adorned with cherubs or sometimes just boobs - they are on every vacant street corner, opulently studding every plaza and square, in the centre of every little city garden, with cafes jostling round. And a fountain lines one side of Morelia's soaring cathedral, shooting up at unsuspecting nuns right out of the paving, causing kids (including ours) to go completely bananas and get soaking wet, teenage boys to drag in their gorgeous girlfriends with their knee-high school socks and floppy fringes, dogs to lie belly down and pant happily. And if there are 100 fountains in Morelia there must be 500 churches. Great hulking things with bell towers longer than the naves, and each interior a completely unique and some, like the cathedral and Guadalupe, truly breathtaking and spectacular.

It really is such a beautiful city.

Some moments and thoughts to share... I had my hair cut and coloured by a gorgeous and saavy young thing who spun my chair around to the television and explained to me at length in very fast, very slang Spanish everything that was happening in the daytime soap Duelo de Pasiones. Then we switched to Laura, a woman (?) who "could solve all of Mexico's problems" according to my hairdresser. Mostly those problems seem to involve jilted brides and delinquent boys. Then we showed each other the photos on our mobile phones. It was a lot of fun.

I reckon on every single block en el centro there is a shop full of enormous meringue-like dresses of every colour and size. People seem to get baptised, confirmed, debutanted, married and probably buried in them. Last Saturday by the Fuente de las Tarascas we saw no less than eight wedding photo sessions within an hour, and the only colour we saw twice was red. And when people aren't getting married they are making out - never before have I seen a city with so many couples brazenly frenching like there's no tomorrow. They'll do it anywhere - in parks, perched on fountains, in buses, under arches, on the steps of churches. And not just the young'uns either. Yik.

There are some awesome breakdancers who spread out a sheet of plastic just 30m up the road from us every evening (quite conveniently for us set up just outside the pub, which serves the tallest oversized pints of some kind of dark Corona...? for the sum total of $2 each). But I digress - the dancers are really really great, and are often there teaching up-and-comers, there is such a superabundance of youth in Morelia (one for you, sis), which makes it a really fun place to be. A feeling like everything's a risk. I think they probably learnt their breakdancing moves from a weetbix box, like I did. Although there are no weeetbix in Mexico. Only cornflakes.

In family news... Artie and a neighbours' kitten are in love - never before have I seen a cat jump into a child's arms to be squeezed, snuggled, wrapped up in blankets and toted around for hours on end. They are completely besotted with each other. The kids also have two girls to play with also 3 and 5 who live in our courtyard. They are such adorable little creatures who quite incredibly put up with me squeezing, snuggling, and toting them around.

I don't know what I am going to do without Mexico in my life. I am envisioning quite a dramatic spiritual and cultural crash and burn once I return to Australia. Just thinking leaving brings tears to my eyes and a mild feeling of panic. Mexico makes you feel included.

You would never be invisible here.

Semana Santa

(This post going out to Beth, Hunter, Taos, Eli, Estella, Denis, Kelly, Helen, Dave, Cindy and Leo for being such wonderful and welcoming friends during our time in San Cris).

Easter seems to be a completely different story in Mexico. Apparently it doesn't celebrate the birth of a  bunny after all.

On Thursday night the Zocalo (main square, plus every other street and square for that matter) was full of people. There seemed to be a natural flow between the square and the cathedral - outside buying food and knitted things by torchlight, groups talking and laughing, out for the night - without changing pace and still chomping on tamales people came into the church, knelt before statutes brought into the aisles, kissed robes, lit candles, lifted children so they could touch, not pausing to genuflect, which was done often. Not to say it was irreverent or without feeling - quite the contrary, it seemed familial, natural, and honest.

And the explosions! So many explosions. And bells, all day and night, all weekend and all the week leading up to Easter and all the week after. They must have a very sleepy God here in Mexico.

Friday morning Artie and I got up early for a bit of a church tour (there are 3 major churches within 500m of us). There was lots more statue touching as they were mounted for the procession later that day, loads of candles and floors covered in mountains of beautifully scented pine needles (which confusingly, reminded me of Adelaide and of Christmas). Chamomile was big too, as statues of Christ's body were kissed and rubbed and adored and then whacked with bunches of the stuff.  We had in true Australian fashion prepared for a commercial lock-down over the Easter weekend, and had war-loads of eggs, cheese, bread, milk and beer pre-purchased, thinking we were very clever. But on Semana Vierne everything was open, in fact the town was more vibrant than ever. Art and I went on to watch a re-enactment of the Passion in the Plaza Mexicanas (poor, cute Mexican Jesus!), and then met Andy and LuLu in the bustling market. Without warning there was a sudden and steady torrential downpour, and a whole market-load of people piled into church. We caught the last of the service, most people nursing a staute of the Virgin of Guadalupe in their laps, chatting, talking to the kids, babies gurgling, oldies singing loudly. I like it how they call Jesus 'El Señor'. No one moved after the service, it was really bucketing down, and there was a lovely feeling of camaraderie as we waited it out. I did think of suggesting the priest handed round the port, but the clouds of incense were enough to keep us giddy and giggling. Andy amused himself by remember the Simpsons episode where they get snowed into the church - when Lisa starts to pray Bart says "Lisa, this is neither the time nor the place".

25 minutes later we decided to make a run for it - the rain had died down a bit but we hadn't counted on the waterfalls pouring off the cathedral, making the cobbled plaza into a river. There was literally water cascading down the stairs, we ran home (not far) ankle deep in water, laughing somewhat hysterically all the way. Had hot showers, made pizza, drank wine, then snuggled up and read stories to the kids (finished 'Alice in Wonderland' and started 'Fantastic Mr Fox') listening to the rain plopping on the clay roof tiles.

That evening we caught a flick at the Ambulante Film Festival (free, of course, with an amazing program), then picked up some cheap and delicious tacos al pastor (fresh corn tortillas with pork off a spit and pineapple and coriander salsa) and a litre (mas o menos... okay, mas) of beer. Good Friday night in San Cristobal was as lively as ever. People were out for dinner or following processions or doing a bit of both, lots more genuflecting, shopping, candle borrowing. There is an amazing and wonderful sense of a public life here. Kind of like you could never really feel lonely.

And throughout all this there was not one single sign of an easter egg.

Apologies for the very lateness of this post (and bad grammar). Some mysterious mental blockade has been keeping me from it... also from my diary and from taking photos. Denial at being over half-way through our trip? Probably. We're now in Morelia, on the other side of the country, a completely different story. I will need to write again soon.  xxx

San Cristobal de las Casas

I am not quite sure what I want or what there is to write about... so I'll just look around the room while I'm eating breakfast and see if it inspires me.

1 1/2 pieces of toasted pan au levain (wonderful French bakery around the corner complete with unutterably cute French baker), with avocado, lime and coriander (thanks sis). 2nd cup of coffee, with what looks like about 6 more to go. Andy is doing 3 hours of Spanish school in the mornings and very sweetly puts the coffee on for me before he goes.

On the kitchen bench - a bowl of eggs (with feathers and poo, 10 pesos), a bowl of limes (10 pesos), a bowl of tomatoes (10 pesos), 3 avocados (10 pesos), 1/2 a bottle of tequila and some roquefort cheese I should go and put in the fridge. There are wonderful fruit/veg/meat markets, blocks and blocks of them, twice weekly organic (read 'hippy') markets and a divine dairy shop with the most delicious milk in the world.

Gym timetable on the fridge. Streets are too cobbled (too cobbled!) to run but there is a gym 2 blocks away. The aerobics classes are great for learning words for body parts, motivational phrases and counting repeatedly up to eight. I imagine the moves would also be very useful if I ever found myself in a gay latino nightclub. Am very grateful to the Spinn instructor for doing the whole class to 'Eye of the Tiger' on repeat. It lets me imagine I am in a Rocky montage, which gets me through it. Otherwise there is only so much fun you can have on an exercise bike.

Artie and LuLu are dancing to 'Angel of Harlem' on repeat. They'll have to exhaust themselves soon, I think this is at least round 5. Art is going through her Dianne Keaton phase already. I found her a clip-on tie at an op-shop and she and it are inseparable. Both kids astound me everyday with their complete gorgeousness.

Have ripped off a bit of the rolled oats bag as a bookmark. Reading Milan Kundera's "Life is Elsewhere". It was here at the house, we came with over 4kg of books and have read them all.

I can see a jar of sourdough starter warming by the remnants of last night's fire. It has just begun to bubble. Maybe I will share some with the cute French baker.

If I look out into the garden of this adorable late 17th century house within 5 minutes I will have seen a pair of White-eared hummingbirds, a Townsends warbler, a Cinnamon-bellied flowerpiercer and an as yet unidentified LBJ (little brown jobbie - perhaps just the female of the flowerpiercer, I will look it up). All seem to be happily resident in this what can only be described as a rambling English country garden. There are tiny wild violets poking through the cracks in the stone steps, sprawling vines and miniature roses, lavender in great big pots. It is the only garden I've known where geraniums look pretty. There are big windows onto the garden from the bathroom, and in the late afternoon I can lie in the bath with a glass of Argentinean Malbec and birdwatch. Heaven.

If I were to go into the garden I would see the clouds and piney mountains surrounding San Cristobal de las Casas. If I were to leave the eerie quiet of our home and open the heavy wooden gates to go into the street I would see a mass of colour - baskets, fabrics, ribbons, cathedrals, fruit - completely breathtaking.  I can hear church bells. We come across at least two acts of random music every day.

This is a very, very beautiful city. They will have to drag me out of here kicking and screaming.

xx

ps - and let me just add - excellent chocolateria and uber-funky wine bar. Let's all move here!

Palenque y El Panchan

I find it so difficult to photograph jungles and rainforests - I can never quite capture the light and dark, the greens, the moisture and coolness all at once. So you will just have to imagine how lush and mystical were the Mayan ruins of Palenque and the village of El Panchan.

Following jungle paths criss-crossed by mountain streams, the ruins were there for you to discover as if you were the first. And they're full of tunnels and winding passages, windows and little rooms, all great fun to climb about. And the birds were spectacular. Royal flycatcher has an incredible crest, but no matter how hard I tried to sound like a sexy female Royal flycatcher he didn't give us a look (google it - amazing). What we did see, however, enough to make me die a happy woman (which I almost did), was a KEEL-BILLED TOUCAN! It flew across the stream not 5m from us. So you all don't care and think I'm a boring idiot to go on about birds but I very nearly fell over I was so excited. So was Andy by the way, which proves this bird stuff is rubbing off on him (bru-ha-ha! 'Bruja' is Spanish word for witch. Interesting). It was like being in a dream. Luckily there is no way of mistaking the Keel-billed toucan, so I have confidently ticked him off in my book. Locals said they are unlikely to see more than one every 10 years, so we do feel very lucky.

The village of El Panchan is an equally remarkable place, a kind of driveway of cabanas through the jungle. And in the middle of it is the most wonderful, sprawling, and not at all incongruous Italian restaurant. The village is full of hippies and fire-twirlers but we managed not to step on any.

I'll leave you with these photos. Then soon I'll write about the beautiful town of San Cristobal de las Casas, where we are now, and which we may never leave.

xx

Three observations

In the interest of posting more photos for my family, here are three random observations of life in Mexico.


Firstly - Mexicans don't seem to have any shame in their use of a name to pursue the higher capitalist goals.

St Francis of Assisi has a chain of supermarkets, Ghandi a successful bookshop franchise, Our Lady of Guadalupe is often ringed in a halo of soap suds and folded laundry and Jesus has his own bus line (he lets other people use it though. Nice guy).

I guess perhaps it's an extension of the Catholicism here, which seems to fuse all elements of church and life - the dirty and the holy coexist comfortably. People have no problems playing bingo on the stairs of the cathedral, or of living sordid lives under the eyes of Santa Maria in their lounge room, encircled with flashing fairy lights. In Merida we found what seemed to be a very dirty love letter under the pews of a small chapel. I'm sure Christ would have been very happy here in Mexico.

Language. Our Spanish is coming along slowly slowly. The only problem is the more you know, the more you know you don't know. It doesn't have the deliciousness on the tongue as French does, but poetry in Spanish... utterly beautiful. We try to do a 30 minute lesson each day but somehow, crazily, we often don't find the time.  There is a library only 2 blocks away and so we often sit there and read to the kids, so we now have a large vocabulary of animals, dinosaurs and space-related terminology. Reading is easiest, then writing and speaking, but listening is the most difficult, especially when people don't stop after every verb to let you conjugate it. Mexican soap operas are great for listening practice - people talk slowly and say entirely clichéd, predictable things. The kids though, are amazing. I guess it's not surprising as they are so entirely practised at using the tools you need for learning language. They can understand a lot, are listening all the time and often come up with bits and pieces themselves in their play.

I blame some of this current little 'black' phase I'm going through on being isolated by language, and so at the moment I am a little cross with Spanish. I miss my friends and I miss the opportunities for random social interactions, of opportunities to express myself, to make an impression (in a small, literal sense) on the world. Never mind. Perhaps I need to embrace the silence some more. Take some inspiration from Ghandi (and his bookshops).

And finally - culture and patriotism. I am wondering why I find Mexican patriotism (and cultural pride) so endearing and genuine and the Australian equivalent (if it exists), so abhorrent. For example - every Sunday here, in Campeche (population of 100,000), there is a theatre that stages for free an extravaganza of traditional Mexican song and dance from around the country. The whole thing is elaborately staged and costumed and goes for 2 hours, and the theatre is full. There is an international jazz festival here at the moment which has entry by donation (to a charity) and class acts every night from around Mexico. As far as my Spanish extends, most of the performances seem to be dedicated to 'the glory of Mexico'. On kids' night they provided free hot-dogs as they knew it would be dinner-time. Several compositions are variations on Mexican folk tunes and having people singing along (quite hard to an experimental  jazz quartet) and applauding like wild. School kids seem to have at least one day a week where they show up in traditional regional dress (exceedingly cute). And every event, no matter how base (the carnavale in Merida, Campeche fun run) is accompanied by a performance of traditional dance. It is wonderful to see people so devoted to and proud of their country. And maybe a little confusing to an outsider considering the complicated mix of Mayan/Spanish/Mestizo heritage. How have they achieved this seemingly ubiquitous, healthy and perfectly balanced sense of nationalism I do not know. I guess I will try to find out.

That's it for now. We're still having a good time, despite my feeling slightly like an irresponsible parent for having my kids away from home/school/friends...? And slightly rootless at not knowing what will become of us on the other end. Pero no importa.

Soon our blissful days in Campeche will be over, and we will be heading to San Cristobal de las Casas in Chiapas via Palenque for the month of April.  We are all excited for the new adventure.

I will leave you with some photos of the Mayan sites of Uxmal, Labne and Edzna, and the Lol Grutas caves (all of which were very awesome).

Miss you all very much. xxx

Campeche

more...

(if you click on satelite, I think you can see the crater in the sea north of Progresso where the dinosaur extinct-er hit)

This post is entirely self-indulgent.

Drove from Merida to Campeche via some magnificent Mayan ruins (kids call them wreckings, and wonder why they get in trouble when they chuck the stones around, considering everything's already wrecked). I'll put some photos up of that trip later. It was fun to drive and have music up loud and to be out in the bush (except they call it jungle here). Saw a Yucatan woodpecker which was VERY exciting (but which I failed to photograph). They are gorgeous birds. I was alerted to its presence by the sound of wood being pecked.

But Campeche - what a beautiful city. This is what it's like to be a millionaire. The house we are staying in is completely beautiful - all the walls, beams, tiles are original and 200 years old. I have a newly discovered and passionate fetish for French tiles. These were brought over to Campeche as ballast on French ships, which took back chillis or sombreros or something. Every morning I run along the waterfront with the beautiful people, come home and jump in the pool, then frolic in the warm winter sun with my two perfect children while Andy makes me breakfast and coffee. The house is within the UNESCO heritage listed centro historico of Campeche - about 6x9 (?) blocks of beautiful old buildings, wrought iron, cobbled streets and pastel colours. It's beautiful and quiet (no buses in the centro, which is very welcome as you can imagine if you read my last post). The town has a history of fighting off pirates so there are cannons and gates and walls and all sorts, the kids love it. But to tell the truth mostly we are happy just sitting around in our beautiful 2-week home. I hate to be indulgent but most of the photos are just of the house. It is a bit naff I know. I think I would be very good at being rich, and this holiday is good practice.

So much more to tell you all - would like to sit everyone down and talk for hours on end.

Know you are loved,  xxx

Merida weekend

Drip-filter coffee, not so bad actually. Jog+cold shower+3 cups is very buzzy. We walked – stopped at a gallery with a new exhibition of erotic art. Some wonderful stuff out of Cuba – really WANTED a piece done in ink and lipstick. So far have failed to convince Andy to part with the necessary small fortune... but am in secret email contact with the gallery owner. Walked – to Merida's English Library, a lazy gringo haven with a kids' reading room, water, toilets and a big leafy courtyard. Friendly guy said – “Santiago for lunch” – another friendly guy said “want a lift?” (Wife owned a coffee shop, car smelt divine). Lunch was fantastic - huevos motelenos, sopa de lima, poc chuc. Then two hours lazing in the lovely ol' square – kids on the playground and chasing pigeons, fountain trickling, watching afternoon shadows fall over the wide, huge facade of Santiago cathedral. As the sun set we walked the few blocks to the Plaza Grande for a show and telescope viewing at the planetarium (exciting to see Polaris). Pollo pibil for dinner at El Trapiche. Yucatacan romantic seranades in the open air theatre, some mean finger-picking and beautiful, open voices. All free, all eclectically attended. Very late. Marvellously happy.

Sunday morning, ran all the closed roads of the old city along the Paseo Montejo and into town. Wonderful to jog without traffic, to watch the markets and music set up. Walked this same route then with Andy and kids, stopping at antique shops, one more look at my painting... Breakfast in Santa Ana square, between the fountain and the russett-coloured church. Markets, music, hot but shady. In town another free show - musical theatre. The Mexicans have an exceedingly wacky sense of humour - a lot of it seems to involve laughing at extremely caricatured simpletons and their crazy antics. Is it a way of laughing at themselves? Is it a way of embracing diversity? Or do they just think dumb fat people with big teeth are funny? At any rate the audience loved this, which was for us the best part. 

Can't remember what we did next... I am a little late in keeping up with this. I do remember that Andy and Artie got hit by a bus a couple of days later ( - quite literally, it mounted the narrow footpath - luckily, really luckily, all okay, Artie just with some bumps and grazes). We closed down central Merida with about 30 police officers and 10 times as many public - all wonderful people - the bus driver was this close to being savagely torn to pieces. A terrifying experience, but thank God everyone was okay.

This post is really an excuse to stick photos up for Ma and Pa. They include some from Progresso, 30mins north of Merida (directly off the coast of Progresso, about 15km away, was where the meteor that extinct-ed the dinosaurs hit. No one cares about this but Lucien and I think it's awesome!). Also some from Izamal, the yellow city, named, strangely enough, because every single building is yellow. Quite lovely.

Hasta luego amigos. xxx

>

Parque Miguel Alemán

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It's nice to realise that you have slowly come to know a city, at least a little. It happens gently, without realising it... you find a favourite coffee shop, recognise the houses, pick up new detail in the architecture, know the school times, the bus numbers start to make sense. And it's good.


When we felt comfortable exploring we ventured out into the suburbs and found this great park. 2 playgrounds, a skateboard park (Artie's new career, we're told, is as a famous skateboarder), loads of gym equipment (very cleverly designed), a lovely big ol' fountain for throwing leaves into, free WiFi and powerpoints (quite a contemporary Mexican image, people sitting in parks with laptops) and big shady trees for grown ups (complete with tree roots which double as dinosaur bones for budding paleontologists).


We sat around there all afternoon, doing not much at all. Watched the little kids come, then the bigger ones after school. The skaters and then the joggers, and as twilight grew a small fairground sprung up around us. It was very low-key, local and lovely. The kids really enjoyed themselves on these little motorised cars, it was great fun to watch.


That will do for this post. We have spotted another green patch on the map which we are off to explore. A huge storm has just passed through, purpley-black with spiky lightening. Nice after days of humidity (desert girl not used to it).


Much love.

Mérida

Wonderful city. The Paris of Mexico? (for those who don't know I am on a bit of a quest to see the 'Paris'' of the world. Buenos Aires - Paris of the south. Beirut - Paris of the East, though it may have been superceded having had the proverbial Paris bombed out of it. Tromsø claims to be the Paris of the North, and San Fran the Paris of the West.... not sure where this leaves the actual Paris).


Mérida does have a beautiful, wide and cobbled promenade - the Paseo Montejo - lined with mansions, cafes and big old trees, which are all lit up at night. On Sunday's they close it and half the old city off to traffic (could you imagine that happening in Australia?) so people can cycle and eat and enjoy it. The other day we went down there and they had all these free art and activity stalls set up for kids. And every single night there are at least two free, public events on in a square or at the cultural centre - dancing, concerts, theatre, music - it is incredible. There is a free zoo (just don't think too hard about the ethics of it, and bypass the freaked out birds - think 'turtles', 'turtles'...), free WiFi everywhere, considerate traffic, free beer snacks. This is a city that loves it's people. Which makes it a nice place to be.


So we are enjoying metro life - museums, cafes, galleries. I find it unfair that I'm putting on weight after walking at least 8km a day and most of that lugging a three-year old. Sure, our breakfast is cooked by a wonderful Texan man serving up down home potato rosti fried in butter with eggs, bacon and probably more butter.... walk along a bit, maybe a snack of tortillas filled with saucy pork and guacamole... getting hot, to the pub, what's this? 5 plates of food to go with my beer. Well okay.... Mexicans also seem to be cake lovers, and there's a 100 year-old ice cream shop on our corner. You get the picture. Actually we're hankering for a glass of wine and a piece of chocolate. Despite living near the home of the cacao bean there isn't a block of chocolate to be seen in this town.


Anyway so I was skipping and doing sit ups for a while but that's kind of boring, so yesterday I bought some flash new running shoes (bright blue) and a teeny weeny running skirt (tangarine) and some kind of alien-fabric singlet (purple). I am the colourfulest gal on the Paseo (they will call me the 'Paseo Parrot'. Or possibly just 'that ridiculous gringo').


The kidlets are having a great time and are very much loved by the general populace. Some guy even turned his motorbike around to tell us how muy bonito our kids were, and we had one wacky occasion of police officers taking photos of girl scouts who had stopped to cuddle our kids. They're enjoying the food and their Spanish gets better by the day. They have a great time accosting local kids in playgrounds and showing them they want to play (kind of like puppies).


The town is currently preparing for a great big Carnaval, starting this afternoon. We try to look disappointed when the retired Yanks next door tell us it's just a bunch of people drinking lots of beer and naked girls riding on floats. 


Sorry once again that this post is kinda boring... the computer isn't my priority really. But I do love you all! 


Promise to be more insightful next time. xx

Takin' it Belize-y

The unobtrusive black dot above is where we're at.


Swim in the morning, a few laps across to the other island, gaze up at its resident osprey. Some swimming lessons and splashing with the kids, then sandcastle building, reddening skin.


We are now a family with sun-browned feet and white, sandy toenails.


A deck over the water (which is a true turquoise), a few stories in the hammock, Andy makes salad sandwiches.


Beer.


Hammocks, hammocks, hammocks for hours. Peer through the cracks to see disks of purple and gold fish. More beer. Watching windsurfers in the thick and salty breeze, swinging, reading. Me: "Tender is the Night". Andy: "The Razor's Edge". We are nearly finished them, and will have to swap books soon.


Sun eventually begins to dip. Reggae from the Lazy Lizard bar up the beach; drowsy, friendly. Time to swim again. Kids play with their new best friend, a little boy whose family owns the cabins. He feeds them cupcakes.


How did I get so pink with so much suncream?


Time to think about dinner. Usually Wish Willy's - whatever's on the grill. Kids under the fairy lights exploring the garden, soul music. Gregarious, large Rasta-host (Maurice) swans between tables, smoking, seducing. Lovely fella, gets cheaper every time you eat here. A really special place, and great food.


Kids, exhausted, to bed. Andy and I not so far behind. Not a bad life really.