Right now is a terrible time to blog, because I just came from one of the million free concerts of ridiculously romantic music here in Merida, and I’m just feeling too soft and lovey-dovey and nostalgic for an era I never even knew to write anything snappy. For god’s sake, some man just sold me a CD of him and his now-dead father, a star of Yucatecan trova, and gave me a poem he’d written along with it. Like the Hank Williamses, but Mexican, and Jr. was charming, and not a big lout.

So, random bits:

Last night I was pulled up at a stop light and looked in my rearview, and it was filled entirely with a horse’s head. Damn cute horse-drawn carriages.

I saw two more clowns. One was just waiting for the bus, with little rainbow tears on his cheeks.

I got my ear talked off by a seedy but likeable hotel owner in Progreso who’d been in on the hostel scene for decades. After about 45 minutes of tales of drunken strong-arming and doing business the “right” way, and my not getting a word in edgewise, I began to consider why he might no longer be in charge of a hostel in Victoria, BC, due to issues with authority. Still, a very clean budget operation, which that beach town full of borrachos needs.

Saw a bunch of flamingos up close. They sure make a lot of noise. And they just look ridiculous.

And isn’t it a cliché to listen to opera while you’re going mad in the tropics? I got a little edgy last night when I checked into the eccentric guesthouse par excellence (really, it is a fantastic place) and a tragic aria was swelling out the triply barred windows. I could just barely hear the slow whub-whub of the giant ceiling fan and the ice tinkling in the gin and tonic… OK, I guess it’s a margarita here, but whatever.

Which also reminds me that I was convinced yesterday that the word ‘colonial(ism)’ was derived from Cristobal Colón. Too bad that’s not true. But it is a nifty etymological overlap–even if it makes it very hard to keep all the names of the hotels around here straight.

And, through the magic of frequent-flyer miles, a new character will be introduced tomorrow: my mother! Here’s hoping she actually makes it here, because due to the drawbacks of frequent-flyer miles, I could only get her as far as Cancún, so then she has to get the bus. All she knows how to say in Spanish is ‘Qué lástima,’ which I hope she won’t need. ¡Vaya con Dios!