manunderstress.com

Up at 6:30am I am, which is a first in I don’t know how long, but no matter how much of a late nighter I may happen to be, I’ve got to get there before the thousands of tour groups I imagine will be arriving mid-morning. My hotel didn’t serve breakfast until 7:30 which was too late with the park opening at 8, so I walked down to the Mayaland complex, the lushly manicured luxury hotel that runs up to the park grounds, and actually has it’s own ruins (ooooh) and they had a full buffet swinging so I got in on that. Mole and eggs and toast and potatoes and pineapple, mmm mmm. Peacocks roaming the property. I’m thinking this is the place to bring a date…

I hit the grounds running at 8am the second they opened. It’s a sunny but lightly misted morning, and the mist burns off within a half-hour or so. I start the shutter snapping, and there are only a few other people out. The first hour is good and still no signs of tour groups. And I’ve gotten lots of photos, and really love using this Fuji 645 medium format camera I have along for the first time. By the time they do arrive, I’ve visited all the key places I wanted to in peace and done my thing. Even had the ball court to myself, which was really fucking cool. I had no idea the hoops were up that high (5 meters?) and that they used a “scoop” as I overheard one tour guide say. This is one wicked sport they need to bring back and perhaps replace baseball with. Someone should have to die after every sporting event…when did we lose our way? Yet it seems there is a bit of controversy as to how the game was played and who was sacrificed after- the winner or the loser. The acoustics in the court are also interesting, you can hear anyone speaking as if they are right next to you, in your ear…sort of uncanny. And there is an super-doppelganger echo, as the tour guides are quick to demonstrate, clapping and shouting away which soon becomes very annoying. By noon I am done and the tour groups are everywhere. I have the idea for a piece of performance art to get a group together, dress like cows and go to popular tourist places around the world snapping fotos, mooing and milling about all the way. People need to be mocked. Overall review: solid. The place is popular and you can’t climb on the ruins except for a few, but it’s pretty amazing nonetheless.

I’m out of Chichen, drive back through Piste and head towards Merida and decide to stop at Izamal to see a church that is built on ruins, which is a somewhat strange yellow colonial church style church built over limestone ruins. It’s incorporated enough to not really strike you as odd but if you look at it closely it is. Getting tired so I head for Merida and sit in pretty bad traffic on my way in, but amazingly , perhaps for the first time in my life, I find the hotel with only the guide book maps and a little deductive logic. It never works out this way. I’m happy. Hit the leafy bird circus which is the main square and I can’t imagine why people are sitting on benches everywhere unless they have trained the birds only to crap on tourists. Which I think may be true because even though I tried to avoid the white and black, Jackson Pollack splatter-stretches of sidewalk, something of liquid nature lands on my head. I don’t bother to check out what it was though. As twilight fades the neon-built lawn reindeers power on, to accompany the lawn Santa, as does the Iglesia entirely outlined in xmas lights. It’s a lively Friday night, with a bad festival band playing and the obligatory drum circle. I’ve seen a few clowns and there are lots of balloons. I have mole enchiladas and walk back to the hotel for a swim.