Sun and sand, capped with a drink

Well, after such a long and exhausting day--we don't rise too too early the following morning. We're not sleeping in until noon. But the frequent 7 AM wake-up doesn't happen either. Breakfast again at Maison LaFitte. More of the same. And while this isn't a very elaborate breakfast--it's served us well in that it's filling, convenient and free! Today's journey will take us directly west to Celestún.

Celestún is a fishing village about 2 1/2 hours from Mérida. ,It is known for it's protected Biosphere, Ría Celesún, but also for it's seafood restaurants, and fresh water springs and calm beaches. The route to Celestún, once we get on it, is very straightforward. When we circle into town, it's small enough that we find the coast pretty easily. We hire a lancha to take us on a guided tour for the afternoon through the biosphere. Another nice Greek couple (Xeta and George) join us--making it a small and manageable group. It turns out that our guide doesn't speak any English (or Greek); and George and Xeta don't speak much Spanish. So I serve as translator for our tiny team.

We pile into the narrow, fiberglass motorboat. The water is pure aqua, calm and flat at this hour. We situate ourselves into four of the 8 swiveling white chairs aboard. The wind in our faces, the sun nicely deflected by an overhead cover. We head out at high speeds. The main thing to do when you contract a boat and guide, is to hunt down different water fowl species. The most famous in this area, the one that really brings in the tourists with it's promise of a flash of color and exotic look, are the flamingos. However, these guys are our first sighting.

Our guide takes us around a few beach heads, staying close to shore to offer us the maximum view of the coast and it's wildlife. He points out where we cross the invisible water border between the states of Yúcatan and Campeche. Little thin sticks poke through the water's surface, with tattered fabric tied to the tops, swaying in the breeze. Some of these mark where shrimpers have left nets, or a site they will return to to plunge for the little gray shellfish. Other denote shallow waters, marking the way for boats to motor with care.

Our first stop is at the petrified forest. These trees were once a large and towering forest of cedars. But salt water intrusion, due to a hurricane, killed off the trees years ago. Our guide warns us that there is a possibility of crocodiles here; but says that due to the heat, they're most likely in deeper waters. George ventures out first to take some pictures closer up. Mom tells him to throw his camera back first if he spots one--to which Xeta laughs and says, "Good bye, my love." Then I disembark--quickly followed by Xeta and Mom.

We board again and cut around a beachhead to enter what is called Ría Celestún. It is a river that slices into the peninsula, separating mainland from direct contact with the Golf of Mexico. It is called a ría, rather than a río (the actual word for river) due to the fact that is a salt water river, we learn. Soon the unbroken aqua-colored water is spotted with tiny patches of dark water--or what looks like shade. But there's nothing around to provide shade. The guide tells us that's collections of algae. He edges the boat further down the ría, receiving hand signals from a fellow boatman heading in the opposite direction; there aren't many flamingos today. When we edge up to the group, it is small--maybe about 20 in total. He tells us that this is the nesting time of year. Thus, the only flamingos we'll see are the young ones. The adults are further down the ría in a protected area. No boats or people are allowed to trespass into what is an important part of their cycle of life. Still this small groups is beautiful and strange. There pencil-thin legs, holding up tall bodies with huge noses. They are this strange mix of elegant and goofy-looking. After a short spell, they all take off, save one. The water is getting high where they are perched. It throws their tiny legs off balance. So they must fly for shallower waters.

From their we head into a tunnel made of mangrove trees. The guide tells us it is naturally made. It winds back and forth. He says sometimes, when early, and if you are lucky, you can spot rare wildlife like jaguars in this grove. He points out a few termite nests, hugging around tree branches. I make a "icky" face, remembering my termite ants at home. But he informs me that they are healthy for the forest and the trees. They don't eat live wood. They prefer the dry and hollow wood of the dead trees. And what is food for them, is a clean-up job for the forest, making room for new growth.

When we come out on the other end, we circle around and head for a cenote. That's right, even out here, in the middle of ocean and estuary, there are cenotes. There's a large group sitting on the planks that surround this sinkhole. I think the crowd makes mom decide to keep her shirt on and forgo this little pool. It's called Ojo de Agua (Eye of Water). You can even see the mouth of the spring where the water enters. I jump in, followed by George, and then, reluctantly, Xeta. It's warm. But this water is salty and shallow. My feet keep touching muddy bottom. I feel nostalgic for the pretty pools in the caves in Cuzamá. After a quick 20 minutes, the boatman signals us it's time to go. We'll dry off with the wind. He winds around, back around the shores towards our original launch point.

Mom and I decide we haven't had enough water and sun. So we walk down the shore a bit and plop ourselves down. It's time to play in the waves. This beach is far less trafficked than anything I saw in Cancún--so it's easy to find a spot for ourselves. We dally a bit in the waves. However, the wind has picked up now; the waves are rolling in at a faster pace. And when we try to dry off on the beach--there is so much wind that we just get sand blown.

We change back into clothes--though, I think both of us are feeling a bit gritty at this point. We enjoy a quiet lunch at la Palapa--a huge restaurant under a, whaddya know, a palapa. I'm not a big fan of this place. It is convenient, and was mentioned in one of our guide books. But it's huge inside--and almost every table is occupied. There's an army of waiters scurrying about. Thus, service isn't great. Mom and I both get shrimp dishes. I think her's was dressed in a light lemon and olive oil sauce. Mine, and I wasn't prepared for this, was dressed in this creamy chaya sauce. With the heat, it made it difficult to finish. Mom has her Coke. I order a piña colada--but it comes in one of those giant glass bowls--yuck. That's just too much coconut milk and alcohol for this gal. But we are satisfied when we depart.

We lay towels and suits in the trunk, or under the back window to dry. The wells under our feet fill with the sand we've tracked into the car--remnants from our trip. We traverse our way back to Mérida. I feel at this point like I'm getting to know the streets of Mérida pretty well. I feel oriented with how streets are laid out, and where our hotel is located. Of course, there's an occasional unmarked one-way street that throws me off. But people are always so nice to inform you right away when you are headed in the wrong direction.

I take a dip in the pool while Mom showers upstairs. I guess I felt like I wanted to get rid of the first layer of sand before I stepped into the shower. We rest a bit, read our books beside the pool. Then we decide to head out and see what the town has to offer on the weekend. Saturdays and Sundays find Calle 60, the one that streaks right in front of our hotel, and down into Plaza Grande, blocked off from car traffic. Only pedestrians are allowed. Restaurants along 60 pull their table and chairs out onto the cobblestones, where various bands set up to strum for the public. It's all well-laid out so that one band isn't sitting right on top of another. We stroll the gamut to check out what's on offer. Families, many with their small children, are meandering along the paths of the central square. This is really a night when all Merideñas go out to see and be seen. All the shops along the way are open and lit--taking advantage of the foot traffic to sell. Mom picks up a few little things.

Then we head back towards our hotel and pop a squat in front of the band we like most. We order wine and guacamole--as we watch, little by little, as a crowd forms around the band, and couples start to dance. First it's an older couple in their sixties, singing about elegantly. Then a younger couple, quickly running through spins. Soon a large group has congressed. What's great is that it's not just for couples. Many show up and troll the crowd for a partner. An older mustachioed man asks me to dance. He reminds me a bit of Rafael from back in Oaxaca. I seem to be able to follow as he leads me around the "floor." No fancy turns, or odd passes with this guy. So frankly after the second song, I'm ready to sit down; it's a bit boring when you don't mix it up.

After a long spell of sitting and people watching Mom and I head back towards our hotel. Right out in front a stage has been set up. We take a seat to see what's going. Eventually a great acoustic trio gets up--singer, guitarist, and percussionist. They all sing, and have splendid harmony. They play a few modern diddies. But for the most part they sing older standards (some even Mom and I recognize) that are popular with everyone. They play their last song--and even though the crowd shouts "otra! otra! (one more!)", they are quickly ushered off stage, and the mics are cut off. They're about to open up the street again. So the schedule is keep pretty strictly.

We, too, must retire, our energy fading. Tomorrow there are more adventures, in town this time. See you then!