Funny: a lobby full of clowns in a hotel I passed earlier today here in Merida–clowns at rest, chatting, smoking cigarettes, puffing up their orange Afros. Then, about an hour ago, I took a random turn and saw the very same clowns at work: a parade of them, with police escort, all bundled in funny yellow cars with megaphones on top through which they could shout at me, “Hellooo! You want snack?! Welcome in Merida!” See, these clowns were promoting some new snack, proudly made here in the Yucatan–of course they threw me a baggie of them. Some kind of chicharron, with a little packet of hot sauce included. Why am I perfectly happy to wave and say hello to a bunch of clowns yelling silly things at me in imperfect English, but I would never respond this way (or any way) to a regular passerby? Everyone loves a parade, I guess.
Not so funny: Sitting at the sound-and-light show at Chichen Itza two nights ago, not exactly in awe of the sound and light. There’s a lot of dramatic intonation. There I am hearing about “los sacrificios a Chaaaaaaaac, el dios de la lluuuuuuuuuviaaaa”, while unbeknownst to me, I am being held up as a sacrifice to the great and all-powerful God of Mosquitooooooos. Fuck. It was dark. They didn’t fly near my head, so I didn’t notice them at all. I probably couldn’t have heard them over all the Germans yakking behind me anyway.
Just darn pleasant: arriving in Merida last night (clawing every so often at my bitten ankles as I drove) and finding the plaza filled with festive people and food booths. Not really a surprise, because they do this _every_ Sunday here. And a little on Saturday, and actually there seem to be people singing out there on the plaza tonight too. And I hear there’s a special program on Wednesday… This is a charming little party town, plus everyone seems to be in love, walking down the streets hugging, nuzzling in corners, sitting chastely in the curvy loveseats…
But enough about the people–let’s talk about the enduring love affair between papas fritas and churros. In Chetumal on my last trip, I saw a food cart selling both these things (’cause you’ve got the hot fat–you may as well use it for more than one thing…), and painted on the side was a little potato holding hands with a little fritter. Adorable. So of course I had to buy both french fries and churros last night. And a vaporcito, which sounds cute too, but is just a steamed tamale from what I can tell. And I drank a weird locally made soda that was black but tasted like bubble gum. Made me wonder if real chicle does taste like bubble gum, hence the basis of the artificial bubble gum flavor (kind of like wild strawberries and strawberry flavor). After all that, I felt a little queasy, but I pressed on to bed and feel fine now.
Although now my appetite has not yet returned because I had an enormous lunch, courtesy of the owner of the guest house I’m staying at (gee, am I compromising my objectivity? Kinda sounds like it…but it’s really a nice little hotel, I swear). The best ceviche I’ve had here, and great fish en mojo de ajo–both better than anything I’ve had on the beaches, for half the price. Plus two beers. I must’ve seemed a wreck when I staggered into the travel agent’s next door and chatted him up after. Oh well–he’s probably a boozehound like every other expat here.
On that note, I think I’ll go pick up a beer at one of the millions of quickie marts that have sprung up here in the last year. I hope I don’t dream about clowns.