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January 16, 2009

Remote Jungle Places like Chunhubhub and Tiohusco, Heirloom tomatoes and mosquito swarms

We managed to get to Xcalak and Punta Herrera as well as Jose Maria Morelos and Chunhubhub.   The weather has been pretty good but the mosquitoes rough and we both have gotten colds...not unusual...just as we get acclimated we have to leave...ha...
Everything looks good at the ranch and the houses in town...the well in town is almost finished and the water looks great...at five meters we are happy...we went to the jungle town Tiohusco on Monday and they have to go down 30 meters...tough to dig that with picks and shovels.  
The corruption and what not are still around but the crime is very low where we are...not so in the turista areas of Cancun and Playa del Carmen.   More soldier checkpoints then I remember and they do a pretty thorough search...even the ice chest..ha...biggest crimes in our town are animals getting into gardens...ha...
J asked me the other day if I realistically could take it here and was somewhat surprised she asked...if the bugs and heat don´t run me off nothing will...and it´s wintertime...certainly not the place for the feint of heart...ha...but I do have to admit at this point in my life this is about as remote as I care to go...the night sky and no noise is still unnerving and makes me wonder how much we have compromised in modern society...ha...
Oddly I´ve gotten used to the area and know my way around pretty well...J has found the region more exotic than before but I guess I acclimate faster...the area we are in is very sparsely populated with no Gringos or other tourists...not that I mind Gringos but just don´t care to come here and hang around them...ha...
The ranch has turned out better than we hoped and the fences are clean...just need to put up a few fence posts.   It is a pretty amazing spot and development has largely stayed clear accept for a few cattle near the swamp and lake...been in a drought believe it or not and most are having to sell off their cattle and sheep...another reason not to raise animals in the jungle...ha...what did catch my interest was my neighbor Don B and his heirloom tomato crop...he sells all he grows and they are really delicious....with wells both in town and the ranch we can irrigate four or five acres....the Maya heirloom tomatoes are not grown elsewhere and Don B has been giving me pointers...J wants a cow but the biggest animal I want is a chicken...ha...
Our fruit trees in town have largely recovered from the hurricane and it´s nice to have all sorts of fruit for the pickings...while cleaning up the lot in town our friend found a nest of snakes...I haven´t seen any this trip...comes with the territory.   Had some great fruit but ate too many zapotes the other day and got queasy...zapotes are my favorite.  
Still want to take a day trip to Chetumal and Bacalar and J wants to go the Zona Libre in Belize.   I don´t care a thing about looking at Chinese made junk...enough of that in California.  
Looks like will be heading to Escarcega on the 26th and staying with Primo and then on to Coatzacoalcos and staying with Tia.   Really hope we can hook up with our friend Rafael in Vera Cruz and spend a day or so there...he is an engineer up the coast from Vera Cruz.   Plan to be in TB by New Years or maybe before....   Hopefully she will get a good visit as it might be some time before we come back...then, depending on time, up the eastern Sierras and the flight back from Mex City.   So far, only stayed one night in a hotel and that because I was just too tired after the flight to drive the rest of the way to the ranch.  
On Sunday Poot wants to take me back into the bush to catch a Tepe to eat...not my favorite but it is the Mayans greatest delicacy.   To me it just a big rat...ha....
The air mattress and mosquito net has made sleeping much better but J misses furniture....not me so much.   It´s sort of like politics...don´t expect much and so don´t get disappointed...ha...
All our neighbors keep trying to teach me Maya but I´m not up for it now...I´ll do it someday when I can really get immersed in it...back out in the jungle towns many don´t speak Spanish...as usual my Spanish ramps up when I speak it and have finally told J we won´t speak English anymore...even back in CA...my turn...it´s really hard for her but she´s trying...ha....
Our friends that are staying in the town houses and working on the ranch have gotten very close with us...esp. J and the lady Nina...strange how we just came here one day and settled in...guess it´s just us and esp. J...the ladies in town come to visit her and chat.   Of course the men  hit the cantinas but not this budget trip for me...ha
Guess that´s it for now...may not get back to the Internet until we leave...Primo has an Internet in Escarscega and even wireless...what a treat...

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July 28, 2008

Why San Francisco is the Best City in the World

For many of us, San Francisco is the best city in the world.   No matter how you score it, good old San Fran always is near the top, whether you leave your heart there or not.  

Driving downtown to Union Square is not so bad but it's always best to park early.  In fact, one of San Francisco's downsides is the parking problem.  

At any rate you can try the Stockton Street Public Parking Garage and if you get there before 10:00 or so you should not have any problems.  

In the current economic downturn, some Union Square hotels are offering early bird rates if you leave by 6:00 PM.   Parking from 8-6 runs about $30; half that if you get an early bird rate.   

Union Square combines the ethnic, financial, artistic, retail and down and out side of the City.  In fact, you can hang around Union Square and get your fill of just about anything.
 
Today we saw a finely dressed business executive give a boisterous panhandler a $5 bill.   Where else can you see that?  

We were attending a local search technology conference at the Marriot.  Since we live nearby, we decided to drive and not spend the night.   The conference had discounted rooms for $250 plus taxes; we could save enough to splurge on fried oysters in Pescadero. 

If you don't live in or near San Francisco, it is important to remember that visiting San Francisco is not cheap.

The conference was great but technology can be nerve-wracking so at lunch we decided to take a break from the Virtual Earth and see some real Earth and maybe stop by some galleries in Union Square.      

We wandered into a gallery on the Square and it was spiffy.  Art in The City is always fun, edgy and stylish.   At least in the presentation; the presentations can be as interesting as the art.  

We saw Chagalls, Picassos and Miros.   Most of the Miros and Chagalls were prints and some of the Picassos were ceramic.  How does one authenticate a Picasso ceramic?

The salesperson was very courteous, not following us around but intermittently dropping in on us and asking us questions like "wouldn't you like to buy this wonderful Dali?"  

The prices weren't listed and we didn't ask.  Except once.  It was a mobile by Calder, perhaps the best known mobile or 'hanging art' artist. 

"OK, how much is this one?" the wife asked. 

"$1.5 million", was the answer.   Food for thought.  We wondered just how many credit cards it would take to buy this one.   Probably a shoe box full. 

We also wondered where one would put this thing if one were to buy it.   At 1.5 Big Ones maybe the only place to keep it is in a really big safety deposit box...

Like many conferences this one got boring after lunch and we decided to leave early and drive back home by Half Moon Bay and Highway 1.   We took Market Street to Mission Street and out to Daly City; not the scenic route but perhaps one of the most interesting streets in the U.S.  

There must be 10,000 small businesses along Mission Street; many with storefronts barely 10 feet across.    You name it, they sell it and in every ethnic variety.  And with such a mix. 

For instance, if you are Mexican and looking for some enchiladas, you can find them.   But perhaps the same restaurant also sells papusas from El Salvador.  It's Mission Street mix and match time.  

Which really is an apt description of San Francisco: mix and match.   In most of California, Latinos are of Mexican descent and in some communities the Mexican ancestry approaches 100%.  Not in San Francisco.  

In short, you can find a restaurant that says "Peruvian Style" or "Guatemalan Style" but if you are from Peru or Guatemala you can see the difference as cultures and styles criss cross and mix and match.   

And the prices are different too.  On Mission Street one can still get coffee for less than two dollars but on Union Square two dollar coffee is long gone.   In the real world location still matters.

We parked on Mission and strolled through stores where some had ten foot storefronts but were 100 feet deep and filled with every imaginable Chinese trinket sold in the last 50 years.  

Going through these stores made us realize that even though we thought we had seen it all, there were a number of trinkets that were totally new to us. 

Maybe we need to get out more often. 

We stopped at Casa Lucaz on the way out as the wife wanted "chamitles" or sweet corn tamales.   It's not clear whether the owner's of Casa are Mexican or not but they clearly have done well for years by providing what the market wants as was in our case with the sweet corn tamales.  

As we headed back down the coast past Pacifica, Devil's Slide and Half Moon Bay we were reminded that our favorite route home from San Francisco via Highway 1 is the prettiest highway in the world and just 30 minutes from San Francisco.  

Don't believe it?  The CHP were stopping traffic just above Pescadero as they were filming a sports car commercial...   

We stopped in Pescadero at Duarte's Tavern and had fried oysters; a fitting end to a fitting day.  

And as we got closer to home we vowed to get back to the best city in the world more often...and not just for business.

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March 21, 2008

A Riviera Maya Caribbean Beach Camping Trip or Which Way is Bacalar?

In the very dim early morning light I hear a large truck pull up just down the beach from us. I look out the tent window and see men with guns getting out of the back. Either these are bandidos, the Zapatistas invading Quintana Roo or the Mexican Army. Fortunately for us, it’s the latter.

We get out of the tent and they stop by for a chat. The sergeant speaks great Spanish but it’s clear the three privates are Indian and speak with accents. They are all tall, strong, imposing and in full battle gear, much as one would expect from soldiers on beach patrol.

"Where are you going?" asks the sergeant.

"Chetumal," I answer.

"That’s where I’m from," he replies, "there are some pretty places to visit there. You ought to see Bacalar…"

"What are you doing here?"

"Patrolling the beach though there isn’t much to patrol," he answers.

"Not much to do in the Mexican Army".

"Not since the Zapatistas and that guy Marcos. Our unit was one of the first in and that was a fight all right. But now everything has pretty much calmed down there…everybody is behaving themselves so we get to patrol these beaches." They say good-bye and get back in their truck and leave.

The morning is spectacular and we walk out to Solomon's Point on the bay and take more pictures. Fortunately all my batteries are charged and we should be able to take all we want. Camping does present its challenges.

The sea creatures are interesting and we find some that look like ancient trilobites; perhaps distant cousins. The Mexicans have it right; we are all cousins whether directly related or not.  We get back to camp and get sleepy; those tourists sure like sleeping a lot. 

Hours later some snorkelers wake us up, the sun is high and it is getting hot inside the tent. The better half is already outside talking to them and they just went spear fishing; they got a large barracuda and maybe a dozen smaller fish. They give us three small fish for lunch…

"Great," I tell her, "and just how do you propose we cook them?"

She laughs and says we need to drive into Tulum to get some ice and supplies. I look in the cooler and all we have is a beer; guess it’s beer and nuts for breakfast. We later drive into Tulum and once again cannot believe how it has grown. There are two parts of town; the Mexican side and the Tourist side.

We go into a supermarket in the tourist side and hear German, French, Italian and of course English. Not much Spanish. There are all the amenities for the tourist and the locals must feel strangely about this invasion of foreigners…but the invaders aren’t interested in anything much more than a hundred meters off the beach…so tourism generated jobs aren’t that bad a trade off.

But the day may soon come, and it has in certain areas like Cancun, where there is little or no public beach access. Such is life. And we in the States worry about the Mexicans invading us!

With this land grab there is a search for the unspoiled and the turistas talk about this place or that place and how one is more remote than the other. Everything is relative and it is only a matter of time before all the remoteness will be gone. At least along the Mexican Caribbean beaches. 

When we get back, we start the fire and let the coals burn down. I take a walk down the beach. The hotel workers rake the sand in front so there is no trash or seaweed to spoil the dazzling white coral sand. 

Of course this accelerates beach erosion.  Many hotels even put wooden planks from the water back up to the hotel so the tourists don’t have to get their feet sandy. Go figure…tourists are a strange lot.

On the opposite side of the bay there is new construction. It is a land grab of incredible proportions as the sound of bulldozers can be heard as the jungle is being cleared out.

Back at camp she has already cooked the fish and offering some to two soldiers patrolling the beach. The soldiers are in some kind of training and camping out off the beach.

They are supposed to find their own food; one way or another and the camping tourists seem to be a good way to get fed, ha! We give them tortillas, potatoes, onions as well as fish; living off the land or rather beach as one might say. 

We eat the fish on palm frond plates and it is delicious. We eat our fill and watch as tour groups drive past in those four wheeler motorcycles, their fat rear ends dangling and bouncing off the back. 

We clean up and I sit down and ponder the universe, just like in those beer commercials with the white sand. But there are no bikini babes in my commercial, though there are some fat German women down the beach baring their sunburned breasts.

The wife asks why not go and shoot pictures of them and I decline. I don’t have time for such nonsense when pondering the state of the universe…

I come to the amazing realization that the white sand, sea and warm breezes make one sleepy so I retire for my second nap of the day. What can I say? Sometimes it’s better not to fight nature, no?  

And yet somehow as great as it is I’m not sure I would pay $500 a day to come and sleep near the beach…even if the German ladies weren’t so fat.

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January 17, 2008

Culture Shock: From Third World to First World in One Long Day

The day begins before dawn; starting the fire and getting some hot water on for baths and coffee.   Even though we are staying in our palapas in town, the stars are amazingly bright and the air is amazingly clear.  Our town is a Maya village.

Even before the east begins to brighten; the roosters are crowing like crazy.  The roosters are crazy of course; all chickens are neurotic messes.   The crickets are cricketing and the east slowly begins to brighten.  Coffee is made, baths are taken, the car is packed and it's goodbye time to the jungle.     

But parting is such sweet sorrow.  While the bug bites and dysentery will not be missed, the pristine environment and many Maya friends will.  Neighbor's tears abound but alas there is an afternoon fight from Cancun to Phoenix that simply cannot be missed.   Besides, the jungle can take care of itself and hopefully another hurricane won't hit.  God forbid, we lost so many big trees. 

We drive into Felipe Carrillo Puerto and get something to eat.  Time is becoming increasingly important as we shift back to the First World.   Time may be what the clock says but it is starting to run our lives again.   We can't miss the flight. 

We order coffee and sabuites and discuss the day's preflight travel agenda.  Unfortunately a side trip to Akumal is out and we took enough pictures of Tulum; but it would be nice to stop for lunch in Playa before going to the airport.  Big plans.

We head north from Carrillo onto the stretch of notorious highway known by us locals as the 'Tramo de Muerte' or Death Strip.   Even veteran Mexico drivers prefer spending the night in Playa or Tulum before heading onto the Death Strip at night.  But it's almost 9:00 AM and it's not raining.   Death Strip or not, it's pedal to the metal. 

We stop in Tulum and buy some bread and hear the German and French Canadian accents.   Rotten weather in Germany and Canada and no Maya spoken here.   The only Maya we see are those making food and stocking shelves; sweeping floors and picking up trash.

It's off to Playa del Carmen and the fastest growing municipality in Mexico.   We have lunch at Cafe Andrade and speak to the waiters who we know well; on prior business trips I set up my office there but not today.   We see one Maya cook.  After some Coronas and an 'arrachera' steak, it's off to the Cancun Airport. 

At the rental car drop off we handle the necessary paperwork and the car has no damage; just a lot of that white, limestone sascab dust that one gets doing backroad jungle day trips.   We get a lift to the airport and stand in a very, very long line for over an hour but that's okay as the Phoenix flight is over four hours.  At the counter they tell us our flight is delayed just long enough so we won't be able to make our connection in Phoenix.   This just simply confirms the fact that Phoenix is one big Twilight Zone for connections.   If it happens every single time, is that a trend or a law of physics? 

To make matters worse, in Phoenix we were missing a bag.   The wife had tied yellow and red ribbons and I happened to see this family with a similar suitcase with said ribbons.  I took the liberty of examining the tags and determined it was my bag they were getting ready to carry through customs.  And they looked a bit strange...not a good idea, eh?   Clueless or diabolical?   At this point, there are no Maya.  

The Phoenix Airport is modern but about as intuitive as a computer chip.   After finding our bag and going through immigration and customs, we of course barely miss our San Jose connection.   The good news, the next one was only two hours later.  

It is very clear this next flight is the Silicon Valley Techie shuttle run as all are carrying their laptops and look dead tired with that sunken, black eye syndrome.   On the flight to San Jose I noticed that almost all were asleep; no pretzels and Bloody Mary mix for this lively bunch.

At San Jose all was new and bright and under construction.  The San Jose Airport is in the state of Perpetual Construction.  If you drive, you will never take the same path twice.   That should remind you to buy stock in Perpetual Construction, Inc. and their never-ending contract.  

After a long day it's finally home.   The bills have piled up and nothing has gotten better.   Washington, D.C. and Hollywood, California are still there and still the same.   Things may change but not much.  At home the Internet and phones work and Carlos Slim doesn't own them yet...my water bill is thirty times higher and my electric bill twenty times higher.   Agrarian Reform does have its advantages.  It's raining but there are no trees down...yet. 

As I look through my "Official Sample Ballot" for the upcoming Presidential election I see numerous and sundry ways whatever is proposed is going to cost me more money.   That's what the future bodes...welcome to reality.  No Mayas on the ballot but the Indians that are on the ballot stand to make tens of millions of bucks if I vote for them to open casinos.  Why not?  

It never ceases to amaze the power of long distance travel and the impact of a good, strong culture shock.   Only broken Maya spoken here.

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