A Drive Through West Virgina

It is the Friday of Mother's Day weekend. We enter West Virginia from  Kentucky, first traveling east and then turning north towards Pittsburgh in the midst of a 5 day road trip. I was to witness,as we drove through the state that afternoon, a place of stunning natural beauty juxtaposed with some of the worst poverty I have ever experienced in the U.S.

The highway took us along a high ridge affording us an expansive view of the mountains cloaked in their lush, thick velvet green of spring. Creeks and rivers alongside the road had limestone beds that as they cracked and settled created not rapids but a series of diminutive falls as the water flowed, dropping from one ledge to the next.

It was when the road led us into the valleys between these mountains that the poverty became apparent. In many the trailers serving as homes were old and in varying states of disrepair and decay, seemingly inadequate to shelter the inhabitants against the winter cold. Jobs appeared scarce and the people resigned to their economic status.

As the road carried us up we would escape this scene and once again encounter the grandeur and intense beauty of the green mountains. We stopped at a sandwich shop in one small town to get our lunch. The teens behind the counter, as teens do at this time of year, were discussing their upcoming prom. As we returned to the car we reminisced about our own proms. Mine was held at the Fairmont Hotel in San Francisco. I considered what one would be like in such a small town so isolated from a city.

We stopped at a scenic overlook to eat. The view was bucolic. By the wood rail fence bordering the overlook ran a river. Across the river, at a bend, stood a mill, it's large wood wheel being turned by the water rushing over a long limestone ledge.We continued towards Pennsylvania with the soft rumble of the waterfall in our ears.

Memories of Merida - Conclusion

On Sundays the streets in the town's center are closed to cars to accommodate a weekly festival. Vendors set up stalls and carts. Some people lay blankets in the street with a catch-all of items for sale. We purchased silver bracelets, antique books and a 1910's bank note printed "Bank of Merida". Stages are erected and the people, in their Sunday best, dance and salsa in the streets.

Among several structures of note outside of the central square is the Opera House, whose lobby is open to the public. It is a lovely Beaux Arts building whose slightly waterstained walls, like much else in the city, show the ravages of the hot, wet, topical climate. A short distance from our hotel is the former Governor's Mansion. It now houses the History Museum which, while small, did contain several interesting exibits and gave us  more detailed information about the sites we had visited earlier in the week.

There are other places I wass not able to get to. Among these is Uxmal, one of the largest and best preserved Mayan sites, and Campeche, notable for being a fortified city, a rarity in Mexico. I hope to return and add these places to my memories of this overlooked, charming, historic city.

Memories of Merida - Part 4

It was Saturday morning. On our city map was what appeared to be a quaint marketplace just outside the historical center. After fortifying ourselves with breakfast, we started off on foot. On the way we saw, across the street, a group of men and women in traditional Mayan dress walking towards a large crowd marching down another street a block away. We decided to investigate. A woman in the crowd told us they were marching in support of a political candidate for Governor named Ann Rosa. A woman running for this high a political office is unusual in Mexico. The crowd was a cross section of people. Young, old, gay, straight, traditionally dressed Mayans, business people, all chanting her name as they marched. Even though she was in Mexico City working at the time this did not seem to diminish the fervor of the crowd. The air seemed electrified with the crowd's enthusiasm and support for her. Experiencing the march was one of the magic happenstances of traveling in the manner that I do.

As we neared the market we found ourselves in an area of narrow streets and even narrower sidewalks. We passed stores with roll down garage door shutters in lieu of walls teeming with fabric on bolts, athletic wear and plastic household goods sharing space with inflatable toys a miscellaneous selection of shoes, imitation oriental rugs and cheap tapestries. It being Saturday, the streets were full of humanity. We weaved our way through the sea of people, found an entrance into the market and went in.

It was chaos within. However, in contrast to what we had just witnessed outside, it seemed exceedingly well organized. There were aisle after aisle of stalls. The first would sell plumbing supplies, u joints, faucets, faucet handles, various lengths and sizes of pipes all thrown helter skelter into bins. The next stall sold baby clothes, the next large cooking pots. Behind a low half wall, in full view of the multitudes that walked by, a woman sat in a beauticians chair getting a perm. As we turned a corner we encountered massive burlap bags of animal feed, standing open, with scoops inside waiting to fill your order. Across the aisle were an assortment of chickens, ducks and rabbits in wire cages. I noted that I didn't think they were meant to be pets, I think they were meant to be lunch. We considered, briefly, becoming ecoterrorists and releasing them into the crowded marketplace, just to see what would happen but our better judgement took over and that plan was put to rest. We moved on. Eventually, we found and exit and went from the surreal; enviorment we had just witnessed into the  bright, hot Mexican midday sunlight. As we meandered back to the normality of the city square I remarked on what an interesting and illuminating glimpse of a different culture the mornings adventure had provided us with, how, glad I was that we had had the chance to experience it and how I never wanted to have that experience again., A pitcher of Sangria an lunch soothed our nerves and we returned to the hotel to relax in the pool and prepare for dinner and a visit that evening to one of the few gay bars in the city located some distance away. This was due to, we were told, harassment by the Catholic church which holds great power in Mexico.

Memories of Merida - Part 3

Tropical green over

ancient carved stones

Ghosts

Remembering times past

Rituals

Beautiful, Symbolic, Gruesome

necessary to appease the gods

and ensure that prosperity

continues

Flow across the jungle floor and

confront the contemporary arrivals

We had set aside a day to explore the other Mayan sites in the area. The day began with us getting lost. Before the situation turned hopeless, we stopped at a gas station to figure out where we were and how to get where we wanted to go. Using a mixture of English, rudimentary Spanish (on our part) and much finger pointing at the map we carried, a gentleman was able to get us going in the right direction. We were soon to discover that earlier we had passed the turn off we were looking for...twice.

At the first site the most impressive structure was a large, highly carved arch in the middle of the clearing where the Mayan settlement had stood. It is assumed that it was the entry to the compound of a wealthy family. There are a string of these sites in the area located several kilometers apart from each other. They range from small buildings with buttresses shaped like serpent heads buried and being overtaken by the jungle to the remains of a massive palace that it is estimated could hold over 300 people.

The area immediately around the ruins of the palace is manicured grass. In sharp contrast to the tangle of vegetation at the clearings edge. A short walk down one path leads you to a large carving of a fertility god with an impressive phallus, as would befit this type of deity. A second path takes you through dense jungle where the remains of a second smaller palace stand. The ruins of the second palace are barely discernible beneath the vines and trees that have grown up and around them.

As we headed down the path I saw at the clearings edge a peacock and "Thanksgiving" turkey, both indigenous to the area emerge from the thick growth.  Further along on our trek to the second ruin a brilliant blue bird flitted among the leaves beside the path and iguanas sprinted into hiding at our approach.

This part of the Yucatan pennisula is extremely hot and humid making the carrying and drinking of large amounts of water a necessity. Fortunately, bottled water in the city is both easily accessable and inexpensive as we drank our way through gallons over the course of our visit. Public restrooms are a gamble. At one point I returned to the table at the small resturant where we were having breakfast annoucing that I had hit the jackpot! The toilet had both a seat and toilet paper!

The food is excellent, as it almost always is in Mexico. Whether it was at the resturant on the portico of our hotel, affording us a view of the decorated horsedrawn carrages going by or the 2nd floor bar and resturant we found down the street, overlooking a large monument in a traffic circle. We ate at hole in the wall breakfast cafes with stackable plastic tables and chairs and a place set up in someone's living room outside the nature preserve where minced octopus was the special of the day. We were never disapointed.

Memories of Merida - Part 2

Viewed from a causeway

Long graceful necks bent

to the briny water

The food they gather

Bring color to their feathers

forming acres of pink

as far as the eye can see

Thousands

They take flight

pulling up their legs

and exposing the line of black

under their wings

We took a side trip the day after the tour of the nature preserve the beach town of Progresso. It is a cruise ship stop and if it is your only experience of this part of Mexico, I would not blame you for not returning. The town is, to be charitable, unimpressive. A thin strip of beach fronts a series of shabby shops and take out restaurants that line the narrow streets.

After we had had our fill of the beach and were ready to return to Merida we consulted the map we had with us. We decided on an alternate route back as there ewer icons on the map indicating a ruin and an important cathedral. We found the cathedral first. It was a variation of a sight we would see several times over the next days. A massive 16th century cathedral, again built with stones from the original Mayan structures, dominating a tiny, dusty speck of a town. The early Spanish colonials were apparently intent on saving the souls of the Mayans, even if it killed them....the Mayans that is.

As we continued to the ruins we turned onto a causeway that led across an area of shallow, briny water. The sight before us made us immediately stop the car. On either side of the causeway were pink flamingos feeding. Hundreds if not thousands of them. The water was pink, literally, as far as the eye could see. Calling this sight breathtaking does not do justice to the experience. It is a memory I will always treasure.

After tearing ourselves away from what, I think we both knew would be a once in a lifetime sight, we continued on the ruin. In this case, it was a salt trading center. It was also the first of what would be several similar experiences. It is eerie to be wandering through the remains of a lost civilization by yourself. This ruin,like several others in the area, is not heavily visited. We climbed to the top of a small pyramid and stood by ourselves surveying the land. A family of 4 were climbing another of the structures. There were no other people there. On later occasions we would be the only ones exploring the  archaeological sites.

Here there were stone cisterns. The briny water in the area was collected in these and when it evaporated in the intense heat of this part of Mexico the Mayans took the salt that was left. There was a small plaza with pyramids and the foundations of a large structure assumed to be the home of a wealthy merchant. It was a wonderful introduction to the ruins we would experience later.

Memories of Merida - Part 1

Several years ago, a friend I have traveled with extensively and I spent a week in the city of Merida, Mexico, the capitol of the Yucatan state.It's colonial history dates to the 16th century, it's Mayan roots go back much further. Within the city center stands one of the oldest cathedrals in the Americas, yet on the cities outskirts sit small mid century homes that resemble scaled down versions of what one would expect to see in Palm Springs. Surrounding it's central square are the cathedral, the 16th century home (now a bank) of the conquistador that defeated the Mayans and colonized the area, The city hall dating  from the 1910's containing murals by a student of Diego Rivera and an arcaded area housing restaurants and shops. Several other old churches can be found in the historical town center, some built with stones from the Mayan structures that originally stood there.

Our hotel was located on a wide boulevard modeled after the Champs Elysee in Paris. The street, once lined with the grand homes of the cities elite is now an odd mixture of modern buildings placed amid the surviving mansions, most of which have been re purposed as banks or other financial institutions.The sign marking the offices of ING holds court on a lawn leading up to the front porch of a Beaux Arts style home. It's leaded glass doors welcome the parade of financial officers that now work in it's ornately detailed interior. The color of many of these buildings is what has given Merida the nickname of The White City.

Outside of the city lie Mayan ruins, some being reclaimed by he jungle, as well as a well regarded nature preserve. It was on a boat trip at the preserve where I saw my first flamingos in the wild. Also egrets, puffins and a tiny bird in a mangrove swamp or an extraordinary orange shade I hope to never forget.

The bird life in this area is some of the most amazing I can ever hope to experience. Vivid emerald green parrots roosted in the trees outside of our hotel window. On our first morning as I opened the curtains they flew by as if welcoming us to the city and served as a preview of what we would see later.

Notes on a Gay Cruise - Reflections on the Flight Home

A patchwork flows below me 

I have seen many times before

fields

Small cities by waterways

varied colored blocks

bisected by lines

Roads leading other places

As I return home 

I have empathy with those who bear a mantle of bitterness and sadness. In my own life I have had periods of despair and disappointment. I have had to learn patience and in my middle age attempted to always view the glass as half full. I have learned to be resourceful. It has not always been easy but over the years I have become, as a friend recently remarked "Like a cat, always landing on your feet". However, like a cat, I have sometimes had to twist and turn to do so.

No regrets. I have said for many years now that, about the life I have lived, the choices I have made and where those choices have led me I have no regrets.

During this cruise I have learned about places I knew little about before and visited one place I have wanted for some time to see. By writing this, I have discovered how much I enjoy this form of expression and am determined to find a time and place for it in my day to day existence. I may revisit the poetry I wrote in my teens to develop and understand my written voice. By developing my voice through the written word I may be able to peel away layers of protection I have created to uncover what lies within. I do not know what I may find but will have no regrets about what I may discover.