I am happily back in SF after many, many delays in my travel. However, even though there was trouble and set backs every step of the way, I somehow emerged from the airport just as my dear friend and housemate Ethan was pulling up at the curb to pick me up at 1am. I was so happy when I got off the plane I was skipping and dancing through the airport. My trip was excellent, but I am really happy to be home; especially to see my sweet kitty Finn and to listen to my ipod. Amy Winehouse and I have been apart for far too long. To my roommate's chagrin, I put her on immediately this morning. I get a little obsessive about things and will usually play music over and over for months and then never listen to it again. I'm not saying it's the best way, but it's my way.
On my lunch break I ran out to pick up my copy of Harry Potter that I had preordered. While preparing to board the plane, some older man asked a woman holding the book how it ended. I wanted to leap through the air and shake him. You Don't Ask That. I mean you really just don't ask that kind of question in public, its rude. It's worse than rude, it's practically evil. I began to freak out and think that I was going to have to walk around San Francisco with cotton stuffed into my ears for the next week until I finish reading it. I want to savor this one because it's the end.
***************************
I wrote the above yesterday. Today I am sad to report that I read a horrible interview with Amy Winehouse in Interview magazine where she refers to herself as dumb and says that
she would rather be with her husband than do anything else in the world including preform. She says this is because she has no ambition as an artist, not because she has buckets of internalized sexism to work through. The self-deprecation has soured me on her music a little. Not intelligent? Her songs are awesome, and she wrote them. That's a lot more than many artists, and when do you ever hear successful male musicians put down their intellect? Oh just about never, that's when. I am quite disappointed in her.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Migracion de las Mariposas
Everywhere we have gone in the last week, butterflies have been streaming through the air, across cars, ruins, fields, they all seem to be going somewhere...but we don't know where.
Julie and I left Merida (gracias a dios) which is a relief because although the town was super cool, it was also super overwhelming. The Nomadas hostel was like a European Real World; all these blonde girls trying to impress long haired boys smoking cigarettes, with Julie and I as the sullen brunette lesbians glaring at everyone from the corner. So we moved to the Hotel Trinidad Galleria just up the street, which had a pool and claims to be devoted completely to art. It was awesome because the whole place is filled with bad art, scary and weird paintings, sculptures and installations. The room however, had no ventilation and I was laid up with my stomach bug sickness and not in the mood for a smelly stuffy room.
I did rally in the early afternoon and force myself to go out and explore the city some and visit the mercao where the locals shop and that was amazing. There were entire sections devoted to fruits, shoes, spices, fish, kitchen ware--everything! I bought 10 warm tortillas, fresh off the press, for one peso (about ten cents). The spices vendors were the coolest because there was giant bags and bowls filled with cayenne and cumin, it was beautiful and the smell was overpowering. I purchased a small knife while is of excellent quality for about $4 dollars. The guy quoted me the price and then his coworkers got mad at him for giving me the locals price instead of the gringa price but he didn't take it back. I hope I can get that little beauty back into the U.S. I got lost and walked in circles for a while, but when I did finally get back I chilled at the pool with a German family (all the men and boys clad in speedos).
Merida reminded me of New York because at first all the hustle and bustle felt exciting and invigorating and then eventually it wore me down and I wanted to cry. And cry I did, in the evening, in my hot stuffy room, because my stomach still hurt and I hadn´t gotten enough sleep and people kept hassling me on the street. I really don´t like people trying to hustle me and there was a lot of that going on in Merida. Basically, anywhere touristy there are many people trying to aggressively sell things and I don't like being bombarded by accosting strangers. However, I'm sure they don't like being poor, so I try to have perspective. Julie and I happily left Merida behind and traveled West to Chitchen Itza. Along the way, she told me a wonderful story about a silky weasel who was the keeper of time for a village and lived in a bell tower.
My big idea that I have been looking forward to the whole trip, was for us to stay in a really nice fancy hotel and live it up at the ruins on our final day together. We found a nice place in the town of Piste, just 1km away from the ruins with a big pool and muchos animales running around, including the tiniest kittens I had ever seen. Like more of the animals here, I think they were malnourished, which was sad.
We went to a Mexican all you can eat buffet because it was across the street from our hotel and really went crazy with the rice and beans. Just kidding, I don't think it's possible for us to get too worked up about our staple foods at this point, but it was quite an experience. Julie said she felt like she was on a cruise. We have been traveling on the same schedule as European tourists and vacationing Mexican families and nowhere was that more apparent than at Chitchen Itza.
After dinner, we walked to the ruins to see the light and sound show which was mostly lost on me because it didn't occur to me to rent the simultaneously translation device. However, sitting out under the stars, staring at the big pyramid, with the full moon in the background was awesome and glorious and worth standing in two long lines with children pushing and shoving into us. On the walk home we saw giant tarantulas on the side of the road, which made me scream and run, and caused European men to become concerned. However, Julie was really into them and keep pointing them out when she found another one.
I requested a wake up call from the front desk so we could get to the ruins when they opened at 8am this morning to beat the crowds, but our call never came. We got there by 8:30am anyway, and it was good to be there early because the masses started swarming in with interest by 11am. The ruins were awesome by daylight too, and it maked me laugh (but it also makes me mad because the theory is racist), that there are signs at the entry of each of the ruins saying "The Maya were not helped by extraterrestrials". We beat it out of there after a few hours to get back to the hotel and have one final swim before check out. Our hotel, the Pirimidie Inn, is also home to the Explorers Club of Mexico and houses an insane photo display from the original archaeological digs from the 1970s. The folks in the pictures reminded me of characters from a Wes Anderson movie.
Julie and I dined together on refried beans and rice for the last time and it was a bittersweet luncheon. I was sad to leave her in Piste, with her going south to Chiapas, knowing that we won't see each other for another 2 weeks. Sadder still, because my bus to Cancun was so crowded I had to stand. Luckily, I stood in the right spot, and got a seat pretty quickly. However, it was the 2nd class bus because the first class bus didn't leave until 4pm and was like the slow boat to hell. There was no air conditioning or bad movies or Julie to distract me. Just the grit of the dusty road coating us as more and more people, desperate for air, struggled to open the sticky windows.
After what felt like an interminable amount of time, (in reality it was 4.5 hours), I finally arrived in Cancun and then had to find a hotel without the aid of my fearless and faithful Foolie. The hotel I was looking for was literally across the street, however, one taxi driver told me it was four blocks in the wrong direction and another told me he knew where it was and that he would take me there for $130 pesos (note: usually taxi rides have been $15 pesos). "Are you joking?" I asked him but he had already turned away.
So I walked around with my pink sweaty face and giant bag and got harassed by many people wanting me to stay at their hotel or dine in their eating establishments. I went to a couple budget places but then decided to go big and go to the place across from the bus terminal, which would have been quite easy to find if I had written the name down correctly. I scrawled it down badly and thought it was Grand Playa Caribe when it's Grand Plaza Caribe. I just didn't think it could be the place across from the bus station because it's my policy not to stay in places across from bus stations. Usually they are gross and seedy, but this place isn't. It's nice and has a pool and cost five times what I usually pay. But I don't care, because I'm stuck in Cancun where I don't want to be, without Foolie, and can't leave until tomorrow.
Anyway, for those of you who have expressed enjoyment from reading my blog, fear not. The fun won't end with this final Mexico post. Most of you already know that my regular life is weird and wacky too, so I will continue to blog when I get back to S.F. Wish me luck on my nine hour plane ride(s) tomorrow and that everything arrives and departs on time.
Julie and I left Merida (gracias a dios) which is a relief because although the town was super cool, it was also super overwhelming. The Nomadas hostel was like a European Real World; all these blonde girls trying to impress long haired boys smoking cigarettes, with Julie and I as the sullen brunette lesbians glaring at everyone from the corner. So we moved to the Hotel Trinidad Galleria just up the street, which had a pool and claims to be devoted completely to art. It was awesome because the whole place is filled with bad art, scary and weird paintings, sculptures and installations. The room however, had no ventilation and I was laid up with my stomach bug sickness and not in the mood for a smelly stuffy room.
I did rally in the early afternoon and force myself to go out and explore the city some and visit the mercao where the locals shop and that was amazing. There were entire sections devoted to fruits, shoes, spices, fish, kitchen ware--everything! I bought 10 warm tortillas, fresh off the press, for one peso (about ten cents). The spices vendors were the coolest because there was giant bags and bowls filled with cayenne and cumin, it was beautiful and the smell was overpowering. I purchased a small knife while is of excellent quality for about $4 dollars. The guy quoted me the price and then his coworkers got mad at him for giving me the locals price instead of the gringa price but he didn't take it back. I hope I can get that little beauty back into the U.S. I got lost and walked in circles for a while, but when I did finally get back I chilled at the pool with a German family (all the men and boys clad in speedos).
Merida reminded me of New York because at first all the hustle and bustle felt exciting and invigorating and then eventually it wore me down and I wanted to cry. And cry I did, in the evening, in my hot stuffy room, because my stomach still hurt and I hadn´t gotten enough sleep and people kept hassling me on the street. I really don´t like people trying to hustle me and there was a lot of that going on in Merida. Basically, anywhere touristy there are many people trying to aggressively sell things and I don't like being bombarded by accosting strangers. However, I'm sure they don't like being poor, so I try to have perspective. Julie and I happily left Merida behind and traveled West to Chitchen Itza. Along the way, she told me a wonderful story about a silky weasel who was the keeper of time for a village and lived in a bell tower.
My big idea that I have been looking forward to the whole trip, was for us to stay in a really nice fancy hotel and live it up at the ruins on our final day together. We found a nice place in the town of Piste, just 1km away from the ruins with a big pool and muchos animales running around, including the tiniest kittens I had ever seen. Like more of the animals here, I think they were malnourished, which was sad.
We went to a Mexican all you can eat buffet because it was across the street from our hotel and really went crazy with the rice and beans. Just kidding, I don't think it's possible for us to get too worked up about our staple foods at this point, but it was quite an experience. Julie said she felt like she was on a cruise. We have been traveling on the same schedule as European tourists and vacationing Mexican families and nowhere was that more apparent than at Chitchen Itza.
After dinner, we walked to the ruins to see the light and sound show which was mostly lost on me because it didn't occur to me to rent the simultaneously translation device. However, sitting out under the stars, staring at the big pyramid, with the full moon in the background was awesome and glorious and worth standing in two long lines with children pushing and shoving into us. On the walk home we saw giant tarantulas on the side of the road, which made me scream and run, and caused European men to become concerned. However, Julie was really into them and keep pointing them out when she found another one.
I requested a wake up call from the front desk so we could get to the ruins when they opened at 8am this morning to beat the crowds, but our call never came. We got there by 8:30am anyway, and it was good to be there early because the masses started swarming in with interest by 11am. The ruins were awesome by daylight too, and it maked me laugh (but it also makes me mad because the theory is racist), that there are signs at the entry of each of the ruins saying "The Maya were not helped by extraterrestrials". We beat it out of there after a few hours to get back to the hotel and have one final swim before check out. Our hotel, the Pirimidie Inn, is also home to the Explorers Club of Mexico and houses an insane photo display from the original archaeological digs from the 1970s. The folks in the pictures reminded me of characters from a Wes Anderson movie.
Julie and I dined together on refried beans and rice for the last time and it was a bittersweet luncheon. I was sad to leave her in Piste, with her going south to Chiapas, knowing that we won't see each other for another 2 weeks. Sadder still, because my bus to Cancun was so crowded I had to stand. Luckily, I stood in the right spot, and got a seat pretty quickly. However, it was the 2nd class bus because the first class bus didn't leave until 4pm and was like the slow boat to hell. There was no air conditioning or bad movies or Julie to distract me. Just the grit of the dusty road coating us as more and more people, desperate for air, struggled to open the sticky windows.
After what felt like an interminable amount of time, (in reality it was 4.5 hours), I finally arrived in Cancun and then had to find a hotel without the aid of my fearless and faithful Foolie. The hotel I was looking for was literally across the street, however, one taxi driver told me it was four blocks in the wrong direction and another told me he knew where it was and that he would take me there for $130 pesos (note: usually taxi rides have been $15 pesos). "Are you joking?" I asked him but he had already turned away.
So I walked around with my pink sweaty face and giant bag and got harassed by many people wanting me to stay at their hotel or dine in their eating establishments. I went to a couple budget places but then decided to go big and go to the place across from the bus terminal, which would have been quite easy to find if I had written the name down correctly. I scrawled it down badly and thought it was Grand Playa Caribe when it's Grand Plaza Caribe. I just didn't think it could be the place across from the bus station because it's my policy not to stay in places across from bus stations. Usually they are gross and seedy, but this place isn't. It's nice and has a pool and cost five times what I usually pay. But I don't care, because I'm stuck in Cancun where I don't want to be, without Foolie, and can't leave until tomorrow.
Anyway, for those of you who have expressed enjoyment from reading my blog, fear not. The fun won't end with this final Mexico post. Most of you already know that my regular life is weird and wacky too, so I will continue to blog when I get back to S.F. Wish me luck on my nine hour plane ride(s) tomorrow and that everything arrives and departs on time.
Friday, July 27, 2007
Stalkers In the Night
When we went out last night I believed we would go dancing but instead we ended up following gay men around in hopes that they would lead us to a secret gay bar. This never happened and instead we stalked two middle age men for fifteen minutes (they never seemed to notice!), until a bird pooped on me and I had to duck into a restaurant to wash it off. Gross. We wandered around a bit more and eventually found the park where many gay youths were hanging out on benches while middle age men started at them from accross the way. Julie and I inserted ourselves into the mix of people chilling but decided not to approach the youths because we were getting too tired (old).
We came back to the hostel where I had to confront the awful reality of sleeping in a stuffy room with a bunch of strangers. Upon first setting eyes on the dorm room in the hostel and seeing all the bunk beds with random girls personal effects strewn about, I was inspired to start singing showtunes from the musical Annie (one of my personal faves):
Don´t it feel like the wind is always howling?
Don´t it feel like there´s never any light?
Once a day don´t you want to throw the towel in?
It´s easier than putting up a fight!
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh, ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
I really loved that movie when I was young, and the sassy, scrapy orphan girls were the inspiration for many of my childhood antics. However, living the all girls dormatory dream Euro backpacker style in Mexico has not been fun. We have just a bed and a locker to store our stuff, and someone had piled all their clothes on the top of my locker, which is my only surface space, including their dirty underwear in a clear plastic bag. Even though the locker is clearly numbered to correspond with the bed, the offender did not remove the items upon my arrival, and actually piled more dirty clothes on top when I was out earlier this morning.
In addition, I somehow recieved the only bunk without my own fan in the entire room and which caused me to have a melt down (pun intended) when I couldn´t fall asleep because I was sweating too profusely. The girl in the bunk below had unplugged her fan to charge some batteries and I pulled them out in my late night confusion/desperation, thus waking her up. Fighting off hysteria, I woke up Julie who can sleep anywhere and had previously offered to trade with me, and asked her to switch bunks. I would have felt worse if she had not fallen asleep with a book on her face, thus letting me know she was very, very tired. Once in the new bed with a fan, I eventually fell asleep. Thank god.
However, earlier in the evening, I had made a bold toast to not getting sick on the entire trip and promptly came down with a stomach bug in the middle of the night. So I did not sleep well or long. I have spent the morning reading in a hammock and will presently depart the hostel for a hotel up the way with a pool. I am hoping that my tummy clears up and that I´ll be able to go out and do more exploring later today. I really want a hat and a hammock and don´t want my cheapwadness (not a word) to get in the way of me purchasing these uniquely Yucatan items that will surely enhance my life for years to come beyond the trip.
We came back to the hostel where I had to confront the awful reality of sleeping in a stuffy room with a bunch of strangers. Upon first setting eyes on the dorm room in the hostel and seeing all the bunk beds with random girls personal effects strewn about, I was inspired to start singing showtunes from the musical Annie (one of my personal faves):
Don´t it feel like the wind is always howling?
Don´t it feel like there´s never any light?
Once a day don´t you want to throw the towel in?
It´s easier than putting up a fight!
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh, ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
I really loved that movie when I was young, and the sassy, scrapy orphan girls were the inspiration for many of my childhood antics. However, living the all girls dormatory dream Euro backpacker style in Mexico has not been fun. We have just a bed and a locker to store our stuff, and someone had piled all their clothes on the top of my locker, which is my only surface space, including their dirty underwear in a clear plastic bag. Even though the locker is clearly numbered to correspond with the bed, the offender did not remove the items upon my arrival, and actually piled more dirty clothes on top when I was out earlier this morning.
In addition, I somehow recieved the only bunk without my own fan in the entire room and which caused me to have a melt down (pun intended) when I couldn´t fall asleep because I was sweating too profusely. The girl in the bunk below had unplugged her fan to charge some batteries and I pulled them out in my late night confusion/desperation, thus waking her up. Fighting off hysteria, I woke up Julie who can sleep anywhere and had previously offered to trade with me, and asked her to switch bunks. I would have felt worse if she had not fallen asleep with a book on her face, thus letting me know she was very, very tired. Once in the new bed with a fan, I eventually fell asleep. Thank god.
However, earlier in the evening, I had made a bold toast to not getting sick on the entire trip and promptly came down with a stomach bug in the middle of the night. So I did not sleep well or long. I have spent the morning reading in a hammock and will presently depart the hostel for a hotel up the way with a pool. I am hoping that my tummy clears up and that I´ll be able to go out and do more exploring later today. I really want a hat and a hammock and don´t want my cheapwadness (not a word) to get in the way of me purchasing these uniquely Yucatan items that will surely enhance my life for years to come beyond the trip.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
No Room at the Inn
Today Julie and I were like Mary and Joseph on Christmas Eve, searching high and low for a private room at the various hotels and hostels we had read about in Merida. Sadly, there was nothing available, and our manger is the girls dormitory at the Nomadas Hostel. We have bunk beds next to each other but we both have the top bunk--bogus. This sad turn of events made me have my first and only complete flip out on the trip (luckily it was a silent turn of events, between me and my journal) where I wanted to come home. Its funny because what I really wanted to do was shut the door and be able to lie down (without having to climb up). However, once I took a shower and had dinner at a vegetarian restaurant (aw, yeah! we are on a roll with those), I was fine.
The hostel is perfect for us actually, because they have tons of information here about how to get to all the various ruins and cenotes in the area. I could even book a flight to Cuba out of Cancun if I wanted to, and you know I am tempted! I have been assuming on the trip that most of the whiteys I see are Americans and that has proven patently wrong time and time again. There are tons of Germans, Brits and people with guide books which spell Mexico with a "k". Its fun to be in a place with so many young people, because the last few places have been more refined hotel type situations. Perhaps I am just feeling rambunctious after another long bus ride, or maybe it´s the closer proximity to Cancun, but Merida feels like a party city.
It´s dirter and a lot more touristy than Campeche and Julie and I both felt a little shell shocked by the amount of traffic, both automobile and pedestrian, while walking around. So far, the most notable thing is that the churches here have the biggest statues of crucifixes I have ever seen. The first church I went in to had a 30 ft Jesus over the alter, and that wasn´t even counting the cross. I would have come up to Jesus´knee on that thing. It was a really gaunt and suffering Jesus too, so the overall effect was terrifying. In Campeche the big church was hella pagan, with alters to all the different Mary sightings all over the world. Here, its just big scarey Jesus time.
There were pictures of drag queens in a human rights magazine I found at the restaurant we went to, so we feel hopeful about finding a gay bar in this town. I have seen a few gay looking men peering at Julie curiously on the street, but you never know what that means. It´s either going to be a gay bar or the club that claims to play rock and pop. The good news is that Mexican teen-agers seem to love Justin Timberlake as much as I do, so Julie and I are going to try to get our sexy on. Tomorrow is uncertain, except for the fact that we are going to try to move to a hotel down the block with a pool and live it up a bit more for our last few days in Mexico.
The hostel is perfect for us actually, because they have tons of information here about how to get to all the various ruins and cenotes in the area. I could even book a flight to Cuba out of Cancun if I wanted to, and you know I am tempted! I have been assuming on the trip that most of the whiteys I see are Americans and that has proven patently wrong time and time again. There are tons of Germans, Brits and people with guide books which spell Mexico with a "k". Its fun to be in a place with so many young people, because the last few places have been more refined hotel type situations. Perhaps I am just feeling rambunctious after another long bus ride, or maybe it´s the closer proximity to Cancun, but Merida feels like a party city.
It´s dirter and a lot more touristy than Campeche and Julie and I both felt a little shell shocked by the amount of traffic, both automobile and pedestrian, while walking around. So far, the most notable thing is that the churches here have the biggest statues of crucifixes I have ever seen. The first church I went in to had a 30 ft Jesus over the alter, and that wasn´t even counting the cross. I would have come up to Jesus´knee on that thing. It was a really gaunt and suffering Jesus too, so the overall effect was terrifying. In Campeche the big church was hella pagan, with alters to all the different Mary sightings all over the world. Here, its just big scarey Jesus time.
There were pictures of drag queens in a human rights magazine I found at the restaurant we went to, so we feel hopeful about finding a gay bar in this town. I have seen a few gay looking men peering at Julie curiously on the street, but you never know what that means. It´s either going to be a gay bar or the club that claims to play rock and pop. The good news is that Mexican teen-agers seem to love Justin Timberlake as much as I do, so Julie and I are going to try to get our sexy on. Tomorrow is uncertain, except for the fact that we are going to try to move to a hotel down the block with a pool and live it up a bit more for our last few days in Mexico.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Mas o Menos
Correction: In my last entry, I stated that cola de gato means "jaw of the cat". I was wrong, it means cat´s tail. Now you can all see what a confusing process learning Spanish is for me.
It´s actually not raining in Campeche but it looks like it might. It´s sunset and the sky is streaked in pìnk and purple with large dark clouds looming. Today was a full day, Julie got up early for a run, I slept in and then ate breakfast in a fancy restaurant over looking the centro. We met up and took a collectivo to the Edzna ruins, about 40 kilometers from here. The only seats left were all the way in the back of the van and it was incredibly hot with no air condition. At first I was disturbed and felt claustrophobic, but then I kind of got into it, enjoying the view of the country side as we whizzed along with over modulated pop music blaring in our ears.
The Edzna ruins are way more impressive than the previous ones I have visited. There were nearly 10 structures, many of them formidable. I immediately climbed to the top of the largest pyramid, which was extremely steep and seriously high! I was out of breath when I got up top. There was a dude already up there who started chatting me up about my tattoo. My tattoos are of never ending fascination for people here. Children will openly stare at me because of them, like they aren´t sure what they are seeing. Yesterday an indigenous woman I was buying a banana from wanted me to translated the writing on my arm into Spanish. I told her I couldn´t but that it meant something about the sea, that got the usual "are you kidding?" look that most people give me after reading my arms. Oh well.
The best was the other day though, when I went into a Catholic store to buy some important gift items. I wearing a tank top and shorts so that almost all of my tattoos were visible and the women behind the counter were staring at me and Julie like they weren´t sure where the hell we had come from. Then when I went up to purchase my items they looked at each other like "Oh god, can we sell pictures of the Virgin Mary to an obvious Satan worshipper?" It was excellent.
So anyway, back up on the ruins, that dude wanted to show me around the top of the temple "...this is where the slaves were kept," and "...this is where they made the human sacrifices." He kept asking me if I had a boyfriend or kids and when I said no he asked why and how old I was. I didn´t feel safe coming out to him on the top of the ancient ruins with a violent past, but I probably should have because then he wanted to make out with me in the human sacrifice area, which was awkward. I stayed up awhile after he had left, admiring the view, but later when I got down I saw him walking around with his wife and pushing a baby stroller--sleazy! I hiked around a bit more and saw the field where they played an early version of soccer and then we walked back out to the road and took another collectivo back to town.
It was hot and still early so we decided to go to a nearby beach called "playa bonita". I was skeptical that anything on the Gulf of Mexico would be bonita and I was right. The water was a muddy brown, the swimming area was too shallow to swim, I had to crouch and splash water on my arms instead, and there was a gross amount of seaweed. The beach itself had little huts for shelter from the relentless sun which was nice, but the sand was a bunch of broken shells that hurt to sit on. We decided a more accurate name would be "playa mas o menos". Once we left the beach we were as hot as when we had started out, and there were no collectivos for miles. So we took a taxi back to town and went to the vegetarian restaurant where we have been taking many meals. I am proud to report that I ate vegetables with every meal today, a first since starting the vacation. I even had beet juice with dinner which felt like it revived some brain cells that had withered from lack of nutrients.
Tomorrow we leave for Merida and from there we will go to Chitchen Itza, a grand finish to our ruins expedition tour. I don´t have high hopes for our last night in Campeche as far as dancing and entertainment in concerned. Last night, I asked the guy who works in our hotel where we could get a beer because there are very few bars, mostly just restaurant bars, and he said there was no bars near us. I asked if there were bars in other parts of town and he said no, there were not bars that would be acceptable for mujeres. So apparently only fallen women care to drink publicly in this town. This would be the part where my Lonely Planet guide would come in handy, too bad its sitting on my bed in San Francisco.
It´s actually not raining in Campeche but it looks like it might. It´s sunset and the sky is streaked in pìnk and purple with large dark clouds looming. Today was a full day, Julie got up early for a run, I slept in and then ate breakfast in a fancy restaurant over looking the centro. We met up and took a collectivo to the Edzna ruins, about 40 kilometers from here. The only seats left were all the way in the back of the van and it was incredibly hot with no air condition. At first I was disturbed and felt claustrophobic, but then I kind of got into it, enjoying the view of the country side as we whizzed along with over modulated pop music blaring in our ears.
The Edzna ruins are way more impressive than the previous ones I have visited. There were nearly 10 structures, many of them formidable. I immediately climbed to the top of the largest pyramid, which was extremely steep and seriously high! I was out of breath when I got up top. There was a dude already up there who started chatting me up about my tattoo. My tattoos are of never ending fascination for people here. Children will openly stare at me because of them, like they aren´t sure what they are seeing. Yesterday an indigenous woman I was buying a banana from wanted me to translated the writing on my arm into Spanish. I told her I couldn´t but that it meant something about the sea, that got the usual "are you kidding?" look that most people give me after reading my arms. Oh well.
The best was the other day though, when I went into a Catholic store to buy some important gift items. I wearing a tank top and shorts so that almost all of my tattoos were visible and the women behind the counter were staring at me and Julie like they weren´t sure where the hell we had come from. Then when I went up to purchase my items they looked at each other like "Oh god, can we sell pictures of the Virgin Mary to an obvious Satan worshipper?" It was excellent.
So anyway, back up on the ruins, that dude wanted to show me around the top of the temple "...this is where the slaves were kept," and "...this is where they made the human sacrifices." He kept asking me if I had a boyfriend or kids and when I said no he asked why and how old I was. I didn´t feel safe coming out to him on the top of the ancient ruins with a violent past, but I probably should have because then he wanted to make out with me in the human sacrifice area, which was awkward. I stayed up awhile after he had left, admiring the view, but later when I got down I saw him walking around with his wife and pushing a baby stroller--sleazy! I hiked around a bit more and saw the field where they played an early version of soccer and then we walked back out to the road and took another collectivo back to town.
It was hot and still early so we decided to go to a nearby beach called "playa bonita". I was skeptical that anything on the Gulf of Mexico would be bonita and I was right. The water was a muddy brown, the swimming area was too shallow to swim, I had to crouch and splash water on my arms instead, and there was a gross amount of seaweed. The beach itself had little huts for shelter from the relentless sun which was nice, but the sand was a bunch of broken shells that hurt to sit on. We decided a more accurate name would be "playa mas o menos". Once we left the beach we were as hot as when we had started out, and there were no collectivos for miles. So we took a taxi back to town and went to the vegetarian restaurant where we have been taking many meals. I am proud to report that I ate vegetables with every meal today, a first since starting the vacation. I even had beet juice with dinner which felt like it revived some brain cells that had withered from lack of nutrients.
Tomorrow we leave for Merida and from there we will go to Chitchen Itza, a grand finish to our ruins expedition tour. I don´t have high hopes for our last night in Campeche as far as dancing and entertainment in concerned. Last night, I asked the guy who works in our hotel where we could get a beer because there are very few bars, mostly just restaurant bars, and he said there was no bars near us. I asked if there were bars in other parts of town and he said no, there were not bars that would be acceptable for mujeres. So apparently only fallen women care to drink publicly in this town. This would be the part where my Lonely Planet guide would come in handy, too bad its sitting on my bed in San Francisco.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Monsoooooon
The rain has not abated since we arrived last night in Campeche and I just ducked into an internet cafe to take shelter from the relentless storm. After a long and tiresome bus ride from Xjupil, on which we were subjected to many b-movies from the U.S., we arrived in Campeche last night and immediately took a taxi to our hotel, Hotel Colonia. Lines and cutting people are not the same thing here as in the U.S., people seem a lot more comfortable with pushing and cutting, and I have to remind myself to be a polite guest or my asshole "me first!" New Yorker instincts come roaring out. Such was the case last night while waiting in "line", more like an ambigous mass of people, for a taxi. After trying to unsucessfully steal several people`s taxis I decided to stop being a jerk and chill. That was good because the next taxi I would have tried to steal had crazy graphic anti-abortion propaganda on the back and I certainly would not have wanted to ride in that guy's Jesus mobile.
We are staying in the old city which looks a lot like New Orleans and apparently floods like it too, because we had to stand in ankle deep water to get our bags out of the trunk of the taxi last night. The buildings are all continuous, painted in different bright colors, with large doorways facing out; the streets are cobble stone, and the sidewalks are slippery because the stone is so old. Plus, some of them are a good three feet off the ground. There are stairs, sometimes three at a time, to climb up and down the sidewalks, I kid you not. Our hotel is "presciousa": it has an indoor courtyard that our room looks out on and everything is painted seafoam green. I feel like I am in Europe and we have decided to stay here for three nights, instead of our usual two, because we are weary from the road and not eager to get back on a bus.
Today we explored the city and visited the Botantical Gardens (which we snuck into) and the pirate museum. Apparently Campeche has a long legacy of having to defend itself from pirates and the museum is housed in an old fortress. However, the information provided was scant, so I am not entirely clear what all went on, except that pirates were here and they tortured people and many had British sounding names, while others were immortalized simply as Diego "El Mulato". We ate in a vegetarian restaurant "Nutri Vida" for lunch and had veggie burgers and a salad. That was awesome, let me tell you. I never thought I'd say this but I am so sick of cheese and tortillas, if I have to try to make another meal out of them, I will cry. I am not yet totally disgusted by the thought of beans and rice but I'm sure I'll be close by the time I leave. The rain started to get us as we left the fortress and I ran back to the hotel because I had to pick up my laundry at a lavanderia near by. I am so grateful to be wearing clean clothes, it is quite an occasion.
I thought the rain had passed so I went back out to go to the mercado, but it started raining again when I got a block away. I ran into the mercado and made my way deep into the heart of it, which is an open air building with people selling various wares. It was rather comforting to be surrounded by little girl dresses and all manner of random stuff, while the rain pounded the roof above. However, there is a fish market area and eventually the smell of fish drove me back out into the rain once it had lessened. From growing up on the East Coast, I am well versed in the different types of rain, but after living in San Francisco for all these years, where it always looks like its going to rain but rarely does (until the winter), I had forgotten about the nuances of rain. Here the rain starts slowly by spitting, then begins to drizzle, before it goes all out and pours buckets on your head. People here respect the rain and the hard pounding type is the kind that you wait out silently, in almost a meditating manner, under some public awning with strangers. Once that lets up, the steady rain is fair game and people begin to brave it. I don't know how I'm going to get back to my hotel though, because the water on our street is several feet high.
Tomorrow we expect to go to some ruins, Edzna, which are supposed to be pretty cool, and not too far from the city. The next day we are going back to la playa, because we miss the water, and after that we are heading to Merida. The end of my vacation is in sight, although we still have at least five more days and another city to explore. I am hoping to go dancing and this city might be the place, although I have not seen any obviously excellent discos. Hopefully, we can find some tonight.
We are staying in the old city which looks a lot like New Orleans and apparently floods like it too, because we had to stand in ankle deep water to get our bags out of the trunk of the taxi last night. The buildings are all continuous, painted in different bright colors, with large doorways facing out; the streets are cobble stone, and the sidewalks are slippery because the stone is so old. Plus, some of them are a good three feet off the ground. There are stairs, sometimes three at a time, to climb up and down the sidewalks, I kid you not. Our hotel is "presciousa": it has an indoor courtyard that our room looks out on and everything is painted seafoam green. I feel like I am in Europe and we have decided to stay here for three nights, instead of our usual two, because we are weary from the road and not eager to get back on a bus.
Today we explored the city and visited the Botantical Gardens (which we snuck into) and the pirate museum. Apparently Campeche has a long legacy of having to defend itself from pirates and the museum is housed in an old fortress. However, the information provided was scant, so I am not entirely clear what all went on, except that pirates were here and they tortured people and many had British sounding names, while others were immortalized simply as Diego "El Mulato". We ate in a vegetarian restaurant "Nutri Vida" for lunch and had veggie burgers and a salad. That was awesome, let me tell you. I never thought I'd say this but I am so sick of cheese and tortillas, if I have to try to make another meal out of them, I will cry. I am not yet totally disgusted by the thought of beans and rice but I'm sure I'll be close by the time I leave. The rain started to get us as we left the fortress and I ran back to the hotel because I had to pick up my laundry at a lavanderia near by. I am so grateful to be wearing clean clothes, it is quite an occasion.
I thought the rain had passed so I went back out to go to the mercado, but it started raining again when I got a block away. I ran into the mercado and made my way deep into the heart of it, which is an open air building with people selling various wares. It was rather comforting to be surrounded by little girl dresses and all manner of random stuff, while the rain pounded the roof above. However, there is a fish market area and eventually the smell of fish drove me back out into the rain once it had lessened. From growing up on the East Coast, I am well versed in the different types of rain, but after living in San Francisco for all these years, where it always looks like its going to rain but rarely does (until the winter), I had forgotten about the nuances of rain. Here the rain starts slowly by spitting, then begins to drizzle, before it goes all out and pours buckets on your head. People here respect the rain and the hard pounding type is the kind that you wait out silently, in almost a meditating manner, under some public awning with strangers. Once that lets up, the steady rain is fair game and people begin to brave it. I don't know how I'm going to get back to my hotel though, because the water on our street is several feet high.
Tomorrow we expect to go to some ruins, Edzna, which are supposed to be pretty cool, and not too far from the city. The next day we are going back to la playa, because we miss the water, and after that we are heading to Merida. The end of my vacation is in sight, although we still have at least five more days and another city to explore. I am hoping to go dancing and this city might be the place, although I have not seen any obviously excellent discos. Hopefully, we can find some tonight.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Cola de Gato
Back in the same internet cafe waiting for the bus to take us away from the boring little hemlet of Xpujil. We stayed the night in more rustic cabanas that were apart of a nicer hotel. It felt like summer camp when we went to sleep under the tent of mosquito netting. There wasn´t time to see ruins yesterday because it started pouring just a little bit after we got here and basically didn´t stop. It is supposed to be monsoon season, so what can you do?
We are in the campo and I did have the opportunity to take a walk to the outskirts of town before the storm and get some nice pictures. Most people have different farm animals living on their property and the best thing I saw was ducks quacking in some muddy water with puppies scavening for food next to them and a rooster clucking along on the other side of the bank. It was so cute, so many animals playing together at once! I had never seen such a thing. There were also a family of pigs I stopped to take a picture of, but I don´t think the mom appreciated me because she came after me with her little porkos following. Whatever to them though, I found two little baby black pigs further down the road who were happy to be my subjects.
We ran into a gringo family staying at the hotel, a mom and two kids, who asked if we were from the Bay Area and said we looked "Bay Area" which amused us. They are from Oakland and the mom is a teacher in Fruitvale so that was a funny coincidence. I found them later calling their "other mom" on the phone and it was a happy discovery that they are a little gay family (which is probably why they looked so happy to see me and Julie). The kids were really cute and sweet too.
This morning it was pouring buckets but I decided to brave the rain and go see the nearest ruins, La Cola de Gato, (Cat´s Jaws), which was just a little up the road. There were three buildings and I got to climb all over them which was fun. They weren´t super big but the surrounding forest/jungle was really pretty and actually kind of reminded me of Vermont. Alledgedly this is part of a protected biosphere region and there are supposed to be jaguars somewhere but I certainly didn´t see any. Our bus leaves soon for Campiche and I am looking forward to moving on to bigger and better sights.
We are in the campo and I did have the opportunity to take a walk to the outskirts of town before the storm and get some nice pictures. Most people have different farm animals living on their property and the best thing I saw was ducks quacking in some muddy water with puppies scavening for food next to them and a rooster clucking along on the other side of the bank. It was so cute, so many animals playing together at once! I had never seen such a thing. There were also a family of pigs I stopped to take a picture of, but I don´t think the mom appreciated me because she came after me with her little porkos following. Whatever to them though, I found two little baby black pigs further down the road who were happy to be my subjects.
We ran into a gringo family staying at the hotel, a mom and two kids, who asked if we were from the Bay Area and said we looked "Bay Area" which amused us. They are from Oakland and the mom is a teacher in Fruitvale so that was a funny coincidence. I found them later calling their "other mom" on the phone and it was a happy discovery that they are a little gay family (which is probably why they looked so happy to see me and Julie). The kids were really cute and sweet too.
This morning it was pouring buckets but I decided to brave the rain and go see the nearest ruins, La Cola de Gato, (Cat´s Jaws), which was just a little up the road. There were three buildings and I got to climb all over them which was fun. They weren´t super big but the surrounding forest/jungle was really pretty and actually kind of reminded me of Vermont. Alledgedly this is part of a protected biosphere region and there are supposed to be jaguars somewhere but I certainly didn´t see any. Our bus leaves soon for Campiche and I am looking forward to moving on to bigger and better sights.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
The Itchy and Scratchy Show
I have just arrived in Xpujil (pronounced Shoo-pil, I think) and Julie is off scavenging for a hostel for us. She´s better at that than me. We have stopped here on our way from Chetumal to Campiche because there are five ruins surrounding the area. The best one, Calamak (sp?), is located deep in the jungle about 60 km from here, so I don´t know if we are going to get to it, but I kinda want to try because its supposed to be impressive.
Yesterday we went to Balakar, which is a little town with a big laguna and a fortress. Apparently the fortress was created to defend against pirates back in the day, but I dont know how the pirates were attacking them via a lake. Anyway, the lake was gorgeous: turqoise and blue water, quite warm, like bath water, and strangely shallow. I had to swim out pretty far to not be able to touch the ground. It was a cool spot because there were many Mexican families out for the day, just chilling at the lake. There was a big restaurant with a dock you could lay out on and dive off of and we just walked out and put our stuff down. They would bring you drinks but you didn´t have to order anything, we could have just sat and played all day and no one would have hassled us. In the U.S. there would be like a $20 minimum just to sit at the dock.
Last night we stumbled upon a "Japanese" restaurant in Chetumal (I didn´t actually see any Japanese people working there). I was skeptical and didnt want to get my hopes us but was the answer to our prayers. We ordered three dishes, which were all veggies, and ate it all. Broccoli never tasted so delicious. Then we went to a "karoke" bar to finish off the evening. There was no singing happening but there were music videos from the 1980´s playing. All I have to say is that Latin pop has always been amazing and Ricky Martin has always been really gay.
Chetumal was an interesting city because it was the most solidly middle-class place I have ever been in Mexico. It seems to be a hub of commerce, getting traffic from surrounding areas and Belize, and there were two vegetarian restaurants (not counting the Japanese place), although we only got to go to one. That was on our first night and it was run by some Christian lady who raised her head and hands and gave all the praise up to God when we said we liked her tvp. I think they were 7th Day Adventists. I noticed a distinct lack of ass kissing once we arrived there, it was clear we had left the super touristy area. People did not act like they were really happy to see us everywhere we went and did not automatically speak to us in English, which is obviously fine and good to get to practice more.
Today we took the bus away from the coast, a move which has caused us some anxiety. Going swimming everyday has been the main way we have been dealing with the heat and I think we are both scared to enter into the "ruins exploration" phase of the trip, as I have conceptualized the 2nd week. The bug bites only really bother us at night but ágain, I think thats because we spend most of our days in the water. When the situation gets intolerable for me, I have begun referring to it as the Itchy and Scratchy Show. It is fun to talk in those crazy Simpsons cat and mouse voices about how we could mutilate our legs to stop the pain.
I have finished my book, The Golden Compass, and the only books I could find in English to buy in Chetumal was the Scarlet Pimpernel, the Secret Garden or a Tale of Two Cities. I didn´t like Dickens in high school, but 2 Cities seemed like the best bet so I went with it. Its nice to know that when my brain is not tired from my job, my desire to read returns!
Yesterday we went to Balakar, which is a little town with a big laguna and a fortress. Apparently the fortress was created to defend against pirates back in the day, but I dont know how the pirates were attacking them via a lake. Anyway, the lake was gorgeous: turqoise and blue water, quite warm, like bath water, and strangely shallow. I had to swim out pretty far to not be able to touch the ground. It was a cool spot because there were many Mexican families out for the day, just chilling at the lake. There was a big restaurant with a dock you could lay out on and dive off of and we just walked out and put our stuff down. They would bring you drinks but you didn´t have to order anything, we could have just sat and played all day and no one would have hassled us. In the U.S. there would be like a $20 minimum just to sit at the dock.
Last night we stumbled upon a "Japanese" restaurant in Chetumal (I didn´t actually see any Japanese people working there). I was skeptical and didnt want to get my hopes us but was the answer to our prayers. We ordered three dishes, which were all veggies, and ate it all. Broccoli never tasted so delicious. Then we went to a "karoke" bar to finish off the evening. There was no singing happening but there were music videos from the 1980´s playing. All I have to say is that Latin pop has always been amazing and Ricky Martin has always been really gay.
Chetumal was an interesting city because it was the most solidly middle-class place I have ever been in Mexico. It seems to be a hub of commerce, getting traffic from surrounding areas and Belize, and there were two vegetarian restaurants (not counting the Japanese place), although we only got to go to one. That was on our first night and it was run by some Christian lady who raised her head and hands and gave all the praise up to God when we said we liked her tvp. I think they were 7th Day Adventists. I noticed a distinct lack of ass kissing once we arrived there, it was clear we had left the super touristy area. People did not act like they were really happy to see us everywhere we went and did not automatically speak to us in English, which is obviously fine and good to get to practice more.
Today we took the bus away from the coast, a move which has caused us some anxiety. Going swimming everyday has been the main way we have been dealing with the heat and I think we are both scared to enter into the "ruins exploration" phase of the trip, as I have conceptualized the 2nd week. The bug bites only really bother us at night but ágain, I think thats because we spend most of our days in the water. When the situation gets intolerable for me, I have begun referring to it as the Itchy and Scratchy Show. It is fun to talk in those crazy Simpsons cat and mouse voices about how we could mutilate our legs to stop the pain.
I have finished my book, The Golden Compass, and the only books I could find in English to buy in Chetumal was the Scarlet Pimpernel, the Secret Garden or a Tale of Two Cities. I didn´t like Dickens in high school, but 2 Cities seemed like the best bet so I went with it. Its nice to know that when my brain is not tired from my job, my desire to read returns!
Friday, July 20, 2007
Totopo-a-go-go
I am sitting in an internet cafe in Chetumal, a coastal city that borders Belize. We thought that maybe we would get to head into Belize, but it does not appear that we will have enough time, bummer. The past 2.5 days we spent in Mahahual, a tiny little town on the Caribbean (they call it Costa Maya) that seems to exist solely to give Carnival cruise patrons a place to get wasted and ride motorized vehicles on land and sea.
When we first arrived, we were blinded by the bright sun reflecting off of the white sand. Luckily, I had sunglasses, Julie did not and spent the next three days with a towel over her head. Mahaual felt like an island because its just one long road that stretches for miles. It was like we walked into an amusement park because there was loud music blaring, locals hacking colorful wares, and signs for cervezas plastered on every wall, roof and umbrella. Not to mention extremely loud American tourists getting their drink on in bars, sand and water. Basically, we were scared but excited. The ocean was blue and turquoise and there were palms trees everywhere, I couldn´t believe we had landed in such a paradise.
The trade off was that everything was really expensive and after a long hot walk with our heavy bags we eventually found some rustic cabanas on a less ideal stretch of beach in our price range. We dropped our stuff and I napped while Julie explored and when I woke up all the gross tourists (well except us) were gone! The town transformed itself back to a normal Mexican village, it was crazy, like it took off its clown make-up or something. We went swimming and ate and that was basically it for two days. Wake up, go to the beach, swim, read, get some food, read some more, swim, swim, swim, food, nap...it was fucking awesome. When I had to pee, I just ran into the ocean. There was no reason to leave the beach, it was amazing!
The vegetarian thing was still an issue because so much of the cusine is fish and it was funny because everytime we ordered, each dish would come with its own basket of totopos (corn tortilla chips). We couldnt get away from them, we wouldnt order any and suddenly there would be three baskets on our table. In an attempt to get some ruffage and vegetables into our bodies, last night we decided to walk to a vegetarian restaurant on the way far edge of town, about 5-6 kilometers from our cabana.
That was a crazy walk, there were bats dive bombing us, local dogs harassing us and the mosquitos were relentless. I was especially unnerved by the constant rustling in the bushes as we walked. Julie assured me it was just iguanas (they are everywhere here, and they are crazy dinosaur faced beasts), but I wasn´t so sure. And if it was them, they were stalking us. We finally made it to the restaurant only to discover, much to my non-wheat eating shagrin, that the whole cusine was dedicated to fucking Pita bread. They even spelled out their motto in P-I-T-A (I was so annoied, I dont remember what it was). But I eventally found stuff I could order and had a good meal. We wanted to take a cab back but the host informed us were out of cell phone range so we had to brave the darkness and walk back.
Today we woke up and had a mini food-swim-read session before catching the bus down here. A horrible heat rash has appeared on my legs and I am sure glad I brought some hydrocortizone cream. Each night I have to shower away the sand and sun block, slather on some aloe vera and then sleep on stratchy sheets. So its no wonder my sensitive skin is freaking out. My mom was right and the salt water did help heal my bug bites but I got new ones and basically my legs look really f-ed up right now. The owner of the cabanas was staring at me like ¨Yikes, gringa¨. They are kicking me out so I have to go, but thanks to everyone who has been emailing and commenting. xo
When we first arrived, we were blinded by the bright sun reflecting off of the white sand. Luckily, I had sunglasses, Julie did not and spent the next three days with a towel over her head. Mahaual felt like an island because its just one long road that stretches for miles. It was like we walked into an amusement park because there was loud music blaring, locals hacking colorful wares, and signs for cervezas plastered on every wall, roof and umbrella. Not to mention extremely loud American tourists getting their drink on in bars, sand and water. Basically, we were scared but excited. The ocean was blue and turquoise and there were palms trees everywhere, I couldn´t believe we had landed in such a paradise.
The trade off was that everything was really expensive and after a long hot walk with our heavy bags we eventually found some rustic cabanas on a less ideal stretch of beach in our price range. We dropped our stuff and I napped while Julie explored and when I woke up all the gross tourists (well except us) were gone! The town transformed itself back to a normal Mexican village, it was crazy, like it took off its clown make-up or something. We went swimming and ate and that was basically it for two days. Wake up, go to the beach, swim, read, get some food, read some more, swim, swim, swim, food, nap...it was fucking awesome. When I had to pee, I just ran into the ocean. There was no reason to leave the beach, it was amazing!
The vegetarian thing was still an issue because so much of the cusine is fish and it was funny because everytime we ordered, each dish would come with its own basket of totopos (corn tortilla chips). We couldnt get away from them, we wouldnt order any and suddenly there would be three baskets on our table. In an attempt to get some ruffage and vegetables into our bodies, last night we decided to walk to a vegetarian restaurant on the way far edge of town, about 5-6 kilometers from our cabana.
That was a crazy walk, there were bats dive bombing us, local dogs harassing us and the mosquitos were relentless. I was especially unnerved by the constant rustling in the bushes as we walked. Julie assured me it was just iguanas (they are everywhere here, and they are crazy dinosaur faced beasts), but I wasn´t so sure. And if it was them, they were stalking us. We finally made it to the restaurant only to discover, much to my non-wheat eating shagrin, that the whole cusine was dedicated to fucking Pita bread. They even spelled out their motto in P-I-T-A (I was so annoied, I dont remember what it was). But I eventally found stuff I could order and had a good meal. We wanted to take a cab back but the host informed us were out of cell phone range so we had to brave the darkness and walk back.
Today we woke up and had a mini food-swim-read session before catching the bus down here. A horrible heat rash has appeared on my legs and I am sure glad I brought some hydrocortizone cream. Each night I have to shower away the sand and sun block, slather on some aloe vera and then sleep on stratchy sheets. So its no wonder my sensitive skin is freaking out. My mom was right and the salt water did help heal my bug bites but I got new ones and basically my legs look really f-ed up right now. The owner of the cabanas was staring at me like ¨Yikes, gringa¨. They are kicking me out so I have to go, but thanks to everyone who has been emailing and commenting. xo
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Sarong-ing It
Day 3: Land of the mosquitos
Ok, my spelling is really bad and this thing isnt going to spell check for me, so I´m just putting that out there. Today Julie and I visited our first centoe, dos ojos. Before we could do that, however, there was a little matter of a sorong I had to attend to. In an effort to not be a total princess, I only brought one towel, even though I knew that I would want one for the beach and one for the shower. However, Julie persuaded me that a sarong is best for the beach and despite the fact that I have always found them asthetically unappeling and somewhat lazy (because they scream ¨look at me, I didn´t feel like getting dressed today so instead I´m wearing a see through toga rather than clothes!¨) I have been in search of one.
As I stated before, they are usually quite ugly and I was hard pressed to find one that said ´I stand for dignity and justice¨ which is what I wanted. Most places wanted twelve but I was like hell no, and finally bargained a nice lady down to 8 dollars. I was tempted by the batik dolphin trio (lesbionic dolphin orgy is always a good motif) but instead went for a dual colored green shell theme because it was the best thing going. With my sarong in tow, and slathered in spf 30, we set out.
I don´t want to curse us, but so far, finding public transpo to take us where we want to go has been super easy, like no waiting at all. Today, we just walked out to the main road and found a condi (or collectivo), which is a van that shuttles people around for a minimal fee, to take us to the cenote. We got to ride in air conditioning, which feels so nice, let me tell you, and were dropped at the entrance off the highay. Being the hardcore travelers we are, and at Julie´s instistance, we elected to walk the one kilometer (more like two) down the long dusty road in the sweltering heat to the cenote rather than accept the rides offered by the many nice people in cars.
I had heard many exciting things about cenotes but everyone forgot to mention their main function: a breeding ground for misquitoes. The first one we went to was deserted because its small and unimpressive, and I had a panic attack as soon as I hit the freezing cold water. I thought I was hyperventialting because it was so cold, but then I found I couldnt stop because I was so scared that bats were going to swoop down out of the low cave ceiling to attack me. I wasnt swimming and would only tread water in one place so we didn´t stay very long. Julie suggested we make a run for it because she had gotten 20 bites in two minutes on her way in, so we ran back out to the main road in our bathing suits being chased by evil bugs the whole way. As we continued on our way to the next cenote, I prayed it would be nicer than the first. I was at that time wearing a dripping wet sarong as a dress over my bathing suit and flip flops while hiking through the jungle--totally awesome.
We finally found the cenote, dos ojos, which were much nicer but the bats were actually visible there. Luckily, there were many scuba diver tourist groups around and I reasoned that the bats were surely go for the annoying people first. The caves are supposedly made of limestone and have all these crazy pointed formations hanging down (stalagmites? who knows?) and even those formations looked like bats to me. After lunch, which was spent walking in a circle while eating a peanut butter sandwich in an attempt to get away from the incessant misquitoes that were hounding us, we got back into the water and I managed to get over my fear of the bats and do some hardcore exploring. We traveled by swimming and crawling through underground caverns to get from one centoe to the other, which was really fun.
I was also scared that a giant snake would emerge to bite us, a la Harry Potter, but it never did. I honestly didn´t realize I was actively afraid of so many different creatures but I guess its easy to avoid my shark, bat, snake fear living in major urban areas. Who knew? All in all, the caves were awesome, it was safe to leave our bags unattended sitting by some rocks, and we stayed in so long our fingers got pruney. We tried to remember why this happens and if its actually bad for you but couldnt. The only sad thing was that water got in my left eye, thus rendering one of my contacts a blurry useless hard shell. So we hiked out back to the dusty road and acutally solicited a ride this time, to avoid Julie doing a crazy dance with her towel in a useless effort to keep the bugs away. I felt bad dripping all over the seat but it couldnt be helped. When we got back to town, I put my clothes on over my bathing suit, but I basically spent the day in a dress which is a first for me in I can´t even remember how long. Vacation brings all kinds of suprises.
When we got back, I spent some quality time in a hammock reading the Golden Compass, which is an excellent book, and drinking a corona with lime (from a lime tree in the hostel I picked myself). Tomorrow we head to Mahual (sp?) which is closer to the Belize border and is supposed to be less touristy and cheaper. Both our legs are totally covered in bug bites and I am hoping to get to the ocean, which is supposed to help heal them, pronto.
Ok, my spelling is really bad and this thing isnt going to spell check for me, so I´m just putting that out there. Today Julie and I visited our first centoe, dos ojos. Before we could do that, however, there was a little matter of a sorong I had to attend to. In an effort to not be a total princess, I only brought one towel, even though I knew that I would want one for the beach and one for the shower. However, Julie persuaded me that a sarong is best for the beach and despite the fact that I have always found them asthetically unappeling and somewhat lazy (because they scream ¨look at me, I didn´t feel like getting dressed today so instead I´m wearing a see through toga rather than clothes!¨) I have been in search of one.
As I stated before, they are usually quite ugly and I was hard pressed to find one that said ´I stand for dignity and justice¨ which is what I wanted. Most places wanted twelve but I was like hell no, and finally bargained a nice lady down to 8 dollars. I was tempted by the batik dolphin trio (lesbionic dolphin orgy is always a good motif) but instead went for a dual colored green shell theme because it was the best thing going. With my sarong in tow, and slathered in spf 30, we set out.
I don´t want to curse us, but so far, finding public transpo to take us where we want to go has been super easy, like no waiting at all. Today, we just walked out to the main road and found a condi (or collectivo), which is a van that shuttles people around for a minimal fee, to take us to the cenote. We got to ride in air conditioning, which feels so nice, let me tell you, and were dropped at the entrance off the highay. Being the hardcore travelers we are, and at Julie´s instistance, we elected to walk the one kilometer (more like two) down the long dusty road in the sweltering heat to the cenote rather than accept the rides offered by the many nice people in cars.
I had heard many exciting things about cenotes but everyone forgot to mention their main function: a breeding ground for misquitoes. The first one we went to was deserted because its small and unimpressive, and I had a panic attack as soon as I hit the freezing cold water. I thought I was hyperventialting because it was so cold, but then I found I couldnt stop because I was so scared that bats were going to swoop down out of the low cave ceiling to attack me. I wasnt swimming and would only tread water in one place so we didn´t stay very long. Julie suggested we make a run for it because she had gotten 20 bites in two minutes on her way in, so we ran back out to the main road in our bathing suits being chased by evil bugs the whole way. As we continued on our way to the next cenote, I prayed it would be nicer than the first. I was at that time wearing a dripping wet sarong as a dress over my bathing suit and flip flops while hiking through the jungle--totally awesome.
We finally found the cenote, dos ojos, which were much nicer but the bats were actually visible there. Luckily, there were many scuba diver tourist groups around and I reasoned that the bats were surely go for the annoying people first. The caves are supposedly made of limestone and have all these crazy pointed formations hanging down (stalagmites? who knows?) and even those formations looked like bats to me. After lunch, which was spent walking in a circle while eating a peanut butter sandwich in an attempt to get away from the incessant misquitoes that were hounding us, we got back into the water and I managed to get over my fear of the bats and do some hardcore exploring. We traveled by swimming and crawling through underground caverns to get from one centoe to the other, which was really fun.
I was also scared that a giant snake would emerge to bite us, a la Harry Potter, but it never did. I honestly didn´t realize I was actively afraid of so many different creatures but I guess its easy to avoid my shark, bat, snake fear living in major urban areas. Who knew? All in all, the caves were awesome, it was safe to leave our bags unattended sitting by some rocks, and we stayed in so long our fingers got pruney. We tried to remember why this happens and if its actually bad for you but couldnt. The only sad thing was that water got in my left eye, thus rendering one of my contacts a blurry useless hard shell. So we hiked out back to the dusty road and acutally solicited a ride this time, to avoid Julie doing a crazy dance with her towel in a useless effort to keep the bugs away. I felt bad dripping all over the seat but it couldnt be helped. When we got back to town, I put my clothes on over my bathing suit, but I basically spent the day in a dress which is a first for me in I can´t even remember how long. Vacation brings all kinds of suprises.
When we got back, I spent some quality time in a hammock reading the Golden Compass, which is an excellent book, and drinking a corona with lime (from a lime tree in the hostel I picked myself). Tomorrow we head to Mahual (sp?) which is closer to the Belize border and is supposed to be less touristy and cheaper. Both our legs are totally covered in bug bites and I am hoping to get to the ocean, which is supposed to help heal them, pronto.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Nueva Entrada
Hello Everyone,
I have arrived in Mexico safely, and have been in Tulum for the past two days. In total, I traveled for 20 hours and it took two planes and two buses to get here from San Francisco. The first debacle was that I forgot my Lonely Planet Mexico book and so Julie and I have been pretty much playing it by ear since we got here. Things have been working out well for us though, we have been effortlessly meeting people who want to share their travel tips, befriend us and eat meals with us. The international backpacker sect can be pretty annoying but so far we have been lucking out.
We got off the bus in Tulum, and were just standing on the street a few blocks down from the bus station trying to figure out where to go, when a German dude came up to us and asked if we were looking for a hostel. I initially shot him the stink eye but then thought better of it and accepted his help to. He led us to this great hostel where he was staying, Casa del Sol, and rescued us from staying at this crappy hostel where apparently someone had written "This hostel sucks, go to Casa del Sol" on the bulletin board in German.
Casa del Sol is this crazy Pipi Longstocking building with many levels and thached roofs and hammocks everywhere. We have our own cabana (which looks like a hut) with two beds for a little less than $15/night. The downstairs is wide open, there are palm trees growing inside, a kitchen hang out area and the dormatorio where people can rent a bunk bed for $10/night. The owner, Carlos, shuttles people to the beach and ruins everyday at 10am. Well its supposed to be 10am but time is a different concept here...its slower, which is nice. I´m on vacation.
We had dinner with the German, whose name we could never understand, and his friend, Jan, who were both in Mexico for a conference on sonic rays (they are physicists). The German is also a vegetarian and told us "good luck" on finding food to eat in Mexico. So far we have been fine, but I foresee a lot of beans and corn tortilla chips in my future. We all went back to the hostel and drank beers and talked politics (my favorite!) until it was time for bed. This morning we met a girl named Maria in the hostel who recently had a feminist awakening (also my favorite!) . She is in art school in Mexico City but took a semester off to work for a domestic violence shelter in Cancun.
Julie and I went to the Tulum ruins, which were not that impressive because they are small in stature and you are not allowed to hike on them. Plus, it was like 100 degrees with no shade and there were about a million tourists there. Luckily, some Europeans were there to let everyone know that hiking in bikini briefs is acceptable for pèople of any gender (awesome). Gotta love those speedos, no? We didnt stay long and instead walked down a long dusty road to the public beach to find Maria. She was chilling with a couple who had set up camp and have been just living on the beach in a tent for the past two weeks. The girl was a gringa from Wisconsin and the dude was an artist from Mexico City. We stored our stuff with them and ran into the ocean. I have never been to the Caribbean before and the water is as amazing as they say. It was warm but still refreshing and so clear blue I could see all the seaweed below me perfectly. It was extremely salty which stung my eyes, but I was so bouyant, floating was effortless. There was a storm out at sea so the current was strong and the waves choppy and I did feel like I was getting tossed about, but it was still amazing.
I have been discovering that my Spanish is not as good as I thought it was. Julie´s Spanish is strong from the language school schooling she was getting in Guatemala before she met up with me, so together we do alright but many people here are bilingual due to the large tourist factor, so I dont have to try very hard. Its not really good for my learning but when people speak to me in English I just automatically answer them back the same, what can you do?
There are many cenotes (underground lakes) around here and we are hoping to visit one tomorrow. Apparently they were sacred to the Mayans because they considered them the perfect fusion of the four elements. I am very excited and am hoping that subterranian swimming will lend itself to less sun exposure. Despite my rigirous application of sunblock, I got seriously burned today and had to go buy some aloe vera on the double. I am on the lookout for a good hat and am actually considering buying a sorong (somehow they make sense here).
Anyway, thats the big update for now. We are going to head south this week and may enter Belize. Next week we are going to head back north and west and see the big ruins like Chitchen Itza (sp?). Its hard for me to be in such a humid climate after living in temprate San Francisco for the past three years. Also, I hate being dirty and bugs upset me, so this vacation is testing my limits, but I can´t let the OCD control me, so I will perservere. I miss everyone a lot but I miss Finn the most
I have arrived in Mexico safely, and have been in Tulum for the past two days. In total, I traveled for 20 hours and it took two planes and two buses to get here from San Francisco. The first debacle was that I forgot my Lonely Planet Mexico book and so Julie and I have been pretty much playing it by ear since we got here. Things have been working out well for us though, we have been effortlessly meeting people who want to share their travel tips, befriend us and eat meals with us. The international backpacker sect can be pretty annoying but so far we have been lucking out.
We got off the bus in Tulum, and were just standing on the street a few blocks down from the bus station trying to figure out where to go, when a German dude came up to us and asked if we were looking for a hostel. I initially shot him the stink eye but then thought better of it and accepted his help to. He led us to this great hostel where he was staying, Casa del Sol, and rescued us from staying at this crappy hostel where apparently someone had written "This hostel sucks, go to Casa del Sol" on the bulletin board in German.
Casa del Sol is this crazy Pipi Longstocking building with many levels and thached roofs and hammocks everywhere. We have our own cabana (which looks like a hut) with two beds for a little less than $15/night. The downstairs is wide open, there are palm trees growing inside, a kitchen hang out area and the dormatorio where people can rent a bunk bed for $10/night. The owner, Carlos, shuttles people to the beach and ruins everyday at 10am. Well its supposed to be 10am but time is a different concept here...its slower, which is nice. I´m on vacation.
We had dinner with the German, whose name we could never understand, and his friend, Jan, who were both in Mexico for a conference on sonic rays (they are physicists). The German is also a vegetarian and told us "good luck" on finding food to eat in Mexico. So far we have been fine, but I foresee a lot of beans and corn tortilla chips in my future. We all went back to the hostel and drank beers and talked politics (my favorite!) until it was time for bed. This morning we met a girl named Maria in the hostel who recently had a feminist awakening (also my favorite!) . She is in art school in Mexico City but took a semester off to work for a domestic violence shelter in Cancun.
Julie and I went to the Tulum ruins, which were not that impressive because they are small in stature and you are not allowed to hike on them. Plus, it was like 100 degrees with no shade and there were about a million tourists there. Luckily, some Europeans were there to let everyone know that hiking in bikini briefs is acceptable for pèople of any gender (awesome). Gotta love those speedos, no? We didnt stay long and instead walked down a long dusty road to the public beach to find Maria. She was chilling with a couple who had set up camp and have been just living on the beach in a tent for the past two weeks. The girl was a gringa from Wisconsin and the dude was an artist from Mexico City. We stored our stuff with them and ran into the ocean. I have never been to the Caribbean before and the water is as amazing as they say. It was warm but still refreshing and so clear blue I could see all the seaweed below me perfectly. It was extremely salty which stung my eyes, but I was so bouyant, floating was effortless. There was a storm out at sea so the current was strong and the waves choppy and I did feel like I was getting tossed about, but it was still amazing.
I have been discovering that my Spanish is not as good as I thought it was. Julie´s Spanish is strong from the language school schooling she was getting in Guatemala before she met up with me, so together we do alright but many people here are bilingual due to the large tourist factor, so I dont have to try very hard. Its not really good for my learning but when people speak to me in English I just automatically answer them back the same, what can you do?
There are many cenotes (underground lakes) around here and we are hoping to visit one tomorrow. Apparently they were sacred to the Mayans because they considered them the perfect fusion of the four elements. I am very excited and am hoping that subterranian swimming will lend itself to less sun exposure. Despite my rigirous application of sunblock, I got seriously burned today and had to go buy some aloe vera on the double. I am on the lookout for a good hat and am actually considering buying a sorong (somehow they make sense here).
Anyway, thats the big update for now. We are going to head south this week and may enter Belize. Next week we are going to head back north and west and see the big ruins like Chitchen Itza (sp?). Its hard for me to be in such a humid climate after living in temprate San Francisco for the past three years. Also, I hate being dirty and bugs upset me, so this vacation is testing my limits, but I can´t let the OCD control me, so I will perservere. I miss everyone a lot but I miss Finn the most
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Tango In the Alley
There has been a lot of transition afoot at 69 Brosnan Street these past few weeks. On June 30, Fairley moved out, and in exchange we got a new permanent housemate, Ethan Frome, and just for July a subletter, Courtney, (Julie's in Guatemala). Although I forced myself to move several times a year from the time I was 18 until I was 26, I really don't do well with change. That being said, the new housemates are really fun. So fun that it's been like a slumber party, I've been staying up late in my pjs gabbing all night just because I'm so excited that I can stay up late talking to them, even if it is a school night.
So I was already running late when I left the house last Friday because I woke up a little on the tardy side and then chatted too long in the kitchen over breakfast. I was going to therapy and I hate being even a minute late to that because it's my dime. However, I am nothing if not a total crazy cat lady, so when I saw the neighbors cat, Zen, hanging out on the street I immediately put his safety over my punctuality and ran to save him.
Zen is a cute little one but he's scrappy, more of a drifter than a housecat; he cuts across the fence to hang out in our backyard all day with my cat Finn and the two downstairs black-and-white-brother-sister team. He has an owner (the fool that named the little furball 'Zen') but the thing is skinny, and whenever he runs in the house he eats Finn's food.
Anyway, I scooped up Zen and ran back to my building with him in my arms. I intended to leave him in my apartment to play with Finn and then leave through the backdoor at his leisure, therefore, removing him from the danger of the streets. He was struggling and 'meeping' (his meows sound more like meeps) in my arms and I released him to go for my keys but then he ran away. So I chased him. In chasing him I pulled his tail, (yes, my fatal error) and he turned around and rolled on his back. I tried to pick him up again and he bit and clawed me with such ferociousness that any illusions I held about cats loving humans at heart were immediately erased.
I ran back home, clutching my bleeding wrist and ran into my apartment, shouting to my housemates that I had been attacked. They gathered round me in the bathroom and the hippy subletter administered lavender oil after I had washed up. I now had 10 minutes to get to my therapy appointment which is a 25 minutes walk from my house. The 26 bus runs up Valencia but it rarely comes. However, luck was with me, because just as I got to 16 and Mission the bus arrived!
I climbed aboard, fumbled with my wallet and discovered that I only had a $10 and a $20. 'Do you have change?' I asked the bus driver, waving my ten in his face. 'No.' He shook his head as the bus lurched away from the curb. I turned and stumbled into the aisle, trying to steady myself as the bus pitched back and forth. I must have looked like a lunatic yuppie, clutching my ipod in my bleeding left hand and my wallet and cash with the other. I asked each old lady I came upon for change for a ten, averting my gaze, they all shook their heads no. I was S.O.L. (shit outta luck) as my mom would say.
"Will the bus driver kick me off this thing?" I wondered. "How long can I go before I have to admit defeat?" Finally a nice skate boarder dude (I know that's usually an oxymoron) gave me a dollar.
"Maybe you can find 50 cents?" He said.
"Thank you, thank you!" I gushed. I fished a quarter out of my backpack and went up to pay the driver. "Is this ok?" I asked.
"Yeah, yeah." He accpted it and even gave me a transfer, which I didn't think I had earned. I went back to thank the skateboarder again and then found a seat so I could clean myself up. I sat down, busy with my task of smearing white goo and applying little band-aids to my bleeding wounds. One of them was really deep, it was gross. I looked up and several people looked away.
"Oh, I get it." I thought. "I'm the craziest person on the bus." Whenever I get on any bus, I immediately scan it to determine who is the craziest of the crazy and then I sit as far away from that person as possible. That day, I had the honor of fulfilling that role on the 10am 26/Valencia, it's on the nicer side so there's not a lot of competition for the distinction like on some lines.
I was late to therapy but I wouldn't have gotten there without the kindness of strangers, so I didn't feel that angry. After my appointment I went to the office and bandaged myself. With white gauze and tape all around I looked like a suicide attempt victim. At the grocery store that evening, the cashier stared at my wrist. I chuckled to myself, happy that I was finally able to live out my Empire Records adolescent angst fantasies without ever having to mangle myself.
So I was already running late when I left the house last Friday because I woke up a little on the tardy side and then chatted too long in the kitchen over breakfast. I was going to therapy and I hate being even a minute late to that because it's my dime. However, I am nothing if not a total crazy cat lady, so when I saw the neighbors cat, Zen, hanging out on the street I immediately put his safety over my punctuality and ran to save him.
Zen is a cute little one but he's scrappy, more of a drifter than a housecat; he cuts across the fence to hang out in our backyard all day with my cat Finn and the two downstairs black-and-white-brother-sister team. He has an owner (the fool that named the little furball 'Zen') but the thing is skinny, and whenever he runs in the house he eats Finn's food.
Anyway, I scooped up Zen and ran back to my building with him in my arms. I intended to leave him in my apartment to play with Finn and then leave through the backdoor at his leisure, therefore, removing him from the danger of the streets. He was struggling and 'meeping' (his meows sound more like meeps) in my arms and I released him to go for my keys but then he ran away. So I chased him. In chasing him I pulled his tail, (yes, my fatal error) and he turned around and rolled on his back. I tried to pick him up again and he bit and clawed me with such ferociousness that any illusions I held about cats loving humans at heart were immediately erased.
I ran back home, clutching my bleeding wrist and ran into my apartment, shouting to my housemates that I had been attacked. They gathered round me in the bathroom and the hippy subletter administered lavender oil after I had washed up. I now had 10 minutes to get to my therapy appointment which is a 25 minutes walk from my house. The 26 bus runs up Valencia but it rarely comes. However, luck was with me, because just as I got to 16 and Mission the bus arrived!
I climbed aboard, fumbled with my wallet and discovered that I only had a $10 and a $20. 'Do you have change?' I asked the bus driver, waving my ten in his face. 'No.' He shook his head as the bus lurched away from the curb. I turned and stumbled into the aisle, trying to steady myself as the bus pitched back and forth. I must have looked like a lunatic yuppie, clutching my ipod in my bleeding left hand and my wallet and cash with the other. I asked each old lady I came upon for change for a ten, averting my gaze, they all shook their heads no. I was S.O.L. (shit outta luck) as my mom would say.
"Will the bus driver kick me off this thing?" I wondered. "How long can I go before I have to admit defeat?" Finally a nice skate boarder dude (I know that's usually an oxymoron) gave me a dollar.
"Maybe you can find 50 cents?" He said.
"Thank you, thank you!" I gushed. I fished a quarter out of my backpack and went up to pay the driver. "Is this ok?" I asked.
"Yeah, yeah." He accpted it and even gave me a transfer, which I didn't think I had earned. I went back to thank the skateboarder again and then found a seat so I could clean myself up. I sat down, busy with my task of smearing white goo and applying little band-aids to my bleeding wounds. One of them was really deep, it was gross. I looked up and several people looked away.
"Oh, I get it." I thought. "I'm the craziest person on the bus." Whenever I get on any bus, I immediately scan it to determine who is the craziest of the crazy and then I sit as far away from that person as possible. That day, I had the honor of fulfilling that role on the 10am 26/Valencia, it's on the nicer side so there's not a lot of competition for the distinction like on some lines.
I was late to therapy but I wouldn't have gotten there without the kindness of strangers, so I didn't feel that angry. After my appointment I went to the office and bandaged myself. With white gauze and tape all around I looked like a suicide attempt victim. At the grocery store that evening, the cashier stared at my wrist. I chuckled to myself, happy that I was finally able to live out my Empire Records adolescent angst fantasies without ever having to mangle myself.
Is Brad Pitt the New Woody Allen?
Well Angelina Jolie is the new Mia Farrow right? Because before it was fashionable to care about 3rd world children and without paparazzi following her all over the globe Mia Farrow was the original baby collector. Apparently Mia always had a thing for creepy men, otherwise she would not have married Frank Sinatra when she was 21 and he 50. She and Woody spent over a decade together, had a child of their own and adopted two more, but were never married. So she didn't see coming when he finally did decide to get hitched...to their daughter.
In retaliation she filed sexual abuse charges against Mr. Wood but they were later dropped. I don't know how she missed the whole "I-am-a-self-loathing-piece-of-shit-who-hates-women-thing" that Woody is so famous for. I definitely don't want Brad Pitt to eventually leave Angelina Jolie for Zahara, and I think it would actually be more likely that Guy Ritchie would leave Madonna for their Malawian adoptee, David, but the similarities in their stories are beginning to freak me out.
Last year I watched Match Point by Woody Allen (because I love Scarlett Johanson) and was caught off guard by sudden and brutal violence again women at the end. Then recently, I saw Crimes and Misdemeanors. They have the same moral dillema, which apparently Woody finds such a fascinating quandary he needs to trot it out and make a new movie about it every few decades:
Q. Should men kill the women that get in the way of their money and comfort?
A. Duh, obviously. But only after they have professed their love and then impregnated them.
In retaliation she filed sexual abuse charges against Mr. Wood but they were later dropped. I don't know how she missed the whole "I-am-a-self-loathing-piece-of-shit-who-hates-women-thing" that Woody is so famous for. I definitely don't want Brad Pitt to eventually leave Angelina Jolie for Zahara, and I think it would actually be more likely that Guy Ritchie would leave Madonna for their Malawian adoptee, David, but the similarities in their stories are beginning to freak me out.
Last year I watched Match Point by Woody Allen (because I love Scarlett Johanson) and was caught off guard by sudden and brutal violence again women at the end. Then recently, I saw Crimes and Misdemeanors. They have the same moral dillema, which apparently Woody finds such a fascinating quandary he needs to trot it out and make a new movie about it every few decades:
Q. Should men kill the women that get in the way of their money and comfort?
A. Duh, obviously. But only after they have professed their love and then impregnated them.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
![[Valid Atom 1.0]](valid-atom.png "Validate my Atom 1.0 feed")