Travels in the Yucatán: Mérida.
In which I get my bearings and see some sights.
In January, I went on a tour of the Yucatán led by the Archaeological Institute of America,1 where I spent eight days visiting ancient Maya pyramids and temples at many of the sites that appear in my novel. Fully intending to write a detailed-yet-entertaining account of my travels, I kept studious notes in a little red Moleskine notebook, my Bullet Journal, and a beautiful notebook given to me by a friend.2 But then I got home, life happened, and well, here we are, two months later.
So! I’ll give you the highlights of my experience that haven’t been lost to the mists of my short-term, stress-blighted memory.
Saturday, January 20, 2024: San Francisco to Houston to Mérida
My first story about Mérida is that I almost didn’t make it there. Too many people tried to bring carry-on bags onto our very full flight from San Francisco to Houston, so we waited while several passengers gate-checked their bags. That settled, the plane taxied toward the runway, but then had to return to the gate because there was ONE bag too many in the cargo hold. ONE.
Naturally, another plane had already pulled into our original gate, forcing our plane to wait for a different gate to open up. We left San Francisco almost two hours late while my layover in Houston shrunk from 90 minutes to 20. I had just enough time to jog/power-walk to my connecting flight to Mérida.
On that second flight, things got much better, especially when I got upgraded to Business, courtesy of an extremely generous friend who has about 1 million frequent flier miles. Disheveled after my sprint across the airport, I worried that I’d disturbed my seatmate, who seemed to be on an important business call. But he turned out to be a very nice man named David.
Though my typical move on planes is to enter a Cone of Silence and bury myself in gossip magazines, David and I ended up having a lovely conversation. I even convinced him to show me photos of the beautiful home he and his husband are renovating in Mérida. (David, if you’re reading this, I’m a really good houseguest. Just saying.)
Mérida has one of the nicest airports I’ve ever seen. It’s spotless. Marble floors, clear signage, efficient customs line. Sure, my suitcase took its time appearing, but I was just happy it arrived given the short connection in Houston. Plus, the wait at baggage claim gave me a chance to get acquainted with some of my fellow tour participants before we climbed into the AIA-arranged minivan that took us to our first hotel, the Villa Mercedes Mérida.
After dinner in the hotel’s El Centro restaurant,3 I returned to my room and watched (in Spanish) the 49ers beat the Packers 24-21 in the NFC Divisional Playoff. Then I watched (in English) Naked and Afraid of Sharks, because I couldn’t avert my eyes.
Sunday, January 21, 2024: Mérida
The next day we toured Mérida, the cultural capital (and actual capital) of the Yucatán state. Spanish conquistadors founded the city in 1542 on the ruins of the ancient Mayan city T’hó, whose stones the Spaniards used to build their churches and mansions.
Our first stop: the Plaza Principal de Mérida, a.k.a. the Plaza Grande, a tree-lined park with wide sidewalks that hosts a crafts fair on Sundays. I may have to return in January 2025 to experience Mérida Fest, a month-long celebration of the city’s founding.
On the south side of the Plaza Grande is Casa de Montejo, built in the 1540s to house Spanish conquistador Francisco de Montejo, the first governor and captain general of Yucatán, and his descendants. It’s now a bank and a museum.
Moving around the plaza, we arrived at the Cathedral Mérida. Completed in 1598, it’s the second oldest cathedral in the Americas (the Cathedral of Santo Domingo in the Dominican Republic, completed in 1550, is the first).
We then tried to visit the Palacio de Gobierno (the Government Palace), where we hoped to see the beautiful murals by Yucatecan painter Fernando Castro Pacheco. Alas, two unsmiling police officers blocked our entry. Yucatán governor Mauricio Vila Dosal was inside, which meant no visitors, even 12 nonthreatening lanyard-wearing tourists like us.
We clambered back aboard our tour bus and headed off to visit El Gran Museo del Mundo Maya. Correction: we tried to visit the museum. Twice. But that’s fodder for my next post, because I’m getting a “near email length limit” error message.
To be continued…
Fun fact: the acronym for the Archaeological Socity of America, AIA, also stands for the American Institute of Architects, to which my father belonged. I never thought I’d be a member of either AIA, but here we are.
The trip kept us so busy that I wrote exactly two pages in this particular notebook.
Because I was frazzled and tired from a day of traveling, and because I’m a bad travel correspondent, I didn’t photograph or document this meal, so I couldn’t tell you what I ate, only that it was a perfectly fine meal.
More, please!!!
This looks like a wonderful trip. Beautiful photos. That tile!