Category: Mexico

Cancun bar bombing: not a tourist issue

I was dismayed to check the news today and see headlines about a bar getting bombed in Cancun–this is tragic, no matter what. My additional worry was that some nightclub full of tourists has been blown up. But it’s not the case. The bar, the Castillo del Mar, is well out of any area tourists would go.

Here’s a Google map I made. The approximate location of the bar is marked in red. Tourist zones are highlighted in green. Even my very adventurous app guide to Cancun doesn’t go farther than these green areas.


View Cancun bar bombing in a larger map

The bombing apparently had something to do with organized crime, and it hit staff, not customers. Of course this doesn’t mean a complete guarantee of safety for tourists, but it is extremely unlikely a tourist would get hurt in Cancun, and no one should change their travel plans based on this event.

I’m especially peeved about the news item on Momento 24, which calls the Castillo del Mar a “bar of tourists,” which is patently not the case. Fox News is almost is bad, because it IDs Cancun as a “resort area” and never explains where the bar is. And surprisingly, BBC is also flaky, as it never locates the bar either.

CNN is much more responsible, as it explains the location of the bar.

And the Diario de Yucatan coverage (the moderate Merida paper, the biggest in the region) doesn’t mention tourists at all!

MSNBC initially reported that the bar was in a tourist area (Twitter post was “Mexico Violence in Tourist Area of Cancun”), but issued an update on Twitter later and posted an updated story.

UPDATE: Per a comment below and several online news sources (including a corrected Diario de Yucatan story), I’ve moved the location of the bar. Guess what? It’s even farther from possible tourist zones.

On “Vintage” Hotels

This past winter, when we were in Bangkok and staying at the totally fabulous Hotel Atlanta, I realized there’s a very particular kind of lodging I like.

For want of a better term, I think I’ll call them “vintage hotels.” [Edited in 2014 to add: Now we have a popular common reference point, thanks to Wes Anderson: The Grand Budapest Hotel, circa 1968.] “Antique hotels” might also work. “Nostalgia bivouacs” are what they really are. And the funny thing is that Peter, he of the Edison bulbs and steam trains, thinks I like these hotels more than he does. Maybe he’s right–I sure have spent a lot of time thinking about what makes one of these hotels exactly what it is.

These hotels must be old-fashioned. But not self-consciously so. Certainly, the owner may have a “things were better in the old days” attitude, but he can’t be out scouring yard sales for old telephone switchboards and other doohickeys to create a “ye olde” decorating scheme. No–that old telephone switchboard has to just be left over from the old days, hulking behind the reception desk.

These hotels usually have old and cranky owners. Years of watching standards slip all around them have strengthened their resolve to do things the right way, even if the desert sands are blowing in, the drunken yahoos are crashing into the bars next door or the country in which they’re situated is finally shaking off its colonial shackles.

But enough generalizations. Perhaps it’s easier to explain the concept with some examples.

In Cairo, Pension Roma is the quintessential vintage hotel. The owner is a French woman (despite the fact she was born in Egypt and will die in Egypt), and she rules the place with an iron fist. The sheets are crisp, the furniture is shiny, there is no dust in the corners, and she even sews little cozies to cover up the propane tanks for the hot-water heaters. Of course there are chandeliers and a rattly open elevator.

I don’t have a picture of the Roma, so here’s a photo from the extremely vintage Cairo Agriculture Museum instead:

Fun in the Agricultural Museum

In Bangkok, the aforementioned Hotel Atlanta is at the end of one of the main Sukhumvit sois for sex tourism. The facade of the hotel is covered with cranky “no sex tourists!” signs, but inside, the crankiness is dispersed into all kinds of details: a book full of cynical travel tips, drink coasters with mean-spirited quotes from the previous owner, and a theoretical ‘guests only’ policy in the hotel restaurant. This would all be oppressive, except the writing desks have little fans in the bottom, to keep your legs cool, and there’s a giant swimming pool ringed with photos of it being used in more glamorous times. The rooms are nothing special, but that barely matters, when you’ve got counter help this charming:

Working Phone Switchboard

In Campeche, Mexico, my absolute favorite hotel in the world is the Hotel Colonial. No one’s very cranky here, fortunately, but there is an old patriarch who sits in a chair dozing all day, and the business cards look like they haven’t been reprinted since 1964. The rooms may be slightly smaller than they used to be, because they’re covered every year or two in a fresh layer of glossy paint in Easter-egg colors. And eff Frette–the sheets here are the best ever for hot weather: crisply starched and almost rough like muslin. The owner buys them from somewhere special in Mexico City. Rooms cost less than $20 per night.

Here’s a montage I made last summer, after my at-least-fifth visit:

Finally, I have to give a shout-out to Garden City House, also in Cairo. Long, echoing hallways with patterned tile floors, rooms with high ceilings, dreary salmon-pink paint and enormous bathtubs, and of course the requisite old telephone switchboard–but overall a little too ratty to count as a proper vintage hotel.

Then, the day I checked out, I was sitting by the desk, chatting with the guy there, and the chintzy plastic phone on his desk rings–this little horrible made-in-China ‘tinky-rink-rink’ noise. He answers the phone, nods, and then gets up and walks around the desk to the switchboard…where he casually moves the plugs around to transfer the call to a guestroom!

My eyes nearly fell out of my head.

Damn. If I had known, I would’ve been giving people my phone number there right and left! That’s why I made sure to sit at the writing desk in the Atlanta and write some postcards. Vintage hotels are like museums you get to live in.

Do you like these kind of hotels? Have any recommendations for me?

Car Insurance in Mexico–My Experience

[NOTE: The insurance details mentioned here apply *only* to people with credit cards issued in the United States, and for bookings made via Hertz’s US website.]

One of the most frequent questions I get from travelers to the Yucatan is “Do I really have to buy all that insurance when I rent a car in Mexico?” In general, base rental rates from international agencies can be cheap–sometimes less than $20 per day–but the full insurance package kicks it up to about $50 per day. And most people’s credit cards ostensibly offer rental car insurance as a perk. But is that adequate?

Here’s my experience, based on more than six years of travel there, and more than a dozen car rentals. All but one trip has been completely incident-free, and on this last trip, in September 2009, I got into a small accident. This was mildly stressful, but it turned out to be a great way to test the system!

Since my first trip in 2003, I have been relying solely on my credit card to provide insurance (initially Visa, but now often American Express–both offer 30 days’ coverage; MasterCard’s 14-day limit is not enough for my trips), as I do when I rent a car in the United States. At first, I was too broke to buy extra insurance, and later, once I knew my way around, I figured it was worth the risk–good roads, reasonable drivers and low crime make the Yucatan a pretty safe place to drive. But I admit, I do breathe a sigh of relief every time I return a car intact.

All but once, I have rented from Hertz, and I have never gotten a heavy upsell on additional insurance. I explain I’m using my credit card’s insurance, and they say no problem. The one time I rented from Budget, I also got no pressure to buy the insurance. Back in 2006 or so, I did compare more rental companies, and I noticed that Hertz was the only international rental company that did not say, when making an online reservation, that additional insurance would be required in Mexico. (I just did a cursory check, and I’m not seeing this anymore, at least with Budget or Avis.)

Then, on this last trip, I finally did get into a small traffic accident, which involved another car. I’m 90 percent certain it was my fault, and I did more damage to the other guy’s car than to mine. No one was hurt. We both pulled over out of the intersection; I called Hertz, and the guy called the police. Hertz said they’d send an insurance adjuster immediately, and a motorcycle cop showed up not long after.

The adjuster took down both cars’ details, took some photos and made both of us drivers sign the forms. I took photos of both cars too, just in case. The cop was very kind to me, and didn’t even write me a ticket–“You should get one, ” he said, “but you’re very sweet.” Politeness (and a lot of hand-wringing and apologizing over and over!) wins the day!

It was incredibly lucky that the accident happened directly in front of the Fiesta Americana hotel in Merida–where there’s a Hertz office! So I just drove my car back across the intersection (very carefully and looking both ways!) and took the insurance adjuster’s form into the Hertz office. They looked over the paperwork, and my contract, and said it was all no problem and that I’d hear how much it would cost in about five days (I had two more weeks of my trip left). I got a new car, and was on my way. The whole process, from crash to new car, took about an hour and a half, and everyone was exceedingly kind and polite.

But enough of the soft info. Here’s the hard data: I called American Express later in the day, to let them know what had happened. Again, no problem–they advised me to fill out an online claim, and they’d sort it all out when I closed the contract on the car. No alarm that I was in Mexico, no worry that I didn’t have more than a doc from the Merida Hertz office (they’d taken the adjuster’s form–though I took a photo for my records) or anything. I was just warned that AmEx would pay only for the damage done to my rental car–the damage I’d done to the other guy’s car was my responsibility.

I was a little worried about this, but I figured in all I’d saved in not paying for insurance over the years, I could definitely pay $500 or so out of pocket, and still come out ahead.

But when I returned the car at the end of my trip, I found out I didn’t need to worry. “Our company’s liability insurance covers the damage to the other guy’s car,” the woman at the desk told me when I checked out. Great!

AmEx had advised me not to let Hertz charge my card for the damage–about $800. But I was unable to convince Hertz of this, so signed off on my rental fee plus the damages. Again following AmEx’s advice, I called up the billing department and asked them to lodge a dispute on $800 of the total Hertz charge–this meant I didn’t have to pay this amount on my next bill.

Then I sat back and waited. I could check the status of my AmEx claim online, and after a few weeks, I saw that Hertz had still not supplied a lot of the documentation. I emailed all the extra photos I’d taken, just in case they were needed, but never even got acknowledgment that they’d been received.

About six weeks later, I received a letter in the mail letting me know the claim had been settled, and the charge had been cleared from my account.

So, the whole process was a breeze, and worked exactly the way it was supposed to. The Hertz woman’s comment about their liability insurance makes me think this may be the difference between Hertz and the other international rental agencies that require extra insurance–perhaps Hertz is the only company that carries its own liability insurance? (I wanted to sit down with a Hertz rep in Cancun and get a straight answer on this, but in the end I wound up with someone else who didn’t speak English well, and I don’t trust my Spanish for these things!)

Another detail, however, before you go running out and not buying insurance in Mexico: No one was hurt in this accident. It is true that in Mexico the police have the right to take you in if it seems you’re at fault (the “guilty until proven innocent” approach). So it is possible that if I had injured the other driver (or perhaps even if there had been a dispute over who was at fault), I would have been taken into police custody and forced to post bail if I wanted out.

At this point, though, I’m not sure whether additional insurance would actually help. Would it pay bail money? I have no idea. Would either the car agency or AmEx provide legal advice in such a situation? I seriously doubt it.

So–I wish I could answer all questions, but at least this provides a little first-hand account of a very satisfactory system (if only health insurance worked so well!). Keep in mind that it may be very specific to Hertz and American Express. If you’re curious about any other details, ask in the comments.

By the way: when you use your credit card’s insurance, the rental agency (Hertz and Budget, in my experience) puts a hold of about $7,000 on your card (that’s for the rinky-dinkiest Dodge Atos). That sounds alarming, but…it’s just a hold, not a real charge. (Though, obviously, you do have to use a card with a decent credit line.) Yes, if the car is totaled, presumably the full $7,000 would get charged to the card. But I assume the procedure would continue as I experienced–you can dispute the charge and wait until the claim is settled.

Also by the way: I do not have car insurance in the United States (because I don’t own a car–not because I’m an outlaw!). Occasionally this is mentioned as another reason to buy additional insurance, but again, I don’t think this has any bearing on the situation in Mexico. (Is it true in the US, though? I have had Enterprise try to upsell me based on that argument.)

[EDIT in 2015: Hertz now posts a notice at its pickup counter in Cancun, warning that if you don’t buy the “supplemental liability insurance,” you may be held in jail after a collision, and may not even be able to get “life-saving medical care.” So that does imply that paying for additional insurance would somehow give you more leverage in case of a really bad accident, unlike the one I was in. Though I’m not sure how that would play out on the ground.

Also, Hertz has given the heavy upsell on insurance to many people I know in recent years. The last time I picked up a car, in December 2014, the only way I could end the conversation was by saying, “But Hertz does have basic liability coverage, yes? I’m fine with that risk.” The question, of course, is how fine you are with that risk.]

Mexico Photos

They’re up, over on Flickr. If you jumped on it when I posted some last night, well, go back, because there are oodles more, plus short videos.

First of all, there’s the giant set of general photos, starting out with all the culinary treats, such as this one:

Pozol de Chocolate

(That’s the cold chocolate-corn breakfast thing I mentioned on Facebook. I don’t mind looking ridiculous in this photo because it was so damn good)

Oh, and:

Lap of Lunchery

Pollo asado tastes better when you eat it out of your lap.

Oh, and, and:

Tortilla Tastiness

Whoever it was in San Lorenzo de Zinacantan who thought it would be a good idea to offer tortillas to tourists after they buy some beautiful embroidery work–I salute you! These were the most amazing and simple tortillas, cooked right there, with this funky cheese and earthy ground pumpkin seeds. The taste of Pre-Columbia.

And near the end, there are a few short videos, like this one:

Oh, I’m giving it all away–go look at them all now!

Then there’s a set Peter took while walking around the block in Campeche: fantastic decay next to old-fashioned living rooms, and sometimes both in one place.

Campeche Block 5

And finally, for the typeface fans, a very small set of goofy fonts we saw.

Hero's

Happy browsing…

On the Road in Mexico

Here’s 3,000 kilometers in Chiapas, Tabasco and Campeche states, from my August trip: Peter at the wheel; Huichol Musical on the soundtrack.

Some notes:
00:05–Hi, sheep!
00:16–Yes, that’s a tuk-tuk! They’re all in the mountain villages where pedal-power triciclo taxis are too tough to manage.
00:22–Downtown Tapachula, with the “uno x uno” (‘one by one’=four-way stop) traffic sign.
00:36–Puente Chiapas, the huge long bridge across the huge wide river/dammed-up-lake between Chiapas and Tabasco. You can’t see it, but the back of the truck in front of us is filled with those rebar rocking chairs I love.
00:52–Villahermosa’s cathedral is unfinished–those spires are the most impressive part. Also love old Bug/new Bug in the same street.
01:04–Those are banana trees hiding behind the hedges. Acres upon acres of banana plantations, in Tabasco.
01:11–Don’t assume Mexico is all humid and hot. It was chilly in the mountains, even in August, and there was lots of fog.
01:17–That sign says “Slow down in the rain.” We didn’t take any chances.
01:40–I only took this clip because Peter seemed to be driving so fast. But through the miracle of video compression, we seem to be speeding along crazily in pretty much every clip.
02:03–I doubt Nissan tested the truck gate to hold the weight of four men….

Mexico: Not as Third World as You Think

Seriously. I left Cancun airport, all gleaming and shiny, with super-clean bathrooms, no lines and free ziplock baggies at security, to return to Miami, where I shuffled through gray, low-ceiling halls, past unexplained barriers and into immigration that looked like it had been wedged into a disused room. While I waited for my luggage, I went to a two-stall bathroom where the doors didn’t lock. Heading for my connecting flight, I could tell I was getting close to the security checkpoint because the hall smelled like stinky feet.

If you haven’t left the US in a while, I’ve got some news for you: We’re falling way behind. In Mexico, there’s free wi-fi in the parks. The roads are fabulously smooth. There are bike paths. People are talking about the economic crisis as something that happened months ago, when that whole swine flu thing got a little overhyped in the press, but things are getting back on track now.

And speaking of swine flu, the Mexican government is sure as hell doing a lot more about it than I ever saw in NYC at the peak of the panic. There are public health vans parked at every town plaza in the major affected zones. Everyone’s washing their hands twice as much as they used to. (And even that was twice as much as we do here in the US. In Mexico, the signs in the bathroom advise you to wash your hands after using the bathroom, of course, but also before you eat. Very wise. If more travelers did this, they wouldn’t get so sick.)

If you’re a little scared of going to Mexico because of everything you read in the news, don’t be. It is a huge country. The narco wars are happening in the equivalent of Detroit and Baltimore, which wouldn’t stop you from visiting, say, the Grand Canyon, right? Speaking of which, the Cañon del Sumidero in Chiapas–fantastic.

And speaking of Chiapas–yeah, everything’s fine there. That uprising? It happened in 1994. Same year Kurt Cobain died, just for perspective. Loooong-ass time ago.

Anyway, just had to get that off my chest before I go sort through all my photos. And an apology is due: I spent this whole trip on Facebook, instead of here. But you didn’t miss too much–there were very few ‘wacky hijinks of a guidebook writer’ episodes on this trip. I did realize that whereas I used to hate how hotel owners would chat my ear off, now I have become the annoyingly chatty one. Maybe that’s because I wasn’t funneling enough of my drive-time musing into my blog. Live and learn… And stay tuned for photos.

A Great Day on the Job

Huh. I wrote this in a frenzy last week, and never posted it. Sad how the glory of pit-roasting wears off after just a few days back at the city grind. But right now I’m working at the building down at the WTC site, which is so beautiful, and the people in the office are so friendly, and the kitchen is so stocked with free cans of seltzer, that I’m getting a little giddy all over again…

********

Last night, while sitting at the prime table on the balcony at the restaurant at a super-prime resort in the prime tourist zone of the Riviera Maya, about to enjoy a seven-course tasting dinner, I began to experience a strange and novel feeling.

I’m pretty sure it was a sense of cheer brought on by loving my job.

And I’m not just saying that because I was being comped at this particular resort–though that certainly didn’t hurt–and not because I happened to be wallowing in luxury at that moment.

In fact, I wasn’t pleased precisely with that moment, though it was beautiful, but because I was wallowing in the afterglow of a kick-ass afternoon.

I’m drawing this out because even as I’m typing this, I’m having a hard time keeping my feet on the ground, keeping myself from jumping up in the middle of the Miami airport and clapping my hands together with glee.

Dude: Yesterday I got to cook something in a pib–a genuine Maya-style barbecue pit, with the freakin’ hot lava rocks and everything!!!!!

I should be more jaded–I mean, I started this blog back in 2004 with a post about roasting a whole lamb and a pig on Tamara’s balcony in Queens.

But there is something amazingly kick-ass about being led through a grove of palm trees to a little Maya-style hut, and then being led into the hut to find that it is 400 degrees inside, and there is a fire going in there, and it’s been burning since 8.30am, and pretty soon, we’re going to put something in there ourselves!

Never mind that this was on the grounds of a crazy-swanky resort, so it’s hard to call this an “authentic” experience.

Never mind that all we’d be putting in that giant pit was a wee little fish, because I was the only one in the cooking class.

Somehow, the fact that I was put directly to work chopping things on a wobbly table, under the bright midday sun, cut through the pampered setting. My knife was a little dull, and the handle–it was one of those all-metal Globals–was scorching from the sun. Behind me was a portable burner set in a bamboo rigging and fueled with a bottle of propane. This was rigged-up outdoor cooking in a way I could get behind.

So we prepped the fish–well, Chef Cupertino did, with that awesome take-the-bones-out-while-leaving-the-tail-intact fancy move–and covered it with crazy-red achiote sauce (magic ingredient: cloves! I had no idea) and my chopped-up vegetables. Then we stuck the whole thing in the ground! I’m about to jump up with glee again.

I cannot tell you how delighted this made me–I mean, hilarious that there was enormous fire and elaborate setup for…a teensy little sea bream. I can only imagine I would’ve fainted if we’d been sticking actual whole pigs in the ground.

The fish was crazy delicious, I got schooled on the difference between a lima and a limon (which I knew, but somehow never made the connection with sopa de lima–duh) and I got to talk shop with Chef Cupertino over lunch and yummy Mexican wine, all while sitting outdoors in what felt like the middle of nowhere. And then we tramped around in his herb garden and looked at the habanero plant that seemed to have gotten all eaten up–I never want to meet the bug that’s strong enough to eat a habanero , even if it’s just the leaves.

If I were a more helpful blogger, I’d tell you the specifics of what I learned–maybe I’ll get to that–but for now I’m still just basking in the idea that for once, on one of my research trips, I really got to do something. Usually I’m just racing around with my notebook, saying, “That looks fun–how much does it cost? And how many people in the boat? kthxbye, maybe next time…” And since I’m very familiar with my various turfs now, I rarely get to learn something new.

But throwing a fish in a roasting pit–that makes up for years of stagnation! And it was simply great to talk shop with someone about things I really cared about: cooking, what the Yucatan is like compared with the rest of Mexico, more cooking. Usually, I spend most of my days in the Riviera Maya hearing gossip about the latest condo developments.

Basically, I got a glimpse of what it would be like to write about only the things I’m really, really interested in. And then get served some amazing food on the side. Thanks, Chef Cupertino!

Mexico: Cars Suck

Driving through Chiapas I fully realized how dull traveling by car is. Here, where you can rent a car for about US$15 a day and gas is about 70 cents a liter, and that car gets 40 miles to the gallon, it’s hard to argue for taking the bus, especially when you’re more than one person.

But driving takes all the sense of accomplishment out of your day. I was envious of the guy who rolled up at Frontera Corazal and wound up sharing a boat with us to to the ruins of Yaxchilan. He’d planned all the previous day, to get on the combi at the right time, and then to negotiate with the cabbie who drove him the 15km down from the highway. All along, the jungle got denser, the road got worse, the animals along the side of the road got bolder. He got to sit back and soak it all in. More important, though, by taking public transport, he gave up control, which makes it an actual adventure.

By car–ho hum. The road got worse–I chose to drive a little more slowly, whereas the combi driver probably didn’t. It got hot–I gave up my aspirations of keeping it real and turned on the a/c. I arrived cool yet stultified.

But single backpacker dude probably spent the morning dozing on and off, waking up occasionally to see the jungle suddenly thick (whereas I just saw it get gradually denser–not so remarkable). Or maybe he spent the morning having random, stilted conversations with the other people in the combi–tiring, but memorable. He’s been thinking, This is how people really get around in this country.

I was just staring at the road ahead of me, and occasionally checking the map. I was keenly aware that people do not normally get around in an air-conditioned PT Cruiser.

It all just confirms my suspicion that cars suck, and suck the life out of you. I would really love to come back here and actually have time to travel on buses and combis, and wait randomly by the side of the road for hours, and just give up all the responsibility that driving entails.

You’re probably thinking, Silly girl–two minutes of public transport and she’ll be totally eating her words. But no–I have done this, for a week, the one research trip I fucked up and forgot to get my driver’s license renewed. I still think fondly of my weird series of buses and taxis, of the combi I got on where everyone carried a machete, and driver was goggle-eyed to see me. Of bouncing around in the back of taxis, on my way to ruins that no one ever visits. Of popping off the bus at a transfer point and eating incredible snacks from the vendors there.

Next time, next time…

Mexico: The Wrap-Up

So, my phone now speaks better Spanish than I do: I popped in a Mexican SIM card, and all the menus switched over: mensajes, adreses, you name it. Why can’t I do that with my brain?

I contemplate this from my little beachfront prison where I’m not speaking Spanish at all: I’ve been in writing lockdown here in Cancun for these last few days. I’ve always imagined doing this–a little beach time, a lot of writing–but it never works out. I’ve told this plan to people I know in Puerto Morelos so many times–and not followed through–that it’s a little embarrassing. Oh well–if I were in PM, I’d be eating my fool head off all day long and never getting anything done. Through the miracle of Hotwire, I am staying in a relatively posh hotel that is populated with so many large, sunburnt Americans that I really am not tempted to spend all day by the pool. And if I want to eat, I have to walk at least a kilometer. (Mmm–good tortas yesterday, though, overlooking the lagoon! Spongy lunchmeat never tasted so good, slathered with mayo and habanero salsa!)

Yesterday I did venture out for a morning swim (all you Cancun haters: you clearly have never been in the water–it’s unreal, and shark-free!), then retreated to my shady hotel room for the rest of the day. The maids must think I’m violently ill or on a drug binge, as I don’t even let them in to tidy up or replace the towels.

I went out at night to see a movie–the first time I’ve gone to the movies in Mexico, I realized, because I usually don’t have the time. I like to go to movies everywhere, just to see what you can get at the snack bar–here, nothing special, but at least popcorn is called palomitas (“little doves”). I saw a film called Stellet Licht, made by a Mexican director but set in a Mennonite community in north Mexico, in Chihuahua. After I got over the idea that maybe I could understand the Plautdietsch, which sounds enough like Dutch to fool me, I managed with just the Spanish subtitles OK. It helped that those Mennonites are a terse bunch. There were 10-minute stretches where no one said anything, so I had plenty of time mull over the incredibly basic sentence I’d just read at the bottom of the screen, and finally go “Ohhhh.” There were only about 12 people in the theatre: me and a huge whole family, including great-aunts and grandmas. When they left, they were all laughing because most of them had just fallen asleep.

What else has happened? I’ve fully recovered from my little “moment” in Merida. B got off OK and is home in ABQ now. I’ve seen a few more clowns. They’re just a regular part of the street fabric here, like the raving drunk guy and the impossibly small 90-year-old woman and the guy walking by with mangos on a tray balanced on his head. No one bats an eye. The buses are still filled with roving accordion and guitar players.

My last night in Merida, I ran out to check a few last-minute things. I was hightailing it back to the hotel when a guy in a doorway said hello to me. Then he asked if I spoke English. I slowed down my walk and reluctantly said yes. Next thing I know, he’s asking me to translate a poem he’s trying to read, about a Japanese guy giving an anti-nuclear speech in 1957. I have to explain that yes, it says the flowers are smiling, and that’s weird, but it’s poetry, right? After 10 excruciating moments, and me gesticulating more than talking, he lets me go. I think I believe him about only needing help with the first two stanzas.

This morning I walked up the beach to this little coffee place attached to a mall (everything’s attached to a mall here). I vaguely remembered having a nice breakfast there in November. Halfway into my latte and my obligatory cream-cheese-filled pan dulce, my waiter says, “You were here before, weren’t you?” Either they get no customers, or I was much chattier then than I recall. He remembered my whole story–guidebook-writing, etc. Extremely sweet. Especially since he didn’t charge me for my pastries in the end. Aw. Later, walking down the beach and replaying the conversation we’d had in Spanish, I realized I’d answered half his comments/questions wrong. Oh, _he_ would like to speak more languages! Whaddya know–it’s not all about me.

So I’ll be sad to leave, especially as this marks the beginning of a long lull in the update cycle for the Mexico books. I won’t have reason to come back here until late 2009, and by then my cookbook project with Tamara (which is a go, I have not mentioned!) will be out, and who knows what that will bring?