Arrival in Merida

May 31st, 2009

After a long day spent wandering around airports and breathing recycled air while sitting on less-than-desirable worn-out airline seats and no one to sanitize the tray table, I made my arrival in Merida under cover of darkness. Immigrations and Customs proved long and tedious as usual, but I chatted throughout the long lines and baggage claim with Connie and Grant, who I had rendezvoused with in Houston. I cannot recall the name of the crazy old goon that ate endless amounts of mangoes and provided Megan with innumerable moments of hilarity on her trip to Mali, but it would seem that Connie has been fashioned from the same mold. She is traveling to Belize at the conclusion of this trip and tactlessly informed the custom’s officer that she was carrying live cultures in a refrigerated bag for her vaccine. I’m not sure that was the best approach. Later she would spend fifty pesos on bread that should cost only five and I can only say how thankful I am that she seems clueless half the time so that I feel somewhat, reasonably smart. My own swift visit with Customs brought me face-to-face with a fancy glass screened terminal and an officer saying “Press the button.” I didn’t quite understand at first, but soon realized it was a random method of selecting bags to search. Two seconds and a green light later I could sigh with relief as my belongings rolled past the search table free of aggravating and unwanted searches.

Walking through the last set of doors I soon realized that the mix-up in my arrival had indeed gone unchecked and that no smiling family was awaiting my arrival. Connie, Grant, and Chris, who I later realized was on the same flight, were all embraced by their new families. I felt quite lonely not having a host mother and father waiting at the terminal, though Connie’s family temporarily adopted me, stuffed our bags into the back of their small car, which is saying a lot considering the size of the four bags packed by my eccentric classmate. After a short drive Maria Rosa and her husband phoned Blanca and Javiere, my Mexican family, while parking the car outside a fancy automated gate. There in the driveway I was greeted with hugs and the worried face of Blanca who was still unaware of the mistake in my arrival time. Later she would inform me that she had stressed all day about my whereabouts. Javiere smiled as I crossed the threshold into the living room while carting my bags up the stairs and welcoming me to “my new home.”

My room is quite large with two sets of screened windows and a ceiling fan for circulation. Aside from a small desk, nightstand, full size bed, closet, hammock, and television, the room is quite simple yet clean, and without creepy crawlies. What a shame too since I had already chosen names! After a cold shower, there is no warm water or air conditioning; I crawled into bed ready to write my blog as I drifted off to sleep only to discover a wireless internet connection. My perpetual evening loneliness was slightly dimmed by the knowledge that my closest friends and family would receive my emails in the morning.

June 1st, 2009

I awoke this morning to the sound of strange birds and quickly dressed before checking emails. I had a restless first night and seemed to wake every hour, tossing and turning, but I promise, Tim, it was only a total of three times. Breakfast consisted of enough toast to feed a giant, scrambled eggs, and papaya, perhaps my least favorite fruit. It was difficult to eat the mushy pink flesh but even worse to rinse it down with the freshly squeezed orange juice, or rather the cup of pulp served with a smidgen of orange liquid. I can only imagine pieces of pulp stuck in my teeth as I told her the juice was wonderful. At 8:20 Connie and Maria Rosa arrived, Blanca grabbed her purse, handed me a bottle of water and pack of crackers and we were out the door. Several blocks over already glistening with sweat, we awaited the wawa (the Maya term for bus), and boarded for a rather long, hot drive to the Parque de Santa Lucia. Another dozen or so blocks of walking and we had arrived at the UNAM where my class will be for the next three weeks. It was with excitement that we walked down the street as I started to recognize my surroundings and even the location of the Hotel San Juan, one of our many homes from last summer.

Class began with Ismael May May shutting the door to an air conditioned room before Maya, and only Maya flowed from his mouth. I’m still trying to pick my jaw up off the ground. Many questions and phrases seemed to float back into my mind with ease, and I found myself feeling quite pleased with how well I was recalling Maya from last summer and how I could actually understand what Ismael was saying. Though my major mistake of the day proved to be an answer to “Do you have kids?” of which I either responded “My road has ended,” or “I’m dead.” Later I was thrown for a bit of a loop when Ismael asked each of us whether we were single or married and the only thing I could think of was some variant of “Tun tz’o’okol in beel,” the closest I could come up with for unofficially engaged. Even knowing how well class progressed today I am still nervous about tomorrow and what errors await. My only comfort is that at least we all probably feel like fools at some point during the lesson. After a year, Pablo is pretty much the same funny character, and Christa just as pretentious and annoying. I have to remind myself that a conversation with her is just not worth my time. Unfortunately there are just some people that will always make others feel inferior and luckily I have the choice not to associate with her as much as possible.

After class we walked two blocks to the UADY for our credentials where Javiere joined us to take Connie and I back to our new homes. Tomorrow we will make the trip without Blanca, Maria Rosa, or Javiere, but I feel confident now that they have taken the time to show us the way to the UNAM. Blanca had prepared a rather large meal for my return and after eating I retired to my room shortly after noticing the beautiful pool in the backyard. Javiere speaks excellent English so communicating is much easier than I expected, but it still did not deter him from quizzing me in Spanish over lunch. It feels as if I have been beaten over the head with Maya all day, and now I have to switch on the Spanish for the evening. A storm was brewing in the distance, and just as it started to pour I settled into my hammock to check emails and write my first blog. I have a small bit of homework this evening followed by a cold shower and bed. It was so exciting to chat with Tim and Megan, but also bittersweet when the connection failed during the storm.