2-23-06 Where are all the Americans?

On Sunday morning as we were making pancakes, Ruth and I realized that we hadn’t met many other Americans on our trip aside from the skanks at the timeshare resort and a guy from Colorado in the parking lot at Coba (oops! And our neighbor at the produce section at WalMart). As we discussed this with our French neighbors at the kitchen table, they agreed. They had seen American backpackers throughout Central America, but not here in Mexico, and had never run into an American family. Our armchair sociological hypothesis was that the Americans are either on the cruise ships or at the all-inclusive resorts or in the backpacker hostels in Central America, but that we are in some mystery zone in between.

Only a few hours later, we were in a tour group (of just two families) at the Anthropology Museum. It turns out the other family of four was from New Jersey, and we shared our hypothesis with them. Well, their presence sort of disproved our theory, except that the father was originally from Bombay and the mother was born in Kenya to Indian parents. So, our hope that more American families would get out to both see Mexico and represent the United States in a better light still stands.

And then, this morning after the kids were at school and Ruth was off at an internet café signing the kids up for summer activities, I answered the doorbell at Hostel Alvarez as I often do to help out Enrique and Miriam. Who was at the door but a family of five from the United States! And of course, where in the USA would a family like that come from in the midst of their 4 months in Mexico? Vermont!! Nice folks from Calais with 9-year old twin daughters and a 12-year old daughter as well. Miles, Jill and Ally will be pretty surprised when they get home at 12:30.

But the wish still remains, we simply need more American faces out there in the world besides a President who has no demonstrable interest in world travel, a charm-less Vice President who has the misfortune of shooting a guy while hunting, and Brittany Spears and her kin who are grinding their navels in the world’s face.

Come on in, the water’s fine!

Thursday 2-23-06 Our Amazing Children!

Our search for a decent language program for the kids has been an ongoing challenge. We have promises that there is a good one waiting in Cuernavaca, but there are a lot of places we want to see between here and there. Plus, we love Merida and the family with whom we are staying. So we ramped up our efforts to find something in Merida and our hostess, Miriam, offered to ask the English teacher (who is bilingual) at her daughter’s school if she would be interested in teaching our kids Spanish. Well…the teacher suggested it would be better if we just dropped the kids in the school instead, and with the Director’s approval, that’s what we did.

We broke the news to Miles and Jill Monday afternoon and got a full range of emotions in return. They were appropriately freaked out and had a hard time falling asleep that night, so Enrique, our amazing host, made them a medicinal tea out of orange leaves (off the orange tree in the courtyard).

Tuesday morning was the first day of school for Miles and Jill. Miriam and her daughter Ally picked up Miles, Jill, and me at 7:05 (Ruth didn’t think she could handle it, nor did she think the kids would let her leave the school as easily as they would let me.) We arrived at Ally’s school within a few minutes. It is a small private school with about 70 kids spread across six grades.

I attended morning assembly with the kids and listened as the student body sang a song about the Mexican flag and had their uniforms inspected (Miles and Jill are without uniforms for the time being). Throughout this, Miles stood like a trooper with his new class, and Jill stood in line with her class clutching my hand and putting on her best “I’m scared as heck so I’ll look mean instead” face.

I accompanied Jill to her classroom upstairs and hung out for about 10 minutes before heading down to the front office to hang out. The next time I saw her, at 10:00 on her way to recess and lunch, she and two classmates were holding hands and smiling on their way to the “playground”. It was so precious I nearly bawled. Miles came along next with his class and we exchanged thumbs-ups and I took off.

What’s the school like? Basic. Old wooden desks each with a writing arm. No tables or flat spaces to spread out and work. Very small class sizes – about 6 or 7 students each. Very nice, well-meaning ladies running the place (and owning it since it is a cooperative). And….wow!? So this is a private school that is better than the public schools? Yikes! It will certainly give us all a new appreciation for what we have in Hinesburg. (We were very appreciative all along by the way.)

So…we’re in Merida for a few more weeks so the kids can stay in school. But then we’ll have to get a move on to see the rest of the sights between here and Cabo San Lucas by the end of April.

Signed,
A very Proud Papa

February 17, 2006

Dreaming of Prunelax.

The wonderful accommodations at Hostel Alvarez in Merida have turned into the sick ward. It’s now Friday evening, and I haven’t ventured more than 50 yards from the bathroom since early Thursday morning. Fortunately, Ruth and the kids are fine, and our only suspicion is that for the most part, I’m the one who handles the money, and perhaps I picked up my bug that way. Meanwhile, the young woman from France in the next room is confined to her bed with a sore back, and it is a tribute to our hosts, Enrique and his sister Miriam, that all of us sickos feel so comfortable here. (They even have a computer for our use and a genuine Whirlpool direct-drive washing machine just like ours at home (and the model most often recommended by ReCycle North’s appliance staff)).

This “down time” in Merida hasn’t been for naught. Ruth has been getting lots of Spanish practice in talking with Miriam and Enrique and even helped Miriam clean rooms today. Meanwhile, Miles and Jill have enjoyed having Miriam’s 8-year old daughter Ally around to play with after she gets out of school around lunch time. All sides are having to stretch their language skills and make numerous improvisations.

Between trips to the john today, I created a 3-fold brochure in MicroSoft Word for Enrique and Miriam. It was a great vocabulary builder for me since I know where all of the tools are in Word, but don’t have a clue to what they’re called in Spanish.

We did manage to make it to the ruins at Uxmal on Wednesday. We failed to check the bus schedule before heading out, and ended up having to wait at the bus station in Merida for over an hour and a half. Interesting observation there: The Mennonites. It turns out there is a large Mennonite community near Campeche and they sell their cheese in Merida. I’m not sure what language they were speaking to each other and it seems that in their attempt to keep their lives simple, they don’t adhere to modern hygiene standards. Despite old fashioned, modest dresses and overalls, they smelled bad enough that we asked Miriam when we returned if she knew about the Mennonites, and her reply was, “Yes, they always smell bad.”

What a surprise pulling into the relatively remote ruins at Uxmal only to pass a line of 14 BIG RV’s in a caravan from the U.S. These were the Big Boys with amazing 5th wheels and tow rigs and huge Class A buses as well. Walking alongside the line-up I told one of the drivers that we had left our rig parked in Phoenix and flew down. He assured me we saved money doing it that way.

The ruins were fine and despite our late arrival, we had plenty of time to see everything. We also had the good fortune of forgetting a wristwatch. That forced me to ask a local guy what time it was so we could catch our bus. He provided the time, but also came up with a much better solution than the bus. Instead, we caught a Collectivo van (a Dodge 15-passenger van) with a bunch of employees at the end of their day. It took us to a small town where we caught another Collectivo to Merida. We arrived a couple of hours ahead of when the bus would have delivered us, and we never had any assurances that we would have a had a seat on the bus in the first place (we had hoped for a place to stand).

The bathroom beckons.

Paul

A follow up: It´s now Saturday and I'm in a high speed computer lab a couple blocks from Hostel Alvarez. Why the confidence to venture so far? Because my garlic oil and Gatorade home remedy seems to have worked. (The garlic oil is in capsule form. I don't stir it into the Gatorade.) Ruth and the kids are off at Miriam's house and we may just head out of here tomorrow. Or, we may not. We're getting pretty good at staying loose.

Tuesday 2-14-06 Valentines Day

We arrived in Merida on Sunday after a 5 hour bus ride from Playa del Carmen with the obligatory bang-bang movies on the bus. The first had John Travolta in the jungles of Panama doing something weird with the military and the second had Sly Stallone as a bodyguard in what appeared to be an attempt at comedy plus blod and guts. Maybe intelligent dialog is too hard to translate compared to graphic violence.

It was bittersweet to say goodbye to Playa del Carmen, especially the wonderful staff at the hotel/apartment we stayed at for a month. The owner and manager are brothers who are originally from Merida and they assured us that we would love Merida. Well, they were absolutely right! Our plans had been to just spend 2 or 3 nights here, but it's easy to see that we'll be here at least a week.

Miles's "Lucky Cookie" kicked in while searching for lodging. Our Lonely Planet Guide Bood had suggested a former appliance showroom that has been converted into a hotel by a local artist. Interesting art, but skanky rooms. Strike 2 for Lonely Planet since they led us astray in Playa del Carmen as well. Instead of lodging at "ReCycle North Moves South", Miles and I hit the street in search of something better. Miles noticed a low-key, handpainted sign that said "hostel" tacked next to a door on an otherwise solid wall. Merida is a city of colonial design, so the sidewalks are narrow and you mostly only see walls and shuttered windows and doors. The mystery is what lies behind the doors.

We got lucky, and behind the door was the wonderful private home of Enrique, who at aged 58 or so has renovated the big house that has been in his family for generations. 14 foot high ceilings, antique clocks everywhere, super clean bathrooms, and a well stocked kitchen to help ourselves to breakfast, all for a whopping $30 a night. Enrique has a passion for renovating antique cars, antique clocks, and all sorts of things except his eyeglasses. He even cranked up an original Edison phonograph for us that plays a wax record in the shape of a paper towel tube. He also cranked up the Victrola in the corner as well. And, he pulled out the Readers Digest from 1968 that was written in English and had an article on the successful integration of Ludlow, Ohio and its neighbor Shaker Heights. Funny thing, I remember our living room in Shaker Heights in about 1968 and a black teenager playing the piano in it. Rather odd to have it all come back to me in a gorgeous old home in Merida, Mexico. The only other folks in the home are a couple from the south of France (he worked in landscaping for the "Year in Provence" author) and a young woman from Mexico who is in Purchasing for the federal electrical commission. Her name is Yokiko. Yup, her grandparents came from Japan to Mexico.

Sunday afternoon, we ate at a downtown hotel buffet for pretty cheap. It reminded me of the Carlysle in NYC and I ate my first broccoli in over a month. Sunday evening found us enjoying the street party that Merida holds every Sunday in the main square complete with lots of dancing in the streets and street food. I love fried bananas!

Monday we caught a short bus out to the port/beach at Progresso with a return to Merida for more dancing in the streets. Monday night it was a folkloric ballet complete with bottles and trays balanced on heads. It reminded me of dancing with the Romero sisters at the language festivals in Greeley while in high school. Fortunately, I never had to balance anything on my head back then.

Oh, we did get to cause/participate in a royal argument on our combi bus back from Progresso. The driver charged us for 4 seats, and then told Jill to sit on Ruth's lap so he could shove another passenger in. Between two other passengers who took offense at the injustice, the lousy behavior of the last passenger to board, and my own contributions in Spanish, we stopped after just a few blocks and threw the last guy off. Another eye opening event for Miles and Jill.

Today, while walking across town, we accidentally came upon the Merida English Library that is well stocked with titles. And then we wound up at the Centennial Park where there is a large zoo and lots of things for kids to do for free or for cheap. Miles and I rode in bumper boats. They were the strangest devices consisting of a large innertube with a seat and a 2 h.p. Honda outboard motor between your legs. They worked great, and fortunately the motors were 4 stroke considering your nose is right next to the motor. Jill and Miles also drove the "go karts" which in classic non-U.S. fashion included some questionable parts all slapped together to make a thing with 4 wheels move. It was a great opportunity for Jill and Miles that will probably disappear once Mexico discovers personal injury lawyers.

Who knows when we'll leave Merida, but we're having a blast in the meantime.

There's a ton of backlog to write about Playa del Carmen as well, but there's too much to go explore instead.

Happy Days!

Paul

2-11-2006 An attempt at photos.

We move on to a few days in Merida tomorrow after over a month in Playa del Carmen. We're taking care of last minute chores in familiar places before beginning the next big leg of the trip that will take us across southern Mexico by bus.

I want to take advantage of this familiar computer lab that has a DSL connection, but it's going to be a little hairy uploading photos since all the blogger directions are in spanish. More often than not, I go for location of the icon and some vague translation of what the icon says.

Here's the inside of our first place at Casa Tucan. It was too expensive for what was provided and we moved after a week. Our spanish teacher, Jose is working with Ruth and Miles.




Well, that took too much time. There isn't an application to shrink the size of the photos before I upload them, and it took too long to load each one. With luck there will be another lab down the road with some photo software.

Time to go get the laundry.

2-9-06 Time Share Blues

If your 4-month journey through Mexico ever gets boring, sign up for a presentation at a timeshare resort, purchase the darn thing, and then spend the next 4 days trying to get out of it.

You probably know the deal, the guy on the street offers you some great day trip or other gift if you'll just sit through a 90 minute sales presentation at the resort. We accepted a snorkel package in Cozumel if we'd listen to the spiel at The Mayan Palace between Playa del Carmen and Cancun.

On Friday, the 4 of us were delivered to the Mayan Palace (MP) and had a huge breakfast buffet and then began the process. Between my curiousity at how one rents out their weeks, Miles's excitement to be at a big resort with no prostitutes living downstairs (it turns out they're in the back office!), and Ruth's interest in trading time share weeks for travel in Europe....They got us! By 6:30 p.m. we had put $4,500 on our credit card with another $7k due in a month.

By 8 p.m. we were back in our little hotel in Playa del Carmen (that we absolutley adore) nearly sick to our stomachs.

We finally read everything very closely and realized there was a 5 day cancellation period.

Saturday morning we hustled right back out to the MP. Not surprisingly, the bubbly, cheery "closer", Kathy, from the night before was in no mood to see us Saturday and told us the contract couldn't be cancelled. We pointed out the language in the document, she said it didn't apply, brought in another "woman" (that's not really the right word) who also said we couldn't change our minds. Then they offered us some convoluted deal that if we returned our snorkel voucher and wrote a letter to incriminate the guy on the street who had offered it to us, they would write a letter saying what we had done, but wouldn't guarantee us a cancellation and refund.

Our poor kids. They had never seen such evil behavior and were sobbing throughout our time with those scum. Especially considering the cheery behavior offered us the night before. (Between the interesting placement of women's tattoos on the beach in Tulum, and the sub-human behavior witnessed in the MP office, Miles and Jill have learned a lot. Sooner or later maybe they'll learn Spanish.)

We returned to Playa del Carmen Saturday afternoon brokenhearted, furious, embarrassed, stressed out, ... you name it. Then I did some quick internet research and found out that Mexican law was clearly on our side and that we had 5 business days to cancel no matter what. Unfortunately, I learned that on a Saturday afternoon, and everything was closed on Sunday and Monday for a national holiday, so although we were well within our 5-day period, the stress and uncertainty took a heavy toll.

Tuesday morning we left the kids with some very kind neighbors from Canada and Ruth and I trekked off to the local PROFECO office. PROFECO is a free government service that protects consumers. We went in loaded for bear and I had a letter written to the MP with copies for PROFECO, The Texas Attorney General (MP has corporate offices in Texas) the US Embassy, and Discover Card.

PROFECO told us not to worry, all we would have to do is take a PROFECO document out to Mayan Palace for them to sign. We told them we weren't going alone since MP had treated us so badly on Saturday. So PROFECO sent an agent, Joel, with us. The MP security guards treated Joel, Ruth and I as if we were trying to escape East Berlin and the office staff were just as bad, but ultimately we prevailed and got a full cancellation and refund.

All kinds of observations and reflections to share in person someday, but in summary: Don't even go to the time share presentation in the first place; there are a lot of evil Americans working in paradise with B.S. devotion to Jimmy Buffet and Margaritaville ("My life is great! I've got pictures of Jimmy all over my office! And I screw people all day long and go home to the beach at night and drink margaritas!")

So we got our money back and..... the prostitutes moved out downstairs!

Life is good and my hour is up (I bet the prostitutes use that line too!)

Paul

2-2-06 I'm finding it very hard to stay caught up on this blog thing because much of my time in the computer lab is spent managing financial affairs from long distance.

The lastest was an attempted Nigerian money transfer scheme by a prospective tenant for our rental in Vergennes. He sent a bank check for $4,000, my credit union accepted it as good, and instantly the pleas came from the prospect to Western Union $2,000 back to him so he could by a plane ticket. Fortunately I got a hold of the bank while the check was still in their possession and I asked them why they had made the funds available instantly? They said because the check appeared to be an official bank check. I described the situation further and encourged them to look into it deeper. They did by contacting the issuing bank and learned that that check number had cleared the issuing account over a year ago and was a fraud this time around. Yikes! And all of my communication was done via on-line "chat" with my credit union. I should have been on the beach.

But before hassling with long distance banking yesterday, I did teach a Mexican man how to drive his VW bug without a clutch. As I was walking down the street he was trying to push his dead car through a left turn of a busy intersection. I helped him push and once we were through I asked him what was wrong with the car. He showed me the limp clutch pedal, and I offered some version of "We don't need no steenking clutches!" I sat in the driver seat and he in the passenger and I showed him how to drive without a clutch, a skill I perfected when my clutch used to break all the time in my 1961 VW Beetle. (I also used the trick once in a Toyota station wagon in Baltimore after a funeral.)

On another note, I'm a cheapo who hasn't paid for a haircut in about 5 years. I wasn't able to fit my Flowbee and shop vac in our bags so I brought my barber's trimmer instead with two trim comb attachments. One is 1/8th inch for my beard and the other is 3/4 inch for my scalp. I offered Miles the golden opportunity of cutting my hair the other night. He was a little nervous but willing. I snapped a trim comb on the clippers, turned them on, and showed him how easy it was to run the thing right from my forehead back to the back of my head. Oops! I had put the wrong attachment on and had instantly given myself a reverse mohawk 1/8th inch tall. The kids and I busted out laughing and Ruth buried herself deeper into the book she was reading. I'm now sporting an almost chrome-dome of just an 1/8th inch all around.

Fortunately I hadn't buzzed my head before accidentally running into a Hinesburg neighbor in the produce section of the Playa del Carmen Wal-Mart. In one of those moments where I'm asking Ruth, "Does that woman look familiar?" and we each take turns circling to see if we can figure out who she is, I finally took a chance and asked the lady if she spoke English. Yup, she lives about 1/2 mile through the woods from us on a different road but we often end up at the same town meetings. She's just in Mexico for the week and was able to update us on what lousy weather we're missing.

Time to go swimming!