Where to begin on updates?  Hmmm…  I don’t know that I’ll start at the beginning as such, but I’ll start with the biggest news.  And by that, I mean big to me and probably no one else.  My annual new years holiday is now officially planned.  I will ring in 2009 in Nicaragua.  Defeaning silence?  Okay, let’s just say warmth and sun in Central America?  Is that more appealing?  I’ll be honest.  I hadn’t really heard anything about Nicaragua in years and years.  It was stowed away in some dark corner of my mind as being a place of much conflict.  That’s apparently mostly sorted.  There appears to be some lingering issues over control of the northeast corner of the country from what I can sus reading the US State Department’s travel warnings.  And if I compare it to Egypt’s travel warnings, it would look like I visited a war zone for my last New Years getaway.  Just to put things in perspective. And no, my trip will not take me near said corner of the country.

I am actually visiting two countries, so I shaved a little off the trip by just stating where I’d be to see in 2009.  The trip actually starts and ends in San Jose, Costa Rica.    I fly out to arrive on day 1 (not unlike my Intrepid trip last year, a day to meet and organize) on Dec 28th.  I fly back on Jan 11th.  The rest of the time will be spent in comparative warmth and sun.  And I know friends who live up north are reading this and shaking their head as I live in comparative warmth and sun for them.  Sorry, I’m just a big baby when it comes to my sunshine!

This weekend, in far less interesting fashion, I went up to the tippy top of the state to check out the fall foliage.  I don’t think I got any killer photos honestly.  I am very challenged by forests and mountains, still.  None the less, I had an awesome time if just for the zen moments and the riot of colors.  The trees were really putting on a show this year.  I drove up Saturday, getting a later start than intended.  I really only stopped by Anna Ruby Falls and did nothing else worth mentioning until checking into a hotel in Clayton, GA.  If I had realized just how close to North Carolina I really was, I might have gone that little bit further.

But if I had, I would have missed out starting my Sunday on the top of Black Rock Mountain, just north of Clayton.  The aerial view of the surrounding mountains and valleys were incredible.  The park ranger told me that this was the best color he’d seen in about 15 years.  Color enhanced even more by the warm morning sun.

After, I popped back northward and crossed the line into North Carolina.  This was actually the second time in as many days.  I had border crossed the evening before hoping for some nice sunset photos.  You can tell I am by nature a low lander.  I was flummoxed quickly by the fact the sun didn’t really set so much as the mountains blocked it.  Twilight came suddenly and I only got a few shots in, more of them covered in long shadows than anything.  I’m not sure I could quickly adapt to life in the shadow of mountains and I know I don’t want to live *on* one.  Nice flat yard please.

I took the Appalachian Parkway across the southern edge of North Carolina.  Saw more staggering views from various overlooks, and took one old mountain road down into a valley.  It was fun in a way, but more of a driving experience than a see the sights experience.  The curves were coming too fast to do anything but focus on driving!

And this is where I go into a side rant.  Most of the North Carolina stretch was fairly empty, when I dipped southwards again towards home, I ended up on more winding “scenic highways” packed with other Atlantans.  All wanted to go faster and wear their brakes out in every turn.  I’d rather not wear my breaks to nothing.  Face facts, you’re not going to get there much faster by screaming down the few straightaways only to jam on brakes into every curve.  And more importantly, I’m thinking you came into the mountains to see the sights, so please, slow down and see them.  Sheesh!

There’s much irony that I’m planning a trip that’s now less than 2 months away and I’ve yet to go through all the England photos. There are a few more England photos up, though.  Starting here should get you to the newer ones since last posting.  And here are some of my favorites from the new crop.

Memory Of The Land

Near Land’s End

Life Is But A stage

Moment In The Sun

There’s not much to say about the trip back other than I completely wrenched some muscles in my back.  I have no idea what my bag weighed going out, but I looked a the weight at the check-in at Gatwick airport and when I converted from kg to lbs, it was around 43lbs!  I believe a small child stowed away in my bag somewhere.  With compliments to my pack, when it was on my back I didn’t feel it, but everytime I hefted it up there, I did.  It felt heavier to me and I still don’t know how.  I swear I did NOT bring much back beyond the odd fridge magnet and assorted very trivial and tiny souvenirs.  I brought back freaking carved rocks from Mexico that didn’t weigh me down as much.  I’m sticking to the story that a small child (or midget) made their way to the states unbenowest to me. It took nearly the week since for my back to sort itself.

Oh, I was frisked more than once and had my carry on luggage searched at Gatwick.  I have never gotten through Gatwick without being singled out for a frisking.  On the happy column (not the frisking), the plane had a lot of empty seats.  Bad for Delta, great for me.  The row of 5 seats I was on had three people.  I got to stretch out and read and read (9 hours of reading with maybe a half hour nap).

Anyway, quite settled back in here and I’ve had just a little time to edit some photos. This trip’s gallery is here:  England September 2008 Travel Photos

A few of my favs so far:

Big Ben

Big Ben & Churchill

Stonehenge Beneath a Moody Sky

Last update for the moment is that this weekend I’ll be in Montezuma for the annual Beaver Creek Festival.  I’ll have a vendor booth again this year but did not have time to enter the art contest.  The vendor booth was a lot of fun last year.  I’d been to the festival many years before and you run into a few people,but if you sit in one spot the whole day, it feels like you see everyone you’ve known.  Hope to see some of you there!

I’m also participating in the Oakhurst Arts & Music Festival on October 11th.  The Atlanta Photography Group is sponsoring a tent and I am taking part and will have work available there. Looking forward to attending!

Yesterday was day 1 with the arch supports and what a blessed difference it was.  My little arches felt massively better.  They still need a rest but that too shall come.  Every trip to London, I’ve taken several tours from a group called London Walks – in my opinion, the best walking tours of the city.  I’ve done a ton of them and have not nearly done them all.  This trip, I had not set foot on one.  Not sure what’s happening there!  Yesterday I saw they had an “explorer” tour – essentially a day out from the city with an afternoon and morning tour and they handle getting you there and back.  I’d done one to Leeds Castle and Canterbury a few years ago.  This one was to St. Albans, a wee city about 20 minutes by rail from London.  It was advertised as being quaint having started as a Roman Fort and having existed in one form or another every since.  It was dirt cheap as tours go, so I can’t complain.  The city didn’t quite fit my image of a quaint little place frozen in time as described but was sort of cool in that we saw a place where everyday folks live.  It’s sort of a bedroom community for the greater city.  It’s also the site of an ancient shrine to st. Alban.  He was a roman who was converted to Christianity and martyred for it.  I had never heard his name before as far as I can recall.  The interesting thing was that the tour guide’s accent sounded just like a lady back home who was an English war bride.  I should have asked but never got around to it.  It was uncanny familiar and took me a bit to place.  I kept thinking I’d heard it on TV somewhere.

Got back into the city and took the tube all the way to Aldgate, essentially now in the city’s business district and fair dead on a Sunday, but I have wanted for the longest time to get some photos of the “Gherkin” as it’s known – it’s this massive mod building in the heart of London – visible from the Thames near Tower Bridge.  I think it looks more like an elongated egg than a pickle, but it’s green colored glass earns its nickname.   I did get some photos.  The light wasn’t so great, so we’ll see what I got out of the expedition.  I was not surprised to encounter many other tourists at every vantage point trying their luck as well.

Afterwards, a quick meal and galloped off to bed.  I had high hopes of another early start today.  Today’s explorer day was to Cambridge.  I had almost written it off but several people on the St. Albans tour said it was a must.  And I noted it was being lead by the same guide from Canterbury in 2005.  So, I figured I could well rest on the plane ride back.

I was off the tube at Kings Cross train station well before 9am this morning.  I had a quick breakfast and waited for the guide to show up.  Kings Cross could not be a much more busy place to try to meet a group.  I had almost decided that I was at the wrong place, though it didn’t seem possible.  The landmark is a luggage cart half through a wall with the sign 9 3/4 over it (the track # from the Harry Potter films (the scene with the cart in the wall I actually recall).  I got to watch SO MANY people throw their bags in and get photos of themselves.  A large group of young asians must have been there for 20 minutes.  I even got roped into helping them with their photos.  But it was fun to watch.

The group finally formed and we were off to Cambridge.  It’s a fascinating little city.  I think as much as anything it was interesting to hear how the English college/university system formed and how different it is in structure than our typical system in the states.  Tons of gorgeous old buildings but all kind of piled upon one another such that I would have had to have spent a lot more time than I had hunting out good angles.  We toured in the morning, had a quick lunch and then continued in the afternoon.  At the end a portion of us spent our free time punting (boating) down the Cam to our final meeting point as a group before going back to the train station.  The weather was kind of drab (overcast) by the time it came time to punt, but who knows when one will ever be in Cambridge again with the opportunity to lay back in a boat.  The guy providing the power to the pole (the actual act of punting) was a college student at St. Johns College and told us a lot about the things we saw along the riverside.   And he did much better at guiding the boat than some of the folks around us who just tried it on their own!  One group was doing what I would have, basically just propelling themselves into each opposite bank over and over!  Funny to watch, probably frustrating to do!

Trips end, we all piled back onto the train to London.  Chit-chatted about where we were all from (a mix of locals, Aussies, Germans, and several Americans aside from myself – all from out west).   Back at Kings Cross we quickly bid farewell.  There were some with shows tonight, and myself I wanted to get back here to pick up my gorilla pod and tripod head and try to get some dusk shots of SOMETHING before I went back.  I dragged that thing from the states for heavens sake and had yet to find time to use it. It’s been past dusk every night I thought of it.  I got here, and dashed back to the train.  I started looking at the clock and realized that I was not going to make it to either Tower Bridge nor St. Paul’s Cathedral in time.  I had to adjust my plans and instead got off at Westminster so I could see Big Ben and Parliament at dusk.  I think those shots came out pretty well.  I was one of MANY on the bridge taking photos.  Tons had full on tripods with them.  Either locals or far more dedicated travelers than I am.  I may yet break down and find a tripod that is both sturdy and not only light but compact enough.  But I’m not yet convinced I need it.  I generally only take night shots when I’ve been somewhere enough to know what to expect about where the light will set, etc.  Parliament qualified, as do several places in London now, as I’m on trip 4 to this city…  Scary, eh?

Anyway, a bit of a wander there after and then a train to Picadilly Circus one more time.  Quick meal and some hand held quick night shots of the lights there (A LOT of light – London’s time’s square).  And finally back here.  I just finished arranging my bags.  Everything packed except what I’m wearing now, tonight, or in the morning.

Everytime I come here, there are tons of mixed emotions at the end.  There’s definitely a side of me that will be so happ to snuggle into my own bed tomorrow evening, a side that will be happy to see familiar places and definitely a side that will be glad to be able to actually rest.  But it’s conflicted with a side that would happily remain here, not per se just London but here being the road, meeting new people, hearing new words and accents and voices.  London is so fantastic in part because it’s a microcosm of people and places.  The history, the native cuture and the imported culture will always hold a little sway over me, but it also feeds the wanderlust.

Not sure where is next, but if tradition holds there’s a trip at year’s end.  Maybe Paris since I missed out.  Or maybe somewhere warm again.  Egypt, although cooler than I may have expected, was an awesome change.  And I’m well amazed how quickly I’ve adapted to the temps here.  I brought my hoodie with me, which has half the time been either left behind or tied around my waist.  I’ve dreaded every time I had to wear one of the two long sleeved shirts I brought!  I even though of wearing my one pair of shorts I brought along hopefully but finally decided to save them for the flight home.  I may roast at the Atlanta airport otherwise!  My body is not going to be prepared anymore.

Ah well, London photos and more to come at some point after I’ve had a slight relax – take care!

Once I was finally moving, I headed over to Earls Court, the exhibition center there has a Doctor Who Exhibit that was mad fun.  Aside from trips to Forbidden planet (the huge cult tv and comic book shop here), I’ve never done anything really geeky here.  I’m in shock to say that I’ve already visited Forbidden Planet this trip and got nothing for myself.  Truly shocking.  I just didn’t see anything worth the money and the dwindling space in my home.  Anyway, the Doctor Who exihibit was mainly geared towards the new show, of course, but included some highlights of the past Doctors.  It was truly cheesey fun getting to see so many props, stand in front of a blue screen and see yourself standing in the Tardis control room, and just in general see so many people geeking out over the same thing.  I guess this was my less crowded fanboy convention this year.  Afterward, I wandered through the gift shop, literally over-flowing with all manner of Doctor Who stuff from classic to now.  I was tempted by a few items but talked myself out of them.  The only thing I really wanted was some sort of souvenir that actually showed I had been, but they only had t-shirts… no thanks…  I’ll just hang on to the ticket in my box of junk from my travels.

After a quick lunch (sort of brunch as I hadn’t had breakfast and it was cruising towards 1pm).  I decided that the afternoon was to go check out the Tate Modern art gallery, which has been on my list of things to do for several trips.  I overshot my tube choice just a smidge and wandered along the Thames path to the bridge at St. Paul’s.  Very proud that I was able to over directions to three people while I was on my way.  Oh, and I was able to point out Monument (the monument to the great fire of 1666).  I regret that it’s completely covered in tarps and scaffolding while being refurbished.  I overheard a son and his father looking for it standing literally 10 feet from it.  Their disappointment was palpable, and yet again I will not be climbing it.  Oh well.

Tate Modern was interesting.  i think most of my excitement was for the building, an old industrial power plant on the south bank of the Thames that was re-born as an art gallery.  I think it has been so far down my list for so long because I have mixed feelings about modern art.  It’s not that I don’t consider it art, it’s that often I don’t really see what others see in it.  While the museum is free, there are paid exhibits.  I ended up paying to see one by an artist called Cy Twombly, an American artist who did most of his work living in Italy.  This was a slight mistake.  I had seen him listed in the guide I got, but the adjacent description was actually for an exhibit on contemporary urban photography that had ended a couple of weeks ago.  I realized my mistake after I walked into the first room and re-checked the brochure.  This was modern art at it’s modernist…  undulating crayon lines, blobs of paint, and I could not  help the feeling that I was looking at one of those posters from a decade ago where you had to squint to see an image in the picture.  I read the descriptions in the guide and saw nothing that was supposed to be there.  I squinted.  I turned sideways, I looked at an angle, and all I ever saw looked like squibbles and lines.  He had a few sculptures and some later modern stuff that didn’t leave me wholly unhappy but by and large, I’ll consider that admission my donation to the arts…

From there, I wandered through a ton of art.  I’m not familiar with most of the artists.  I want credit for stopping at a couple of Picassos, at least they caught my eye.  There were also some very cool sculptures and even a smattering of photography along the way.  All told, I spent around 3 hours, getting in my quotient of the arts before my feet told me enough was enough.  I had blisters days ago that have finally healed, but now have managed to kill my arches.  I don’t know what I was thinking when I didn’t pick up the arch supports that were lying in my closet.  I know I have issues with them, so I should have.  And I’ve paid the price.  When I finally found a pair, they were the equivalent of nearly $40…  I felt a wave of wallet-robbing-nausea wash over me as I paid for them.  An expensive lesson.

I meandered a bit more before finally wandering into Leicester Square hunting for a meal.  I found a Mexican Restaurant.  This is my second attempt at Mexican this trip.  The first was in Bath.  While it was a fine meal, it did not compare to home and wasn’t even served remotely in the same manner.  An enchilada that included the rice within it and was mammoth and was served with a salad!?  Of course, tonight was Saturday night, so the place was packed.  I was given a pager and told it was a 20 minute wait.  I wandered into the bar to wait… no seats… I stood for a few minutes.  My feet already felt better but not like standing, no sir.  Finally I notice this seat behind this black lady and went and asked if it was taken.  She wasn’t sure, but the seat beside her, which I assumed was taken, was not.  As I sat down, the couple across from me gave a look that combined sympathy with relief.  She turned out to be a talker, and I don’t  just mean a little conversation, I mean I feel like I know her life’s story now, at least the bits I could understand through the heavy Jamaican accent.  She apparently was going to see a movie, but needed a drink first or it would be “garbage.”  I sincerely hope that means she was meeting friends, otherwise it’s expensive garbage!  She had a brain tumor removed at some point in the past -she showed me the scar.  She told the doctor his other 9 patients with the same surgery would die, because it was their time, but not hers.  She lived because she “had a strength of purpose.”  I wasn’t really sure what she meant by that but at least followed her comment that it wasn’t science that saved her, it simply wasn’t her time yet.  She’s 67 and expects to live to be 105, because she knows that’s her time.  Really, there’s more to be told, but that should be enough for you to get an idea.  She was harmless and interesting, but I was still quite happy when the pager went off to get my table.

My table was, of course as close to the kitchen door as possible.  This is what happens to you when you dare defy society and eat at a sit down restaurant alone.  It doesn’t always happen, but it doesn’t surprise me either.  The meal was okay.  Closer but still not quite the Mexican I’m used to.  A touch bland, but almost all the parts were there this time.  Only missing the refried beans.  I’ll survive.

Afterward, I contemplated seeing a movie, sounded great since my tired feet could stit still.  I checked the prices… uhm… wow… they pay more for a movie in pounds than we pay in dollars.  I know that Leicester square is kind of a hub, so maybe at other theaters it’s not so bad, but it cost £13.50 to see a movie at nights or on weekend!  That would be around $26…  I could not justify that cost so just wandered a bit before hopping the train back to the hostel.

No idea what’s on for tomorrow.  But my feet would appreciate a somewhat early to bed night.  Hopefully I’m not in a room of folks who are already out for the count.  Last night, two of the 4 total in the room had already called it a night at 10pm!  So, I ended up getting organized in the dark!  I was surprised as I’m usually one of the comparative early to bed folks.  And if I’m asleep when the others roll in, they have to be remarkably loud to bother me.  Oh well, wish me luck!

Actually, I barely noticed if not for the piles of e-mail to wade through just now.

Last night in Luxor, we did the sound and light show at Karnac’s Temple.  It was… cheesy…  cheesier than expected…  didn’t cost a lot so okay, but it just went on far too long.  The first maybe 20 minutes is walking through the temple as various statues and buildings are illuminated and a booming voice tells their story.  The rest, which felt like hours, is sitting in some stands built by the sacred lake.  Now the booming voices tell stories about things that happened at Karnac.  The light show gets kind of stale because there’s very little variation in the lighting and after a bit, personally, the stories just kind of melted together.  All I remember is the final grand music to let me know to get up and move.

Afterwards, we all went as a group to an Irish pub to celebrate the birthday of one of our group members.  I was totally exhausted.  And I had eaten my McDonald’s meal after navigating the market one more time.  But it was still a fun time.

Repacked when I got to the room so that I could sleep as late as possible.

Early start, we went to… karnac’s temple…  Okay, actually, I had a far better time in the daylight.  The local guide took us around and told us about the temple, the statues, etc.  And then we had some time on our own to wander about.  Really beautiful temple.  But I am well and truly templed out now.

After that, the long, long ride to Hurgurda (sp?).  Nothing much to say about the place, it was only a night stop before catching the ferry the next morning.  Had an okay meal and stayed in what is now the champion of seedy motels for me personally.  The bathroom was more caulk than tile and the shower was the bathroom…  I knew such existed, but never have I seen it in person.  Glad it was just a stop over and nothing long term.  Sam had warned us that it was not a great stop.  And in fact, we’re the last tour to go through Hurgurda.  Next one will wrap back to Cairo to get to the Sinai Peninsula.  Trade off, much longer on the road but no dodgy hotel and no danger the ferry won’t run (which was a real concern).

Anyway, the ferry did run.  Two hours, bumpy sea, but I fared okay.  Then another couple of hours by bus to the Sawa Camp in Nuweiba.  This was a gem of a place.  Just incredibly beautiful.  We were on the red sea and you could see Saudia Arabia on the opposite side from our huts.  Very primative.  Shared bathroom facilities – the showers had hot water heated by the sun (very hot if you slept until 11am like I did on day 2) and electricity was only available in the evenings.  But I swear it was a little piece of paradise and I’d have stayed there for days.  Great food, warm sun, long beach filled with little straw huts.  I can’t say enough nice about this place.  It was totally the decompression I needed.  Day two there was totally a free day.  Some in the group went scuba diving.  A handful of us stayed behind and just enjoyed that place.

After a day and a half, it was time to move on.  Regretful farewells to the puppy and cats and that gorgeous bit of beach and then onto St. Katherine’s.  This is where we got to see an ancient monastery, which is home to the apparent descendent of the original burning bush.  And where we climbed Mount Sinai.  Now, I have to preface this by saying, I’d been dreading this for days.  I couldn’t make up my mind what to do.  Half of my brain said to sit it at out at the hotel.  Another half said to do it.  Some little corner suggested the camel ride might not be so bad.  You see there were a few options.  Climb the 3750 steps (not so much steps as rocks positioned in such a way as to approximate steps), take the camel route up and then do the last 750 steps yourself, or just stay behind.  One member of the group stayed behind as she was sick, another did as she knew she couldn’t make it.  And one took the camel route.  Smartest one of the 10 of us who started up.  Another had a bit of a panic attack and decided not to go.  Sam, our guide stayed behind and the Bedouin guide went with the rest of us.  I constantly lagged behind.  I was so unprepared.  Principally, I just could not catch my breath in the thin air.  The rest was sheer not being in shape after having had so many phsyical issues keeping me off my feet in 2007.  One of the group, Cameron, hung back with me.  I really appreciated that.  I’m sure he could have gone faster.  And in fact, after we were on the last leg of the 750 steps, I told him to go on because I was not sure I was going to get up in time for the sunset.

I just did.  Drenched in sweat and gasping for breath, I lurched through this little iron gate at the top and saw the sun just hovering over the mountains surrounding Mt. Sinai.  I was, in fact, the last person to reach the peak yesterday.  Not per se what I wanted to achieve, but I pushed so far past what my body wanted that it was an achievement none the less.

Then back down in the dark.  In the dark, after the 750 steps, we took the camel route by foot…  This was worse for me in some ways than what we had done before.  I took one misstep early on and felt my ankle protesting.  It hurt for about 3 minutes and I thought I had sprained it again, but it cleared.  It was a clear warning message that I had to take it easy.  So, I was also the last person off, still with Cameron.  As soon as I saw the van, loaded even with the folks who stayed behind, I had to speak to Sam.  The next stop was dinner at the Bedouin guide’s house.  I hated to miss it, but I had to go back to the hotel.  I knew I needed to take some asprin and just crash or I would be a waste today.

I was dropped off and changed and took aspirin and crawled into bed with my bottle of water.  My legs were literally shaking.  I obviously pushed a bit far!  Just to add insult to injury, the power went off several times.  I had images of sleeping in that room and freezing to death and all in the world I wanted at that moment was to be home in my warm bed and familiar covers.

By the time morning came, I was in a better mood.  Showered and packed my bags and wandered down to reception.  I was a bit off on the time.  I thought we were meeting in the lobby at 8:30am, but we were to be leaving at that time.  I had 15 minutes to shovel breakfast down and get on the bus for an 8 hour drive back to Cairo.

The only stop on the way was for lunch.  My legs felt like stove pipes at that point.  But all is loosened up now.

Tomorrow is our last true day of the tour, but we are doing the final group dinner tonight as Sam will be moving over to another hotel for his next tour tomorrow night.  During the day tomorrow, we meet up with our local guide again and we’ll see a mosque, a church, and Khan el Kalili market, the largest in Cairo.

I have to get up at some ungodly hour on Sunday.  Not sure when, but Sam said he’d let me know.  My flight out is at 5:15am.  Connection in Frankfurt before I get back to the states and continue the reverse journey on Marta, to my car, and finally back to my own bed again.  Egypt has been fantastic, but 15 days in a group definitely pushes my limits a bit.  It’s absolutely not a dig at the people, just the way I am.  I needed some more me time along the way and the beach day was about it.  Still, I would do it all again.

Accommodations

It should surprise few that once I was spending my money, I was booking a Hostel. There weren’t many options in that category in Boston, but one of the handful had some of the best ratings I’ve seen. The HI Boston Hostel is located in the Back Bay neighborhood of Boston. Fairly typical hostel fare but easily accessible by Subway (or the T as it’s known in Bean Town) or by foot for the ambitious walker. Not the most social place I’ve stayed, but then I was hardly there so maybe I don’t know from where I speak.

While the hostel was typical enough, I had a little fun with room-mates. Nothing that approaches epic proportions, just funny. On day One, I checked in and they assigned not only room but bed as well. Okay, I’ve been to far more hostels that just assigned the room and it was a first come first served thing on which bed you got. Of course, I get up there and once I discern where the # is on the bed, realize that someone has actually already set up camp there… Oh well… one left, I don’t really care. If it had been a top bunk with the walking boot, I MIGHT have had more concern.

Day two, I was first out in the morning. When I meander back in around 9pm, there’s been a complete (save me) turn over of occupants in the room. In fact, at this point, it looks like there’s just two of us in there. I did think it was a little odd that ALL of the beds had been re-made including mine. Not sure what was up with that as typically you dump your linens on the way out and they just bring up fresh ones. Not sure about long term stays… Now, mine was also made up… decidedly not as I had left it. New linens and made up… Odd… The other roomie heads out for awhile and I read and eventually change for bed. Flash forward to 1 or 2am and someone is waking me up… huh.. wha… To inform me I’m in her bed… uhm… Half awake and totally unable to see, I explain that night one someone was in my bed so I had ended up there… She then complained she had “prepared that bed…” Okay… and I’ve slept in it for like 3 hours now… what sane person would want a bed after a complete stranger has slept in it for god knows how many hours?? I didn’t say that part, I just turned over… c’mon… there are four empty beds, tuck the top sheet in, pull up the comforter and go to bed… geezzz… Okay, so my karma points may be in danger… but I didn’t complain when I came in and had to adjust to a different location… goodness…

Never saw the mystery waker-upper after that. I was up bright and early on Sunday and there was a lump in another bed. When I got in at 11:30pm, that lump was gone and I had another new roomie who got maybe a grunt and a wave out of me as I set about to quickly getting my bags prepped, etc. as I had to be up at 4am and the more I did then the less everyone would hate me at 4am…

Of course, it turned out to be a full room the last night. What else would one expect? Probably 12:30am or so, I hear a small group come in and quickly prep for bed. I normally sleep through such things but my brain was preoccupied with listening for my cell phone alarm. So I jerked awake when they came in and, as is the ritual, they tried to imagine that every zipper and velcro sound is more silent if drawn out ten minutes longer by doing it slowly. No worries, I returned the favor a few hours later…

The City

This was a perfect time to visit. I left temperatures hovering around 100 degrees Fahrenheit… Friday it was around the mid 80′s, and everyone described it as hot… hah! As if to delight me even more, the next day, the highs fell into the 70′s and it was super windy! YES! It was like taking a vacation from the season back home. I swear, it was autumn!

On top of the weather (which I might not be so gleeful about, in say January, Boston is just a great place to visit. The core city is easily a walkable place. The first afternoon, I walked, aircast and all, from the Back Bay down into Boston Commons in around an hour or so. And it was a leisurely walk filled with beautiful architecture. I’m sure there are unsavory areas of the city to be found, but the ones that surround the typical out of towner seemed pretty tame.

The first night, I took the T out to the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. I had read that they were having a Hopper exhibition and I honestly had no clue who that was until I looked at some of his art and realized that I’d seen his stuff for years and just never connected a name to it. So, I was all set to see that exhibit and the MFA is open late on Fridays. Perfect! Or so I thought… In reality, the exhibit was sold out and the late on Friday thing is for a kind of hoitty toitty arts thing. There was a section of the museum closed off for us interlopers with rock music and people dressed to the nines. Of course, this would be the section with the words “Old world masters” over the top of the door… so I can’t report much on that section of the museum… All told, though, the museum is a credit to the US. The best museum I’ve been to in the states. Pales when compared to the might of the National Portrait Gallery and the British Museum, of course, but what doesn’t?

And this comparison is appropriate because the MFA combines these. You can see Egyptian sarcophagi, Roman statues, and a flock of Monet’s all in the same building. The exhibits are really and truly that varied. That’s why it’s so impressive. All this under one roof. And even though I am miffed at missing the Hopper exhibit and seeing a section of the Museum, that they are making it an active and alive place is to the credit of MFA Boston. A must visit in my opinion.

Boston is, as said, a walkable city, but given the walking boot thing, I figured if I was going to take it all in on a compressed schedule, I was going to have to check out alternatives. There are a number of trolley tour companies, but I ended up going with Old Town Trolleys. While fairly typical, it’s a tried and true business plan, which is why there are so many. The trolley has a tour guide. You can ride the loop and listen to one guide, or you can hop off at your convenience and take in a site and then hop on another trolley coming to pre-determined stops every 15 minutes. There were plenty of stops I skipped getting off as seeing them from the trolley was more than enough. My first actual stop was for my Harbor Cruise, which cost a whole $7 extra! And being on the first boat out meant that it was not at all crowded.

I also spent time touring the U.S.S. Constitution, oldest “active” military warship in the world. Also being early, I was able to get through the line and take the full tour pretty much as quickly as one could expect. Old Ironsides is free to the public and a true must see if you have any interest in history and/or sailing ships.

Also took in Paul Revere’s house… okay, it’s interesting as it’s the oldest wooden structure in Boston, built in the 1680′s . But honestly, I’m not sure the $3 was worth it… Granted that’s not much, but $3 seemed a lot to be mashed into such small quarters with throngs of tourists and what seemed more than anyone’s fair share of children who are at the age they’ve mastered speech but not the art of not speaking… I skipped the last room and just darted for the exit. I’d seen and been hemmed in enough!

Also sat in and listened to the history of Old North Church which was much like the old church at Colonial Williamsburg. I also saw Trinity Church, which I would scarcely have recognized as a church. The park in front of it was the only place I saw that reminded me of Atlanta as the benches all seemed to have been taken by the homeless. Interesting contrast in front of an ornate old church and the tallest building in New England… At least the homeless in Boston were not as aggressive as Atlanta’s on the panhandling. The second night ended in the market surrounding Faneuil Hall – very lively and touristy and just plain fun.

Having seen all the key points in Boston, I had to do my shtick where I find something more touristy and less history on a given trip. I got up bright and early to catch a Ferry out to the Boston Harbor Islands. I only ended up visiting two, Georges Island and Lovells Island. I had hoped to get out to another, but after a couple hours on each, I would have had to have waited two hours to get on a boat from Georges out to one of the smaller ones, plus travel time, plus time on the island, etc. Anyway, I was already sun burned and wind burned and just plain burned out. The Islands are beautiful, but I think I was expecting something a little more like Georgia’s barrier islands. Instead, I found, decaying old forts and rocky beaches. I think I had more fun just ferrying about on the boats part of the day, honestly. I suspect in the right season they are probably incredible places, or I was too tuckered out to enjoy it.

The rest of my last day, I spent wandering the harbor and the old North End. Boston’s north end has been one time home to most of the city’s ethnic minorities at one point or another. The last wave was the Italians, and it still has a decent sized Italian population. And, I happened to be visiting on feast weekend. Much fun! I had some great pizza (better than what I had in Sorrento!) and some gelato! YAYY!! Then I did my sunset and dusk photos of the city skyline that are probably nothing new or unique but they are my take on the city without having seen any skyline photos before.

The last thing on the agenda was a ghost tour. Not a serious ghost tour, a hokey fun filled horror fest. Black trolleys with tattered old curtains, music from horror and horror comedy movies, and the guides were dressed up as spooky characters. The one for my tour was a demon who was paying penance for writing a story about Unicorns by working with tourists. The tour was also from Old Town Trolleys and was a total riot. Macabre tales on the trolley were combined with more ghoulish tales while visiting the old city burying grounds in the dark. Part of the proceeds go towards the preservation of those sites.

I slept most of the flight to Atlanta. Not the norm for me, but combined with little sleep and a great weekend, it was no surprise. It was happenstance that I got to go, but it’s a trip I’d happily make again, and we all know my predilection is not towards seeing the U.S.

After last evening´s post, I found a bit nicer restaurant, more of a sports bar type place where they were watching “football” – soccer to the US.   I´d done more of fast food type places, even though they were local and serving up local dishes.  I had something chicken with all these different sauces.  Some were okay.  One was so hot that I think I used up half of my coke putting out the fire.  They did warn me…  obviously I still have to learn the hard way.

After that, aimless meandering and a little shopping.  I´ve yet to discover when this place really does close up shop.  Nearing midnight and you could still wander into tons of shops.   I went back to the hostel and iced my knee while reading up on possible things I could do today before packing it in for the night and figuring I´d decide in the morning.  I´d narrowed it down to some ruins about half an hour out by bus or Progreso, another beach town, closer and more crowded but not as nice as Celestun.  Maybe 45 minutes away with frequent buses until quite late.  Apparently it´s where most of Merida goes on weekends when they want to be at the beach.

Slept in the hammock for maybe two or three hours last night.  Actual honest to god sleep.  I was amazed, but these are definitely for people accustomed to sleeping pretty much in one position as far as I can tell.  And I´m not a person who sleeps like that.  So, I woke up a couple of hours into my sleep, not fully awake I don´t think, but aware, moved to the bed and promptly went back to sleep on my stomach.  Hammocks… pheh….

And of course I´m in the hammock capitol of the world.  I haven´t walked 10 feet without being offered, in this order of frequency, hammocks, panama hats, or cuban cigars.  I have no desire for any of these items….  I did want a patch for my back pack for my Mexico trip.  I sewed on my Scotland one just before coming here.  Guess what I can´t find….  oh well…  I may just order one online… not the same, but what are you gonna do?

Today, I slept moderately late, somewhere towards 8am when I got up.  I looked at the options again while I ate breakfast and decided I was going to do pretty much nothing today.  That´s not an easy nor realistic choice for me.

After breakfast, I decided to take in the only “attraction” in the historico centro that I´ve yet to do, the Merida city musuem…  the history of merida from it´s time as T´ho (Mayan City) to the coming of the Spainards and today.   Yep, I´ve pretty much summed up the museum.  Granted, it´s free, but it lacked the one thing I´m accustomed to finding in all museums, even the ones here I´d been to so far… AC…  bleh… glad it was like 9am…  afternoon in that building would have been pure hell…  20 minutes of hell…  but hell is hell…  A few cool 3-D artistic renderings of the Maya city the Spainards razed to build modern Merida was about the only thing I really found interesting.  Especially after having seen the ruins of Chichen Itza, Uxmal, and Kabah, and realizing what I saw there was here before it was wiped from the earth….  sad…

Afterward, back to the hostel again, had a taste for something sweet and remembered there was supposed to be a great cheesecake place relatively nearby.  Looked it up in Lonely Planet.  It said it had been at this particular corner for 20 years… well… either I can´t remember street #´s at all or it´s gone now….  I settled for a coke and some sort of gum drop like candy on my way back.  Today ended up being shopping day.  Odd little items for myself and family and friends.  And I hate shopping in Mexico.  I remember this too well from last time.  I hate to haggle and you´re hard pressed to find anywhere that puts a price on anything.  Add to that the 5 minutes of chit chat you invest in most any place you go into and shopping is just a grueling effort.    “What´s your name?  Where are you from?  How long in Merida?  How do you like Merida?”  I know the script by heart now.  Someone this afternoon at the next to last place thought I said Hungary and said very little to me until he caught on that he had misheard.  If only I had figured this out days ago!  Lie!  Pick any place that´s not English.  You´ll find plenty here who know English but hard pressed to find someone who knows anything other than Spanish or English!  Drat!  At the very last place, I managed to get down to half of what I was originally quoted.  I wanted it for a gift, but the opening price totally turned me off and I was literally trying to leave and he kept coming down…   Ahh… soon to be back in the land where you only haggle over cars…

No real plans remaining.  I may take the camera up Paseo Montejo near sunset.  It´s one thought I´ve had.  As otherwise today has been foot loose and fancy free, everything but my wallet locked up in the hostel.  And although I haven´t chilled, I´ve mostly walked and thought about a lot of things.

I´ve mentally summed up my thoughts on Merida.  It´s a beautiful safe city, but god it´s blamed hot.  And it´s supposed to be hotter still in the coming months.  I can´t imagine it.   You have to remember, AC is not common here.  Its absence is the rule not the exception as those of us from the states are used to.  And apparently, when it´s not hot, it´s wet.   So there are your choices.  And it´s not like most of the things you´re doing aren´t outside.  I felt near collapse at Chichen Itza and I got there in the morning.  I also realized later that I missed a section of the city, but given the whole 8 gallons of water and still feeling cross-eyed from the heat, probably not a bad thing.   Aim for earlier in the dry season and good luck if you´re coming!   The city is also a mish mash of new and old.  Mostly old in the center city, but if you get out just a piece, you´ll see some modern buildings.  The local government is even sponsoring a whole public display of modern art all along the Paseo Montejo.  And there are some wonderfully preserved old buildings.  And there are tons of equally decrepit old buildings everywhere you look.  It´s just a mish-mash of everything.  I may pass through again, but I doubt I´ll spend a week here again anytime soon.  No ding on the city, just that I´ve done what I came for.

I also thought a lot about my still complete lack of Spanish language.  I´ve gotten where I can hear numbers up to around 20 in spanish and not go ¨huh” and I can say it´s muy caliente or buenos dias and the like, but by and large, I still go into every settings and English just spills out.  And I realized I´m incredibly lazy when it comes to language.  And there´s so many in Merida who speak English when they realize it´s your native language, that they have fully enabled my laziness.  But it´s beyond that, it goes back to french as well.  When I was in high school, I could have at least carried on a casual conversation, nothing deep per se, but I could have gotten through a bit.  I´ve run into two sets of French speaking people this week and even though I knew a word or two, I stuck to English.  Today, a French speaking couple stopped me for directions…  They were in a car and they were out of luck because I couldn´t have guided them to a water fountain back home let alone here.  But I totally spoke to them in English and told them I was a tourist, too, and did not know.  After I left, I put that sentence together in my head and I totally could have told them that in French, but there´s that laziness again.  English got me by.  I´ll only ever learn other languages if I´m forced to by circumstances, end of story.

As said, tonight, maybe some photos, definitely some dinner, and then packing.  I´ve gotten a couple of heavier objects and my take on bag is already a monster, so I´m a little worried I may get dinged for luggage in excess weight.   I have that fear frequently tho, and ironically only came close once and that was with a tripod in my bag.  I wish I had paid attention when they weighed my bag before I left in Atlanta because it´s not going to be any lighter.

Last entry from Merida -  take care all!

And after my quatro grande, I moved on to see the Trova concert in the park nearby…  I´m beginning to comprehend Mexican time.  I was an hour late…. it still hadn´t started…  It cost me the premo seats that the tourists have because they don´t know the darn things start late, but I sat for half an hour of it with the locals.  Part of it included the dancers from the other night. Same outfits and everything, just a different park.  Imagine their cleaning bill for those white outfits ever few nights, if not more!  After half an hour, I´d had plenty.  The guy who introduced each song had five minute long bits of dialogue that of course meant absolutely nothing to yours truly, and even the locals I was sitting with had some painfully tired expressions waiting for the next musical number.  Beautiful music, but with no comprehension of the lyrics, I can only sit there so long.  This trend will continue…  Thus ends yesterday.

So, surprise, this morning I rented a car and drove to Celestun.  Yes, Mark, driving in another country.  The world has stopped rotating, every one grab on to something now!

Background for those who don´t know, but I literally did not drive until I started college.  I just didn´t have the interest and lived in a small burg.  I drove my first time solo on my first day of college.  And although I was a late bloomer, I´ll probably be one of those little old people MANY MANY MANY years from now who someone will have to pry the keys from  my fingers.  That independence is hard to give up.  But whenever I´ve gone abroad, like magic, I´ve reverted to zero interest in driving.  It helps that everywhere I´ve been to date has EXCELLENT public transportation so I could make my way around oblivious to the need to be in control.  And honestly, if the USA was more like that, you´d probably see me shedding that control more often.  Well, Mexico is harder to get around than the rest.  I mean, sure, there are the buses, but when you have a fixed schedule, and little miscommunication could strand you heaven only knows where, well, it´s not so attractive.  I wanted to go to Celestun today, and I wanted to go on my terms.

I actually knew I was doing this two days ago.  I just failed to mention it for various reasons for fear of jinxing myself to giving my Mother a minor coronary.   Hopefully she´s still sitting upright as she´s reading this.  Surprise!

The experience was… mixed…  Being alone, in the end, it cost me more.  I could have booked a package tour for less than the $50 car rental and the $20 to re-fill the tank.  Plus I paid for a boat trip that would have been included.  I probably paid about $40 more than the package tour, and heaven knows the bus would have cost me less than $10.  But, I got to call the shots.  They included two missed turns and a lot of cursing as I attempted to correct them.  Both times I knew immediately, but when you hit streets that aren´t on a grid and miss a turn, as any Atlanta driver knows, it´s a nightmare to fix.  The main part of Merida is on a grid, but of course, my first missed term was past the grid…  Second missed turn was in the town of Uman, which if there was any sense to its streets, it escaped me.  But I ultimately arrived safely in my wee 90´s vintage nissan in the sleepy fishing village of Celestun.

It´s sleepy because it´s in the extreme edge of nowhere.  If it were any more nowhere,  it would be in the gulf of Mexico.  There´s a station in Merida that plays “solo hits en inglese” – so they say.  Some of the songs were never hits that I had heard, hit artists maybe but some of their worst stuff, and I could never figure out what “solo” means??  Hit singles I assume, but again, top 1000?  I digress, it was still wonderful to hear music I understood, so I stayed on that station all the way to Uman where it began to break up.  I pushed it as far as I could until I had to find the single spanish station I could pick up…  and then it ran out… and there was much silence…  deafening silence… silence that forced me to sing aloud the only songs I know by heart… Christmas carols… you should all be thankful to have missed that…   It was a good 40 minutes to Celestun with no music…   If being disconnected bothers you, stay far away.  If it´s your dream, I have found your destination.

Because the place itself, tho sleepy, is gorgeous.  Lovely white sand beach, gulf waters almost but not quite as pretty as the panhandle of Florida (nothing compares).  Nothing over two stories tall on the beach, and nothing but trees beyond as far as the eye can see (it´s actually part of  a wild life reserve).   I snapped photos on that beach for at least an hour.  I watched the few lazy beach bums set up their towels and a few people wade in.  I mean, we´re talking maybe a few dozen people and most of those were probably from the tour buses I parked beside.  And tho the sound of the ocean speaks to me deeply, I hit the point I always do… no desire to lay on the beach and not really prepared to swim…  what do I do now?!

Enter the bus tour…  Now, I had been told and had read you should go there with a group so that you can get enough people to make the tour reasonably priced.  You see, if there´s 8 people, it´s around $15 a person (maybe a little more if you are lucky enough to find a boat “captain” who speaks english).  I didn´t even hope to be so lucky.  But what I had hoped would happen worked out.  They needed an 8th person to fill out a boat and approached me!  So, no work on my part, just jump on the boat with 7 other people.  Two were couples traveling together, not sure of much about them, they spoke spanish and stuck together, so relatively speaking locals, I think.  The next three were a Swiss couple and their daughter.  The daughter spoke spanish.  The father spoke some english, so I got any information about what I was seeing third hand.  The parents have been here 5 weeks, the daughter 6 mos…  Wow, these European people get some real vacations… geez…

The boat was typically Mexican.  I have some photos of ones like it.  The boat is an old fiberglass boat worn a little tent canopy deal going (usually advertising some beer) and 4 benches, each with, I kid you not, mismatching plastic resin chairs with the legs sawed off and the remainder lashed by whatever means necessary to the bench.  The gas tank was a large plastic jug of which I had the pleasure to sit near.  When the captain, if the owner of such a vehicle can be called such, had a big plastic bag attached to the hose that ran from the tank to the motor (the only really capable looking part of the boat), and he would squeeze that bag to start the gas flowing.  I might add that he would periodically bail out water.  I could never see the source of it, but when he drove, he went like a bat out of hell, so we were constantly hit with water, so that may be it.

In the course of over 3 hours, we saw Flamingos (Celestun´s claim to fame is that the Flamingos stay there, hence the nature reserve, this time of year) and a pile of other birds.  We also saw a petrified forest and a mangrove swamp.  Some of the group went swimming there, but the Swiss family and I abstained.  The water was clear and beautiful blue but heaven only knows what all was living in amongst those roots, we saw tons of tropical fish and little crabs and even a nest in the trees with an eagle.

After all that were heading back.  The captain gave us the option of taking the boat back to the beach where we came from, or we could get off and walk back from this bridge he stopped at for a few minutes.  As I said, this was communicated to me third hand.  I ended up going with the Swiss family and walking back, but if I had understood that the walk back was in fact the same road I drove in on, I would have stayed in the boat!  Not much to see that way.

After about the promised seven minutes stroll, we got back to the main square.  I said adios to the Swiss family and went back for a couple of photos and a souvenir from the lone little artisan tent on the beach before going back to the car to figure out what was on next.

I had high hopes of also taking a drive through what Lonely Planet calls the Ruined Hacienda Route, which is full of these old decaying Hacienda´s from when sisal was king in the Yucatan.  Said to be very picturesque.  It was, however, after 4pm.  I could return the car to the garage anytime tonight and go by the office in the morning to square everything up, however, sun sets about 7:30 and I had zero interest in being out in the wilds of Mexico after dark as confusing as the roads are and as many of those blamed speed bumps as they put up willy nilly throughout the countryside.  See Mom, I have some common sense after all.

I got back here about 5pm.  I took advantage of having the car long enough to meander through one of the main cemetario since I wanted some photos of those grave/shrine things they have going here.  I really must read up more on this at some point as they literally are little shrines.  Some are small, some are big enough for a few people to go inside.  I thought they were mausoleums from the road, but it looked like most were shrines built atop graves.   I´ll share the snapshots at some point for those who care to see.  I didn´t take a lot as I wasn´t sure what the reaction would be to a gringo wandering through the cemetery taking pictures.

So, that´s pretty much today.  I dropped the car off well before closing and am square there.  Whew!   The car rental place was recommended, but it still had me a trifle worried no matter how nice they seemed at the outset.  Heavens, this morning, he showed me every nut and bolt on the car… you have thought he was giving his only daughter away or something.  It´s a car!  I´m used to America where they tell you where in the parking lot to find it and never bother to show you anything.  I mean, literally, “This is the key, it opens the doors, the gas tank, and you crank the car with it.”

Anyway, that experience done, I went shoe hunting one last time.  My sandals are totally past it and it´s so blasted hot it´s all I want to wear.  The beach trip was the end of them.  I found this shoe shop on the corner.  Again, I discover the Mexicans have yet to discover the joys of a good sports sandal… straps on toes, arch, and around the back… I mean, they have nice leather ones exactly like that but absolutely nothing completely casual…  So, I managed to find what they called sandals but just amount to fairly nice flip flops that will do.  And they fit… wow…  And I know this will make one person in particular out there laugh, biggest ones they had….  $8…

Tomorrow is up in the air.  I´ve been to a few tour companies, and they all started listing off  Chichen Itza (been there), Uxmal (ditto), and Celestun (would you like some sand?).  I finally found one that has a Hacienda tour, but of a working Hacienda that´s kind of like a living history exhibit.  uhmm….  not so sure…  On the good side, they also include a stop at one of the cenotes…  hrm…  Can´t decide but they are open until 11pm so I have a little time to think on it.

The hours of places here is just….  bonkers…  I think the heat and all has just totally changed people´s time clocks here.  If I eat dinner at 6pm, I am inevitably one of a few people there.  In the early afternoon, half of the town shuts down.  I mean, literally, I had to wait to check in with the car rental place because they close from like 1pm to 6pm but then stay open late.  Most everything is like this, close a few hours then open late.  So, at least it gives me time…

Tomorrow is the last full day here.  Sunday will be migrating to the airport and the flight back to the US.  I´ll miss being out here, seeing new things, but I´ll also be kind of glad to move on from Merida.  A beautiful place no doubt, but if I had longer in Mexico, there´s no doubt I´d have shoved on to a different spot even if I had to come back to fly out.   That´s how a lot of the people on the hostel circuit are doing it, of course, stopping over here on way elsewhere for a few days.

Okay, time to run!

It´s funny, if I was a halfway decent writer, most of my posts could have been from my living room.   Just a string of words on a screen, nothing more, nothing less.  But hopefully it´s infused with a little zest from being out here and enjoying not knowing what´s next exactly.  I´ll catch up with where I really am a bit later.

After yesterday´s post, I didn´t do Chili´s.  I hear a roar of approval from the crowd.  I meandered down to a place called El Trapiche that was recommended in Lonely Planet.  Now, it´s not as if I had Yucatan food.  In fact, the appetizer was chips and a variety of salsas.  So, I guess my appetizer was native.  Some of those sauces were blazing hot and I went through my first bottle of coca rapido!  My meal was.. pizza…  yes…  and of the various types, I chose American pizza…  and…  it was YUMMY but so not American.  The cheese was… not sure… as I said good… but not American.  And it was covered in what I think was ham, where I would expect peperoni.  But it was dang filling and that was what I was looking for after traipsing all over Chichen Itza for nearly 4 hours.  I was too hot to even consider lunch.  So, I needed that big meal.

Afterward, back to the hostel and sat out on the patio.  There was a guy playing his guitar and singing.  I think it was the promised ¨trova¨ – not sure, but it was nice.  The audience was English (me) and French (everrrybody else) speaking so I´m not sure any of us got much out of it but it was nice to listen to while reading.

From there to bed.  Watched a quick cartoon on my media player while icing my knee and went to bed.  So far, so good with the knee by the way.  I think my feet are distracting me from any pain.

Woke up plenty early enough this morning to trudge over to the bus station for a run to Celestsun.  Showered, had breakfast and went to put on my shoes… oy… yeh… my feet were barking.  I wanted to wear my sandals and they were pressing on all sorts of sensitive spots. I started really examining them and the inner soles are worn through in places I hadn´t really noticed.  And this seems to be a theme with my Mexico trips as I left a pair here last time when I was in Peurto Penasco.  There was no way I was wearing the boots to the beach and the sandals are nigh dead.  So, I decided my body is telling me two things, no major walking today (irony coming) and I need some new sandals.  I figure Wal-mart is not far away, I can get some sandals and on the way back it will be time for the Anthropological museum to open, which is along the way.  The beach can be another day.

And off I go, delightfully unburdened.  I have had to stow my bag at enough museums, so I locked up the camera and went with just me and my wallet.  Got to Wal-mart and discovered two things.  First was a woeful low assortment of sandals.  The second was…  yeh, there´s a drawback to towering over better than half the populace and that´s when you try to buy clothes.  I found plenty of sandals that were too small and ONE solitary pair that was too big.  And I repeated this experiment at two more stores before I gave up.  I bought some soft adhesive things you are supposed to wrap your foot in and used them to line the bottom of my sandals.  And yeh, I think I just gave entirely too much information, but you can guess what I´m doing when I get back to Atlanta.

Before the sandal alteration, I did stop by the Anthropology Museum.  It´s a pretty nice place.  Nothing earth shattering, but for the equivalent of $3.70 what are you expecting?  It was two floors of exhibits of the Maya from pre-history to today.  The today part would be a video on body alteration practices we´d all be familiar with in the states (piercings and tatoos) as a contrast to the practices of the ancient Maya (forehead flattening, tatooing, and scarification).  It was in Spanish, so I could only look at the pictures.  However, a great deal of the museum is translated.  The English is not perfect, but really their primary audience is not gringos, so it´s appropriate.  Nothing as funny as yesterday´s signs on the bus, “Thank you for travel us¨and “Do not forget your own.”

I digress, the museum had a delightful amount of English and a staff that was willing to help, some spoke English.  Incredible carvings and findings from Chichen Itza, Uxmal, and much of the Yucatan Maya are there.  If you speak Spanish, there was much more to read, albeit there was enough in English for a two hour visit.

Back to the hostel for the famous sandal operation and then back to the streets with a bottle of water and plans to go see the zoo mentioned in Lonely Planet.  Lonely planet informs that the zoo is free and 12 blocks west from the grand plaza.  The book states you may take a bus.  It should be changed to, “Dear god, if it´s summer and you are not an olympic athelete, for the love of pete, please find a bus.”

Can you guess I walked?  This was the irony I promised a few paragraphs ago.  See, I deliver on my promises!  I walked, because 12 blocks seemed like nothing.  Well, I don´t know what 12 blocks they were counting, but it clearly was not Merida´s blocks.  I figured this out after leaving Calle 62 and arriving at Calle 80-something.  Clearly, this is not 12 blocks as the Meridans measure them.  But now, it was a challenge.  I would find the zoo.  I kept going.  I had long since become the lone gringo.  I was never concerned.  The Meridans have been unfailing in their hospitality.  I´ve finally isolated that there are ones that take advantage of that kind nature to try to foist trinkets on you, but the kindness seems genuine.  I had a long conversation with an old gent in the square today that never entered the world of commerce.  And when I finally got to Parque Centarrio, home of the world famous Merida zoo, well, it was a free zoo, that should give you some idea, right?  It reminded me much of my one and only visit to the Atlanta zoo in the 1970´s.  Caged animals behind fences with very little room.  The monkeys have about the same amount of room as the tigers as some sort of large rodent looking creature I couldn´t identify.  Clearly, the animals aren´t kept in any sort of enclosures that fit their nature.  The cats I was quite attuned to how restless they were.  The lion let out a might roar while I was there when a lioness stepped on him.  I saw some cool creatures.  the turtles were fabulous, and I saw a croc close enough I could have reached to him and lost a finger (I´m not kidding, this was totally the honor system, you value your digits, you keep them to yourself).   So, that´s what you have if you ever have an interest to visit the Merida zoo.

Having walked there, I decided to complete my own personal trail of tears and walked back.  By the time I saw buses with “centro” on them I was a couple of blocks from the main square anyway.  And that more or less ends today.  I may or may not walk to the city museum.  I may or may not take a city tour.  I may or may not go back to the hostel and curl up into a ball and apologize to my feet for my indiscretions.

But tomorrow morning at 9am, an aire accondicionado bus is coming to pick me up at the front of the hostel and drag my tired butt to the ruins of Uxmal and Kabah (yeh, I realized later that I said I was going to Kabul when I wrote yesterday´s post – not quite!).  If you didn´t notice, you´re obviously just skimming.  If you noticed and just assumed it was spelled the same, no, I´m brain dead.

Later gators!

After yesterday´s post, I stepped out into the cooler afternoon when the sun was far enough through its arc through the sky that there were shadows starting to stretch across the streets and the town had clearly awoken.  And I encountered the first of my friendly natives.  Had a good 15 minute conversation with this guy who walked up and began talking.  Well now, my USA radar went off immediately.  Kind strangers???!??  Seriously?  After chit-chatting awhile, I couldn´t really decide.  He pointed out some of the things to do, yadda yadda.  More on that in a bit.

Next stop was an ever so brief stop in the cathedral.  I couldn´t play tourist there as there was a mass in session, but I did stay for part of the mass in the oldest Cathedral in the Americas.   It´s a rather grim place.  With the afternoon sun leaking through, you could see that it has some beauty, but it is very much an old, stark, and imposing edifice, clearly aimed at both awing the local populace as well as providing some fortification.  Their were poor people sitting by the doors begging (so far the only beggars I´ve seen) and photos of a visit by Pope John Paul near the entrance.  It´s closed during siesta time so I will go back for a tourist visit later.

I took a short tour of the government palaces, about the only thing open for touristy things on Sunday.  I´m not sure if it was because of it being Sunday or because of the elections that are going on.  There are campaign posters all over and I saw campaign workers outside of what I guess was a polling place.  The government palace is full of giant murals telling the story of the Maya and the Spanish.  It´s a grim story to be sure.  The artist, and I forget his name, worked on them for 25 years and they are quite beautiful.

Afterwards, I managed to order chicken nachos in a little mall type location off of Plaza Grande.  A challenge as I basically had to stare at the menu and wish for pictures.  I found the word nachos… ahhh…  but then all the options were still a mystery.  I glanced in my spanish guide in the eating section and managed to suss out the pollo option was chicken.  Again, I´m on compact language travel guide #2 and neither have my wished for index with the foreign word and my language rather than vice versa.  They all assume that you are trying to translate what you want to say rather than what you are hearing or reading.  Pretty one way little guides.

Afterward, I strolled through the main square.  There was music.  These guys were playing drums and putting on quite a nice show.  Appeared to be impromptu as they kept passing around the hat for pesos.  I didn´t have a wonderful view as I got there after it had been going on a few minutes, but it wasn´t awful either.  I´ve found a place in the world where I´m above average height.  It´s not that there are no taller Maya here, but they are few and far between.  Most of the taller people I see are also tourists.  Yesterday I managed to smack my head on a low door way if that gives you any idea, but I digress.

Stomach and desire to be out satisfied, I decided to turn in with that vague hope that I would get an early start in the morning.  Yeh, right, what was I thinking.  Oh, and for any wondering whether I slept in a hammock or not, the answer is no.  I just couldn´t get comfortable, probably more mental than physical.  Oh well, I´ll try again!

Today, as I said, was not the early start I had hoped for.  It´s not that I couldn´t have gotten up.  I certainly had the odd wake up and “oh look there´s daylight” moments, I just ignored them all in favor of more sleep.

Once up, I took a long meander north of the hostel.  I had plans to check out a market that I´d been told was there as well as the Antropology Museum.  Struck out on both accounts.  If there was a market, it was well hidden.  And the museum is closed Mondays… which is a familiar theme including another museum, and the zoo.

Defeated on all fronts, I found a pharmacia and bought some gel insoles for my boots.  I´ve been off my feet for a bit thanks to the knee issues.  I think my feet would have kissed me for these gel insoles if I let them do that sort of thing.  The only insulting part was that the package said they were for people over 40…  harumph!  I´m going to assume that was 40 lbs and not years…  That was literally the only english on the whole package…

I went back by the hostel a bit and cooled off with a bottle of water and looked in the guide for something else I could do.  According to the guide, the City Museum was open on Mondays…  So, I set off for the center of town and two things, the City Museum, and something frozen…

I got about two blocks before my next friendly local.  This one had the same story about being a university student.  Not sure if it´s true, but it´s getting a kind of redundant tune to it.  He had similar interest in my background, time in Merida, etc.  And a familar recommendation for this little Maya Market near my hostel that supposedly sells objects made by Maya orphans…  I give credit because I still can´t decide how much is salesmanship and how much is genuine friendliness but this one even had a business card!

As I managed to pry my second friend loose, I ran into a couple of women, who I think were Aussies, who laughed and asked if he was genuinely helpful or if I´d been accosted.  I told them I´m afraid it was the latter and not the first time.  They said best get used to it as we don´t blend in well here.  This is true.  I had realized that already earlier as a I sought in vain to find a hat that would not leave my head a sweltering mess.  My baseball cap is dark colored.  I might as well wear a frying pan.  My other hat is very gringo, a big floppy hat one might wear on a safari.  It does a great job, but it also hits me as a calling card for not from around here.  But as I was trying on various hats that I never would have worn back home, I realized they weren´t going to do anything for me.  I´m obviously not from around these parts!  Getting my safari hat was the second reason I had gone back to the hostel.

Anyway, I got on to the city museum….  equally closed… no hours posted… oh well… maybe later…  So, I found a frozen yogurt and a bottle of water and sat down in this small mall for a minute… and friendly local #3 appeared… wow… this one had a business card as well.  He also recommended the shop for the Maya orphans (only I had to help him with what the word was for people with no parents…).  But having heard the story once before, it was easy to help him along with it.  Of course, I´m helping in his english training as well, which they´ve all been open about.  Unfortunately, not helping me so much with my spanish.  Luckily there´s a little similarity with French, so I figured out the numbers close enough last night (not understanding the currency requested of me was rather demeaning and demanded some bed time reading).  I´m working on replacing gratzi with gracias.    We´ll see.  I don´t think I pick up languages that fast.

After friend #3, I made my way over to the local contemporary art museum.  By local, I don´t just mean that it´s here, it focuses on works by contemporary artists from the Yucatan.  Some was quite beautiful.  There were a couple of photography exhibits that were just beautiful.   There was also some contemporary art that was completely open to my esteemed interpretation considering not even the titles were meaningful to me.  Unlike the art in the Governor´s palace, nothing there had English translations.  Oh sure, I could pick out a word here and there, but not enough to matter.

Leaving the lovely air conditioned art, I ran into local friend # 3 again.  Yes, again…  And standing out like a sore thumb nowhere near the Mayan orphans handicrafts, he offered to walk me there..  uhm… I´m fine thanks!  Exit stage right!

I think next is probably the bus tour I´ve seen running through the streets of Merida.  If the guide is to be believed, it´s not only open today, there´s a tour leaving in less than an hour.  Still want to get inside the Cathedral today as well if possible.

Tomorrow I think will be a day out.  I´d like to meet some local friends at Chichen Itza.