Category Archives: travel

~b a h a m a s~ spring break 2024

We’ve just enjoyed a week in the Bahamas for the kid’s Spring Break. She was such a trooper about last year’s Colonial Williamsburg Spring Break that this year we promised and delivered a tropical trip.

Not knowing much about the traditional island vacation destinations we picked Atlantis in the Bahamas. We were fortunate to have very easy travel days and no flight issues on JetBlue. The resort itself is sprawling and has several gorgeous pools, a water park with an extensive lazy river, slides through aquarium tanks, open air habitats for turtles, mantas and sharks. There are different hotels in the resort complex and we stayed at the Royal, close to the park and pools. This was good for the kid but Brandon and I agreed that if we were ever to return, we’d stay at the Cove, which is quieter, more sedate, and private. However, the rooms were very quiet, the walls thick, and we heard nary a disturbing peep from our neighbors.

This year has already been pretty stressful for all of us for various reasons so we had no plans to do anything other than go somewhere warm and relax. We didn’t book any excursions or sightseeing, which is unusual for us. For most of the trip, we were parked poolside. The beaches were not busy – the waves were high during our stay and the resort staff kept people away from the water. Beach chairs went fast and the pools were less windy, closer to bathrooms and amenities. The weather was consistently excellent- warm and bright, high 70’s and perfect for poolside lounging. I donned my coastal grandmother bucket hat and white Oxford shirt and read several books. There were multiple bars and restaurants and a resort casino featuring a few spectacular Chihuly installations. And we walked through the marina, full of sleek long yachts against the almost surreal backdrop of the sun setting in the palm trees.

The downsides were standard. The resort is simply enormous and busy – Vegas on the beach. You have to plan meals and make reservations and be prepared to stand in line and pay top dollar for everything. (Luckily we eat early so we generally did not have a problem finding tables.) Pool and beach chairs go fast and people go down early to claim the best ones (again, not a problem for us, since eating early = going to bed early = getting up early. We were generally poolside by 8:30. However, we did see many late-risers wandering around sadly at about noon, looking for empty chairs and bemoaning the long lines for towels and water slide wristbands.) It is not all-inclusive so you simply bleed money. Everything is ridiculously upcharged. Case in point- although we packed sunscreen, we went through it faster than expected (hello pale Midwesterner skin) and were forced to pay TWENTY SEVEN DOLLARS for one bottle from the resort store.

stalking resort cats

There was great people-watching (Brandon: “I can’t remember a trip as rich in its interface with raw humanity!”) We saw an unfortunate amount of panic over lost items poolside including one woman in hysterics over a lost phone and another over a lost passport. We saw many dead-eyed parents dragging overtired, underfed, wailing kids through the corridors. We heard many rote intonations of “get off the floor”, “my God can’t we take you ANYWHERE WITHOUT HAVING A SCENE” and even an “I WILL LEAVE YOU HERE” as kids melted down. We saw a dad push a stroller into the bar looking for his wife who was there drinking champagne only to have the kid pluck her champagne flute out of her hand and send it sailing across the bar to crash into splinters as he looked on, expressionless. We heard rumors of one part of the hotel in which the elevator lines could be prohibitively long at the end of the day, stretching down the corridor, filled with screaming children and strollers.

I don’t know if we’d go back – next year we may do a cruise or go somewhere all-inclusive – but we were happy to get away and have a sunshine break and for what we were looking for, this fit the bill perfectly. I have stored up sunshine in my bones for the remainder of our sullen Michigan spring.

cinci recap + july goals

Happy July! The last few days have been rife with terrible air quality from the Canadian wildfires, rage and disappointment at our ‘pay for play’ SCOTUS, and long days thanks to the kid’s Drivers’ Ed. But we are now in July and I have goals.

Before I get into that, though, when we last spoke, I was getting ready to head to Cincinnati with my daughter, her friends, and our mom troop. Unfortunately, my emotional battery did not hold its charge very well and I spent the first ~24 hours with a nervous stomach. We AirBNB’d a massive Victorian in the historic Walnut Hills neighborhood, which promised two floors and sleeping space for 22. We gave the girls the top floor, with their own kitchenette, bathroom, and living room, and the moms bunked on the floor below them. The house may have slept 22 but only if you included couches and multiple folks per bed. This, my friends, is not something I’d be capable of, so I guiltily scoped out a terrible futon in the turret room where I could at least pull a curtain and be alone.

The girls had an absolute blast and between my sick stomach and the endless stairs to haul luggage, food, water, and cooking supplies up to our roost, I lost 4.2 pounds.

Despite the constant threat of storms, we managed to get the girls to Kings’ Island, which is a favorite for my little family since Brandon worked there as a teenager. It was a perfect day – the park was not crowded and the kids didn’t have to wait longer than 25 minutes for any ride. The kiddo has been there before so she played what she called ‘airport dad’ with her friends and gave them the deluxe tour. Even the girls who weren’t too hyped about roller coasters became converts and we closed the park down at 10 with fireworks and the light show. The moms were all impressed with KI – it’s clean and compact with a high concentration of fun coasters and a charming little ‘Main Street’ with fountains, cafe tables under umbrellas, and sweets and souvenir shops under the shade of the ‘Eiffel Tower’. And something about an amusement park in summertime – even the moms got into a lighthearted, almost childlike state – dancing with Snoopy, buying fudge and candy apples, and one of the moms even buying a stuffed Bob Ross doll.

Also among the girl goals was ‘ shopping in cute outfits’ (hahaha – I love teenagers) so the next day, after one of the girls made waffles, we took them to the mall and they spent major bank at Starbucks, Sephora and Ulta. By all measures, a successful trip.

The Canadian wildfires created major air quality issues for us last week, which seem to be diminishing now. The kiddo finished up Drivers’ Ed and hopefully, we can pick up her permit before she heads off for 12 days at Blue Lake Fine Arts camp.

Altogether, June was a bit of a bust in terms of my goals – I didn’t get as many running miles in, or stay in my healthy eating zone for as much as I’d have liked. July will hopefully be better, less busy with the kid at camp, so my goals are:

  • 50 running miles;
  • Healthy eating zone 15 days;
  • 10-minute daily yoga sessions at least 4x / week;
  • 10-minute daily knitting at least 4x / week.

I decided to pick up yoga again a couple of months ago when I temporarily lost my running mojo. I made it to several classes at my local studio. And I was inspired by one of my fellow mom tribe in Cinci, who brought her travel mat and did quick morning yoga videos every day we were there. Even if I can’t get to the studio for a full class, I can certainly fit in a 10-minute daily session several times a week. And since July is Tour de France month, wherein Brandon and I are absorbed in several hours of tour coverage every day, I can easily hit those knitting goals.

I hope everyone is looking forward to a safe and healthy 4th. I am working today, but will be off tomorrow for the holiday and Wednesday for kiddo camp dropoff, which is a 6-hour round trip. Be well and talk soon.

a very colonial spring break

I was having dinner with a friend a week or so ago and she told me that she is taking her nieces to the Bahamas for their Spring Break.
“Are you guys doing anything for your daughter’s break?”
“Yep.”
“Cool! Beach trip? Somewhere sunny? Or maybe skiing?”

Not quite. Instead, we decided to take a 10-hour road trip to recreate a nostalgic family vacation memory from my own childhood (being in the backseat of a maroon AMC Concord without air conditioning or FM radio in the July heat, driving across West Virginia). The kiddo is growing up fast, and the days of educational and staid family trips are almost over. Soon she’ll expect warm weather and beaches (indeed, several of her friends and their families were bound for tropical climes like Jamaica and Puerto Rico). Indeed, it won’t be long until she’s off on her own and making her own vacation plans. So, taking the chance while we had it – Colonial Williamsburg and Jamestown, here we come.

We only had a limited window of time, so we drove there on Sunday and home again on Wednesday. We booked a 2-bedroom apartment at a vacation resort where many of the other residents were time-share owners. It was much nicer than being in a hotel for this kind of trip. The kiddo had her own bedroom and bathroom, we had a nice living room and gas fireplace, washer and dryer, and no one else was assigned to our unit, so it was completely quiet and private. We had a kitchen, with a coffeemaker, and since we drove, we brought basic provisions – coffee, eggs, fruit, bagels and bread, peanut butter. It was a game-changer to be able to have decent coffee and a quick breakfast without leaving the room. The weather was touch and go – mid-50’s both days with drizzle on Monday – so we decided to save Williamsburg for Tuesday and hit Jamestown first. We thought it would be the quicker visit.

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I don’t have many childhood memories of our trip to Jamestown, except that my brother chased a chicken around the settlement for a fair amount of time (“We drove from Michigan to Virginia so Chris could chase chickens,” my dad later said). But there are actually two Jamestown sites to visit. Jamestown Settlement is a museum and a reenactment of the settlement and the tall ships, and Historic Jamestown is the actual site of the original colony. It’s now essentially an archaeological dig. Both sites are well worth visiting for different reasons, and we surprised ourselves by spending a full day exploring them.

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In addition to the reenacted site, Jamestown Settlement has a fantastic history museum. We spent almost two hours browsing there, and I could have easily spent another hour. A couple of miles away, in Historic Jamestown, you can see the 1600’s church, which still stands, the well and the burial grounds, and the foundation ruins of several original buildings. There are trenches where archaeologists are still excavating. We heard an amazing young woman give a very impassioned lecture about the experience of women in Jamestown. In the gift shop, I found a book about the Jamestown Brides, groups of young women who were recruited by the Virginia Company to travel to the colony to marry the settlers, lured by the promise of bettering their positions in a land of freedom and plenty (as you might imagine, this did not end up as they had hoped).

the ancestor of chris’s jamestown chicken

Colonial Williamsburg, the next day, was again a very enjoyable experience. We had a tavern lunch at the King’s Arms which made Brandon very happy (ale and chicken hash for him, an ‘onione pye’ for me, and ‘salmagundi’ for the kiddo, who was relieved to see it was just like a big chef’s salad). A musician played a variety of flutes and fiddles while we ate and gave a stirring chat about the importance of music in the colony. After, we wandered Duke of Gloucester Street until we needed a mid-afternoon snack (spiced ale and Queen Cake for Brandon, cookies and coffee for the kiddo and me) while sitting in the sporadic sunshine watching colonial life. We spent some time in the art museum. None of us are huge fans of folk art, and we all agreed that even though we had a good day, Jamestown was our favorite.

We ended the day walking over to the College of William & Mary to buy sweatshirts and have an early seafood dinner across the street from the campus. I’m not a huge beer drinker but something about getting 16-18k steps each day in colonial America gave me a craving and we found that tall cold glasses of Vienna Lager’s Devil’s Backbone hit the spot.

I was very impressed that both sites – but Jamestown especially – did a nice job of exploring the experiences of everyone in the colony, not just the white men. There were extensive displays about the impact and legacy of slavery in the colony, and the experiences of indigenous people and women.

It’s always nice when the three of us can take a trip and enjoy each other’s company – no fighting, limited fussing, and a lot of laughing. We promised the kiddo that next year we’ll go somewhere warm and sunny, but in the meantime, she was such a good sport and I hope that she’ll remember these few days together the way I remember my own family vacations.

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Summer 2022 – gradually coming out of a pandemic mindset, feeling more normal (although it’s a new normal).

We didn’t take a long vacation this year. The kiddo’s schedule was not the ‘mellow sleeping in until noon’ that we had expected – she starts high school in the fall, and had a long musical arts camp at Blue Lake, she took a high school credit course online, and her high school marching band had 2-3x weekly rehearsals and sectionals. So while it wasn’t the full onslaught of the spring track & field plus theater, it was still a lot of chauffeuring and sitting-in-the-car-knitting while I waited for her. Oddly, these are some of my favorite times and memories from this summer…I am valuing them because it’s not long now until she starts to drive, and will be more independent with her activities. (*sniff*)

Brandon’s sister came to visit for a weekend in July, and we enjoyed our downtown Founders’ Festival and the local 5k color run. Brandon has been at the skateboard park with the Old Bros club every weekend, and he & I went back to our fave restaurant Lucy & the Wolf in Northville for a date for the first time since the pandemic. I’ve been splitting my days between working from home, and going into the office 1-2x a week. I’ve read lots of books, listened to some great podcasts, run not as many miles as I’d like, finished a Night Owl cross-stitch, watched some great documentaries and Stranger Things 4 and spent an inordinate amount of time with the Tour de France (JONAS VINGEGAARD!!!!).

We did take a long weekend in New Orleans in June to celebrate school being out. It was ridiculously hot and in retrospect, a somewhat odd place to take a thirteen-year old. (Her first assessment is that it was dirty. LOL) But I love NOLA, the architecture and the history, and we tried to soak that in despite the 100+ degree swamp temps. We lounged in Jackson Square, went to the aquarium, went to Marie Laveau’s voodoo shop, had the kid’s fortune read, took an open top bus tour of the city (and got rained on), we ate tons of amazing food, and we ventured outside the city for a swamp tour and met Elvis Jr, an enormous alligator. We took a Dark History walking tour and learned all sorts of macabre tidbits, I found a knitting shop in the French Quarter (Quarter Stitch), and we visited a vintage book store (Crescent City Books). We fit a lot in during our time there.

Summer isn’t over yet but the kid has a week of band camp and then school starts before Labor Day on the 29th. It’s not long now. The only thing to do is enjoy it! We have a pool pass for the month of August, I’m looking forward to back to school shopping and the first home football game & band halftime show (which happens even before school starts), and lots of front porch knitting & reading with a glass of wine.

I hope everyone is enjoying their season. All the best from our house to yours. xo

savannah + rock & roll half marathon recap!

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It’s taken me a bit longer than I anticipated to get this post pulled together so thanks for your patience! It just means we were having a really awesome time on our trip and then had to quickly throw ourselves back into real life to finish out this week strong.

We front-loaded the weekend with the half marathon, so as soon as we were off the plane, Brandon’s sister picked us up and we were off to the expo (I was thrilled to note when I got my bib that Brandon had personalized it!) Brandon’s sis is one of the good ones, for sure. She’s an Ali McGraw, willowy, athletic Vineyard Vines / Northern by birth but Southern by choice who puts in minimum sixty hour work weeks and yet still finds the time to play competitive tennis, do Pilates, be the integral glue for a big Southern family and train for her first half. AND plan a perfect weekend trip for us.

She found us a beautiful flat almost right on Lafayette Square, just behind Flannery O’Connor’s childhood home, and everything, including race start and end, were within walking distance. The race route went right past our corner and we could have stood in the bay window to watch it. The morning started out cold, at least for Savannah – in the 50’s – and we bundled up in throwaway fleeces & sweatshirts after eating our toast & getting hydrated.

The route was flat and lovely – taking us through a lot of the city that we wouldn’t see as tourists as well as through the historic areas. And of course, there were runners in costume – several Elvises and a Tommy Lee, running shirtless in black jeans and a flowing black wig, twirling drumsticks. I ran the first 5 or 6 miles with Brandon and his sister, keeping a slow, steady pace (12’s) and walking through aid stations. I never would have known it was her first half – she was a champ! Then when we ran past our flat, their parents came out to hug and cheer them on and I lost them in the scrum. I didn’t want to stop because I knew that if I did I would have a harder time getting started again, so I popped in my headphones and powered on.  I felt strong and ran the next few miles between 11.15 and 10.42 (mile 10 was my quickest at 10.42) and then hit the wall at mile 11, gradually slowing down – 11.37, 11.40, 11.45.

Official Event Results:   2:32:52
Garmin time: 2:33 (11.37)

I felt great throughout, probably due to a very relaxed first six miles, and never had a moment during the race where I felt like I was suffering, even in the last 2 miles. I really enjoyed running with Brandon and his sister (who finished strong about ten minutes behind me, with Brandon running with her) but I think if I’d run my own race, I could have thrashed my A2 Half time (although it’s not a great comparison because the elevations are so different and there was nothing equivalent to the Arb Hill in Savannah).

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The rest of our trip was spent sightseeing, napping, eating, and watching (and nastily critiquing) Hallmark Christmas movies on the only channel we reliably got other than sports networks. I found a local yarn shop and made some purchases; I highly recommend The Frayed Knot if you’re in Savannah and need yarn!

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We took the riverboat tour on a bright, sunny afternoon, and shopped at Black Dog for souvenirs; we toured the Owens-Thomas House & Slave Quarters, which was excellent; and we celebrated Brandon’s parents’ 50th wedding anniversary with dinner at Elizabeth on 37th. This is a fabulous restaurant in an old Thomas Square mansion, and we found out halfway through the meal that our server is actually the owner (and a Nobel Peace Prize nominee).

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I fell in love with the lush green elegance and history of the city, the fountains and ghosts and Spanish moss, and cannot wait to go back.

 

 

 

 

getting out of my own way

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pizza at pagliai’s; hamm’s beer and cheeseburgers at george’s; the haunted bookshop; and street art

B & I had a great visit in northside Iowa City. In my estimation, he picked the perfect neighborhood to live in, and we spent our two days together enjoying it. The sun was shining and the weather was milder than Michigan; we ran down around the University of Iowa campus, ate cheeseburgers at George’s (dive bar extraordinaire) and browsed at the Haunted Bookshop where I finally spotted the other resident cat (I had to go both days).

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We finally watched one of the Oscar-nominated films (I don’t think either of us had seen any of them yet) – Three Billboards. Although the casting was wonderful, the movie itself perplexed and annoyed both of us. Spoiler Alert –> Couldn’t they have just focused on the ensemble cast and the themes of grief and vengeance and foregone the Molotov cocktails and the throwing of people out of windows?

It was a short visit (made shorter by Daylight Savings) and all too soon I was back in my car for the six hour journey home. I picked an Audible unabridged version of Ann Rule’s “The Stranger Beside Me” (about her relationship with notorious serial killer Ted Bundy). Unfortunately, this book is leaving me perplexed and annoyed as well, and not just because Ted Bundy was an evil maniac. It’s making me feel as though maybe I’m just an overly critical consumer of entertainment. I’m not quite done with it yet, so I will refrain from sharing my feelings about it until I am.

Back home; I am plunged into preparations for Book Fair and fighting a sore throat and rampant ennui. I feel woefully inadequate for the tasks ahead of me in the next week and a half and I am trying to focus on a passage I read in the Crosswick Journals by Madeline L’Engle (a battered three-volume set that I picked up for a song at the aforementioned Haunted Bookshop, and which is filled with more wonderful quotes and musings than I can possibly begin to digest – and while I’m at it allow me to confess one additional thing that may prove my point about being overly critical – I am deeply suspicious of the new movie version of “A Wrinkle In Time” – deeply – and not just because it is packed with Oprah and “big names” – although that might be part of it):

“A winter ago I was asked by the Children’s Book Council to write a story, and agreed to do so. I was telling Tallis about it, and said, “I’m really very nervous about this.” He looked at me contemptuously: “You don’t think you’re going to have anything to do with it, do you?” “No,” I retorted, “but I could get in the way.”

Here’s to getting out of our own way. xo

the one with thanksgiving and iowa city

To my great surprise, I fell in love with Iowa City over Thanksgiving weekend. I’m sure a lot of it had to do with the great company I was keeping, but B’s neighborhood charmed me to the core. He lives in the bottom floor of an old university residence in a neighborhood full of sprawling historic homes – golden planked wood floors, cracked plaster and tortoiseshell doorknobs. He pointed out the old Civil War recruiting house and the stone step, worn away from boots. Similar to the town where I grew up, there were random stone steps for climbing into carriages on the curbs, and rambling Georgians and Victorians under old oak trees. He lives close to church spires and the sound of their bells, and he can hear the whistle at the old power plant that still sets out the framework of the workday.

We ran our own Turkey Trot around campus on Thanksgiving morning. It was crisp and cold and the river was like glass.

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I’d expected that we would spend the day cooking and watching The Godfather marathon on AMC, but B had a surprise for me. One of the fellows he works with knew he was alone in the city, and invited him to his parent’s church for a Thanksgiving meal. The invitation was made so nicely that B didn’t want to refuse, and I was happy to go – who turns down two Thanksgiving meals? Not this girl.

We drove a few minutes to the nearby town and followed the directions. “There it is,” I said, and B turned quickly down a side street to park in a drift of fallen leaves. “I didn’t see it,” he said. “Well,” I said, “it doesn’t look like your typical church.”

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In fact, the church is a converted pizza restaurant, and I had a bad moment of shyness when we walked into the big single room – lots of faces turned to us. However, very quickly we found two empty seats next to the pastor and his wife, and the fellow who had invited B came over. We spent a very pleasurable two hours eating a great buffet-style meal and chatting with our tablemates in an amazing show of hospitality and friendship. We went home to our own cooking and relaxation, and Godfather and Edward Gorey 1,000 piece puzzle feeling happy that we’d had an adventure in holiday spirit. And later that evening, we decorated the little tree that I’d brought from Michigan to help brighten his holiday season.

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yes, that’s elvis in the tree.

On Black Friday it was almost 70 so we walked the prairie trail at the Herbert Hoover museum, had big turkey sandwiches for lunch, and spent hours browsing at the Haunted Bookshop, a labyrinthine used bookshop not far from B’s house.

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50,000 books, two cats, and ghost is the haunted bookshop’s tagline – but we only saw the books and 1 cat.

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On Saturday, we ran again, and I made a quick pilgrimage to a house I knew from the funny pages. My Michigan team fell to his Ohio State Buckeyes and he took me for beer and amazing cheeseburgers at an ancient dive bar to soothe my disappointment.

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bloom county forever

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All too soon, it was time to load up my car and drive home – listening to a really good Charlie Donlea audiobook mystery – and home to this face.

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Miss L comes home today and I can’t wait to see her and hear about her adventures, and tell her mine. I hope you & yours had as lovely a weekend as I did. xoxo

slumbering gods of coba

After several days of lounging in the sunshine, reading books and enjoying good food and good company, on our last day in Cancun we were ready for an adventure.

Coba is a Mayan village about a 2-hour road trip from our hotel. We boarded a van a little before lunch, and quickly got acquainted with the others in our tour – one other American couple, a Spanish couple, a pair of hilarious Mexican women who came prepared with a handbag full of Bud Light and Cheetos, and a polite young Brazilian traveling by himself with a bag full of camera equipment. Our tour guide, Jose, immediately spoke to us in Mayan, and then translated – he was originally from Coba – a small village still exists near the ruins of the Mayan city. He explained that Coba was a crossroads of sorts for ancient Mayans, and the stelae, or stone slabs that would be engraved with various bits of information, drawings, etc, had dates around 780 AD in some places.

The weather was very hot and humid, and the area of Coba is fairly sprawling. The tour companies keep a fleet of battered bicycles which we used to cycle to the different areas.

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The tallest pyramid is in a grouping called the Nohoch Mul, and is the last Mayan pyramid in the Yucatan that tourists are permitted to climb. This will change at the end of this year, when climbing is banned. I understand why and honestly can’t believe that climbing is still permitted – it seems odd to think that they would allow so many streams of tourists access to an archaeological site of such significance. Our guide explained that the decision was also safety related, and once we started climbing, I understood that aspect, too. The high stone steps were shiny and slick with wear, with a rope to help climbers get up and down. B & I set out with our tour group in the blazing sun, and although the height in many places bothered me, with B’s coaxing and help, I made it to the top.

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It was a very strange feeling to be standing on a structure of that age and spiritual significance. The limestone was cool and very smooth even in the sun, and seemed to absorb the light. Jose was adamant that the pyramids were never used for human sacrifice, that the Mayans were a peaceful and non-aggressive people. If there was sacrifice, he said, it was done in other places, places not associated with prayer. He also told us that the limestone was carved with tools made of volcanic rock, which had to be brought to the Yucatan peninsula from Central America by foot; he said the limestone reflects the moonlight beautifully, and the pyramids served to guide the travelers who came to Coba to trade. At the top were two inscriptions of the descending or diving god. Not much is known about it except that it may be associated with the Mayan bee god, bees being symbols of the connection to the spiritual world.

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diving or descending god at the top of the nohoch mul pyramid.

We also toured the Mayan ball court, where Jose explained the critical role that the death game played in Mayan culture. There were stelae at the ball court, as well as two round engravings set into the dirt between the walls of the ball court. One depicted a very recognizable human skull, and the other, Jose explained, was an image of a decapitated jaguar holding its own head.

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jose explaining the mayan ball game; the stone slab depicts the mayan calendar, and under the center pillar you can see the round stone through which players had to direct the ball.

 

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The trip was fascinating and profound. As B said, these pyramids were standing during so many historic events; for Americans, whose historical landmarks are relatively young, it is amazing to put your hands on a stone that was carved in 780 AD, or before, in many cases. Despite the tourists riding bikes or being pedaled around in “tricycles”, it was unearthly quiet, and I couldn’t help but feel the shivery stillness of slumbering old gods everywhere in the trees and stones.

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That night, we were given dinner in the top floor of an open-air restaurant as the sun set over a lagoon across the street. The cinder block houses of the Coba village were open to the stifling air and occupants watched us without much interest. Dogs wandered here and there, enervated by the heat. Up in that airless place, we ate huge plates of marinated chicken, rice and beans, and then a group of villagers put on an amazing show. They were painted and costumed as Mayan gods, the god of death depicted as an owl, and players on a Mayan ball court with jaguar masks, headdresses, and as skeletons with skull masks. A tiny girl, younger than L, was costumed elaborately and stood impassive among the whirling suppressed violence of the dance. They drummed and chanted and it was a deadly serious performance that left the dim night thrumming with intensity and a strange, tense, fascinating energy. At the end, one of the performers, glistening with sweat and streaked paint, told us in Mayan, then Spanish, then English that what we had seen was ritual, a legacy from the beginning of Mayan time that was passed from father to son and so on. It represented, he said, the pinnacle of the physical, the emotional, and the spiritual world of the Mayans.

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Our guide explained that the ball game at Coba was played with members of the upper class stationed at the top of the ball courts, and members of the lower class on the ground. They passed the ball without using hands or feet, and the team that was able to manipulate the ball through a stone ring at the top of  the court would win. The lower class members of the winning team would then be taken to a different site, and sacrificed. Jose said many times during our tour that the Mayans did not sacrifice at the pyramids, that they were only for prayer, and, he reiterated again that the ball game was entirely voluntary and the sacrifice was an honor. Mayans, he said, believed that a person had to progress through nine layers of the underworld, and then thirteen levels of heaven. I trust Jose’s knowledge of his own culture, and the culture of his ancestors, yet I would be interested to know more about the role of human sacrifice in Mayan religion. I fully intend to do more reading on the topic, and our guide also recommended the movie “Apocalypto” – he said that while Mel Gibson didn’t get everything right (mixing up aspects of the separate Toltec and Mayan cultures and even mixing up elements from different time periods) the movie is excellent and the language absolutely authentic. He said he could understand every bit of the Mayan dialogue.

I loved this part of the trip the most – I would highly recommend a trip to Coba, or Tulum or Chichen Itza (two other nearby Mayan archaeological sites) if you are ever in the Yucatan peninsula. Our tour guide was amazing, as was the site, the food, and especially the performers from Coba.

Nate; and I’m having fun.

B and I woke up early and ran in the rain; it soon stopped and we went poolside. The weather was clear and very hot and humid. The water is turquoise on the ocean side of the resort, big waves. At night you can watch jewel-lit glittering cruise ships pass on the black horizon.

B put up the beach umbrella and soon a rotund hotel employee in a hot pink shirt rolled down and started putting it back down. We asked him why, and, puffed up, he advised us that Tropical Storm Nate would move through around 8. B pointed out that it was only 10, and he spread his hands in the helpless “nothing I can do” gesture. He rolled off and was tongue lashed by an elderly woman whose umbrella was his next target; she received the same helpless gesture but she couldn’t let it go. After appealing to management, she was able to smugly reinstate her shade and soon they bloomed like mushrooms.

The only real signs that we had a storm last night were the facts that they brought our balcony furniture in and closed the pool early. This resulted in staggering numbers of people in the lobby swarming over the snack table and consuming free alcohol. (“They closed all the bars down the strip cuz they’re open-air – Senor Frog, Pancho Willie. People don’t have nowhere to go,” B’s sister’s boyfriend drawled in his Southern accent. “Wait, there’s really a place called Senor Frog?? And people GO THERE?” B asked incredulously.) 

The preponderance of free alcohol is gobsmacking. We have a series of bottles in our room, beer in the fridge, swim-up bars, all free free free. (“This,” B’s sister says, waving a hand at the slack-faced, sunburnt pool patrons clutching sweating plastic cups full of booze, “is what perpetrates this ‘tainted alcohol’ thing. All these people who come down here, lounge around in 90 degree blazing tropical sunshine, drink only alcohol, and then wonder why they feel like hell.”)

I’m not much of a beach vacation kind of gal, but I have to say, there is an interesting abandon with which the resort-goers attack this place. From our pale Midwestern position under the sun umbrella, with my straw hat and our library books (The Magician King for me, Garrison Keillor for him) surrounded as we are by shrieking, extremely drunk people glistening with sweat and suntan oil, revealing alarming amounts of sun-damaged, poorly-toned, leathery hide, I am having fun.