And on to Valladolid.

As we check into the Meson del Marques, our Hotel in Valladolid, we see Bob and Nancy sitting by the pool. Unbeknownst to us they had moved directly from Merida to here, and again we are staying in the same hotel.

Valladolid is remembered by most people for its charming colonial streets and beautiful 16th century monastery built over a cenote. We will remember it for the family of American hippies who played in a bar and called themselves “Eden”.
We grew up in the 60’s and knew families like this, but had no idea they were still viable and living in Valladolid
We, along with Bob and Nancy, listened to them perform and spend some time with them afterwards. The group consists of the parents and two of their children. The two children, wouldn’t you know it, are named Eden and Eve. You couldn’t get more 60’s flower power than that, and it leaves us to ruminate on what the names of the other four children might be. Yes, these happy hippies have managed to sire a total of 6 children. We cannot bring ourselves to ask the names of the other four, but quietly giggle at the possibilities.
The father is named Jhimi, and yes, that is spelt Jhimi, and yes, that is pronounced Jimmy. The mother’s name, unlikely as it might be, is Tracy . She has long out grown that name and we are surprised that they haven’t come up with something more suitable by now.

They play four songs at a local bar and are very good, and then they sit at a table hoping that someone will buy their CD. Later that evening they turn up at our hotel restaurant and play the same four songs. We talk to them and discover that years of illegal substances have taken their toll on Jimmy. He is 52, and looks every day of it. He is rail thin with long grey hair drawn back into a ponytail. When he talks he reveals several missing teeth and more missing brain cells. He is 16 years older than Tracy and they fled to Mexico when her parents objected to him dating their young daughter. How young she was then I didn’t like to ask, but 6 children later she is still small and very pretty.

They live in a tiny Mexican 2 room house that they inherited from a friend who died of alcoholism. They exist on the sale of their CD’s, which they sell for 80 pesos ($6). and when we ask how many CD’s they sold tonight, Eve proudly replies “one”. Tracy explains that they are very good at living on very little, which must be the understatement of the year. We ask what was the most number of CD’s they ever sold at one time and they tell us about a Music Festival they played at where they sold ten of their CD’s. We could have sold a hundred, Jhimi says, but we had only taken ten with us.

If you think you are beginning to understand “where they are coming from”, then just wait for the next question, which is do they get paid for performing in these bars.

The short answer is NO! Tracy’s explanation is that places do offer to pay them, but then it gets all too annoying as they want them to turn up at a specific time, and on specific nights, which is never going to work, she explains!

And for our final insight we learn that the children are home schooled and are fluent in Spanish and English and are now learning Mayan. We are impressed, until Eden, who is 15, asks where Tennessee is. When we simply reply that it is a State, he asks what a state is. Tracy covers for her son, by saying that they think teaching their children about herbal remedies , gardening, and how to raise chickens, is more valuable than so called regular schooling.

We want to buy a copy of their CD, but they refuse to take our money. Jhimi tells us that he would never take money from friends. We are touched, but think that maybe Tracy would be more willing to accept the money as she has eight mouths to feed. But she too refuses.

We graciously accept the CD while feeling terribly guilty. The CD has a tiny hand print on it, which is the handprint of their baby. When we get it back to our room and play it, it has variations of the four songs that they played in each bar tonight. We get the sinking feeling that they only know those four songs.

We are leaving Valladolid the next day, but Bob and Nancy are staying on, and plan to visit the Edens in their home. They email us two days later. “Their house was dismal, a very unkempt two room cinder block construction with the obligatory barking dog chained out front.”

Ek Balam

An hour’s drive from Chichen Iza is another Mayan ruin called Ek Balam. It is vaguely on the way to our next stop, Valladolid, and at the last moment we decide to visit it. We are delighted we did. It is our favourite of all the places we visited. In its heyday it was a large Mayan City, but today, although it boasts 45 structures, only a few of them are restored in any way, so it is a small site. It is unusual because it is surrounded by two concentric stone walls plus another one that unites the central buildings. It has a ball court, plus a very beautiful arch where a sacbé (sacred path) ended, which in old times connected the Mayan kingdoms.
But what puts Ek Balam on the map, is that it has the largest Mayan building that has ever been discovered. It’s not quite as tall as the temple in Chichen Itza, but its measurements make it the largest building by sheer volume. And this is the first building we have been allowed to climb. Everywhere else has now stopped tourists from climbing the temples, and while we quite understand the necessity for doing this we are disappointed that we haven’t been able to experience them from the top.

But here we can, and the view is breathtaking. We even have birds of prey circling below us. What adds to the importance of this building is that there are some unusual and well preserved carvings along with a small amount of original wall paintings. Some of the carvings are unique, depicting Mayans with wings making them look like angels. While restoration was taking place they found these carvings and paintings actually hidden underneath an exterior staircase. They had obviously been built over at one point and so they are perfectly preserved and in fact looking at them today they seem new. Even the painting is still brightly coloured.

Ek Balam is beautiful with a magical feeling about it. We can actually sense the spirit of a Mayan town while we stand in the middle of the small site admiring the buildings all around.
The buildings are set in what appears to be a huge ornamental garden, but which is in fact just the jungle. Some of the undergrowth has been cleared to create patches of lawn and paths to allow access from one building to another. What is left is huge stately old trees and palm trees, with flowering bushes everywhere. The air is alive with the sounds of birds that swoop from one tree to another.

We finally get to see the Motmot bird, a rare, beautiful and unusual bird. It is of average size, looking a little like a kingfisher (it belongs to the kingfisher family) with striking blue and green colouring. But what makes it famous, is its tail. It has two extremely long tail feathers, which are in fact long bare shafts with a small shimmering blue fan on the end. When it sits in a tree, the two tail feathers hang down below the branch and the bird often wags them from side to side like a pendulum. But having such a fabulous tail has inadvertently led to the bird being endangered, as the two feathers are much prized for making Mayan headdresses

We spent a wonderful two hours at Ek Balam, soaking up the spirit of the place, enjoying the buildings and their wonderful surroundings.
It was made even more enjoyable by the fact that the entrance fee was only 31 pesos (less than three dollars). Every Mayan Site we have visited so far has charged the same entrance fee of 72 pesos (Chitchen Itza is a little more), and the woman who owns this site is supposed to charge the same. But the government has stopped helping fund more excavations so she believes as the site is not fully developed, the visitors should not pay full price. This is a wonderful gesture but maybe not the correct one, as it prevents her from making the same amount of money as other sites do, and therefore the government will always ignore her demands.

Chichen Itza, one more time

We awake early to the really loud and weird mewing sound of peacocks. There are many in the grounds of the hotel and we had enjoyed watching them yesterday, but listening to them at 6 in the morning is something else entirely.

But we are up in plenty of time to be the first people through the gates of Chichen Itza at 8am. This morning it is quite magical as there are just a handful of other tourists. We can examine the carvings and stone work, and take photos without fear of interruption.

The only thing that spoils the site is the flotilla of souvenir sellers who line every path with temporary stalls set up with saw horses and old pieces of plywood covered with their tacky trinkets. Others string their T shirts from ropes slung between the trees. The government long ago announced that the Maya people were to have free and uninterrupted access to Chichen Itza. This was a decision made with only the best intentions, but it has become sadly abused as every morning an army of peddlers, all claiming to be Mayan Indians, make their way into the grounds and set up their stalls. In an effort to stop this, the government built a large number of permanent stalls outside the main entrance and offered them to the Mayan vendors. But the vendors shunned them preferring to be nearer the ruins.

Choosing to be inside the ruins with no permanent stall makes for a much harder way of life. Every morning all their wares together with the tables etc have to be carried into Chichen Itza , unpacked and set up. Every evening it all has to be dismantled, packed up and carried away. The more conscientious vendors can be seen struggling with their loads piled high on handcarts, wheeling them in from up to a mile away. But the lazier vendors have found a solution to all this carrying. They merely take everything and hide it in the jungle just feet away from the paths where they set up shop.

As we walk through Chichen Itza at eight in the morning the jungle is alive with Mayans dragging their wares out of the trees, and the undergrowth is littered with plastic cloths and sheets of plywood. It is a depressing sight that truly takes away from the majestic ruins. But as long as the Mayans are allowed free access to Chichen Itza there is nothing that can be done. The brochures all urge the tourists not to buy from these vendors, but it obviously has little effect.

An evening in Chichen Itza

We are hungry after watching the Festival of Light, and in need of a drink, but we don’t want to give the Mayaland Hotel any more of our money, and we doubt that their food would be much better than their rooms. We decide to drive into the small town a couple of miles away and find somewhere for dinner.

There are several local Mexican restaurants on the main street. They all look the same, devoid of any charm or atmosphere with their plastic chairs and tables covered with red and white check plastic table cloths. On top of the tables sit small glass salt cellars containing equal amounts of rice and salt, and capped with a tiny chrome lid that is rusting at the edges. Next to the salt pot there is a flimsy transparent plastic napkin holder containing tiny cheap paper napkins that are totally incapable of absorbing even the smallest spill. On one wall is a faded poster of the beach at Cozumel and on another the ever present television tuned to a football game or a raucous game show.

It is a dismal choice of dining establishments and there is nothing to choose between any of them, particularly as they are all empty. Finally we notice one, set back a little from the street which is packed with locals.

We venture in and manage to grab a table by the window. I use the term window loosely, because there is no glass in the large hole where a window should be, but that really cuts down on cleaning expenses, and affords a nice breeze. It is a cavernous room, with a fairly rough looking bunch of townsfolk crowded round the tables eating and drinking. But they are friendly and several raise their beer bottles in mock salute at the adventurous gringos. It has to be good, we think, and it is. We have an excellent meal with beers for $7 each.

The food may be good in the little restaurant we find in the village outside of Chitchen Itza, but the highlight of the evening is the entertainment in the street.

It starts with a lot of shouting and yelling and it soon becomes apparent that a fight is brewing somewhere out of sight. As the sounds become more threatening, everyone in our restaurant, except us, goes outside and lines the street. Fortunately we have the window table and a good view of the proceedings. Eventually the antagonists appear. There is a group of 6 youths threatening one very large man with nothing on but a pair of jeans. The large man is backing down the street while several of the youths are urging on their biggest member to fight. They stand behind him and push him into the large man who does nothing, but none the less looks very threatening. All the time the youths are yelling “Puto” at the large man, slang for “queer” in Mexico.

Eventually the “Puto” disappears and the youths return to wherever it was they came from. But 5 minutes later the “Puto” returns perched on the back of a scooter wobbling down the road. The scooter is being driven by what is now known in polite circles as a transgender person. She is wearing very tight pedal pushers in a brightly colored Pucci type print, and a low cut T shirt showing off a perfectly shaped and very ample bosom, proving that she has had at least the first part of the transgender process completed.

On her feet are a pair of bright red 6 inch heel slides that would make driving a scooter impossible for most mortals. Her face is badly pockmarked which even the amount of make up she has applied fails to cover. Her lips are huge and heavily painted in red that has apparently been carefully chosen to match her shoes. Her hair is teased to within an inch of its life and dyed blond with occasional black tips. She is mesmerizing, but seems totally out of place in this Mexican backwater of a town. She brings the scooter to a halt outside our restaurant and they both dismount.

The “Puto” is a big man but his woman towers over him. Together they set off looking for the youths that started the trouble. The “Puto” strides down the middle of the street, with his “girlfriend” next to him who walks with amazing femininity in her high heels. But we are in no doubt that the girlfriend will be a match for any of the youths. It is beginning to feel like a scene from “High Noon”. There is considerable shouting in the distance and the atmosphere is taught with tension

At this point we decide it might be time to make a quiet exit and we leave for the calmer environments of the Mayaland Hotel.

Chichen Itza

Everything we have heard and read about Chichen Itza warns of the crowds that start around 10 am with the arrival of the coach tours. We chose to stay at the Mayaland Hotel, so that we could walk into the site at 8am when it opens, and hopefully avoid the crowds. However we have arrived earlier than planned and decide to see what it is like in the late afternoon. We are glad we did, because the coaches have left, it is busy but not crowded and we can enjoy the site at our leisure.
The scale of Chichen Itza is staggering. It was built in the 9th century and was capital of the Maya Empire. In its heyday it covered 25 square kilometers, but for reasons that are still not fully understood it was abandoned 200 years later. The religious, cultural and administrative center covered 6 square kilometers and was located close to the areas where the elite had their carefully decorated and brightly painted palaces. Outside of the central area up to 100,000 citizens lived in their thatched cottages. The city is still so important to the Mayan people that it is the site of a peregrination to this day.
We can sense that power as we walk round the grounds and view the imposing castle of Kukulcan (the pyramid shaped building that we all recognize from photos).

It is amazing to think that all of this was built without the use of metal tools.

Chichen Itza is also famous for its huge ball court. Here the hoop must be thirty feet up a vertical wall, and is quite small. It must have been very difficult to get the ball through it. This ball court is actually carved with the depictions of the captain of the losing team being beheaded and clearly shows their belief that blood from the beheaded fed the ground and allowed for good crops.

In the evening there is a Festival of Light which is very disappointing. The lighting is amateur and vulgar in its bright purples and reds, more befitting a Las Vegas Hotel that one of the “New Seven Wonders of the World”

The Mayaland Hotel at Chichen Itza

There is a toll road to Chichen Itza, but we take the old road passing through several towns and villages. The drive takes a couple of hours and we arrive at the Hotel around 3pm. There is a town a couple of miles away full of inexpensive hotels and restaurants, but we have booked the more expensive Mayaland Hotel, which is right next to the Archeological site and affords access through the back entrance, allowing you to beat the crowds in the morning
The Mayaland Hotel bills itself as a 5 star hotel, which proves that there is no Trades Description Act in Mexico. It is set in the most beautiful grounds of over 100 acres of tropical gardens, and from a distance the hotel looks enchanting. But up close and personal it is anything but. Our experience starts at check in when the front desk tries to get us to upgrade our room to a more expensive one. When we decline, he tells us that they are sold out of our rooms and we have been automatically upgraded!
The only nice thing we can say about the room is that it has a lovely balcony overlooking the gardens. As far as the 5 Star experience is concerned, here are some of the things we found:
Paint peeling on the corridor walls
No lights in the corridors or outside our room after 9.00 pm.
No phone in the room
No internet in the room
The yellow bedspreads are filthy
The white towels are thin and grey
The bathroom boasts only one soap, which is the smallest piece of soap known to man – and has to be carried from the shower to the washbasin
No free water provided, despite the fact the water supply is unfit to drink
If you get to breakfast after 9.30 you are turned away.

Farewell to Merida

Sunday Feb 8th
We are due to drive to Chichen Itza today, but Merida still has a hold on us.
First of all there is the farewell breakfast with Joany presiding over it in her usual style.
It has taken me four days to realize that she reminds me of an oversized Judge Judy, constantly interrupting our stories, and telling us all when to speak and what to do. During our stay she tells us of the many house rules, and lays down the law emphatically. We realise that while we all laugh at her behaviour, we are all a little intimidated too.
Bob and Nancy are also leaving today so we say farewell to one and all
Then we have to walk around the town square for the last time. Sunday is another big day in Merida. The streets are again closed, this time for bicycle riding. There are stands renting out bicycles and it seems half of the local townsfolk are here. Joany had said she often goes bike riding on Sunday morning and we were looking forward to seeing her perched on the saddle, but in the end she didn’t go.
The square is filled with handicraft stalls, and the street around it is packed with taco stands, food booths and tables and chairs. One side of the street has a children’s play being performed. It is most elaborate with lots of costumes and music. We think they are performing Sinbad but are not sure. The dozens of children watching are totally enthralled. Those not theatrically inclined can watch the fire eater on one corner or the woman mime dressed rather fabulously as a tree, complete with huge roots spreading out from her feet.
It is certainly a fun day but we have to get on

Our last day in Merida

Joany’s breakfast club is working well. We are going to spend our last day exploring Merida on foot, and are in no hurry to leave the breakfast table. Nor, it seems, is anyone else, as we all sit and chat until after 10.

Merida is a delightful town to wander round, full of interesting buildings, and busy shopping streets. Our favourite place though, is the Governors Palace, situated on the main square
It is a two story building, painted green, around a courtyard of marble tiles and giant potted palms.

The walls are lined with murals by a local artist who was obviously inspired by Diego Rivera. Painted in the 60’s and 70’s, the paintings are art deco in feel with heavily stylized figures, depicting the Spanish Invasion and their struggles with the Mayans.

There is a stunning room that runs the entire length of the upper floor, facing the square. The room is at least 25 feet tall, with amazing hanging chandeliers and a black and white tiled marble floor. Huge double shuttered windows run the entire length. Between each window is a painting matching the size of the windows. There are a few sofas against the inside wall, otherwise the room is empty. It is also empty of people and we soak up the atmosphere, enjoying the paintings and the wonderful views of the square and the cathedral through the open windows.

Amazingly there is no entrance fee and the only security is two guards posted at the front entrance. We are learning that many of the wonderful buildings and museums we come across on our travels in Mexico are free.
We continue to wander the streets admiring the old colonial houses, when we stumble on a lovely 17th century home converted into a lovely small hotel, called La Mision de Fray Diego.

It has the most beautiful courtyard we have seen in Merida and the staff are gracious enough to allow us to enjoy it for a while, before we return to Joany’s Bed and breakfast

Our last evening in Merida

Saturday evening in Merida is a major event, with the main square and several of the streets closed for the festivities. There are live bands and dancing in the streets, and all the restaurants fill the streets with their tables. It is one long promenade. We want to join in the festivities but can’t resist another meal at Casa de Piedra before we do.

We are greeted like old friends when we arrive and our waiter fetches the chef who comes out to talk to us. It turns out he was the master chef for seven years at Absynthe in San Francisco and lived just a few blocks from us. We have a wonderful conversation with him and he tells us how he missed Merida so much he had to return, but now he is here he is missing San Francisco . He cooks another great meal for us. This time I start with scallops which are seared crispy on the outside but somehow perfectly cooked inside. I follow this with another wonderful fish dish. This chef knows how to cook fish.

We then return to Merida where the streets are full of people, restaurants have spilled out onto the streets, bands are playing everywhere, and a few brave souls are dancing. The central square is packed and there is entertainment everywhere. Again we notice that the evening may be enjoyed by the tourists, but it is all really about the locals.
The party goes on until 1pm, but we don’t last that long
We are so impressed with this city. It knows how to do things right

Our last breakfast with Joany

Breakfast is becoming quite the little social club with the five of us making the best of each others company and enjoying the moment. We have bumped into Bob and Nancy a couple of times outside of the B and B and shared our thoughts on Joany. So now when Joany arrives in the very same embroidered jeans that she was wearing yesterday there has to be a concerted effort to keep a straight face.
In an effort to divert our thoughts away from Joany’s jeans,Nancy reveals that she doesn’t actually serve breakfast at her Bed and Breakfast. She is the antitheses of Joany and does not want to socialize with her guests . She is famous for leaving her guests notes on a large blackboard. Her place is out in the country and she keeps chickens and ducks as pets.
Bob and Nancy spend part of the week together and part of it apart. Bob bought two condos and built two more and lives off the rents from those. He is a contractor but only works infrequently and then only for trade, and the only trade he is interested in, is Art. He is also an enthusiastic musician and has with him a ukulele. It is a beautiful instrument handcrafted out of a cigar box by a well known craftsman in Kentucky. It is signed by the artist and dedicated to Bob.
Bob tells us that he takes it with him everywhere as it is the least expensive instrument he owns. He is not shy about bringing it to the table and playing something for us. We have noticed him playing over the last couple of days, whenever he has a quiet moment.
Brad tells us that he is a grant writer and does a lot of work for aids charities. He can travel a lot because his work can be done anywhere as long as he has his computer with him
It is a diverse crowd, but somehow it works.

Casa de Piedra at Hacienda Xcanatun

We have heard of a restaurant outside of town called Casa de Piedra at Hacienda Xcanatun and drive out to find it. It is in a small village on the outskirts of Merida, and when we turn off the main road we are convinced we must be in the wrong place. It is a working class Mexican village with a dirt football pitch serving as the town square. There are a few youths trying to skateboard on a patch of concrete, a couple of Datsuns from the early 80’s and a beat up Mustang parked around the square. The houses are all one and two room low square buildings with nothing to recommend them to anyone.
We drive round the village square but there is no sign for, or of, the restaurant. We are convinced we are in the wrong place, but then we see a 12 ft wall painted a rather wonderful deep red color down one of the streets. When we reach it there is a beautiful ironwork gate opening on to a driveway that leads to the hotel and restaurant.

The hotel is quite fabulous, all painted in the same deep red color, with huge rooms and very high ceilings. The grounds are full of beautiful old trees and palm trees, subtly lit.
Hacienda Xcanatun was built in the 18th century, for the owners of a factory producing sisal. The hacienda is now an upscale hotel, while Casa de Piedra, the restaurant, is located in the old factory building next door. It has been renovated beautifully. The ceilings are 30 ft tall, and the old machinery and pulleys are still there, but restored and painted black. The walls are faux painted in subtle shades of blue and grey, and the tables are beautifully presented with flowers and starched tablecloths.

I do not usually write a restaurant review as part of my travel muse, but in this case I can’t help it. It is the best food we have ever eaten in Mexico.
I start with a duck and pine nut pate. The portion is huge, and it is served with a wonderful mustard sauce. It is terrific and brings back memories of French picnics.
Next I have a fish steak, the fish is called Bruja and it is the most perfectly cooked piece of fish you could imagine. It is served on a bed of leek puree, and is delicious.
Gordon has duck in a chocolate and mango mole, a fantastic combination that we have never come across before.
The restaurant is busy the entire evening. We get there at 8pm, and there is a large group of elderly tourists, dressed to the nines and dripping in jewels who are obviously there on some sort of very expensive coach tour. But, more interestingly, Mexicans arrive to eat throughout the evening. These were not the locals we had seen in the village, but immaculately tailored men oozing power, with their expensively dressed and overly made up spouses. They ordered without looking at the menu, demanded a great deal of attention, and were incredibly rude to the waiters.
A pianist and saxophone played from 9pm on and were a perfect accompaniment for a great evening

A Trip to Izamal

The guide book I read before coming here said that Izamal is a beautiful city as every building in the Historical Center is painted gold, including the Convent. It sounds quite amazing and we are looking forward to seeing it. The drive takes a little over an hour and we pass through three attractive towns on the way. We are learning that the one problem with driving ourselves is that when we reach a town, the road automatically takes us into the central square, and leaves us there. We drive around the square and there are always eight exits (two at each corner) and none of them is ever signposted. We have to ask directions from a local. The other problem we discover is that the locals are always anxious to please and feel that an answer of “I don’t know” is rude. Consequently they just make up something, often sending us in completely the wrong direction, which they consider to be polite, but we find extremely annoying.

Izamal is the “City of the Hills” and is thought to be the oldest Spanish city in Yucatan. Its history is dominated by religious events. We live near San Francisco which is also the City of Hills. There is no comparison. The hills of Izamal are only noticeable if you are riding a bicycle. Izamal is located in the middle of the Peninsula . It was conquered by the Spanish and it was the monks in their eagerness to convert the Indians to Catholicism who gave the city its religious distinction. To this day, the people of Izamal are devoted to the Immaculate Virgin.

True to form the road takes us into the square at the heart of the city, where we realize that the guide book was using a little artistic license with the use of the word “gold”. Every building is painted a very bright sunshine yellow. It is very colourful but gives a completely different effect than the one we had expected, that of a city of gold.


The square is dominated by a Convent that was built from and over one of the Mayan Pyramids. The convent is famous for its murals and its central courtyard, which is second only in size to that of the Vatican. We are lucky enough to arrive as the monks (it’s called a convent but it is full of monks!) are congregating in a small chapel for their mid day service. The chapel is lovely, built on the top of a small hill with large double doors on both sides, open to the surrounding trees. Inside there are painted murals, an altar full of flowers and a huge statue of the Immaculate Virgin. The only jarring note is that all the chairs for the monks are red plastic chairs emblazoned with the Coca Cola logo.

The monks generously invite us to be a part of the service, and offer us our own Coca Cola Chairs. The service is quite rousing with two monks playing guitars and the congregation singing along as the Virgin is wheeled forward from her shrine. We feel a little out of place and quietly leave.

A Cultural Evening in Merida

The City of Merida certainly knows how to present itself and puts Puerto Vallarta to shame. Nearly every night there is some form of entertainment put on in one of the Squares, and the entertainment is completely free. Tonight it is a ‘Serenade” at Santa Lucia Park. The park is set up like a theatre with a stage in one corner and rows and rows of folding chairs set out in front of it.
There is also a restaurant on the square that sets out tables and chairs so that you can dine while you watch the show. The festivities start at 9pm, and we get to the restaurant shortly after 8 to make sure we get a good table. At least half of the folding chairs are already taken by people arriving early to get their seats. We are intrigued to see that while there are a lot of tourists, the majority of the people are locals.
The entertainment starts promptly at 9 and is introduced by a very natty gentleman well into retirement age, dressed in crisp white trousers, a white jacket and a white panama hat set at a very jaunty angle. From his waistband on his right side, hangs a red striped scarf that reaches to his knee. It is quite a look and he struts across the stage like a peacock. Unfortunately he is equally as proud of the sound of his own voice, as he is of his appearance, and talks incessantly while his audience fidgets and waits for the acts to begin
The first performance is a 12 piece band seated at the back of the stage and made up of local retired professional musicians . They all appear to be well past retirement age and the professional qualities they once had are diminishing. They play one song badly and at half speed, and then collapse back onto their chairs, exhausted.
They are given a five minute rest while the MC talks incessantly again, and then have to play another song while a group of folkloric dancers in wonderfully embroidered costumes walk around the front of the stage in time to the music. There really doesn’t seem to be much action in this local folkloric dancing, but what little there is they carry off with panache and style.
On stage next is a local poet who recites some of his poetry. He is also past his prime, but wears a startling deep blue velour suit to make up for it. He is reciting one of his poems that he has written specifically to be performed on stage. Unfortunately it is in four parts and we are to hear all four parts this evening. Before the end of the first part, two members of the band sitting behind him are fast asleep and in danger of falling off their chairs. His presentation is extremely theatrical and his voice lyrical, and although we understand little of what he speaks, he is fascinating to listen too.
He is followed by a large woman in a glittering bronze jacket several sizes too small, on top of a clinging black dress. Her bottom rivals Joany’s and both the jacket and the clingy dress have their work cut out covering it. She has very short arms, and holds a microphone in one of them. Her voice needs no amplification and could shatter crystal. Her short arms appear to prevent her from holding the microphone far enough away from her mouth. She obviously is going for the torch singer look and sound, but she misses as many notes as she hits. The volume is hard to tolerate and we decide to leave. Unfortunately we can still hear her voice several blocks away.
Although we were forced from the square by the torch singer, we had an enjoyable evening and are truly impressed by the City of Merida. There are not many cities in the world where you can enjoy an evening’s entertainment at no cost. And this was just one of the evenings they arrange. There are more to come.

The Cave at Lol Tun

Lastly we stop at the Lol Tun Caves. The caves are famous for their hand paintings dating back to over 10,000 years BC, the fossils of mammoths and other animals, wall paintings, ancient pottery and human remains.

We park in the small car park and are immediately welcomed by a very friendly and very pregnant dog. She makes a great fuss of us and follows us to the entrance.

Here a guide is compulsory as we will be walking for over 1 kilometre through these underground caves. It is not until we are nearly at the end of the walk that our guide tells us that everything we were hoping to see, other than the hand paintings, are in parts of the caves that are as yet inaccessible to tourists.


The lights throughout the caves are on separate circuits, and as we walk through the caves, the guide has to continually find the switch to turn the next few lights on. They are on timers so we cannot dawdle, or the lights go out on us. In true Mexican fashion some of the lights do not switch on. You would expect the guide to be aware of this and have a flashlight at the ready. But you would be wrong. Fortunately we have one of those tiny lights that attach to a key ring and that was our only light to guide us through some of the passageways.

We are amazed and rather touched to find that the dog has accompanied us the entire way through the tunnels. When the lights go off, she keeps quite close to us as if checking we are alright.

At the end of the tour the guide tells us that although we paid an entrance fee to go into the caves, that does not cover his charge and he expects to be paid. When we ask how much, he tells us $50 would be appropriate. Needless to say he is one very disappointed guide.

The dog, however, gets several biscuits from a package we have in the car and seems much happier than the guide.

Uxmal - More Ruins

From Uxmal we take a circular route back to Merida in order to see other Mayan ruins. But our first stop is at a village called Santa Elena where we are told there is an interesting Museum housing several mummified bodies that were found under the church floor. The museum consists of three small rooms with hardly anything in them other than four tiny bodies of children in open coffins, shown beneath a large sheet of extremely dirty glass. At the entrance are three local young women who presumably are there to take the entrance fee of ten pesos.


But they are so excited to see a foreign tourist that all they can do is giggle and blush. We try to talk to them, but they just turn an even brighter shade of red and giggle some more. The museum itself is so depressing that the giggling girls are a welcome relief.

From there we go on to Sayil, where the Palace of the Ants is found. It is a huge Palace of 90 bedrooms, but little has been restored and you are not allowed to go in or on it. Consequently very few tourists come here. In fact we are asked to sign a guest book which shows that the last visitors came three days ago. The site actually boasts a gift shop, which is a truly desultory affair, the entire stock consisting of about seven rather dirty white dresses on coat hangers, hanging from an open sided Palapa. Maybe the last guests were major shoppers and bought up everything else.


Our next stop is Xlapak, which even the tour book describes as “a site of some fourteen mounds”, which makes it sound so unimpressive that they couldn’t even be bothered to make an exact count of the mounds. We drive on by.

The next site is much more impressive. Labna used to be a Mayan city of over 2000 people. It is a large site with three partially restored buildings. Again the setting is lovely with raised streets crossing huge lawns. This site is famous for The Arch of Labna, a beautiful arch that once marked the entry to a nobleman’s house.


Labna is lovely, and we are amazed that there are only two other people here. They are a very elegant pair of Mexican women carrying huge sun umbrellas and strolling across the lawns as if they were at some garden party.

Uxmal

One of the reasons for this trip is to see the Mayan ruins . Next week we will be going to Chichen Itza and Tulum which are the more famous sites and therefore full of tourists. But there are many other sites just as impressive where there are far fewer tourists, and we set off to see some of those today.

Uxmal is a World Heritage Site where considerable restoration has taken place and is still taking place. It is an hour and a half drive from Merida. The drive is easy, as the Yucatan is almost completely flat and the roads are straight, good and fast. But because the land is flat there is no scenery.

Uxmal and the other sites we are seeing today are built in what is known as the hill country, but the hills are only a hundred or so feet high and hardly cause more than a bump in the road.

Uxmal is truly impressive, both in its design and its scale, and even more pleasing is the fact that there are only maybe 25 cars in the car park. In fact the car park is only set up to take about 100 cars. We wander around this wonderful World Heritage Site with just a handful of other tourists.

There are four major buildings that have been beautifully restored: including the Governors Palace, the Nun’s Quadrangle and the Magician’s Pyramid. The Magician’s Pyramid is what we all recognize as a Mayan temple. It is similar to an Egyptian Pyramid, but with steps up two sides and a decorated top. It is more faceted than the Egyptian Pyramids . The Mayans were, what could be called, lazy builders. They built their structures using rubble and then clad them with stone, whereas the temples of Angkor Wat were built stone by stone, each one fitting precisely into the next. The exteriors of Angkor Wat are far more elaborate with carvings and statues. The Mayans decorate the top of their buildings but the bottom half often remains plain.


The decorations are much more geometric, and indeed a deep understanding of geometry obviously pervades everything the Mayans built.

A strong sense of setting dominates Uxmal. There are manicured lawns and trees everywhere. Each building is built on a small plateau affording sweeping views of the land and the other structures.


As in all civilizations water was very important. The Yucatan receives very little water, but the Mayans developed a system of collecting the water and storing it underground that is very impressive.
Equally as impressive is the games arena that sits in the middle of this Mayan city. A large playing field has a huge sloping stone wall at either side with a hoop half way along built out of it. The hoop is set on its side and is 12 feet or so up the wall.


The game was played by two teams of seven, and the object was to get the ball through the opposing teams hoop. The major difference between this and basketball, is that in this game the losing team or team leader is sacrificed. A major incentive, I presume, to play your best game.

Our First Breakfast with Joany

Breakfast is served at a long glass dining table that seats eight . Joany has just four rooms, and today only three are booked. We are the last to arrive and have to introduce ourselves to everyone. This is excruciating and our English reserve rebels at it. Finally having met all three people and immediately forgotten their names, we sit at the table.
On my left is Bradley, a single gentlemen in his thirties who lives in Boston and summers in Provincetown, which is the only clue that he may well be gay. He has that slightly strange aura about him that people who are destined to remain single for the rest of their lives project. It is a mixture of reserve and desperation. His name, his looks and his manner, make me think that the role of Brad in The Rocky Horror Show was written for him .
He is telling me that he spent the previous day at the Railway Museum. Unable to sustain a conversation about railways, I turn my attention to the couple across the table, Bob and Nancy. They have a bed and breakfast in Portland
Nancy is in the middle of telling Gordon that Bob has a fetish for women’s shoes. We are not sure if she is joking or not, but breakfast is beginning to get weird.
As if on cue, Joany makes an entrance. She is wearing a tight fitting Donna Karan black T shirt – the one with long sleeves and cut outs for the shoulders. It is a T shirt that I have seen on a lot of slim women with broad shoulders. This is the first time I have seen it on a large woman with no shoulders. I think it works better on the first group. It is worn over a pair of voluminous black pants with a white floral design on them The effect draws attention to the lower part of Joany’s body, which I have already mentioned is not her best feature.
Joany helps herself to breakfast and joins the table. She doesn’t eat a thing because she talks non stop. Occasionally her fork is filled with food and raised above her plate, but it never gets near her mouth.
Breakfast is good, but the company makes us run to our rooms.

Merida - Our First Impression

Joany, despite the non stop talking, is a wonderful hostess and provides free wine and beer, stocked in her fridge, to which we are welcome to help ourselves. After a drink we decide to walk into the center of Merida to have dinner. We are in the Historical District and we walk through streets lined with wonderful old colonial houses, some of which are waiting to find an owner that cares enough to return them to their previous glory, and some of which have already found that person.


They are painted in wonderful deep desert colors of burnt orange, sand and green. The windows and doors are covered in intricate and beautiful iron work. The rooms are tall and large with marble floors. The front doors are double, made of beautifully carved wood and 12 feet tall. Chandeliers hang from the ceiling. They call out “buy me” as we pass.

We find the main square, which is the perfect town square with beautiful colonnades on three sides filled with café tables and chairs, and on the fourth side there is an imposing cathedral, The Cathedral of San Idelfonso. It is actually the oldest Cathedral on the American continent dating back to the 16th century. The conquering Spanish dismantled all the nearby Mayan Pyramids and used the huge stones as the foundation for the Cathedral.

The center of the square is full of people enjoying the evening, and watching the clowns and musicians. The streets around the square are lined with horses pulling Victorian carriages. The carriages are all painted white and decorated with flowers. There are few tourists . It is mainly the locals enjoying all this. It is about as different from our life in Puerto Vallarta as it could be.

We end up at a restaurant called the Villa Maria Restaurant. It is highly rated in Trip Advisor and it is the first restaurant recommendation that Joany makes. She does however warn us that it is a huge restaurant and there will be very few people there, but not to let that put us off, the food is terrific.

Joany exaggerated about the number of people that would be there. The place was deserted, other than 5 waiters, all leaning against the wall, talking to each other.
Normally we would walk on by, but as we don’t know of another restaurant we go in. It is a gorgeously restored 17th century mansion with a central open courtyard with art nouveau hanging chandeliers, and beautifully presented dining tables. The waiter asks if we would like to sit there or inside . Inside there are two more dining rooms both equally elaborate in their settings. It is magnificent and deserted. We eat in the courtyard.

The restaurant has pretensions of grandeur, and everything about it appears first class, until we hear a loud bang. We turn in the direction of the kitchen and see two of the waiters dragging a large old water heater out of the kitchen and across the restaurant floor. It is too heavy for them and they keep having to drop it on the tile floor. Sweat is running down their faces. If this is a regular occurrence it might explain the lack of customers.

As for the rest of the evening, the staff is very attentive, the food is good but not excellent, and the prices are high but not exorbitant, until, that is, it comes to the wine list. Most of the wines are immediately recognizable as coming from Costco (they have a Costco in Merida), and the restaurant is charging 6 times the price they paid in Costco. It leaves an unpleasant taste in our mouths.

Merida and Our B and B

Today we are catching another Aviacsa flight - this time to Merida.
The EuroStars Zona Rosa Suites Hotel calls a taxi for us, and a young man in a white Nissan draws up at the Hotel entrance. We get in the car and tell the driver where we want to go. The driver sits for a moment, without doing anything, composing himself for the journey ahead. And then he crosses himself before starting the car and pulling away. There is something truly disconcerting about your driver crossing himself before your journey. However as a safety precaution it seems to work, as we get to the airport without incident
We have pre booked a bed and breakfast in Merida that is rated highly in Trip Advisor. Most of the comments mention the comfortable beds, great breakfasts and a very friendly owner. Somehow that phrase “very friendly owner” just passed us by without setting off alarm bells. Joany, yes that’s Joany with a “y”, greets us several minutes before we can see her. We ring the front door bell which is next to an iron gate.
Immediately we hear her calling to us, saying hello, asking how our journey was, telling us how glad she is that we chose to stay with her. This rambling introduction is spoken at a very high decibel rate, in a Brooklyn accent that could shatter glass, and delivered from somewhere upstairs, towards the back of the house, leaving us to believe that Joany is apparently in the middle of doing something that prevents her from coming to the door. This disembodied voice continues for seemingly several minutes, before Joany herself breathlessly descends the stairs and opens the door for us.
We might have supposed that the delay in getting to the door was caused by her desire to put on some fetching outfit and a little makeup in which to greet us. Neither was the case. Her hair, dyed black several weeks ago but now showing grey roots, is pulled back behind her head and tied with a scrunchy that cost 3 pesos from the local market. Her face, betraying her Brooklyn background, is devoid of makeup. She has a huge bottom that is perfectly round and squeezed into a pair of blue jeans. Her legs taper down to a pair of tiny feet. Above the waist is large but shapely and seemingly bears no resemblance to the rest of her body. She is carrying, for some unknown reason, a huge blue and yellow Ikea shopping bag. And she never, ever stops talking. She goes from one subject to another without taking breath, or giving much thought to what she is saying.
She is indeed “very friendly”. She also has a very nice Bed and Breakfast, which she proudly tells us her husband built. She talks about her husband a lot. But we never see him. He is apparently at their farm, which is, she says, his latest enthusiasm. “But” says Joany “if he prefers to have a cow rather than a girlfriend, that is fine by me. I will always be thinner than the cow”. As I haven’t seen the cow in question, I cannot comment

Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo’s Houses & Studios Museum in Colonia San Angel

We decide to take a taxi to our next stop which is the Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo’s house-study museum. It is located in the Colonia San Angel. There is a taxi stand outside Frida’s house and we ask if the taxi is metered. The taxi driver informs us that it is not and that the rate for where we want to go is 80 pesos. We agree, and get into the taxi, and watch the driver unplug the meter!! He then appears to drive round in circles for 15 minutes so that we will be happy with the fare, before depositing us at our destination.
The entrance fee to this museum is much less, a mere 10 pesos, but within minutes we wish we hadn’t paid it. This is the living quarters Frieda and Diego moved to after they left Frida’s house. It is built by Juan O’Gorman and is two three story houses connected by a roof top walkway. The style is Functionalist but the only interesting room is Diego’s studio, and the work on display is mainly by other artists of the same period, and not nearly as interesting. We are only there for 15 minutes.

We spend the rest of the afternoon wandering the streets of Colonia San Angel. This looks to be Mexico City’s version of Beverley Hills. The streets are lined with huge impressive mansions in huge impressive grounds. Most of them have armed guards and gatehouses. They are built in either a Mexican Colonial Style or an Art Deco style, and are quite fabulous in an over the top sort of way, which is the only way to be quite fabulous in my view!
The main shopping street is lined with glitzy stores bearing the names of famous designers. The side streets are narrow and cobbled, often ending in small beautifully kept squares surrounded by large beautifully kept houses. Palm trees are everywhere, their trunks often wrapped in towering bougainvillea. If one had to live in Mexico City, this is clearly where one would live, given an appropriate bank balance.
The nearest Metro station is some way away and we walk for about 20 minutes, finally coming to an area near the university. There is a street full of bookstores selling books both old and new, and the sidewalk is lined with street vendors selling old books. We spot one with a few interesting looking prints and Gordon excitedly recognises one by G. Fernandez Lodesma, one of Mexico’s leading early 20th century artists. Closer examination shows that it is a signed and numbered original print with plate marks. We look around for the owner but the stall is completely unattended. We wait a few minutes, with Gordon getting more excited by the moment. Finally we see a rather scraggly looking man in a violently red sweater running towards us waving a coffee cup in his hand. Of course, by this time it is impossible to pretend we are not really interested in the print, but just wondering how much it is. He looks us up and down and quotes $250 pesos (about $20). Gordon turns to me and tries to look shocked and appalled but the grin on his face gives away his true feelings. But I insist we don’t pay him the asking price and offer $150 pesos. The man readily agrees and snatches the money away from us. He clearly thinks he has scored. And so do we. The perfect arrangement.

Frida Kahlo’s House in the Colonia Coyoacan

After our interesting breakfast we head to the metro again. This time we are going to see Frida Kahlo’s house in Colonia Coyoacan. The metro is far busier than it was yesterday and we are crammed in like sardines. Today we have assorted buskers hopping on and off the train, hoping to earn some pesos. The first is an elderly man who plays a harmonica, which actually is a rather generous term for what he does. In fact he only blows a few notes, unrecognizable as any tune, and then comes round with his hat. Unsurprisingly the hat stays empty, and he gets off at the next stop and changes cars.

The second busker is a little more realistic about his talents. He has obviously realized that he has none, and instead brings on a small boom box and plays snatches of Frank Sinatra singing “I did it my way” which seems totally appropriate. He has some minor monetary success and decides to stay in the carriage for another stop. This time it is Frank singing “New York, New York”. The man has a sense of humour and gets a few more pesos.

We get off at our station and have a 20 minute walk through the streets of Colonia Coyoacan to Frida Kahlo’s house. Her house can be seen from blocks away as it is painted in that famous deep blue and there is a large tour bus parked outside. We have read about the tour. It takes you to Frida’s house, gives you lunch and then goes on to Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo’s House and Study Museum in Colonia San Angel. For this they charge $150 US. We have spent 2 pesos on the Metro and the entrance fee to this house is 55 pesos (under $5)

Fortunately for us, the bus is just leaving, and we enjoy Frida Kahlo’s house with just a handful of other tourists. The house is large and basically in two parts. One half feels like her and is painted in that wonderful blue and green, with yellow floors,

while the other half evokes Diego Rivera and is built with imposing volcanic rock and is much more severe. We christen it Monumental Mayan deco .

The house is shaped like a square “W” with her famous gardens all around.

The rooms are all large with amazingly tall ceilings. Some rooms are laid out with their furniture and house wares to show how they lived,

while others are full of their art in a permanent exhibition. Some of the walls are inscribed with a few of her more poignant quotes. Much of the art is well known to us, but there are some portraits by both artists that we have not seen before and are, of themselves, worth the visit.

We love the feel of the house, the art and the gardens and spend all morning there.

Breakfast

The next morning we go down for breakfast in our hotel, the Eurostars Zona Rosa Suites. It is a rather desultory affair, and each morning we hope it will get better, but it never does. It is a buffet with a few plates of fresh fruit cut into slices the previous evening, slices of cheese cut just after the fruit, individual packets of cereal, packaged sliced bread, thin slices of tinned ham, and some warming pans containing refried beans, rice and hotcakes. The hot food was obviously cooked many hours earlier and placed in the warming pans where it sits until 11.30 when it is cleared away.

This morning there is a table of three Mexicans who look a little scary. One of them must be at least 400 lbs and seems unable to sit upright, but instead slouches down at 45 degrees from the floor. We guess that sitting upright is impossible because his stomach would crush his legs. He is wearing a well worn track suit which hasn’t seen soap and water for some time. He hasn’t shaved for several days, and the last time he washed is when he had to take his track suit off to put it in the laundry. His two companions, while equally grubby are far less imposing and far smaller. We are wondering how they could afford to be staying in the hotel, when we notice that the two companions do everything for the large man. He just has to say that he wants more food and they jump up and get it for him. This obviously keeps them fit, as his calls for more are frequent. There is obviously some sort of hierarchy going on here that we know nothing of, but might explain how they can afford to stay in this hotel.

The Colonia Condessa followed by a Wonderful Dinner

Colonia Condessa is a European style neighborhood, full of trendy sidewalk cafes and restaurants, hip bars and small fashionable boutiques. It is considered “the bohemian pulse of the city” whatever that means, and is fast overtaking Zona Rosa as the place to be seen. However on a Monday morning the streets are deserted. The neighborhood dates back to the early 20th century and the architecture of the houses is a fascinating mix of Moorish and Art Deco. Here, many of the houses are renovated and the expensive cars lining the streets show it is one of the well to do suburbs. We feel quite at home and spend a leisurely few hours exploring the shopping and residential streets of the neighborhood.


In the evening we go to a small French Restaurant, Bistrot Arlequin at Rio Nilo 42, a ten minute walk from our hotel. We have read about it on the Internet and know that it is off the beaten track with no sign – you just have to listen for French being spoken.


The restaurant is tiny and is obviously in a converted two car garage. One metal roll up door serves as the entrance while the other door has been replaced with a huge window. Inside it is an ergonomic miracle, with seating for 28, a full bar, and a tiny open kitchen all crammed into the space. The tables are very close together, but the atmosphere is fun and relaxed.


We have no problem recognizing that the chef, the owner and the waiter are all French. They take very frequent breaks together and stand just outside the roll up door together chatting and smoking, the fumes wafting into the restaurant.

The waiter is young, tall and scruffy. His clothes would look better with the help of an iron. His shirt is partially untucked, hanging outside his trousers. His hair is long and lank and pushed back behind his ears. All his features are oversized, his large oval eyes are set very far apart and his Gallic nose does its best to fill the space between them. His huge hands hang limply from his wrists. It seems that his height is recently acquired as he moves rather awkwardly and appears unprepared for how far down he has to reach to pick up things. He exudes an aura of excitement that so many young people have with a new job, which only partly makes up for his inefficiency. In another example of Gallic behaviour he is eating his own dinner while serving us ours. Fortunately he is helped by two women who are friendly and excellent.

The chef is a dashingly handsome slim man around 40 years old, with his long black hair pulled tightly to the back of his head and tied in a pony tail. He has a cleft chin that Michael Douglas would envy. He wears slim cut black and white chef trousers, a black shirt and a black apron. The only colour is a dazzling gold necklace. Mon dieu!

The food is excellent and quite reasonable, and the wine list small but interesting. The restaurant is full and we can’t believe that the chef can turn out all the food in a timely manner, but he does.

The Metro

The next day, Monday, is a National Holiday and again we suspect everything will be closed. We ask our concierge at the front desk and she informs us that all the Museums are closed on Mondays anyway, but the stores will be open despite the holiday. She is wrong. The large stores are open but the smaller stores are not.

We decide to explore the Colonia Condessa, and take the Metro. It is our first experience of the Mexico City Metro system. It is the second largest subway system in the Americas, after New York, and is one of the world’s great architectural marvels. Because of the underground lake the entire 125 mile system had to be built so that it actually floats and can move up and down depending on the level of the lake. The trains run on pneumatic tires rather than steel tracks and move 5 million people a day smoothly and comfortably. It is efficient, fast and clean, and you might think all this would come at a price. But even more remarkable than its engineering is the fact that a ride of any distance is 2 pesos, about 15 cents. What more could anyone ask.

It’s three drawbacks are that at rush hour it is unbelievably crowded, there is a serious problem with pickpockets, and it is not safe for tourists at night.

The stations are often hard to find as the signage is poor, but once inside there are plenty of signs leading you to the correct platform. We wait until after 10am, hoping to avoid the crowds. The trains come every couple of minutes, but they are still amazingly busy and it is standing room only.

The system was started in the 60’s and is definitely shabby, but we are impressed by its cleanliness. There is no litter anywhere. The other noticeable difference from other major subways is all the backlit frames that line the walls are empty – there are no advertisers.

Very few of the riders are what might be called middle class: very few business suits, or well dressed women. This is transport for the working class masses.

There is one innovation that should be copied everywhere. During rush hour the front two cars are reserved for women and children only. We are also impressed to see the young give up their seats to the elderly. But unfortunately no one stands up for me.

More about Izamal

The village square in Izamal is not as grand as the one in Merida but again has a colonnade on three sides. Unfortunately the ambience is ruined by 15 huge North American RV’s parked on two sides completely obscuring the shops and cafes. Apparently this is an RV owners’ version of a cruise. They each drive their own RV in convoy around Mexico, with a leading guide car and a security car following up behind. There is obviously fierce competition as to who has the biggest and the best RV as most of them are enormous and glistening in the sun shine. There is one ramshackle little one that is built on the back of a pick up truck, which boasts a sign on the side advertising that it comes from Tennessee.

The third side of the square is lined with horse and carriages, just as in Merida, although here they are not in such good condition and some of the seats in the carriages are worn through to the stuffing. The ones that have managed to afford new seats have learned a lesson from Chinese restaurants and covered them in plastic. As the temperature is well into the 80’s, the thought of sitting on plastic is about as unappealing as the idea of sitting on the dilapidated seats so we decide to forgo the pleasure of a ride.

We have lunch in a tiny restaurant just off the square. We decide to sit outside at a plastic table supplied by the restaurant.There is no sidewalk, so we are actually sitting in the street. But the cars and scooters seem to avoid us quite easily.

Thanks to Joany’s breakfasts we are not hungry and I just order guacamole and chips. As we are sitting there eating, a teenage girl comes and stands between our chairs right at the table looking longingly at the chips. She is not poorly dressed or particularly thin, so I have a hard time inviting her to help herself. But she is clearly not going to leave until I do. Finally I break down and offer her one. A rather dirty hand then buries itself into the pile of chips and pulls out a large handful. She runs off laughing while I sit and look at the remaining chips which I have now no intention of touching

The Blue Tile House and the Palace of Fine Arts

As we wander through the streets leading from the Zocolo, two buildings attract our attention. The first is known as the Blue Tile House. It was built in the 16th century and is covered, not surprisingly, in hand made blue tiles from that period. Inside, is a Sanborns department store with a wonderful restaurant with walls covered in murals from the 1930’s.



The second building is the Palace of Fine Arts, which is an absolutely fabulous building from the Art Deco/Beaux Arts period. Inside there are three levels all covered in Murals by famous artists of the period including Diego Rivera.


Any wall that hasn’t got a mural is clad in wonderful pink marble and edged in black. Staircases are either in black or white marble. Every detail is striking in its art deco design, even down to the small ticket office windows.


As we both collect Art Deco we are in heaven and spend two hours wandering around the building examining every amazing detail. The building houses a theatre with a famous Tiffany Curtain which we long to see, but sadly the theatre is closed for the weekend.

After lunch, we get back on the Turibus and continue round the City. We are impressed with the number and size of the parks and green areas. Many of the main streets are huge boulevards, split by a park like divide full of trees and benches. There is art everywhere: posters of famous artworks line one street, photographs of famous building line another and everywhere there are seats and benches often designed by famous artists in modern designs. If all this street art appeared in any European or North American city, it would be vandalized and covered in graffiti, but here everything is left untouched.

The city is full of statues . We spend most of the day listening on our headphones to endless descriptions of this statue of a famous Mexican President and that Statue of a famous revolutionary. But the only time we get excited is when we drive past a statue of Delores Del Rio , but no mention is made of it through our headphones.

In the evening we dine in an Argentinean restaurant – the city is full of them. Sadly it has a large screen TV inside, tuned to the Superbowl which is being played today. The restaurant is full of Mexicans all yelling and screaming for their favorite team.