A day like queens

Mom and I both decide that a day of total relaxation is called for after our previous afternoon of climbing large Mayan edifices. We rise leisurely, our hotel room ensconced in darkness, our one window shuttered for privacy. We amble down to breakfast at the hotel--it's something complementary at Hotel Maison LaFitte--so we take advantage every morning, except our last, to nibble on what's provided. It's remarkably filling--and holds us both each day until the 2/3 PM Comida hour. Perhaps the sun and heat has killed our appetites a bit--though, you wouldn't guess by the grand meals we've been consuming up to this point.
Museo de Arqueología

Mom heads to the Archeology Museum--housed in a huge colonial building along the Paseo de Montejo. I opt to stay in, and lounge by the pool of our hotel with an easy book (thanks, Aubrey!) and a lemonade. Mom's wowed by the museum; it also offered her a chance to practice her Spanish, reading most of the placards in Mexico's national tongue. And me, I worked on my tan. woohoo!

We pack up and head north of Mérida to Xcanatun (pronounced Ssh-kana-toon). Xcanatun is a small town, but also is site to one of the many Haciendas that still remain in the Yúcatan. Back in the 17th century the Yúcatan was peppered with large Hacienda estates that were built around the cultivation of henequen, an agave plant, similar to the maguey (from which comes mezcal and tequila). Strong fibers were pulled from the henequen plant that could be used to make rope or twine. That industry is largely non-existent now. However, Mérida's economic foundation was built on that successful trade--and I'm sure has something to do with her current economic status. Mom and I frequently wondered how Mérida, and much of the Yúcatan has stayed so prosperous. There's a fishing and shrimp trade--but it's not enough to carry the state. Certainly tourism plays a large roll (and mind you, Mérida has an immense and well-oiled tourism machine. It is unbelievable in comparison to Oaxaca.) But you need initial money to invest in tourism. My guidebook says that the Yúcatan now owes it's prosperity to a swath of maquiladoras (assembly plant operations) in the region that opened in the 80s and 90s. But I've heard yet another reason, and it borders on gossip, more than history. My friends who are locals have said that the families of drug traffickers live in Mérida. Certainly there are some wealthy Merideñas. According to this rumor, the traffickers made a pact that Mérida was off limits for crime--it would be a safe haven for all of their loved ones. That would certainly explain the fact that there is little to no crime in the streets of Mérida. Who can say what is true?

The Spa at Xcanatun
We make the quick 15 minute drive north out of town to this restored Hacienda. Xcanatun means "tall stone house" in Maya. And after a 5-year restoration, it opened again in 2000 as a luxury hotel, restaurant and spa, set on 9 acres of land. Mom and I made massage appointments. And they are awaiting us as we pull into the parking lot opposite the yellow main building, the color of butter. We both selected the spa's specialty, a Mayan-influenced massage with honey scrub and rose petal oil. This is México, so sometimes spa treatments can be a little different. I can confirm that by mentioning that I've never had someone in the States massage my boobs before. Woah. Just another part of the body here!

After emerging from the spa, smelling sweet, relaxed and soft to the touch--we head over to the hotel's 5-star restaurant, Casa de Piedra. Mom and I are the sole pair courageous enough to brave the outside veranda. Neither of us feels the heat that much, so we're content to have a beautiful view of the sprawling gardens, amber-colored neighboring buildings and a spot all to ourselves. They even were nice enough to pipe some soft music out onto the porch for us (those inside were treated not only to AC, but to a live pianist).

Lunch was no disappointment. We each order a crisp margarita on the rocks. I follow mine up with a citrus salad, donned with grapefruit and avocados. It's duck paté for mom, followed by a grilled shrimp dish served atop wild rice. My main course is the local catch, Medregal. I'd include a picture of our meals--but frankly we were too famished and excited to wait for me to get my camera out. But I will offer a few shots of our dessert. Really we had no stomach room left--but who could turn down tequila-infused key lime pie and a light lemon mousse? Who, I ask?

We get a small tour of the grounds by a kind English-speaking gentleman at the resort. He shows us their gardens, a few of the suites, complete with individual porches festooned in hammocks. And then he sends us on our way saying, "Please stay with us your next visit; we'll give you a very good price!" Right.

Back into town we go. And once again we rest a bit, shower and head out on the town. It's Thursday, so there's a myriad of activities on the streets. Live concerts occupy city parks. There's regional dance around, as well. We head just across the street to Santa Lucia Park to check out the night's program. There's a regional orchestra just finishing up when we plop ourselves into bleacher sheets just set up for this occasion. A declamador (basicaly a spoken word performer, reciting poems) struts the stage for a few pieces. Next out, and one of my favorites, is the Yucatecan dancers. Men and women bejeweled in the region's traditional garb, agilely glide and hop, spinning around each other in unison. There's even one dance in which the couples all place trays on their heads, bedecked with glasses filled with liquid. They hold their heads upright, twirling and weaving around the stage--not one tray falls. Then a trio takes the stage and plays a set of songs--my favorite a Bolero called Duda (doubt). And finally a soloist takes the stage to sing old favorites, in the style of Pedro Infante.




What's surprising to me is two things: 1)The whole event is extremely well organized. We transition from one act to the next so fluidly, there's no time to get distracted or bored. The men operating the sound system, fly in and out between acts, quickly setting up mic stands and monitors, only pausing the program for seconds before it carries on. Oaxaca has never been so well put together in her open concert nights in the Zócalo. 2)There is a real collection of people out at this tiny park. And it's not just the tourist and foreigners you'd expect. There's tons of locals. In fact, Mom and I are flanked by Merideñas on all sides. The locals enjoy this too--which makes me guess that the program often changes. If it were the same every Thursday--no one would come back.

When the final note is strummed, and the Emcee takes a bow, we shuffle out with the rest of the crowd. It's not a long commute--our hotel is just across the street. What a nice cap to a relaxing day. Tomorrow, Cenotes! Stay tunes...