On Thursday, February 2nd, we were going to eat breakfast at Chaya Maya again, but discovered that they didn't open until 8 a.m., so we went instead to Bistrola 57, and were pleased. The coffee was the best we had on the whole trip.
Then we went on another Turitransmérida tour, this time to Celestun. The group was somewhat smaller, and Mary Joy and I were the only English-language clients. Our guide, whose name we didn't get, was older than Raul, and his English was a little less accented. He picked us up first, and immediately gave us the overall, general information that he later gave everyone else in Spanish.
The van drove about an hour-and-a-half, over roads not as good as on the day before, through many small villages where some of the inhabitants were living in tiny concrete-block (?) buildings with thatched roofs. Mary Joy was shocked at the poverty, but there was no indication of destitution or hunger. I saw much worse in El Salvador and Guatemala in 1989 and 1992.
Celestun is known for the Reserva Biosfera Ría Celestún, a coastal wildlife refuge famous for its flamingos. The group divided into two fast boats, which shot out the shallow estuary to the place where hundreds of flamingos were noisily feeding. Then we went through a mangrove tunnel and visited a freshwater spring.
On our return, we went for lunch to a hotel near the beach. We were sitting next to a young couple from Mexico City, a pediatrician and a pediatric nurse, with whom we had an interesting conversation about health care and politics in Mexico. They were pretty disillusioned with Mexican society in general, and had decided to have one child of their own and adopt another, because of the vast need for adoptive parents. They felt that the best thing they could do for their society was to give it children who were brought up to be good, responsible people.
Then we changed into our swimsuits and walked over to the beach, whereupon it started to rain, on and off, not very heavily. We didn't actually do any swimming, but sat under a tarp, drinking Sol beer.
We got back to Merida in time to go to the restaurant Manjar Blanca, which closed its doors at 6 p.m. A very nice meal, though I don't remember what exactly we had.
That evening we walked the block to Parque Santa Lucia, where every Thursday night they put on an hour-long concert of Yucatecan trova music, called La Serenada. Some sort of festival was going on at Santa Lucia church, but we didn't have time to stop. On the program for the concert was the city band, as on Monday night, and another Ballet Folclorico, this one much younger (Juventil, instead of Adulto Mayor). There was a guitar quintet (called a trio, for some reason--maybe the drummer and vocalist were extras) that was apparently well-known and loved locally--they "had to" do two encores. Then there was a female vocalist, before the show finished up, a little late, with more folk dancing. Very nice. As we walked home past the church, we saw that the parish festival was over, with only a cat present to do some scavenging.
The next morning we caught an early taxi to the airport and flew home through Houston again.
Then we went on another Turitransmérida tour, this time to Celestun. The group was somewhat smaller, and Mary Joy and I were the only English-language clients. Our guide, whose name we didn't get, was older than Raul, and his English was a little less accented. He picked us up first, and immediately gave us the overall, general information that he later gave everyone else in Spanish.
The van drove about an hour-and-a-half, over roads not as good as on the day before, through many small villages where some of the inhabitants were living in tiny concrete-block (?) buildings with thatched roofs. Mary Joy was shocked at the poverty, but there was no indication of destitution or hunger. I saw much worse in El Salvador and Guatemala in 1989 and 1992.
Celestun is known for the Reserva Biosfera Ría Celestún, a coastal wildlife refuge famous for its flamingos. The group divided into two fast boats, which shot out the shallow estuary to the place where hundreds of flamingos were noisily feeding. Then we went through a mangrove tunnel and visited a freshwater spring.
On our return, we went for lunch to a hotel near the beach. We were sitting next to a young couple from Mexico City, a pediatrician and a pediatric nurse, with whom we had an interesting conversation about health care and politics in Mexico. They were pretty disillusioned with Mexican society in general, and had decided to have one child of their own and adopt another, because of the vast need for adoptive parents. They felt that the best thing they could do for their society was to give it children who were brought up to be good, responsible people.
Then we changed into our swimsuits and walked over to the beach, whereupon it started to rain, on and off, not very heavily. We didn't actually do any swimming, but sat under a tarp, drinking Sol beer.
We got back to Merida in time to go to the restaurant Manjar Blanca, which closed its doors at 6 p.m. A very nice meal, though I don't remember what exactly we had.
That evening we walked the block to Parque Santa Lucia, where every Thursday night they put on an hour-long concert of Yucatecan trova music, called La Serenada. Some sort of festival was going on at Santa Lucia church, but we didn't have time to stop. On the program for the concert was the city band, as on Monday night, and another Ballet Folclorico, this one much younger (Juventil, instead of Adulto Mayor). There was a guitar quintet (called a trio, for some reason--maybe the drummer and vocalist were extras) that was apparently well-known and loved locally--they "had to" do two encores. Then there was a female vocalist, before the show finished up, a little late, with more folk dancing. Very nice. As we walked home past the church, we saw that the parish festival was over, with only a cat present to do some scavenging.
The next morning we caught an early taxi to the airport and flew home through Houston again.
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