On Excursionary Serendipity

If you have read my ramblings over the years on several platforms, you know I enjoy making up words; hence: Excursionary Serendipty, all about my evolving philosophy regarding what I do.

Enjoy !


Speaking of Serendipitous Journeys

“Would you like to see my altar?” 

A Mayan x’men from Loltun, whom I had never before met and who had
just performed a hets’ luum ceremony in Sabacche

My philosophy of late has been to consider my outings with guests (commercially known as excursions or tours) as opportunities to test my theory that when you travel in a relaxed, tranquil yet purposeful way, unexpected things happen and interesting people appear without warning or notice; I call it serendipitous touring. 

One such day I had just yesterday. I will describe the day and you, dear reader, can determine where the serendipitous parts come in.

Traveling with my friend whom I shall call Brian (because that is his name) we were looking for the optimal point somewhere south of Merida to experience the annular eclipse, a once-in-a-lifetime event that would next happen in 200-plus years. Seeing that Uxmal and the famous Muna mirador were literally overrun with vehicles and people milling about, we thought we would head further south into Campeche.

I stopped at the border checkpoint where a pair of lonely Yucatan state police officials are our only defense against any incursion by militant Campechanos. It occurred to me to ask the official sitting beside the shelter if he had seen the eclipse happening just then or had heard about it. He replied that he had of course heard about it but hadn’t been able to see anything as they had no equipment to do so.

Handing him my pair of paper glasses, which Brian had thought to bring down from the US of A for this occasion, he looked up at the sun and his expression became one of wonder and he shouted out to an invisible partner who appeared, in pants and an undershirt, from behind the shelter to see what was the matter. We had obviously interrupted his morning routine. This second officer’s reaction was as enthusiastic as the first and by the time he handed back the glasses we had made two new friends.

A few miles into Campeche, we stopped at an open space on the side of the road and enjoyed watching the annular eclipse, alongside a large family who had also arrived at that precise point just in time. Surrounded by fresh green corn plants on both sides of the highway, we watched as the moon glided over the sun.

From there, Brian remarked on the many colorful butterflies and I suggested we drive a bit down the Puuc highway to see them as there are times of the year, when the rains drench the countryside, that a million bright yellow and lime green butterflies float along the stretch of highway from the Campeche border stop to the Loltun caves. Drive too fast and you will annihilate them; drive at an appropriate speed and they will float over and around your vehicle like something out of an LSD-infused dream. Magical. Today this did not happen, although a few floating bits of color did flutter about.

At Xlapak, suffering as are all the Puuc area archeological sites, from ongoing restoration, remodeling and rebuilding works in anticipation of the massive crowds that will leave their all-inclusive resorts and give up their comforts to travel the new Mayan train (ts’imin kaak or fire horse) we saw an interesting tableau: a man cleaning pieces of wood he was pulling out of a battered VW van. When asked, he explained to us that he was removing waste wax and dirt from the pieces of wood used by the bees in the beehives the campesinos hang in the first forest around this area. 

I then proposed that we visit Sabacche, just down the road and past all the smaller Puuc sites. We arrived and turned into the driveway, only to find what appeared to be a restaurant in operation. This was not a restaurant however: it was all family and friends of the owner who immediately came over to say hello and welcome. I had met him on a previous visit with another guest we shall call Lance (because that is HIS name) and had hit it off. Admiring his collection of animals both wild and domestic, the natural cave-sourced air duct and the house on the hill, he made us feel welcome on that previous occasion and today was no different. We were soon informed that a hets’ luum ceremony had taken place with a Mayan shaman. The hets’ lu’um is performed to ask the gods for blessings during planting and that the whole family had been invited. I asked him if we could have a look around and he was more than happy to say yes, introducing us to a man standing nearby,

“Quieren ver el altar?” 

This man was a x’men (Mayan shaman) had clearly just finished the hets’ l’um ceremony.

“Claro que si” 

Brian nodded in agreement. So we trudged up the little rocky hill to a makeshift altar of boughs and branches and flowers and with his fragrant magical potions, swatted us with branches and proceeded to purify us. 

Afterwards, he mentioned that he lived in the minuscule settlement across the highway from the nearby Loltun caves and offered his number should we ever have need for a shaman in the future. You never know, I thought, as I plugged the info into my smart phone. Which is funny if you think about it. Standing on a hill in the jungle with a professed shaman, getting purified and then noting his information in my little handheld gadget.

Returning to where the large family had gathered under tarps, commiserating over food and and drink and some playing Loteria Yucateca (a bingo-esque game with a Yucatecan theme) we were offered a place to sit and have a bowl of sopa, which was essentially a liquid form of what one would find inside a baked pib. Washed down with an ice cold cerveza, Brian and I marveled at how this had all just “happened”. 

After that rather serendipitous moment, we continued on towards Oxkutzcab to visit the giant fruit and vegetable market that wholesalers come to from as far away as Tulum. Parking is always a challenge but we got a spot right on the market thanks to a friendly police woman who saved the day.

While shopping, Brian enjoyed some attention from the ladies selling fruit and I helped with the translation of several marriage proposals which resulted in much hilarity settled down for a bite of tamales with Perla and her Mom who worked at a food stall inside. Between bits and wiping away seat from our respective foreheads, we talked about life and her difficult situation being a single Mom of two girls and working two jobs to make ends meet. A sobering conversation, 

Finally, we were back on the road to Merida somewhat tired but amazed at how a simple outing had turned into such an event-filled day, full of human contact and interaction. So very serendipitous. So very Yucatecan. 

A Complete Foodie Experience

In the past few years, cooking experiences have sprung up like toadstools on a manure pile. Some are alright, some are good, a few are better and one or two are really great. The one we will feature in this post is in the somewhat nearby town of Halachó. There, chef Wilson Alonzo is making a name for himself and all the applause and recognition is well-deserved. He has not been featured (yet) on Netflix but his experience deserves to be included and pronto.

The Master Class option includes a morning market visit, where the group - under the chef’s supervision - selects and purchases the ingredients for the cooking to be done later, mingling with the market ladies who, as this town is not as frequented by tourists as others, still look on curiously as the group meanders about, following the chef through all the various stalls. Sampling is suggested and encouraged. The best part is that you are not fishing out coins and small bills to pay as you go: the chef’s assistant is trailing along behind the group and pays each vendor according to what was consumed or bought. I need an assistant like this!

From there, it is on to the property for a breakfast (remember this and don’t overdo the cochinita at the market) including café de olla and several local delicacies.

Then, it’s time to cook! Chopping, smoking, roasting over several fires, guests prepare the ingredients and the meal to be enjoyed. There is plenty of time to socialize, have a refreshing local drink and even snooze in the hammock. No rush, no clock-watching. It is an amazing time.

The food is delicious, authentic and one comes away with a greater appreciation for the food, the culture and the gentle life in the country, so far removed from the increasingly hectic life in the once peaceful city of Merida.

Enjoy the photos and let us know if you would like us to take you and your group!


Cobá, Quintana Roo - Beyond the Archeological Site

Cobá is usually a destination reserved for archeology buffs, but beyond the site the area around it is perfect for those tired of lounging in an all-inclusive mega-resort on the seaweed-and-hipster-strewn Caribbean coast slinging well-brand cocktails and navigating massive buffets of lackluster food. There is the possibility of immersing oneself in nature along with real Mayan experiences and culture. Even the cenotes feel more remote and pristine.

Cobá is also an excellent alternative for those moving their base from the Merida area to spend some time on the beach; a multi-day mini-trip that makes a boring drive from A to B that much more interesting.

I will get into some of those attractions shortly.

First a few impressions of Cobá. The ejidatarios are in control at Cobá and it shows. At the archeological site, the onerous federal entity known as INAH (Instituto Nacional de Antropologia e Historia) has been kicked out and the locals run the show. A modest $100 peso entry fee pales in comparison to the outrageous $600 pesos at the overcrowded, overhyped and overrrun Chichen Itzá.

The town of Cobá meanwhile, is a mixture of small Mayan village with many concrete structures resembling stores and cafés, not a single cantina, very few hipsters in spite of the proximity to the Tuluminati now fleeing seaweed and narcotraficantes, many chickens running around the streets along with an unhealthy number of dogs. As I write this at 6 AM in a hotel on the town’s “main drag” there are about a dozen roosters next door (the backyard of a modern structure housing a Catholic church) mercilessly crowing their morning salutations.

A short half hour drive on the highway between Cobá and Nuevo Xcan through mostly virgin forest/jungle you will come across tiny villages, some offering food, tours, trinkets, souvenirs. Note that most of these are former rubber encampments, from the days when adventurous Mayans and some foreigners would lose themselves in the jungle for months at a time, harvesting the very valuable chicle or rubber. You can see evidence of their work on the trees in the form of zig-zag cuts, now healed, in the bark of some of the trees. The market has now dried up, a highway was put in and the gold rush and lawless lifestyle has long since disappeared. But the houses and some people remain, forming villages such as Pac Chen, Campamento Hidalgo, Nuevo Laredo. At one such settlement, Punta Laguna, there is the opportunity to enjoy a canoe trip on the lagoon, a zip line and observe spider and howler monkeys. A local cooperative of villagers control access to the site and offer guided tours of the property. The reserve, now officially recognized iand designated as such consists of apparently 5000 hectares of protected land. Part of the attraction is a short paddle in a canoe on the fresh water lake right there in the reserve.


It's the Hottest Time of the Year and Yet...

When asked about the weather, us locals always love to mention that April and May are the hottest months of the year, which surprises people who expect you to say July or August. In fact April and May are the culmination of several months of normally continuous dry weather. There are brush fires along the sides of roads and in the countryside, both from carelessly tossed cigarette butts and from campesinos doing annual burns to prepare fields for planting in the coming rainy season. The landscape goes from multi-hued green to dry, grey, crispy. The rocks everywhere are evident and previously hidden vestiges of ancient monuments emerge from their hiding places in the Yucatan’s dry tropical forest.

And yet, in spite of this rather stark landscape, nature is alive and well and really active at this time of the year. The mangos are coming. Ciruela or abal, as they are known here, are ripening. Grosellas are popping on scrubby trees. Caimito, limón indio and mamey. And flowers! At no other time of the year are there so many flowers, from wild vines in fluorescent purple, yellow and fuschia to more domesticated varieties like flor de mayo (frangipani or plumeria), bougainvillea, flamboyan, lluvia de oro, and others.

The frangipani with their velvet-like colors and sweet vanilla scent are stunning and you can find them in shades of creamy white to almost shocking purple and fuschia. The photos below are from the town of Dzitya, taken at 11 AM on a scorching 41-degree day. They are beautiful, are they not?

Give us this day... traditional bread making in the Yucatan

Introduction

If you have spent any time in and around the Yucatan, you will have heard the term “francés” usually associated with the word “caliente” Now this may come as a surprise, but when someone talks about having a francés caliente they are not talking about assaulting a hot Frenchman. No, it refers to a long-ish individual loaf of bread, baked daily in bakeries throughout the region and enjoyed as an evening snack with pieces of Edam from that hollowed out queso de bola (unfortunately and unappetizingly translated as ball cheese) or in the morning stuffed with juicy, greasy and delectable cochinita pibil.

And while these and other bread products are nowadays finished in ovens for the most part, the traditional way is to find them baked in gigantic wood-fired ovens, very similar to the brick pizza ovens that can reach very high temperatures and whose delectable crusts are charred and crisp and ash-sprinkled from real pieces of wood crackling inside the baking space.

The Process

In the case of the francés, the dough is shaped by a combination of pounding, elbow thumping (the actual elbow is used) and shaping by hand. A sliver of palm (not banana leaf as some would have you believe) is laid along the length of the shaped loaf which is then set in trays placed on racks where they await, rising slowly in the local heat, to be baked in the afore-mentioned oven. Why the sliver of palm? I was told that it is to maintain the shape of the bread, not that it imparts any special flavor to the final product as I had previously been told.

Loaves are laid onto the hot bricks in the oven, having been previously swept clean with a moist rag to remove excess ash and coals. This is done with a very large wooden spatula with a handle that will cross the entire room, so as to keep the operator from contracting heatstroke in the face of the very caliente oven. A few moments in the oven and they are removed, fresh and ready to be delivered to points of sale around the village or prepared in bags for orders from the vendedores who will be selling tortas and tacos early the next day.

Juan Sabido (left)

Juan Sabido is one of these bakers and has generously shown us around the operation where he works, in an unmarked and unremarkable house that you would not even suspect of being a bakery when driving by.

This, and other experiences like it, are some of the things we offer our guests when they come to visit the Yucatan giving them a true glimpse into traditional life, customs and its people.