Finally, some thoughts on what we found

1. Why don’t the world famous archeological sites we have visited, have any sort of basic handout to give visitors with their ticket purchase? Not one Mayan site offered a map to show us where to go or what we were looking at, or any sort of information on the buildings, when they were built or what they were used for. We had to rely on a few very poor signs which often told us very little. Without a guide book our only resource was the internet when we got back to the hotel

2. Entrance fees are incredibly reasonable, and while we appreciate that, they could easily make more money for restoration work by charging more.

3. We have been surprised to see that the Mayan Indians look very different from the native Indians we see on the west coast of Mexico. They seem stockier, with harder features

4. The Mayan language is still spoken by over 2,000,000 people

5. The Mayans still build today the same style of house that they built a thousand years ago. At least the poor ones do. It is a small race track shaped building with two straight sides and rounded ends. It is only one room with openings opposite each other on the straight walls for ventilation. One end is the kitchen and living quarters, the other is the bedroom. There is often no plumbing. They are about 15ft long and 6ft wide, built of mud or bamboo with a straw roof.

6. We have not always felt as welcomed by local Mexican people here as we do in Puerto Vallarta

7. A knowledge of Spanish is not needed in Puerto Vallarta while it is a necessity here. Very few people speak English

8. There are many more European tourists on the East Coast than on the west as it is so much easier to get to

9. Hot water always seems to take several minutes to arrive at the bathroom in every place we have stayed

10. The water is not drinkable anywhere here, while it is in Puerto Vallarta

11. Most places we have been to, have not allowed anything but human waste to be flushed down the toilet. All “used” paper products have to be put into a bin, often without a lid, and cleared away daily. I prefer the more practical method employed elsewhere!

The craft villages outside Oaxaca

This is the last day of our trip, and no trip to Oaxaca would be complete without seeing some of the outlying villages which have become famous for their arts and crafts. Within a 50-kilometer radius of Oaxaca City there are dozens of small towns, many of which specialize in a particular art tradition. Often combining ancient and modern techniques, most of the region’s voluminous output comes from families that have spent generations becoming known for a particular item. We visit three of these villages, one famous for its black pottery, another for its art pottery and a third for its amazingly painted wood craft.


The layout of each village is similar, in that we walk through the village and are invited into different houses where the family living there has developed an expertise in a certain craft. We might have expected each house to specialize in a totally different craft, but here every family in one village makes the same items, but just interprets them differently. As we wander through their homes we can see the family members at work as well as browse through everything they have for sale. Some have just a few shelves with items on them while the more successful have huge rooms full of their art. We are delighted to discover that there is very little pressure to buy, and the families seem quite happy to share their skills with us. As we get to know the village we soon learn that the quality from family to family varies significantly, and while all are good, there are some that have rightfully earned a national reputation.

The economic advantages of this system of involving a whole village in the production of a craft soon becomes apparent. The differences between the small towns that have such a craft, and the towns that don’t are evident everywhere we look. The working villages have much building going on, and the standard of the homes is greatly improved
We are flying back to Puerto Vallarta tomorrow and it is not possible to buy what we want and get it home. We decide to wait until we return another time and are better prepared to make our own economic impact on the small villages. But it has been a fascinating way to spend our last day in Oaxaca

Valentines Night

Oaxaca has been preparing for valentines day ever since we arrived. We are becoming increasingly aware that it is going to be a big night in town.
Several of the streets are closed to traffic, and by 6pm the streets and squares are packed. It is billed as “Noche De Luces” (night of lights) and it would appear this is a regular event to celebrate friendship which takes place on a different holiday throughout the year. This time it’s St Valentine’s turn.

The two main squares have bands playing from 8 pm until 1pm.

They change every 30 minutes or so and range from full piece orchestras to trios. The quality of all the groups is amazing,. This is nothing like Merida! There are two different processions . The first lead by a group of musicians dressed in early Spanish costumes playing mandolins. They stop at every crossroad and play a piece, bringing traffic and foot traffic to a complete stop. It is bedlam, but no one seems to mind.

If we thought that was bedlam, it was nothing compared to the next procession which tries to cross the Zocalo at 10pm when it is at its most crowded. The procession is led by giant figures, perhaps 15 feet tall in brightly coloured costumes being manipulated by a “puppet master” hiding underneath the skirts. A small group of people surround these figures whirling fireworks over their heads. Behind them is a long procession, its participants all carrying candles inside large coloured plastic flowers, the light of the candles making the flowers glow. Every few yards the crowds force them to a standstill, but then a few more fireworks clear the path ahead

There are vendors everywhere carrying enormous bunches of helium balloons most with a valentine theme. Each vendor must have at least a hundred balloons floating above them and it is hard to believe that they will not become airborne.

The air is alive with the sounds of people having a good time. Courting couples are everywhere as are families with young children. In fact the good times are not limited to any particular group. The entire city is out having fun.
We try to think of an occasion in the States that might be like this but quickly become aware that if there was such a night, no one would feel safe.

More of Oaxaca

We can’t get enough of this city and this morning we wander down to explore the blocks and blocks of market halls near the Zocolo. Each market hall specializes in something. There is the hall full of tourist trinkets, the clothing hall, the farmers market hall, the butchers hall.

There is even a street selling nothing but ladies underwear in every style I can imagine, plus a few styles I haven’t imagined, for which I am forever grateful. Then there is the Mexican fast food hall, full of stalls each one barbecuing thinly cut meat. The hall is enclosed and the barbecue smoke just sits in the building. The smoke is so thick it is hard to see more than a few yards, and breathing is very unpleasant, and yet it is packed with customers and vendors who spend their entire day in there. Our eyes begin to water within moments and we can’t wait to get out.

So get out we do, and in fact drive out of the city to see the World heritage Site of Monte Alban. This is not a character out of La Cage Aux Folles but a city built by the Zapotec people way before the Mayans built Chichen Itza.
Monte Alban was inhabited from 500 BC up to 850 AD. It sits on the top of the highest mountain, looking down on the valleys below and the smaller surrounding mountains. The Indians even modified the mountain tops and hillsides. Elevated areas were cut and leveled in order to construct the most important buildings, and the hillsides were terraced for the less important homes and for crop growing. The architects incorporated the shapes and forms of surrounding hills into their buildings showing a true understanding of aesthetics.
Monte Alban is the largest pre Hispanic city found in the region and represents the first urban plan on the American continent. It is also one of the few sites in the world where the rise of the state system of government can be clearly seen, with the economy based on tributes paid by the surrounding communities.
Because of its situation on top of the mountain, it has superb 360 degree views and is a stunning site. There is a huge central Plaza with a series of monumental architectural complexes surrounding it. Further proof of this advanced society is seen in the two observatory buildings and the fact that surrounding buildings were positioned astronomically.

It is nowhere near as well known as Chichen Itza and doesn’t have that “wow factor” but it certainly seems to me to be every bit as impressive.

Oaxaca

From Ukumal we drive back to Merida and then fly to Oaxaca via Mexico City. It is a long day and we don’t arrive at our Oaxaca Hotel until 11pm.

Our Hotel is the Hotel Casa del Sótano, a small charming hotel, fairly centrally located and very reasonable.

Friday Feb 13th, we spend the day on foot exploring Oaxaca. Everyone raves about this city, and now we know why. This is a city that doesn’t do anything by halves. It grabs you by the heart and doesn’t let go. It assaults all the senses and delights most of them. It is vibrant, crowded, noisy,( very noisy), colourful, surprisingly clean, easy to get around, packed with restaurants, cafes and bars, some good, some not so good, but most of all it is just plain fun. It makes Merida look like a quiet backwater from 40 years ago.

It’s a bustling, fast paced, thriving city and is one of the busiest places we have seen. Traffic is a nightmare and parking is impossible. And along with this comes the petty crime. We are warned several times about leaving our car unattended (we have no choice and fortunately nothing happens). This is the first place we have been where graffiti is a major problem. Much of it is political, but it still defaces and scars an otherwise beautiful city.


It’s a city of contrasts. It is an old city, filled with beautiful 16th century churches, that sit next to fabulous museums with exhibits in beautifully designed rooms.
There is a huge old Zocalo (town square) surrounded by old fashioned Mexican restaurants and bars filled with elderly townsfolk, while down the street there are trendy restaurants in hip surroundings serving modern cuisine to well groomed diners. There are street vendors everywhere, even outside the Parisian Bakery and the café that has been voted the best place in Mexico to get a cappuccino.
Many of the wonderful old stone churches and buildings are designed of stone in three colors. There is a pale green local stone, a natural colored stone and a creamy sandstone. Meanwhile the stuccoed buildings next to them are bright and colourful, painted in reds and greens and blues and mustard.

There are fabulously wealthy people, driving European sports cars past the homeless man without even a pair of shoes. Oaxaca even manages to show us the saddest case of poverty we have come across in our travels. Walking down the middle of a street we see a homeless person almost black with grime, wearing what was once a white T shirt, several sizes too small for him, and nothing else. Absolutely nothing else.

And everywhere there are the artisans,the artists, and their art,that have made this city so famous.

Akumal

We have booked a condo on the beach for 2 nights to give us a break from the sightseeing and to have a chance to snorkel on the reef and swim with the turtles.
However we end up stuck in a miserable apartment watching the rain pound on our windows and listening to the wind howling through the cracks between the door and window frames and the wall. The apartment is right on the beach and has a huge balcony which would be nice if it was sunny, but those are the only two things it has going for it. The walls are bare, the furniture basic, the kitchen is barely stocked with the basic minimum of utensils, the bath towels are worn and shredded , and the mattress is one of those foam eggshell things. There is one blanket on the bed that is obviously for a twin bed and is perched on top of the king size mattress in a vain attempt to offer a little warmth to two occupants. At one time it was a bright orange color, but it is now so dirty and stained that it is a shabby grey. There is nothing else to put on the bed so we have to make the best of it.
In the kitchen there are four mugs, four plates and four bowls, a few of which match, but most don’t. The four knives, forks and spoons are so thin that they bend when any pressure is put on them. I don’t know whether the average tourist finds this acceptable for $180 a night but I can assure you that gay men don’t and won’t
Suffice it to say, that if you are looking for a condo on the beach in Akumal, I would strongly recommend that you do not stay at the Villas De Rosa

And on to Valladolid.

As we check into the Meson del Marques, our Hotel in Valladolid, we see Bob and Nancy sitting by the pool. Unbeknownst to us they had moved directly from Merida to here, and again we are staying in the same hotel.

Valladolid is remembered by most people for its charming colonial streets and beautiful 16th century monastery built over a cenote. We will remember it for the family of American hippies who played in a bar and called themselves “Eden”.
We grew up in the 60’s and knew families like this, but had no idea they were still viable and living in Valladolid
We, along with Bob and Nancy, listened to them perform and spend some time with them afterwards. The group consists of the parents and two of their children. The two children, wouldn’t you know it, are named Eden and Eve. You couldn’t get more 60’s flower power than that, and it leaves us to ruminate on what the names of the other four children might be. Yes, these happy hippies have managed to sire a total of 6 children. We cannot bring ourselves to ask the names of the other four, but quietly giggle at the possibilities.
The father is named Jhimi, and yes, that is spelt Jhimi, and yes, that is pronounced Jimmy. The mother’s name, unlikely as it might be, is Tracy . She has long out grown that name and we are surprised that they haven’t come up with something more suitable by now.

They play four songs at a local bar and are very good, and then they sit at a table hoping that someone will buy their CD. Later that evening they turn up at our hotel restaurant and play the same four songs. We talk to them and discover that years of illegal substances have taken their toll on Jimmy. He is 52, and looks every day of it. He is rail thin with long grey hair drawn back into a ponytail. When he talks he reveals several missing teeth and more missing brain cells. He is 16 years older than Tracy and they fled to Mexico when her parents objected to him dating their young daughter. How young she was then I didn’t like to ask, but 6 children later she is still small and very pretty.

They live in a tiny Mexican 2 room house that they inherited from a friend who died of alcoholism. They exist on the sale of their CD’s, which they sell for 80 pesos ($6). and when we ask how many CD’s they sold tonight, Eve proudly replies “one”. Tracy explains that they are very good at living on very little, which must be the understatement of the year. We ask what was the most number of CD’s they ever sold at one time and they tell us about a Music Festival they played at where they sold ten of their CD’s. We could have sold a hundred, Jhimi says, but we had only taken ten with us.

If you think you are beginning to understand “where they are coming from”, then just wait for the next question, which is do they get paid for performing in these bars.

The short answer is NO! Tracy’s explanation is that places do offer to pay them, but then it gets all too annoying as they want them to turn up at a specific time, and on specific nights, which is never going to work, she explains!

And for our final insight we learn that the children are home schooled and are fluent in Spanish and English and are now learning Mayan. We are impressed, until Eden, who is 15, asks where Tennessee is. When we simply reply that it is a State, he asks what a state is. Tracy covers for her son, by saying that they think teaching their children about herbal remedies , gardening, and how to raise chickens, is more valuable than so called regular schooling.

We want to buy a copy of their CD, but they refuse to take our money. Jhimi tells us that he would never take money from friends. We are touched, but think that maybe Tracy would be more willing to accept the money as she has eight mouths to feed. But she too refuses.

We graciously accept the CD while feeling terribly guilty. The CD has a tiny hand print on it, which is the handprint of their baby. When we get it back to our room and play it, it has variations of the four songs that they played in each bar tonight. We get the sinking feeling that they only know those four songs.

We are leaving Valladolid the next day, but Bob and Nancy are staying on, and plan to visit the Edens in their home. They email us two days later. “Their house was dismal, a very unkempt two room cinder block construction with the obligatory barking dog chained out front.”

Ek Balam

An hour’s drive from Chichen Iza is another Mayan ruin called Ek Balam. It is vaguely on the way to our next stop, Valladolid, and at the last moment we decide to visit it. We are delighted we did. It is our favourite of all the places we visited. In its heyday it was a large Mayan City, but today, although it boasts 45 structures, only a few of them are restored in any way, so it is a small site. It is unusual because it is surrounded by two concentric stone walls plus another one that unites the central buildings. It has a ball court, plus a very beautiful arch where a sacbé (sacred path) ended, which in old times connected the Mayan kingdoms.
But what puts Ek Balam on the map, is that it has the largest Mayan building that has ever been discovered. It’s not quite as tall as the temple in Chichen Itza, but its measurements make it the largest building by sheer volume. And this is the first building we have been allowed to climb. Everywhere else has now stopped tourists from climbing the temples, and while we quite understand the necessity for doing this we are disappointed that we haven’t been able to experience them from the top.

But here we can, and the view is breathtaking. We even have birds of prey circling below us. What adds to the importance of this building is that there are some unusual and well preserved carvings along with a small amount of original wall paintings. Some of the carvings are unique, depicting Mayans with wings making them look like angels. While restoration was taking place they found these carvings and paintings actually hidden underneath an exterior staircase. They had obviously been built over at one point and so they are perfectly preserved and in fact looking at them today they seem new. Even the painting is still brightly coloured.

Ek Balam is beautiful with a magical feeling about it. We can actually sense the spirit of a Mayan town while we stand in the middle of the small site admiring the buildings all around.
The buildings are set in what appears to be a huge ornamental garden, but which is in fact just the jungle. Some of the undergrowth has been cleared to create patches of lawn and paths to allow access from one building to another. What is left is huge stately old trees and palm trees, with flowering bushes everywhere. The air is alive with the sounds of birds that swoop from one tree to another.

We finally get to see the Motmot bird, a rare, beautiful and unusual bird. It is of average size, looking a little like a kingfisher (it belongs to the kingfisher family) with striking blue and green colouring. But what makes it famous, is its tail. It has two extremely long tail feathers, which are in fact long bare shafts with a small shimmering blue fan on the end. When it sits in a tree, the two tail feathers hang down below the branch and the bird often wags them from side to side like a pendulum. But having such a fabulous tail has inadvertently led to the bird being endangered, as the two feathers are much prized for making Mayan headdresses

We spent a wonderful two hours at Ek Balam, soaking up the spirit of the place, enjoying the buildings and their wonderful surroundings.
It was made even more enjoyable by the fact that the entrance fee was only 31 pesos (less than three dollars). Every Mayan Site we have visited so far has charged the same entrance fee of 72 pesos (Chitchen Itza is a little more), and the woman who owns this site is supposed to charge the same. But the government has stopped helping fund more excavations so she believes as the site is not fully developed, the visitors should not pay full price. This is a wonderful gesture but maybe not the correct one, as it prevents her from making the same amount of money as other sites do, and therefore the government will always ignore her demands.

Chichen Itza, one more time

We awake early to the really loud and weird mewing sound of peacocks. There are many in the grounds of the hotel and we had enjoyed watching them yesterday, but listening to them at 6 in the morning is something else entirely.

But we are up in plenty of time to be the first people through the gates of Chichen Itza at 8am. This morning it is quite magical as there are just a handful of other tourists. We can examine the carvings and stone work, and take photos without fear of interruption.

The only thing that spoils the site is the flotilla of souvenir sellers who line every path with temporary stalls set up with saw horses and old pieces of plywood covered with their tacky trinkets. Others string their T shirts from ropes slung between the trees. The government long ago announced that the Maya people were to have free and uninterrupted access to Chichen Itza. This was a decision made with only the best intentions, but it has become sadly abused as every morning an army of peddlers, all claiming to be Mayan Indians, make their way into the grounds and set up their stalls. In an effort to stop this, the government built a large number of permanent stalls outside the main entrance and offered them to the Mayan vendors. But the vendors shunned them preferring to be nearer the ruins.

Choosing to be inside the ruins with no permanent stall makes for a much harder way of life. Every morning all their wares together with the tables etc have to be carried into Chichen Itza , unpacked and set up. Every evening it all has to be dismantled, packed up and carried away. The more conscientious vendors can be seen struggling with their loads piled high on handcarts, wheeling them in from up to a mile away. But the lazier vendors have found a solution to all this carrying. They merely take everything and hide it in the jungle just feet away from the paths where they set up shop.

As we walk through Chichen Itza at eight in the morning the jungle is alive with Mayans dragging their wares out of the trees, and the undergrowth is littered with plastic cloths and sheets of plywood. It is a depressing sight that truly takes away from the majestic ruins. But as long as the Mayans are allowed free access to Chichen Itza there is nothing that can be done. The brochures all urge the tourists not to buy from these vendors, but it obviously has little effect.

An evening in Chichen Itza

We are hungry after watching the Festival of Light, and in need of a drink, but we don’t want to give the Mayaland Hotel any more of our money, and we doubt that their food would be much better than their rooms. We decide to drive into the small town a couple of miles away and find somewhere for dinner.

There are several local Mexican restaurants on the main street. They all look the same, devoid of any charm or atmosphere with their plastic chairs and tables covered with red and white check plastic table cloths. On top of the tables sit small glass salt cellars containing equal amounts of rice and salt, and capped with a tiny chrome lid that is rusting at the edges. Next to the salt pot there is a flimsy transparent plastic napkin holder containing tiny cheap paper napkins that are totally incapable of absorbing even the smallest spill. On one wall is a faded poster of the beach at Cozumel and on another the ever present television tuned to a football game or a raucous game show.

It is a dismal choice of dining establishments and there is nothing to choose between any of them, particularly as they are all empty. Finally we notice one, set back a little from the street which is packed with locals.

We venture in and manage to grab a table by the window. I use the term window loosely, because there is no glass in the large hole where a window should be, but that really cuts down on cleaning expenses, and affords a nice breeze. It is a cavernous room, with a fairly rough looking bunch of townsfolk crowded round the tables eating and drinking. But they are friendly and several raise their beer bottles in mock salute at the adventurous gringos. It has to be good, we think, and it is. We have an excellent meal with beers for $7 each.

The food may be good in the little restaurant we find in the village outside of Chitchen Itza, but the highlight of the evening is the entertainment in the street.

It starts with a lot of shouting and yelling and it soon becomes apparent that a fight is brewing somewhere out of sight. As the sounds become more threatening, everyone in our restaurant, except us, goes outside and lines the street. Fortunately we have the window table and a good view of the proceedings. Eventually the antagonists appear. There is a group of 6 youths threatening one very large man with nothing on but a pair of jeans. The large man is backing down the street while several of the youths are urging on their biggest member to fight. They stand behind him and push him into the large man who does nothing, but none the less looks very threatening. All the time the youths are yelling “Puto” at the large man, slang for “queer” in Mexico.

Eventually the “Puto” disappears and the youths return to wherever it was they came from. But 5 minutes later the “Puto” returns perched on the back of a scooter wobbling down the road. The scooter is being driven by what is now known in polite circles as a transgender person. She is wearing very tight pedal pushers in a brightly colored Pucci type print, and a low cut T shirt showing off a perfectly shaped and very ample bosom, proving that she has had at least the first part of the transgender process completed.

On her feet are a pair of bright red 6 inch heel slides that would make driving a scooter impossible for most mortals. Her face is badly pockmarked which even the amount of make up she has applied fails to cover. Her lips are huge and heavily painted in red that has apparently been carefully chosen to match her shoes. Her hair is teased to within an inch of its life and dyed blond with occasional black tips. She is mesmerizing, but seems totally out of place in this Mexican backwater of a town. She brings the scooter to a halt outside our restaurant and they both dismount.

The “Puto” is a big man but his woman towers over him. Together they set off looking for the youths that started the trouble. The “Puto” strides down the middle of the street, with his “girlfriend” next to him who walks with amazing femininity in her high heels. But we are in no doubt that the girlfriend will be a match for any of the youths. It is beginning to feel like a scene from “High Noon”. There is considerable shouting in the distance and the atmosphere is taught with tension

At this point we decide it might be time to make a quiet exit and we leave for the calmer environments of the Mayaland Hotel.

Chichen Itza

Everything we have heard and read about Chichen Itza warns of the crowds that start around 10 am with the arrival of the coach tours. We chose to stay at the Mayaland Hotel, so that we could walk into the site at 8am when it opens, and hopefully avoid the crowds. However we have arrived earlier than planned and decide to see what it is like in the late afternoon. We are glad we did, because the coaches have left, it is busy but not crowded and we can enjoy the site at our leisure.
The scale of Chichen Itza is staggering. It was built in the 9th century and was capital of the Maya Empire. In its heyday it covered 25 square kilometers, but for reasons that are still not fully understood it was abandoned 200 years later. The religious, cultural and administrative center covered 6 square kilometers and was located close to the areas where the elite had their carefully decorated and brightly painted palaces. Outside of the central area up to 100,000 citizens lived in their thatched cottages. The city is still so important to the Mayan people that it is the site of a peregrination to this day.
We can sense that power as we walk round the grounds and view the imposing castle of Kukulcan (the pyramid shaped building that we all recognize from photos).

It is amazing to think that all of this was built without the use of metal tools.

Chichen Itza is also famous for its huge ball court. Here the hoop must be thirty feet up a vertical wall, and is quite small. It must have been very difficult to get the ball through it. This ball court is actually carved with the depictions of the captain of the losing team being beheaded and clearly shows their belief that blood from the beheaded fed the ground and allowed for good crops.

In the evening there is a Festival of Light which is very disappointing. The lighting is amateur and vulgar in its bright purples and reds, more befitting a Las Vegas Hotel that one of the “New Seven Wonders of the World”

The Mayaland Hotel at Chichen Itza

There is a toll road to Chichen Itza, but we take the old road passing through several towns and villages. The drive takes a couple of hours and we arrive at the Hotel around 3pm. There is a town a couple of miles away full of inexpensive hotels and restaurants, but we have booked the more expensive Mayaland Hotel, which is right next to the Archeological site and affords access through the back entrance, allowing you to beat the crowds in the morning
The Mayaland Hotel bills itself as a 5 star hotel, which proves that there is no Trades Description Act in Mexico. It is set in the most beautiful grounds of over 100 acres of tropical gardens, and from a distance the hotel looks enchanting. But up close and personal it is anything but. Our experience starts at check in when the front desk tries to get us to upgrade our room to a more expensive one. When we decline, he tells us that they are sold out of our rooms and we have been automatically upgraded!
The only nice thing we can say about the room is that it has a lovely balcony overlooking the gardens. As far as the 5 Star experience is concerned, here are some of the things we found:
Paint peeling on the corridor walls
No lights in the corridors or outside our room after 9.00 pm.
No phone in the room
No internet in the room
The yellow bedspreads are filthy
The white towels are thin and grey
The bathroom boasts only one soap, which is the smallest piece of soap known to man – and has to be carried from the shower to the washbasin
No free water provided, despite the fact the water supply is unfit to drink
If you get to breakfast after 9.30 you are turned away.

Farewell to Merida

Sunday Feb 8th
We are due to drive to Chichen Itza today, but Merida still has a hold on us.
First of all there is the farewell breakfast with Joany presiding over it in her usual style.
It has taken me four days to realize that she reminds me of an oversized Judge Judy, constantly interrupting our stories, and telling us all when to speak and what to do. During our stay she tells us of the many house rules, and lays down the law emphatically. We realise that while we all laugh at her behaviour, we are all a little intimidated too.
Bob and Nancy are also leaving today so we say farewell to one and all
Then we have to walk around the town square for the last time. Sunday is another big day in Merida. The streets are again closed, this time for bicycle riding. There are stands renting out bicycles and it seems half of the local townsfolk are here. Joany had said she often goes bike riding on Sunday morning and we were looking forward to seeing her perched on the saddle, but in the end she didn’t go.
The square is filled with handicraft stalls, and the street around it is packed with taco stands, food booths and tables and chairs. One side of the street has a children’s play being performed. It is most elaborate with lots of costumes and music. We think they are performing Sinbad but are not sure. The dozens of children watching are totally enthralled. Those not theatrically inclined can watch the fire eater on one corner or the woman mime dressed rather fabulously as a tree, complete with huge roots spreading out from her feet.
It is certainly a fun day but we have to get on

Our last day in Merida

Joany’s breakfast club is working well. We are going to spend our last day exploring Merida on foot, and are in no hurry to leave the breakfast table. Nor, it seems, is anyone else, as we all sit and chat until after 10.

Merida is a delightful town to wander round, full of interesting buildings, and busy shopping streets. Our favourite place though, is the Governors Palace, situated on the main square
It is a two story building, painted green, around a courtyard of marble tiles and giant potted palms.

The walls are lined with murals by a local artist who was obviously inspired by Diego Rivera. Painted in the 60’s and 70’s, the paintings are art deco in feel with heavily stylized figures, depicting the Spanish Invasion and their struggles with the Mayans.

There is a stunning room that runs the entire length of the upper floor, facing the square. The room is at least 25 feet tall, with amazing hanging chandeliers and a black and white tiled marble floor. Huge double shuttered windows run the entire length. Between each window is a painting matching the size of the windows. There are a few sofas against the inside wall, otherwise the room is empty. It is also empty of people and we soak up the atmosphere, enjoying the paintings and the wonderful views of the square and the cathedral through the open windows.

Amazingly there is no entrance fee and the only security is two guards posted at the front entrance. We are learning that many of the wonderful buildings and museums we come across on our travels in Mexico are free.
We continue to wander the streets admiring the old colonial houses, when we stumble on a lovely 17th century home converted into a lovely small hotel, called La Mision de Fray Diego.

It has the most beautiful courtyard we have seen in Merida and the staff are gracious enough to allow us to enjoy it for a while, before we return to Joany’s Bed and breakfast

Our last evening in Merida

Saturday evening in Merida is a major event, with the main square and several of the streets closed for the festivities. There are live bands and dancing in the streets, and all the restaurants fill the streets with their tables. It is one long promenade. We want to join in the festivities but can’t resist another meal at Casa de Piedra before we do.

We are greeted like old friends when we arrive and our waiter fetches the chef who comes out to talk to us. It turns out he was the master chef for seven years at Absynthe in San Francisco and lived just a few blocks from us. We have a wonderful conversation with him and he tells us how he missed Merida so much he had to return, but now he is here he is missing San Francisco . He cooks another great meal for us. This time I start with scallops which are seared crispy on the outside but somehow perfectly cooked inside. I follow this with another wonderful fish dish. This chef knows how to cook fish.

We then return to Merida where the streets are full of people, restaurants have spilled out onto the streets, bands are playing everywhere, and a few brave souls are dancing. The central square is packed and there is entertainment everywhere. Again we notice that the evening may be enjoyed by the tourists, but it is all really about the locals.
The party goes on until 1pm, but we don’t last that long
We are so impressed with this city. It knows how to do things right

Our last breakfast with Joany

Breakfast is becoming quite the little social club with the five of us making the best of each others company and enjoying the moment. We have bumped into Bob and Nancy a couple of times outside of the B and B and shared our thoughts on Joany. So now when Joany arrives in the very same embroidered jeans that she was wearing yesterday there has to be a concerted effort to keep a straight face.
In an effort to divert our thoughts away from Joany’s jeans,Nancy reveals that she doesn’t actually serve breakfast at her Bed and Breakfast. She is the antitheses of Joany and does not want to socialize with her guests . She is famous for leaving her guests notes on a large blackboard. Her place is out in the country and she keeps chickens and ducks as pets.
Bob and Nancy spend part of the week together and part of it apart. Bob bought two condos and built two more and lives off the rents from those. He is a contractor but only works infrequently and then only for trade, and the only trade he is interested in, is Art. He is also an enthusiastic musician and has with him a ukulele. It is a beautiful instrument handcrafted out of a cigar box by a well known craftsman in Kentucky. It is signed by the artist and dedicated to Bob.
Bob tells us that he takes it with him everywhere as it is the least expensive instrument he owns. He is not shy about bringing it to the table and playing something for us. We have noticed him playing over the last couple of days, whenever he has a quiet moment.
Brad tells us that he is a grant writer and does a lot of work for aids charities. He can travel a lot because his work can be done anywhere as long as he has his computer with him
It is a diverse crowd, but somehow it works.

Casa de Piedra at Hacienda Xcanatun

We have heard of a restaurant outside of town called Casa de Piedra at Hacienda Xcanatun and drive out to find it. It is in a small village on the outskirts of Merida, and when we turn off the main road we are convinced we must be in the wrong place. It is a working class Mexican village with a dirt football pitch serving as the town square. There are a few youths trying to skateboard on a patch of concrete, a couple of Datsuns from the early 80’s and a beat up Mustang parked around the square. The houses are all one and two room low square buildings with nothing to recommend them to anyone.
We drive round the village square but there is no sign for, or of, the restaurant. We are convinced we are in the wrong place, but then we see a 12 ft wall painted a rather wonderful deep red color down one of the streets. When we reach it there is a beautiful ironwork gate opening on to a driveway that leads to the hotel and restaurant.

The hotel is quite fabulous, all painted in the same deep red color, with huge rooms and very high ceilings. The grounds are full of beautiful old trees and palm trees, subtly lit.
Hacienda Xcanatun was built in the 18th century, for the owners of a factory producing sisal. The hacienda is now an upscale hotel, while Casa de Piedra, the restaurant, is located in the old factory building next door. It has been renovated beautifully. The ceilings are 30 ft tall, and the old machinery and pulleys are still there, but restored and painted black. The walls are faux painted in subtle shades of blue and grey, and the tables are beautifully presented with flowers and starched tablecloths.

I do not usually write a restaurant review as part of my travel muse, but in this case I can’t help it. It is the best food we have ever eaten in Mexico.
I start with a duck and pine nut pate. The portion is huge, and it is served with a wonderful mustard sauce. It is terrific and brings back memories of French picnics.
Next I have a fish steak, the fish is called Bruja and it is the most perfectly cooked piece of fish you could imagine. It is served on a bed of leek puree, and is delicious.
Gordon has duck in a chocolate and mango mole, a fantastic combination that we have never come across before.
The restaurant is busy the entire evening. We get there at 8pm, and there is a large group of elderly tourists, dressed to the nines and dripping in jewels who are obviously there on some sort of very expensive coach tour. But, more interestingly, Mexicans arrive to eat throughout the evening. These were not the locals we had seen in the village, but immaculately tailored men oozing power, with their expensively dressed and overly made up spouses. They ordered without looking at the menu, demanded a great deal of attention, and were incredibly rude to the waiters.
A pianist and saxophone played from 9pm on and were a perfect accompaniment for a great evening

A Trip to Izamal

The guide book I read before coming here said that Izamal is a beautiful city as every building in the Historical Center is painted gold, including the Convent. It sounds quite amazing and we are looking forward to seeing it. The drive takes a little over an hour and we pass through three attractive towns on the way. We are learning that the one problem with driving ourselves is that when we reach a town, the road automatically takes us into the central square, and leaves us there. We drive around the square and there are always eight exits (two at each corner) and none of them is ever signposted. We have to ask directions from a local. The other problem we discover is that the locals are always anxious to please and feel that an answer of “I don’t know” is rude. Consequently they just make up something, often sending us in completely the wrong direction, which they consider to be polite, but we find extremely annoying.

Izamal is the “City of the Hills” and is thought to be the oldest Spanish city in Yucatan. Its history is dominated by religious events. We live near San Francisco which is also the City of Hills. There is no comparison. The hills of Izamal are only noticeable if you are riding a bicycle. Izamal is located in the middle of the Peninsula . It was conquered by the Spanish and it was the monks in their eagerness to convert the Indians to Catholicism who gave the city its religious distinction. To this day, the people of Izamal are devoted to the Immaculate Virgin.

True to form the road takes us into the square at the heart of the city, where we realize that the guide book was using a little artistic license with the use of the word “gold”. Every building is painted a very bright sunshine yellow. It is very colourful but gives a completely different effect than the one we had expected, that of a city of gold.


The square is dominated by a Convent that was built from and over one of the Mayan Pyramids. The convent is famous for its murals and its central courtyard, which is second only in size to that of the Vatican. We are lucky enough to arrive as the monks (it’s called a convent but it is full of monks!) are congregating in a small chapel for their mid day service. The chapel is lovely, built on the top of a small hill with large double doors on both sides, open to the surrounding trees. Inside there are painted murals, an altar full of flowers and a huge statue of the Immaculate Virgin. The only jarring note is that all the chairs for the monks are red plastic chairs emblazoned with the Coca Cola logo.

The monks generously invite us to be a part of the service, and offer us our own Coca Cola Chairs. The service is quite rousing with two monks playing guitars and the congregation singing along as the Virgin is wheeled forward from her shrine. We feel a little out of place and quietly leave.

A Trip to Izamal

The guide book I read before coming here said that Izamal is a beautiful city as every building in the Historical Center is painted gold, including the Convent. It sounds quite amazing and we are looking forward to seeing it. The drive takes a little over an hour and we pass through three attractive towns on the way. We are learning that the one problem with driving ourselves is that when we reach a town, the road automatically takes us into the central square, and leaves us there. We drive around the square and there are always eight exits (two at each corner) and none of them is ever signposted. We have to ask directions from a local. The other problem we discover is that the locals are always anxious to please and feel that an answer of “I don’t know” is rude. Consequently they just make up something, often sending us in completely the wrong direction, which they consider to be polite, but we find extremely annoying.

Izamal is the “City of the Hills” and is thought to be the oldest Spanish city in Yucatan. Its history is dominated by religious events. We live near San Francisco which is also the City of Hills. There is no comparison. The hills of Izamal are only noticeable if you are riding a bicycle. Izamal is located in the middle of the Peninsula . It was conquered by the Spanish and it was the monks in their eagerness to convert the Indians to Catholicism who gave the city its religious distinction. To this day, the people of Izamal are devoted to the Immaculate Virgin.

True to form the road takes us into the square at the heart of the city, where we realize that the guide book was using a little artistic license with the use of the word “gold”. Every building is painted a very bright sunshine yellow. It is very colourful but gives a completely different effect than the one we had expected, that of a city of gold.


The square is dominated by a Convent that was built from and over one of the Mayan Pyramids. The convent is famous for its murals and its central courtyard, which is second only in size to that of the Vatican. We are lucky enough to arrive as the monks (it’s called a convent but it is full of monks!) are congregating in a small chapel for their mid day service. The chapel is lovely, built on the top of a small hill with large double doors on both sides, open to the surrounding trees. Inside there are painted murals, an altar full of flowers and a huge statue of the Immaculate Virgin. The only jarring note is that all the chairs for the monks are red plastic chairs emblazoned with the Coca Cola logo.

The monks generously invite us to be a part of the service, and offer us our own Coca Cola Chairs. The service is quite rousing with two monks playing guitars and the congregation singing along as the Virgin is wheeled forward from her shrine. We feel a little out of place and quietly leave.

A Cultural Evening in Merida

The City of Merida certainly knows how to present itself and puts Puerto Vallarta to shame. Nearly every night there is some form of entertainment put on in one of the Squares, and the entertainment is completely free. Tonight it is a ‘Serenade” at Santa Lucia Park. The park is set up like a theatre with a stage in one corner and rows and rows of folding chairs set out in front of it.
There is also a restaurant on the square that sets out tables and chairs so that you can dine while you watch the show. The festivities start at 9pm, and we get to the restaurant shortly after 8 to make sure we get a good table. At least half of the folding chairs are already taken by people arriving early to get their seats. We are intrigued to see that while there are a lot of tourists, the majority of the people are locals.
The entertainment starts promptly at 9 and is introduced by a very natty gentleman well into retirement age, dressed in crisp white trousers, a white jacket and a white panama hat set at a very jaunty angle. From his waistband on his right side, hangs a red striped scarf that reaches to his knee. It is quite a look and he struts across the stage like a peacock. Unfortunately he is equally as proud of the sound of his own voice, as he is of his appearance, and talks incessantly while his audience fidgets and waits for the acts to begin
The first performance is a 12 piece band seated at the back of the stage and made up of local retired professional musicians . They all appear to be well past retirement age and the professional qualities they once had are diminishing. They play one song badly and at half speed, and then collapse back onto their chairs, exhausted.
They are given a five minute rest while the MC talks incessantly again, and then have to play another song while a group of folkloric dancers in wonderfully embroidered costumes walk around the front of the stage in time to the music. There really doesn’t seem to be much action in this local folkloric dancing, but what little there is they carry off with panache and style.
On stage next is a local poet who recites some of his poetry. He is also past his prime, but wears a startling deep blue velour suit to make up for it. He is reciting one of his poems that he has written specifically to be performed on stage. Unfortunately it is in four parts and we are to hear all four parts this evening. Before the end of the first part, two members of the band sitting behind him are fast asleep and in danger of falling off their chairs. His presentation is extremely theatrical and his voice lyrical, and although we understand little of what he speaks, he is fascinating to listen too.
He is followed by a large woman in a glittering bronze jacket several sizes too small, on top of a clinging black dress. Her bottom rivals Joany’s and both the jacket and the clingy dress have their work cut out covering it. She has very short arms, and holds a microphone in one of them. Her voice needs no amplification and could shatter crystal. Her short arms appear to prevent her from holding the microphone far enough away from her mouth. She obviously is going for the torch singer look and sound, but she misses as many notes as she hits. The volume is hard to tolerate and we decide to leave. Unfortunately we can still hear her voice several blocks away.
Although we were forced from the square by the torch singer, we had an enjoyable evening and are truly impressed by the City of Merida. There are not many cities in the world where you can enjoy an evening’s entertainment at no cost. And this was just one of the evenings they arrange. There are more to come.

The Cave at Lol Tun

Lastly we stop at the Lol Tun Caves. The caves are famous for their hand paintings dating back to over 10,000 years BC, the fossils of mammoths and other animals, wall paintings, ancient pottery and human remains.

We park in the small car park and are immediately welcomed by a very friendly and very pregnant dog. She makes a great fuss of us and follows us to the entrance.

Here a guide is compulsory as we will be walking for over 1 kilometre through these underground caves. It is not until we are nearly at the end of the walk that our guide tells us that everything we were hoping to see, other than the hand paintings, are in parts of the caves that are as yet inaccessible to tourists.


The lights throughout the caves are on separate circuits, and as we walk through the caves, the guide has to continually find the switch to turn the next few lights on. They are on timers so we cannot dawdle, or the lights go out on us. In true Mexican fashion some of the lights do not switch on. You would expect the guide to be aware of this and have a flashlight at the ready. But you would be wrong. Fortunately we have one of those tiny lights that attach to a key ring and that was our only light to guide us through some of the passageways.

We are amazed and rather touched to find that the dog has accompanied us the entire way through the tunnels. When the lights go off, she keeps quite close to us as if checking we are alright.

At the end of the tour the guide tells us that although we paid an entrance fee to go into the caves, that does not cover his charge and he expects to be paid. When we ask how much, he tells us $50 would be appropriate. Needless to say he is one very disappointed guide.

The dog, however, gets several biscuits from a package we have in the car and seems much happier than the guide.

Uxmal - More Ruins

From Uxmal we take a circular route back to Merida in order to see other Mayan ruins. But our first stop is at a village called Santa Elena where we are told there is an interesting Museum housing several mummified bodies that were found under the church floor. The museum consists of three small rooms with hardly anything in them other than four tiny bodies of children in open coffins, shown beneath a large sheet of extremely dirty glass. At the entrance are three local young women who presumably are there to take the entrance fee of ten pesos.


But they are so excited to see a foreign tourist that all they can do is giggle and blush. We try to talk to them, but they just turn an even brighter shade of red and giggle some more. The museum itself is so depressing that the giggling girls are a welcome relief.

From there we go on to Sayil, where the Palace of the Ants is found. It is a huge Palace of 90 bedrooms, but little has been restored and you are not allowed to go in or on it. Consequently very few tourists come here. In fact we are asked to sign a guest book which shows that the last visitors came three days ago. The site actually boasts a gift shop, which is a truly desultory affair, the entire stock consisting of about seven rather dirty white dresses on coat hangers, hanging from an open sided Palapa. Maybe the last guests were major shoppers and bought up everything else.


Our next stop is Xlapak, which even the tour book describes as “a site of some fourteen mounds”, which makes it sound so unimpressive that they couldn’t even be bothered to make an exact count of the mounds. We drive on by.

The next site is much more impressive. Labna used to be a Mayan city of over 2000 people. It is a large site with three partially restored buildings. Again the setting is lovely with raised streets crossing huge lawns. This site is famous for The Arch of Labna, a beautiful arch that once marked the entry to a nobleman’s house.


Labna is lovely, and we are amazed that there are only two other people here. They are a very elegant pair of Mexican women carrying huge sun umbrellas and strolling across the lawns as if they were at some garden party.

Uxmal

One of the reasons for this trip is to see the Mayan ruins . Next week we will be going to Chichen Itza and Tulum which are the more famous sites and therefore full of tourists. But there are many other sites just as impressive where there are far fewer tourists, and we set off to see some of those today.

Uxmal is a World Heritage Site where considerable restoration has taken place and is still taking place. It is an hour and a half drive from Merida. The drive is easy, as the Yucatan is almost completely flat and the roads are straight, good and fast. But because the land is flat there is no scenery.

Uxmal and the other sites we are seeing today are built in what is known as the hill country, but the hills are only a hundred or so feet high and hardly cause more than a bump in the road.

Uxmal is truly impressive, both in its design and its scale, and even more pleasing is the fact that there are only maybe 25 cars in the car park. In fact the car park is only set up to take about 100 cars. We wander around this wonderful World Heritage Site with just a handful of other tourists.

There are four major buildings that have been beautifully restored: including the Governors Palace, the Nun’s Quadrangle and the Magician’s Pyramid. The Magician’s Pyramid is what we all recognize as a Mayan temple. It is similar to an Egyptian Pyramid, but with steps up two sides and a decorated top. It is more faceted than the Egyptian Pyramids . The Mayans were, what could be called, lazy builders. They built their structures using rubble and then clad them with stone, whereas the temples of Angkor Wat were built stone by stone, each one fitting precisely into the next. The exteriors of Angkor Wat are far more elaborate with carvings and statues. The Mayans decorate the top of their buildings but the bottom half often remains plain.


The decorations are much more geometric, and indeed a deep understanding of geometry obviously pervades everything the Mayans built.

A strong sense of setting dominates Uxmal. There are manicured lawns and trees everywhere. Each building is built on a small plateau affording sweeping views of the land and the other structures.


As in all civilizations water was very important. The Yucatan receives very little water, but the Mayans developed a system of collecting the water and storing it underground that is very impressive.
Equally as impressive is the games arena that sits in the middle of this Mayan city. A large playing field has a huge sloping stone wall at either side with a hoop half way along built out of it. The hoop is set on its side and is 12 feet or so up the wall.


The game was played by two teams of seven, and the object was to get the ball through the opposing teams hoop. The major difference between this and basketball, is that in this game the losing team or team leader is sacrificed. A major incentive, I presume, to play your best game.

Merida - Our First Impression

Joany, despite the non stop talking, is a wonderful hostess and provides free wine and beer, stocked in her fridge, to which we are welcome to help ourselves. After a drink we decide to walk into the center of Merida to have dinner. We are in the Historical District and we walk through streets lined with wonderful old colonial houses, some of which are waiting to find an owner that cares enough to return them to their previous glory, and some of which have already found that person.


They are painted in wonderful deep desert colors of burnt orange, sand and green. The windows and doors are covered in intricate and beautiful iron work. The rooms are tall and large with marble floors. The front doors are double, made of beautifully carved wood and 12 feet tall. Chandeliers hang from the ceiling. They call out “buy me” as we pass.

We find the main square, which is the perfect town square with beautiful colonnades on three sides filled with café tables and chairs, and on the fourth side there is an imposing cathedral, The Cathedral of San Idelfonso. It is actually the oldest Cathedral on the American continent dating back to the 16th century. The conquering Spanish dismantled all the nearby Mayan Pyramids and used the huge stones as the foundation for the Cathedral.

The center of the square is full of people enjoying the evening, and watching the clowns and musicians. The streets around the square are lined with horses pulling Victorian carriages. The carriages are all painted white and decorated with flowers. There are few tourists . It is mainly the locals enjoying all this. It is about as different from our life in Puerto Vallarta as it could be.

We end up at a restaurant called the Villa Maria Restaurant. It is highly rated in Trip Advisor and it is the first restaurant recommendation that Joany makes. She does however warn us that it is a huge restaurant and there will be very few people there, but not to let that put us off, the food is terrific.

Joany exaggerated about the number of people that would be there. The place was deserted, other than 5 waiters, all leaning against the wall, talking to each other.
Normally we would walk on by, but as we don’t know of another restaurant we go in. It is a gorgeously restored 17th century mansion with a central open courtyard with art nouveau hanging chandeliers, and beautifully presented dining tables. The waiter asks if we would like to sit there or inside . Inside there are two more dining rooms both equally elaborate in their settings. It is magnificent and deserted. We eat in the courtyard.

The restaurant has pretensions of grandeur, and everything about it appears first class, until we hear a loud bang. We turn in the direction of the kitchen and see two of the waiters dragging a large old water heater out of the kitchen and across the restaurant floor. It is too heavy for them and they keep having to drop it on the tile floor. Sweat is running down their faces. If this is a regular occurrence it might explain the lack of customers.

As for the rest of the evening, the staff is very attentive, the food is good but not excellent, and the prices are high but not exorbitant, until, that is, it comes to the wine list. Most of the wines are immediately recognizable as coming from Costco (they have a Costco in Merida), and the restaurant is charging 6 times the price they paid in Costco. It leaves an unpleasant taste in our mouths.

Breakfast

The next morning we go down for breakfast in our hotel, the Eurostars Zona Rosa Suites. It is a rather desultory affair, and each morning we hope it will get better, but it never does. It is a buffet with a few plates of fresh fruit cut into slices the previous evening, slices of cheese cut just after the fruit, individual packets of cereal, packaged sliced bread, thin slices of tinned ham, and some warming pans containing refried beans, rice and hotcakes. The hot food was obviously cooked many hours earlier and placed in the warming pans where it sits until 11.30 when it is cleared away.

This morning there is a table of three Mexicans who look a little scary. One of them must be at least 400 lbs and seems unable to sit upright, but instead slouches down at 45 degrees from the floor. We guess that sitting upright is impossible because his stomach would crush his legs. He is wearing a well worn track suit which hasn’t seen soap and water for some time. He hasn’t shaved for several days, and the last time he washed is when he had to take his track suit off to put it in the laundry. His two companions, while equally grubby are far less imposing and far smaller. We are wondering how they could afford to be staying in the hotel, when we notice that the two companions do everything for the large man. He just has to say that he wants more food and they jump up and get it for him. This obviously keeps them fit, as his calls for more are frequent. There is obviously some sort of hierarchy going on here that we know nothing of, but might explain how they can afford to stay in this hotel.

The Colonia Condessa followed by a Wonderful Dinner

Colonia Condessa is a European style neighborhood, full of trendy sidewalk cafes and restaurants, hip bars and small fashionable boutiques. It is considered “the bohemian pulse of the city” whatever that means, and is fast overtaking Zona Rosa as the place to be seen. However on a Monday morning the streets are deserted. The neighborhood dates back to the early 20th century and the architecture of the houses is a fascinating mix of Moorish and Art Deco. Here, many of the houses are renovated and the expensive cars lining the streets show it is one of the well to do suburbs. We feel quite at home and spend a leisurely few hours exploring the shopping and residential streets of the neighborhood.


In the evening we go to a small French Restaurant, Bistrot Arlequin at Rio Nilo 42, a ten minute walk from our hotel. We have read about it on the Internet and know that it is off the beaten track with no sign – you just have to listen for French being spoken.


The restaurant is tiny and is obviously in a converted two car garage. One metal roll up door serves as the entrance while the other door has been replaced with a huge window. Inside it is an ergonomic miracle, with seating for 28, a full bar, and a tiny open kitchen all crammed into the space. The tables are very close together, but the atmosphere is fun and relaxed.


We have no problem recognizing that the chef, the owner and the waiter are all French. They take very frequent breaks together and stand just outside the roll up door together chatting and smoking, the fumes wafting into the restaurant.

The waiter is young, tall and scruffy. His clothes would look better with the help of an iron. His shirt is partially untucked, hanging outside his trousers. His hair is long and lank and pushed back behind his ears. All his features are oversized, his large oval eyes are set very far apart and his Gallic nose does its best to fill the space between them. His huge hands hang limply from his wrists. It seems that his height is recently acquired as he moves rather awkwardly and appears unprepared for how far down he has to reach to pick up things. He exudes an aura of excitement that so many young people have with a new job, which only partly makes up for his inefficiency. In another example of Gallic behaviour he is eating his own dinner while serving us ours. Fortunately he is helped by two women who are friendly and excellent.

The chef is a dashingly handsome slim man around 40 years old, with his long black hair pulled tightly to the back of his head and tied in a pony tail. He has a cleft chin that Michael Douglas would envy. He wears slim cut black and white chef trousers, a black shirt and a black apron. The only colour is a dazzling gold necklace. Mon dieu!

The food is excellent and quite reasonable, and the wine list small but interesting. The restaurant is full and we can’t believe that the chef can turn out all the food in a timely manner, but he does.