I was working in the countryside last weekend and I met a lovely horse. It took me ages to persuade the horses, calves and donkeys to come close to me. Then it gave me great pleasure to show my colleagues how to handle livestock. Did you know that horse’s eyes magnify images so you are much larger and scarier than you think you are? We gently blew into the cattle’s noses and they blew back. The delight on my city friends’ faces was a joy.
I lived in the countryside for many years and part of my heart is still there. In my last post I said I wasn’t blue but it took an appointment with my psychiatrist this week, to realize that I am low. Dang those chemical imbalances! A medication has been added to my daily potion for a short time and I hope to be back to my old self soon. Every time this happens, I am taken by surprise; perhaps it is a self protective mechanism in my brain.
There is no particular reason for it other than working more hours than usual and being stressed. The change is seasons affects me too and the stupid daylight savings time. The additional drug makes me sleepy but I can feel it’s influence already. Aren’t we lucky to live in the modern age of medicine? Teddy was so ill recently with a systemic infection that they gave him antibiotics that are used to treat the Plague! That scared the life out of me.
I may not post or read blogs as much as usual but I will be back (Arnold Schwartzenegger voice). Sometimes this medication elevates my mood more than it should, so my posts might be more interesting than usual…
I have a busy work week and am traveling soon but after that we will return to Mexico. How many shades of blue can you see in the photograph? The blue green of the Caribbean is so lovely contrasted against the blue sky. This is the pier at Celestun, Mexico on a windy but warm day. There is no one on the beach behind me – a little piece of heaven. Despite my last post, my mood is not blue just reflective.
Her bed was an object of degradation. It reeked of alcohol and sweat. Too drunk to make it the bathroom, the bed was stained with urine. Sometimes it smelled of sex and the repugnant odor of her boyfriend. He hated my looks of disgust and barbed comments. It was all too easy for him to look past the sad eyes of a 15 year old girl whose life was falling apart. Mental illness and self-medication had turned her home into a hovel. There was no safe haven.
She had transmogrified from a caring, beautiful, working single mother into a burden for the only person she always loved – me. We went from fairy stories about my missing Prince of a father – handsome but troubled – to the drunken ravings of a mad woman. What made it worse is the ravings were true. My father had asked her to abort the unwanted fetus, me, and if she hadn’t had me her life may have been so much better.
My heart broke into crystalline pieces like a shattered fairy castle. The truth was there and I just chose not to see it. Perhaps I never needed to know all the intimate details of how my father betrayed us. One revelation was that an American relative wanted to adopt me but my mother refused to consider such a possibility. I longed for Aunt Jackie to rescue me but by this stage we were no longer in contact.
Sometimes I reacted with kindness to my mother’s sad life but mostly I became remote with sarcastic comments. After a neighbor asked me to take her home, she was drunk and incapable of walking the few hundred yards, I shoved her into the wall of the house in frustration. She just sobbed and asked me to forgive her. I could not.
In anger I looked at the bed and tore the filthy bedding from it. I recoiled when I realized that it was soaked in urine. Lifting up the mattress to see if it was as bad on the other side, I saw that she had torn open the lining of the bottom divan and it was filled with dozens of mostly empty bottles of whisky. My temper flared and I started pouring the remaining whisky down the bathroom sink to the sound of her plaintive sobbing. She knew that I had been checking to see how many bottles she was drinking. At her worst it was a bottle of whisky a day.
I was in the discount section of the supermarket and I saw reduced hair color. Although it said it was light neutral blonde, it went Cersei red, previously known as strawberry blonde. That provoked me to be unfaithful to my current hairdresser and try someone new. For the husbands – this is an insight into the convoluted thinking of women.
My hair is really difficult to cut but I think she made a good job of my elfin request. Two days later and it doesn’t really look that good anymore… It really needs some product to fluff and separate it. It is rodeo week in Houston so I dressed like a typical Texan cowgirl – the top is covered in sparkles, y’alls!
I decided to create my blog on WordPress because I thought there might be less negativity than other forms of social media. For the most part it has been a perfect way to express myself in words and pictures. Twice in two weeks, however, I have received comments that were both negative and unpleasant. The first time I decided to call out the racist, Racists come in every color, but the second comment I deleted. Despite my initial common sense reaction, deep down I felt hurt, low and discouraged.
Many times I have sympathized with fellow bloggers, truly hurt, when someone has made a nasty comment. Why do people do this? It is a free press but kindness and etiquette should still come first even if you vociferously disagree with another post. Occasionally I sigh when a new follower has very different political view or set of morals but I can still appreciate them.
This particular comment was in response referred to my post Courtship by an Angel which was very quickly followed by My True Valentine – a testament of my love for my husband. You can read the post about Angel but here is a quick summary: On my recent trip to Mexico I hired a local driver, about 37, married with children. At the end of our time together, he started complimenting me and indicated that he might like to cheat with me. NOTHING HAPPENED nor did I do anything to encourage him. I was utterly complimented by a much younger man desiring me.
The comment was from a regular follower (no longer I assume) and I suppose that’s why it is so upsetting.
“This is so sad and the ‘delighted giggles’ at a man willing to cheat (on his wife and children) is part of the problem and only encourages men to overstep the mark. I pray all women gain a high sense of self- esteem and not rely on compliments by anyone else to boost them. Yes, it is nice to be healthfully complimented but seriously, ladies, wise up to the deviance”
My self-esteem is low; mental illness gives me a strange form of body dysmorphia and a general insecurity about anyone liking me. As for flirting or, more accurately, being engaging – I do it with everyone and every species. Babies, old ladies, cats, dogs – they are all prey to me charming them into submission. If only it was truly that easy to have self-esteem and not rely on compliments… I suspect I hit a nerve and I truly sympathize with anyone who has been profoundly hurt with infidelity. It is not deviant behavior, though, just human.
My personal experience is that there are much worse things that can happen to a relationship. My father mentally abused my mother and abandoned both of us. As humans we find it hard to be with just one partner or the divorce rate would be lower. None of those statements, or my flirting, indicate that I endorse cheating in relationships or life. Forgiveness is a wonderful quality and I wish I were better at it. I feel that some of my followers read my blog about churches but neglect to see older posts that talk very openly about sexuality. For any new followers – I am a left wing liberal who loathes our President, guns and a stupid wall. Ironically, I can no longer have physical sexual intercourse because of a rare medical condition (which I will talk openly about in a future blog). It struck me that some of my sadness and longing for a ‘normal’ sexual life might be emanating from me like a beacon.
Let’s lighten this blog up! I was chatted up by a handsome young man in a foreign country with a different culture. For all I know my open personality and solo traveling was a signal that I might be available. The one wise thing I did was not to make him feel bad when I was alone with a strange man in the back of beyond. But as for charming…it continues. I have two older admirers in the produce department of my local supermarket. One is Hispanic and he likes that I thank him in Spanish. The other is Southern and loves my accent. Last week they were subtly fighting for my attention. Southern Gentleman, with some teeth missing, won the battle and we started chatting. I laughingly said, “I can’t be the only lady with a foreign accent in here”. He deftly responded, “But you are unique…” I walked off with a spring in my step and as far as I know neither of them intend to leave their wives for me. It would be a waste of time because my preference is a full set of teeth and a tad younger. 🐆
I always loved the names for groups of animals but the real name for a group of bats is a cauldron of bats. That is just superstitious nonsense – look at those cute little furry faces! I think there is at least three of them – a mama and two babies, perhaps. On my very first internship at Chester Zoo in England, I helped edit the zoo magazine which pictured a Dominican Republic fruit bat which the zoo had saved from the edge of extinction. Fruit bats are terribly important to our ecosystem. Their guano or poop fertilizes both the soil and the fruit trees. What would we do without our guavas or bananas or fruit bats?
Just as I was leaving Jaltun Parque near Celestún in the Yucatan Peninsula, Mexico, my guide, Senor Ortega, pointed out the fruit bats nestled in the palm tree. I tried so hard to get a great photograph but this was the best I could process. When we lived in Cairo, we were woken up by a strange thumping in the back garden. All we could see in the dark were fallen guavas but then we made out the faint outline of fruit bats knocking the guavas out of the tree and picking them off the ground. When we lived in our first bought house on an estuary in North Wales, my mum’s cat Tibby came to visit and was terrified by the strange ‘birds’ that flew right at her with their radar. We have bats in our back yard but go to bed too early to see them…sleepy Teddy and Bunny.
The park also had some orchids
Red OrchidWhite Orchid with purple center
The spiny tailed iguana pictured in the last blog lives in hollowed out logs.
Can you see his little face?Green heron
This is a slightly better shot of my pensive heron with the terracotta water below. Celestún is an isthmus and just before you reach the beach area you cross over the first body of water. It looked so tranquil.
Pensive Green Heron. I think this is my favorite ever shot
Angel, my driver in Merida, was intuitive about what I was enjoying. I got very animated about nature ‘naturalis’ and he suggested that we go to Celestun the day after visiting Mayapan and Dzibiltchaltun archeological sites. Celestun is famous for its large flocks of pink flamingos that live on what is now a nature reserve. It is a small beach town situated on an isthmus in the Gulf of Mexico, right around the corner from the Caribbean. The night before I excitedly googled the area and was concerned about the small boats that take you out to see the flamingos (fear of water in small boats). Additionally, some of the articles mentioned that the influx of tourists was affecting where the flamingos nested. They keep moving further away from humans. I knew the beach would be magnificent but noted that there was a small Nature Park, Jaltun Parque Recreativo, just before the town.
This was a common black hawk. Common for the Yucutan… There was a nest close by.
Angel looked at me quizzically, as he had never gone there before, but followed his GPS and we arrived at a scrubby bit of jungle. I looked at it uncertainly not knowing that this was going to be the cherry on the cake in Mexico. No one spoke English but the gentleman who guided me had his wildlife book in both Spanish and English. We excitedly chatted and I discovered that he was an Ortega – my cousin! It takes me a while to get my eye in, when hunting for critters, but my guide was an expert. He could identify every bird song, every tree and all the critters. It’s amazing how you don’t really need a common language when you are in tune with nature. I perfectly understood that he was telling me about the wonders of nature – one tree, very close to another, was very toxic but the other provided the antidote. Most of the animals were in the jungle but there were a few in small caged areas.
This is an African tree, planted by birds!
One of them was the Yucatan spiny tailed iguana. I asked Senor Ortega if I could hold it and he explained,with concern, that they were very fast and I would have to hold it firmly behind the neck. As an expert lizard catcher, I eagerly held out my hands. It was a chilly winter morning in Celestun and the poor wee thing was cold. I snuggled it into my sweater for warmth, delighting in the opportunity to be up close to an indigenous critter.
Carpenter Woodpecker Stop tapping so I can get a decent shot!!!
My guide was delighted at my derring-do and we walked into the jungle where he heard a carpenter woodpecker. We tracked it down and he was more excited than me! I knew my camera wasn’t up to a good shot because the woodpecker wouldn’t stop tapping but patiently waited for my guide to get just the right shot! He was terribly impressed by my ability to track quietly and see birds. Ah, that native DNA comes in handy at times…
Morelet’s Crocadillo
This is a shot of a Morelet Crocadillo just gently basking in the stream. I have seen many alligators and crocodiles but that might have been my only opportunity to see this particular crocodile that is found only in Central America. Just call me Crocodile Kerry…
A special treat was to pop my head inside the boa’s enclosure and take a shot while they were both hissing at me. When I got back to the car, tired and happy, Angel looked horrified at my shots of serpientes and shuddered! Off we drove, along the road into Celestun. It struck me afterwards that I had been cuddling all sorts of critters and it didn’t even cross my mind to wash my hands. This might be why I got a parasite in Egypt.
Try saying that when you have had a couple of glasses of Mexican Rosé… Dzibilchaltún, (Dzeebeelchaltoon is the pronunciation and it translates as ‘the place with writing on the walls) is a Maya archeological site close to the city of Mérida in Yucatan, Mexico. Seven small clay or stone figurines were found at the Temple of the Dolls which led to the name and it is built under the ruins of a previous pyramid. The city has been continuously occupied for 3000 years. It was exciting walking towards the Temple along the ‘sacbe’ or white road wondering what type of religious processions took place there.
The white road
The cenôte is likely the reason why the city was situated in that location and it is one of the largest, deepest in the Yucatan. Dzibilchaltún was a wealthy port, close to the Caribbean and local salt production. Archeologists have studied just a portion of the site and have found up to 8000 structures – it must have been a buzzing city with a peak population of about 20,000 to 40,000 people, even larger than Mayapan. Dzibilchaltún was not as remote or quiet as Mayapan but still relatively quiet with many local visitors, some expats and non-tourists just like me! Throughout the ages Dzibilchaltún has changed from a city to a town to its current status as a village. It began to decline in popularity after the rise of Chichen Itza.
Dzibiltchaltun Cenotewater hyacinths at cenote
When the Conquistadores arrived they used the local stone from previous structures to build a 16th century chapel which is now also a ruin.
remains of 16th century chapel
Eight stucco masks of the Rain God Chaac were found in the Temple of the Dolls. The Yucatan has no natural lakes or rivers so rain is still much needed to fill the cenotes and water crops. My upbringing in Scotland has given me enough rain to last a lifetime… At the equinoxes the sun shines right through the entrance to the Temple of the Dolls creating a fantastic effect.
Remains of a pyramid at DzibiltchaltunTunnel into PyramidLittle flash of red in jungle
On a final side note, my Mexican Rose wine was quite delicious and went well with the food in Yucatan, which is hearty. The Spanish brought wine-making to Mexico and most of it comes from Baja, just below California.
Although I have been to the Yucatan area of Mexico a few times, I have never visited the famous pyramids. I have visited Tulum, the youngest Maya site, as you can read in an older blog. As much as Chechen Itza fascinates me, my almost phobic fear of too many tourists, has made me avoid it. Before this rapidly organized trip to Merida, I researched travel blogs to see how easy it would be to hire a driver to reach some of the more remote archeological sites. Apparently it was as easy as negotiating with a taxi driver, especially since I only wanted to go for 4 hours at a time.
Plaza
After I arrived at my newly renovated hotel, I asked the receptionist about a driver. She told me that a driver had just handed in some cards. I said that websites had indicated that 800 pesos was reasonable for 4 hours. When she called him, he counter offered 1,100 pesos which is about $60. That seemed fair and he arrived very promptly in a very clean new red car. He was a charming young man, perhaps in his late 30s, rejoicing in the name Angel Ku. Ku is a native name meaning frypan. He had a little English and I had bad Spanish but we communicated perfectly well. I explained that I didn’t like crowds, so off we went to the Mayapán Zona Arqueológica, not to be confused with the town of Mayapán.
Carving detail
The archeological ruins were in excellent condition, it cost just a few pesos and there were about 20 other visitors in what was once a city of 17,000 people. Between the 1200s and 1400s it was the capital of the Maya, situated about 30 miles south east of Merida and 70 miles west of Chichen Itza. Mayapán had about 4000 structures within the city walls and many more outside, presumably for workers and farmers. One of the most attractive temples is the Temple of Kukulcan – it is the light version as the temple at Chichen Itza is more intricate and structurally sound. The limestone used at Mayapán is an inferior grade, perhaps all that was available in that location? It is believed that the founder of Mayapán was King Kukulcan (aka Quezalcoactl) after the fall of Chichen Itza.
There are some unique elements to the site with so many rounded buildings and no ball courts. This is the Temple Redondo –
Temple RedondoView from Redondo to Pyramid
There were 26 cenotes (sinkholes providing water) around the city which perhaps explains the high population or vice versa. It has a central plaza which was surrounded by government buildings and houses of nobles. Other houses within the walled area encircled patios. Mayapán has a rather bloody history with shafts filled with sacrificial victims but at some point it was an important center of trade all across Central America. A wide range of foods were eaten and grown; there is some evidence of slaves which suggests wealth of the nobility. There is some evidence that there was a death cult. I mused if a large population and perhaps a catastrophic weather change might have contributed to the fighting with other tribes and the ultimate demise of Mayapán but that is pure supposition on my part. All great empires fall eventually, take note USA.
Inside the round tower
It was utterly magical to be in a pyramid city, almost alone with endless acreage of jungle right beside the site. If I had walked into the jungle, I might never have been found again. The photograph below shows how steep the pyramid climb was but it was so worth it! You really had to go up on hands and feet. On the way down I sat on my bottom and climbed down that way. If I had stood up, the steepness would have terrified me. It amused me that the teenagers just copied what I did (and they were a tad slower).
Vertigo!
It was blissfully quiet with no signs of any current habitations. If you visit, there are no facilities at the sight – no restrooms and you can only travel by car, bus or local bus. Please don’t tell too many people… La belleza estaba en la tranquilidad – the beauty was in the tranquility. There are no vendors, just some staff and it is still being excavated by archaeologists.
Most of you know that we have an inside cat and an outside cat. Katniss (the outside cat) is utterly feral and I can’t touch her (so is the inside cat…). We live in the sub tropics and she normally uses my deck as shade but the weather is crazy right now. Here she is with some snowflakes in her dense black fur. She complained bitterly to me but doesn’t believe that I am only the Goddess of tinned food, not the weather. Fortunately, I have been feeding her like a Christmas Goose and she has a nice layer of blubber. Houston has just closed for two days because of a ridiculous cold front. It went down to single digits (F) in some places.
Here are icicles still frozen on my bush.
Icicles!
I drove to the airport today and it was scary to see how much ice there had been. Not only do we not have the capacity to deal with this kind of weather but none of us know how to drive in it. I learned to drive in Texas so my only skills are driving fast (breaking fast when I spot state troopers), avoiding flash floods and parking under the only tree in the summer.
Poor cold aloe
Even my poor little Aloe Vera is completely frozen. About 10 years ago I planted an inch of aloe and it grew and grew like Topsy. I hope she survives this freak ice storm. Teddy flew to Oklahoma (I always burst into song when I say that) and it will be even colder there, brrrrr! I am desperate to share my adventure in Mexico with y’all amigos but am too tired to do it justice. Next week…
Postcards from Kerry 