Day 15 – Magic Carpets and Magic Roundabouts in Merida

It was time to say hasta luego to my sidekick, my constant companion, my travel amigo, the precious – the Zapateco rug. Intrepid was responsible for organising my upcoming flight to Havana. Details from Tanya, my guide, were sketchy but I was fairly sure it didn’t include a business class seat for a 3kg woven rug. Perhaps I could go in the overhead compartment and the rug could have my seat? No – it was time for the rug to go.

The other members of the group mostly headed to a cenote tour which I was sad to miss, but my schnozz can sniff out a schmozzle a mile away and mailing a rug to Australia from Mexico had the strong, unmistakable scent of pending shitstorm. No way was I going to get this done quickly. I needed a free day, figuring mailing this beast was Priority Goal Achievement Numero Uno. I would hit the town for the rest of the day after this was done.

I enlisted Tanya’s services as translator in chief. Thank god, or I would have been stuffed. We had a lovely chat on the way to the main post office in Merida which is located in a pokey little building. After a lengthy conversation, it transpired that the main post office doesn’t send packages over 2kg in weight! WTF?!?! Not a lot of eBay selling going on in Merida then. New directions to a new postal outlet and we were off again.

After a bit of stuffing around to find the new outlet, the following happened – I paid $140 equivalent AUD to ship about 3.4kg home (I chucked a couple of other small things in the box), this maxed out my peso stash as they wanted it all in cash (that’s a shit ton of pesos – about half a week’s worth of living there – it was lucky I had just been to the ATM), I was given a receipt that I lost (and now found again!), a tracking number on the receipt (I photographed that) so I can track it once I am out of the black morass of no orweak Internet in Cuba, and told it would be 3 weeks to reach Australia. If it bounces back, the lovely staff at the María Jose hotel will have a new rug for the hallway because that was my return address on the box … And they don’t do insurance … Will it leave Mexico? Will it leave the post office??? A future HockTale will hopefully reveal good news from my Dad who I sent it to.

It seemed like we walked for ages. Turned out, the whole process took two hours! My schnozz for a schmozz had been right as usual. It was 11.30. As always, a conflict between hunger and a desire for adventures warred inside me. Adventures won. Merida has a world-class Maya museum and I do love a dead guy so I Ubered. FYI – Uber is the bomb overseas – at least in Mexico. No haggling over the price, comes out of the credit card, GPS means no language barrier trying to explain where you want to go. Just sit in the back and secretly eat your snacks. The drive took ages. The museum is about half an hour away from the historical centre of the city.

The driver dropped me opposite, conveniently next to La Economica Comida. No shit. Cheap eats. Two ladies with a fridge, a sandwich press, a stove and some buckets. I got the craves up for somebody else’s egg and bacon toastie and waited an interminably long time for mine. I was seriously on the verge of whacking the lot on the sandwich press myself at one point. Feed me, woman! Finally, sustenance … Rage subsiding …

The Museo de Maya is pretty on the outside and entirely achievable on the inside. Only one floor – in and out in an hour and a half – not like the National Anthropology Museum. But it’s not just antiquities. It starts with the current culture of the Maya today. They didn’t disappear out of the jungle or get sucked up by aliens – the people left the cities circa 900AD for reasons people can’t agree on (lack of access to water or political unrest mostly) but the people and the cultures survive. The museum demonstrates the cultural traditions of the Maya in the Yucatan Peninsula – the states of Yucatan, Chiapas, Campeche, Quintana Roo and I think there’s another one – sorry. The traditional costumes (eg Yucateco = bright plant embroidery), the morphing of traditional beliefs with Catholicism, and other customs. It then goes through into the colonial period when the Spanish subjugated the Maya by force and disease, and had some cool dioramas of traditional life in towns in the 19th century after Mexican independence. I was delighted to discover the dioramas were based on Stephens’ accounts of village life and the people he met travelling. No dioramas of local Maya going at both ends from the salmonella which the Spanish also brought – fun fact!

Lots of cool artifacts, well lit, English captions. Excellent.

Then it was ancient Maya time. Engage Jo mode. The collection was strong on goodies from Chichen Itza and Ek Balam, the latter being a site I will be headed to after Cuba. It looks seriously awesome. This is a replica of the top of one of the pyramids. It’s a bloody great monster with teeth. How is this not the best thing in the world? This is what makes me feel like I am five years old. Wow! And it’s just a replica!!! I am likely to lose it when I see the real thing if it’s still this ornate and in good nick.

Other highlights included a full panel of the ball court carvings from Chichen Itza, a reconstruction of the tomb of the king of Ek Balam and the bano (toilet) at the end. The lowlight was a touchscreen to enter your birth date and email address to receive a free copy of your birthday in Mayan glyphs. The glyphs flashed up and they looked cool! A message said an email would be forthcoming with further instructions. Lies make baby Jesus cry, Mayan museum!!!! A week later, no email and I check my junk every day. I eagerly await the arrival of whatever newsletter or Mayan glyph porn ring I just unwittingly subscribed to.

Museum mode disengage. Time to head back to the city. Coffee needed first though. I prostituted my soul at a Starbucks 10 minutes away while following the WhatsApp exploits of Dave who had accidentally wandered into a brothel and was providing live updates. I called my Uber and chatted with the guy this time – he was from Chiapas so I apologised for drinking Starbucks. We had a long discussion about eating national animals – he couldn’t believe we ate kangaroo.

It doesn’t really fit in here but I will write this now while I think of it. In every place I have stayed in Mexico and maybe half in Cuba – even with their crap internet – somebody always asks me about the bushfires and how sad they are for Australia. Mostly it’s the guide for the day or it could be the desk clerk in the hotel etc.

After dropping me at the hotel, the driver recommended I visit the local markets while I still had time. Tanya had mentioned that too. Figured – why not? Google maps said 10 minutes away. Now, it was hot as hell on the street. Being from Adelaide, I adapt to hot weather like a Mc Duck to water. Our climate in summer is hot and dry. I am useless in the cold but, in the heat, just watch me go while others wither by a pool somewhere.

Merida has the colourful buildings and the old doorways of a colonial Spanish town. I charged past them confidently, headed in the right direction thanks to Google Maps and 3G Vodafone. (Five bucks extra a day on my plan in Mexico only which is why the blogging was prolific there.) Now I have the Maps.me App for offline maps which has been great for Cuba. Just need to download it for the other countries.

The market was a total fail. Closed. Nice old church next door. That was it. Nothing in the area even vaguely worth looking at. I backtracked, headed for the main square to check out some shops. Merida goes straight from tourist tat to high end jade in the space of about a metre. A shop guy went the hard sell on some exquisite Maya pieces but man, they were expensive. I resisted, walking out with my dignity and my wallet intact. Went for a cheapo magnet and a cap elsewhere.

The Merida zocalo is also a parking lot for the gee-gees. Well, it’s not like they race. I couldn’t resist taking a horse and cart ride around the cobbles of Merida. Perversely, it did make me feel as if I were a 19th century Spanish wealthy woman headed home to my house of mestizo domestic help. Dona Hock. I loved it! I am really bad at relaxing – this was probably as relaxed as I would ever get – and it still had the element of exploration as the horse clip-clopped past the big 19th century mansions along the Paseo Montejo. The driver tried to describe statues and houses but I could hardly hear him. Didn’t matter. I was just happy to see it all. The sun had set by now but the temperature was still quite warm.

The absolute highlight occurred when he dropped me off at the coolest, most elaborate traffic roundabout in the world. It’s a monument to the people and history of the Yucatan. I had seen it but didn’t realise you could explore it. The traffic is a bitch though. So, in order to get to the roundabout, the driver enlisted the services of a handy policeman. (I still can’t believe one was right there when needed!) With a whistle and the international symbol of ‘talk to the hand’, he stopped three lanes of traffic so the Aussie girl could appreciate the monument to his homeland. Moses had parted the Red Sea in the name of cultural heritage. I strutted across that road like Hollywood hot property.

The monument was fantastic. It was a circular monument depicting key events and people, with a massive Mayan figure on the front and plates commemorating every state of the Yucatan on the back.

I think it might also have been a fountain but that part wasn’t working. Plus it was all brilliantly illuminated! It was indeed a magic roundabout! I did spend ages on the roundabout – the driver looked pretty bored when I got back. I had been on the horse and cart ride before three years ago and we had gone around the monument, but the fact that this guy stopped to let me explore, made my day. He got a generous tip from me when he dropped me back at the square.

The rest of the evening consisted of a brief look in the Saint Alfonso Cathedral, the oldest cathedral in Latin America apparently. I think the driver told me it was built in stages over the 16th century. Old stone, a huuuuge Jesus on a cross, lots of other Jesuses. Then I bought the same pair of earrings I had originally bought in Merida three years ago and subsequently lost – winning! Then I found a relatively pricey but small and pretty pair of replica Maya plates of my old mate Pakal and the Red Queen! Well, that’s what they tell me. Sometimes you go on faith. They are aesthetically pleasing anyway. Straight into the Hock treasure trove depleting my McDuck money bin.

By this time, it was 9pm and I was starving. The most famous restaurant in Merida, Chaya Maya, was right there and no queue!!! Amazing!!! Don’t let anybody tell you that eating alone in a restaurant is sad. It’s the opposite. It’s awesome. You people with families are secretly jealous that I can order what I want, not have to make inane conversation, not have to wait for somebody’s missing meal before I have to eat, not divide the bill, not share any food and do it all on my own timeline. I ate a delicious meal of pipien – a pumpkin based sauce with a meat. So like a stew. I went for my ancient enemy, the turkey (more on that later). Women in the restaurant make tortillas right by your table. More chaya juice consumed. Complimentary chips and salsa consumed (RIP my abs). In and out in under half an hour and home to bed.

A magical day in Merida!

Tune in for next next exciting instalment of HockTales featuring dodgy service station coffee, the UNESCO listed Chichen Itza ruins and the final night with the group in Playa del Carmen.