the Yucatan & Casa Hamaca
A Great Time to Visit the Mayan Ruins of Chichen Itza 
I went to the Mayan ruins at Chichen Itza last week as a spur-of-the-moment trip. I arrived at about the time I normally tell guests to leave... about 11:30 AM.

Usually by this time, the parking lot is full with cars and there are about 100 or more large busses from Cancun and Playa del Carmen. The lines to purchase tickets are large and your must fight your way through crowds of people .

When I arrived I was able to park in the shade in the lot closest to the entrance. I had no line to purchase my ticket and was besieged by guides to utilize their services. When I entered the grounds, it was if the time was 8:30 in the morning rather than mid-day (I normally recommend to my guest to arrive by 9:30 AM at the latest).

Almost no one there. It was easy to take a photo of any structure with no one else in the photo. On the way out, I counted the large busses in the parking area. There were 9 when normally there would be 115. When I returned to Cancun from NJ on 5 de Mayo, there were 2 people in first class and 23 in coach. There just are no tourists.

What does that mean to you? First of all, the airfares to Mexico are the lowest that I have seen them in 12 years... even lower than the fares were after 9/11 if I remember correctly. Secondly, wherever you go, you will be treated as special because there are so few tourists (at Casa Hamaca we always treat all of our guests that way... we treat them as special individuals not just as another number). All in all, a great time to visit the Yucatan.

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Things that Go Bump in the Night... Alux? Spirits? or Ghosts? 
House cleaning, Yucatan-style
This is a subject that I have been loath to write about for fear it would scare off guests to Casa Hamaca. However, with the economy, the narcotraficante scare and now the swine flu scare, there are not a lot of guests to scare off. Tourist-related business all across Mexico is waaaay down.

Last night, I was awake at 2:00AM, thinking about some issues in my life when I heard my manager call out my name. I waited for a few minutes to hear her call out again or to knock on my door... and then I realized that she was not in Valladolid; she was spending the night in Chichimila. I put it out of my mind until this morning when the cook asked me if I made popcorn in the microwave at about 11:30 last night. I hadn't nor did anyone else 'fess up to making popcorn in the middle of the night. Then Karlos said that about 2:00 AM he had heard a number of people talking and walking about on the second floor... at a time and location when and where there were no guests or employees.

So what and/or who was it that made popcorn, walked and talked during the night and then called out my name at 2:00 AM? Alux? Spirits? Ghosts? Or what? When we discussed these phenomena this morning, a number of the staff expressed concern if not fear. All of my staff live in small villages surrounding Valladolid and all believe in alux and in other strange and wonderous beings. The local villages are filled with witches and shape-changers and Mayan-sirens and shaman and creatures that are now just part of the mythology of the Western, rational mind.

We all agreed that we needed a housecleaning... a cleansing to be more specific. So Tuesday, a shaman (h'men) is coming to do the annual feeding of the alux as well as a cleansing of the entire house and grounds.

Last year, in May, we fed the alux and have had no problems for about 11 months. For you who don't know about the alux, they are best described as Mayan leprechauns... small creatures with more or less human form that guard the fields and houses of the Yucatecans. But they need to be treated with respect and to be fed annually.

So what are the noises in the night? Things that go bump in the night? Ghosts? Spirits? or Alux? I'll let you know what happens Tuesday. And if anything changes Tuesday night. Where are the Ghostbusters when you need them?

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Witch Doctor is best for you? On Choosing a Shaman. Part one. 
When you move to a new town one of the first things you must do is find craftsmen and professionals you can work with and trust. You ask at the hardware store for a good plumber or at the lumberyard for a good carpenter. You ask at the bank or the real estate office for a good lawyer or doctor or dentist. It’s not always easy to find the right people but I’ve used this method successfully for many years in the USA. I’ve actually used it in the Yucatan as well with sometimes mixed-results. Results that sometimes make me look back at similar relationships in the states and wonder about agendas.

In Mexico, it’s pretty straightforward. “Oh, my cousin on my father’s side is a dentist. And he will take good care of you.” The referencer in the States is more like “Well, I’ve been going to doctor so-and-so for years and I’m happy with him.” Now, neither of these references actually says that the dentist or doctor in question has any idea what he is doing… just that he is known and will probably recognize the name of the person who gave you the reference.

It often comes down to trail and error. Try the dentist and hope that he doesn’t charge you an outrageous sum, hope that he does everything that needs doing without causing greater problems and hope that he can fit you into his busy schedule. If the first one doesn’t work out, you look for another one until you find one that fits with your needs and expectations.

You do essentially the same when looking for a new supermarket. Try it out and see how the prices compare, how fresh is the fruit and the meat, is there good customer service and sufficient parking. All the little things that add up to finding a service supplier that you can live with.

It’s always a little harder doing this in a foreign country with the language differences, cultural differences and the differences of how things are done. But the route is more or less the same. Similar decisions are made when looking for an h’men or shaman.
Now what I mean by that term is not a curandero or a herbatero… people who treat, and often cure, with herbs and plants. It’s not a witchdoctor wearing a bone through his nose and shaking rattles (although a shaman might beat a drum or clap his hands… or even shake a rattle). And it certainly is not a brujo or bruja (a witch) casting malevolent spells. And it’s not the mushroom or cactus eaters of the north. The shaman might employ aspects of any or all of the previous callings in his work but primarily he is a spiritual healer who works with the natural world above, below and around him to put your needs, desires and problems together with the proper sprits. To follow the correct forms and put everything into alignment with all of the energies or winds or chi flowing in the optimum directions.

Looking for a good shaman is quite different in looking for a good plumber. First of all, most of us (gringos especially) have no background or experience with shaman or h’men so we wouldn’t know a shaman from a sham. I’m met and/or been treated by shaman in the Amazon jungles of Peru, the mountains of Guatemala and in various places in the Yucatan. Just to have the gall to claim that you are a shaman (perhaps in the same way that a preacher might claim to have private conversations with God) already puts him sort of out there. If he can do almost anything to back up his claim to be a shaman, I will probably believe him and whatever he says.

I use the pronoun “he” for convenience; the shaman I met and was treated by in Guatemala was a mountain woman with a Masters degree in anthropology. All the rest have been male. And I use the word “shaman”… the same word used by Siberian indigenous peoples probably since before hunters crossed the Bering Straits to the Americas. “H’men” is a Yucatec Mayan work and sounds to me as if it’s root was “shaman.”

I was not looking for the first shamans that I actually met. They just happened to show up in different places, doing their job. Out paths crossed accidentally (if there is such a thing as accidental). But the last two shaman I searched out for specific purposes.

I was led to the first one here in Valladolid. I asked everyone I knew if they knew a shaman, perhaps in their village. Finally, Luis took me to a small and somewhat grubby tienda almost on the outskirts of town. The kind of tienda that stocks one or two small cans of tuna and sardines and Spam, a few packages of crackers, some Bimbo bread and lots of fat, salty snacks and soft drinks. The kind of tienda that you can find on almost any street corner in the small towns and villages of the Yucatan. No one really hopes to make a living out of these small stores; but if they are going to be home all day anyway, why not make a few pesos by selling necesitas to your neighbors? Luis asked the lady gently swinging in the hammock if this is where the shaman lived. She gestured to the back, so we passed through another room where there were more women, children and infants in hammocks. In the third room was a man in a dirty sleeveless tee shirt, resting in a hammock. He sat up in the hammock upon our entrance and greeted us. A woman brought chairs for us. We sat and explained what we were looking for… a blessing ceremony for the Casa Hamaca structures, gardens and land. No problem, he replied.
And told us what we needed to get together for the ceremony.

Our discussion then continued regarding the plants and herbs that he blends and uses for various purposes. This, by the way, this was all in Spanish. But we could all hear that Spanish was not the native language of the shaman. Yucatec Mayan was the language he was most comfortable with.

On the appointed day the shaman appeared at Casa Hamaca pedaling a yellow three-wheeler in which were his supplies. A folding table had already been set up in the middle of the garden for him along with a large number of small cascaras or gourd bowls. Sofi, our Mayan cook, had already made atole as per the shaman’s direction.

On the table the shaman set up a large framed picture of our Lady of Guadalupe at the rear of the table. A wooden board was placed across the table to hold 13 candles.
He then carefully placed 13 cascaras filled with atole on the table. These were kept from tipping and spilling their contents by sitting in a quickly woven ring of palm leaf. The shaman then asked for the names of all who worked or lived at Casa Hamaca. As he lit the candles he asked if we had any incense. I had traditional copal incense. It was the kind of incense that needs to be started with wood or charcoal because it is just chunks of dried tree resin. I had purchased the resin at a bruja’s shop in one of the markets in Tuxla Gutierrez, Chiapas, a few years ago and still had some left.

As the incense started to burn in a small clay bowl, the shaman began his prayers. I was not raised a Roman Catholic but have attended enough Catholic services to recognize some of the liturgy. He sang or chanted in a mixture of Spanish and Mayan… seeming to move back and forth as the one language did not have the correct words for the moment. Frequently making the sign of the Cross, he petitioned a variety of saints to bless our house, bless our land and bless the people who worked and living there. Every so often, I could hear my name and the names of the people who work with me. Every so often I could hear “Padre, hijo y espirto sante” (Father, Son and Holy Ghost). If I closed my eyes, I would have thought that I had been transported to the church across the street and dropped there in the middle of mass.

After extended and repetitive prayers and petitions, the shaman took the still-smoking incense bowl and walked to each of the four corners of the property, walking along side of the stone walls that surround most of the property and continuing his prayers and petitions as he walked. At the four corners, he paused for a short time before continuing. He returned to the table. Snuffed the candles and poured all of the atole into a jug, made a final blessing and then he was done. The casa, the land and all that lived and worked on the land had been blessed. Sofi carried the jug of atole into the kitchen, washed out the cascaras and then filled them again for us all to drink. The entire ceremony took over two hours.

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Mural, Mural on the Wall..... 
How to Design and Create Original Murals on the Walls of Your Own Home.

A view of one of the murals in the Main Salon of Casa Hamaca.

As early as I can remember, I always wanted to be an artist. When I was about 5 years old, the local newspaper in Great Falls, Montana, wanted to reproduce some of my drawings, but the technology was just not in place. I grew up in Great Falls surrounded by paintings by Charles Russell, the Western artist of note. One of the town saloons held works by Russell that he had traded to the saloon’s proprietor for drinks. As I grew older my interest in art waxed and waned. At one point I studied Fine Art and Illustration at the School of Visual Arts in Manhattan and finally recognized that I did not have the talent or the desire to be a fine artist. So I changed direction and studied Industrial Design at Parsons School of Design (now part of the New School), also in NYC. That was a much better direction for me… but it took me away from Art with a capital “A”.

How the previous mural was grided before the image was painted on the wall.

Before I ever came to Mexico, I was entranced with Mexican muralists and painters. They were some of the best in the world. When I came to the Yucatan and saw the murals in Merida and Valladolid, that opinion was validated. Raw, powerful images that changed my consciousness of the Mayan World.

One of my goals at Casa Hamaca was to teach and inform and educate visitors. Educate them about the Mayan people and their culture. To have them experience Mayan food, Mayan people, Mayan healing and Mayan culture.

And one day, BANG, the two ideas came together. I could have Mexican murals on the many walls of Casa Hamaca that visualized various aspects of Mayan culture… images that taught and informed and educated.

The mural in the Ka'ab Na Suite after a popular image in Yucatan elementary school books.

I am too old to climb scaffolding and paint entire walls so I needed a solution that would put murals on my walls without the need of me actually doing the painting.

The solution I came up with is a very simple one that can be applied by almost anyone with a smooth-surfaced wall, a computer, a printer and some photo-editing software.

The original photograph from which the mural was made.

The completed mural.

The Image:
From various source material including original photographs, books and Internet “swipe”, I found a number of images that I would like to have on my walls. I scanned the images from books and saved them along with the “swipe” and the original photos. I selected images of Mayan ruins, carvings, plant photographs and schoolbook illustrations that were very graphic in natural. But almost any image could be used. Line drawings, simple computer-generated illustrations, Pop-Art (like Andy Warhol), etchings and engravings, Ukiyo-e (Japanese woodblock prints), comic illustrations and high-contrast black and white photos make life easier and make the transfer of the image much, much simpler.

The Wall:
I took approximate dimensions of the wall spaces that I had to work with. I did this in the metric system since working with that system is much easier than dealing with inches and fractions of inches. Some walls (by their proportions) lent themselves to an image covering the entire wall, others to just a part of the wall.

Matching the Wall to the Image:
I worked with Photoshop to crop the images to match the proportions of the wall. In some cases, I actually took photos of the wall and layered the Mayan-themed image over the wall to see how it would look. When I was satisfied that the image fitted the wall, I used the “Grid” options in Photoshop to overlay a grid on the image. I had to go to Preferences to adjust the Grid options to correspond with the metric system that I was going to use. After creating a new layer in Photoshop, I used the Line tool to draw over the electronic grid, selected the “Fit to Media” option in the Print command and printed a couple of copies of the images, now girded with thin black lines.

The mural in the Chac Na Suite in process.

The Chc Na Suite mural completed.

Grid the Walls:
Using a metric rule (and starting from the upper left hand corner of the wall or of where you want your image to begin) a plumb-bob, a level and a chalk-line, begin laying out the wall, marking off 50 centimeter sections both vertically and horizontally. Then snap lines so that you end up with a wall filled with a grid made up of many 50-centimeter squares.

the Process:
Now you have a wall filled with a grid pattern of squares and a piece of paper with a corresponding grid pattern of squares. Using a pencil, transfer the image, square by square, to the wall. If a particular section of the image is very complicated, break that square down further into smaller squares on both the wall and on the paper. Once you have completed the pencil image for the entire wall, just fill in the blanks with color (paint). An alternative method (if you are sure-handed) is to draw the image directly in paint. If you are dealing with an image that has tonal variations (like a photograph) or naturalistic rendering of objects, use the “Posterize” command in Photoshop to simplify the colors. Play around with the command until you arrive at an image that you like... and that has a number of different colors that you can work with. Using this method, your painting (once you have the outlines drawn on the wall) will be just like the old-fashioned Paint-By-Number kits. In fact, you can number your colors (limiting the number of colors makes the job simpler, expanding the colors makes the final product more naturalistic) and lightly number the corresponding spaces so that you do not put the wrong color in a space. Use regular water-based interior wall paint. Water-based paint makes clean up so much easier. If your mural in outdoors, were sure it is not exposed to direct sunlight for extended periods or it will fade and use exterior paint.

My very first attempt was a reproduction of a rollout of an antique Mayan vase with a complicated image from Mayan mythology. After much trial and error, I selected an image that more or less fit the wall I had in mind. I then Posterized the image in Photoshop to end up with and image composted of eight (8) colors. Using the Eyedropper tool, I selected these colors, placed them all into another document and printed that document on the brightest, whitest paper I had on hand. I took that piece of paper to the paint store and made the best color match I could for the eight colors. The process worked extremely well… however my choice of images did not work as well as I had hoped. So we painted over it with another image that was simpler in execution as well as in design.

The original of the vase rollout used for one of the Salon walls.

The finished mural on the wall. Note: this mural has been painted over and is no longer visible.

Further image selection focused much more on the actual content (what the image represented) as well as on the “style” of the image: i.e.: “painterly, graphic, naturalistic, etc. The result has been a mural in every guest room at Casa Hamaca. Some of them are truly full-wall… filling the entire wall from floor to ceiling and from wall to wall. Others are smaller (although still very large) and fill most of a wall.
Certain public spaces also have large images.

A full-wall mural in the Tun Nich Na (or Stone Suite) after stone carvings at Palenque.

The mural seen in setting with furnishings

The Artists:
The first artist I hired was in his early 20’s and had done a little sign painting, I believe. But in no sense of the word was he a trained artist. But he followed my instructions and became confident in his abilities and often painted directly into the squares without first making a pencil drawing. But he gave up on a very complicated drawing (after Catherwood) that filled a very large wall. So I found a pair of young men (perhaps 16 years old?) who show up every day after school and all day Saturday to paint. They have tackled some very difficult images with very fine results. And they both learn as they go so that their most recent efforts are cleaner and faster than their older ones.

There are lots more murals that I have not pictured. If you want to see then, you must come visit in Valladolid.

One of the artists working on the large mural on the second floor, fronting the atrium.

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Oh my God, what did I just eat? 
Cochinita Pibil and Tepezcuintle Tacos

Yesterday we were invited to share a meal with a family in the small village of Honuku. A visiting curandera from Queretero was in residence at the Casa Hamaca and last week Sofi (our housekeeper and cook) brought her daughter-in-law (Miñela), granddaughter (Sarahi) and the baby’s other grandmother (Ofelia) to the Casa Hamaca because the baby was sick. Alma, the curandera, worked with the baby on two or three different occasions during the week. The baby seemed to be feeling better and did not exhibit the symptoms that she previously had exhibited. When the grandmother asked how much it cost for the visits, Alma responded that there was no charge. So grandmother Ofelia invited us to a Sunday meal. Sofi, who has Sundays off, offered to come to Casa Hamaca early on Sunday and guide us to the village of Hunuku.

As I have mentioned before in these notes, I am a slow learner. And I had forgotten that when Sofi is in the back seat giving driving directions, it becomes another slap-stick episode since Sofi (who will turn 40 years old this month) doesn’t know her left from her right and gives directions with hand movements only. That means that when we come to a fork in the road or a cross-road, I must remember to look in the rear-view mirror or actually turn around so that I can see better which way Sofi is gesturing …all the while looking out for speeding taxis (the only way into and out of these small villages for most of the people) unused to visiting gringos on a Sunday afternoon; stray turkeys with their little ones (also unused to visiting gringos on a Sunday afternoon…or any other time for that matter) looking for something to eat in the middle of the road; the topes (speed bumps) that can rattle your teeth if you fail to slow down for them; the normal bicycles, tricycles and foot-traffic of the Yucatan; a sow and her piglets trotting across the road at an unmarked “Hog Crossing”; little children running across the little-used road without looking; Sunday drunks weaving down and across the road on their way to the next beer; dogs sleeping in the middle of the sun-warmed road or just wandering around looking for the next best place to take a nap. The small roads between villages are one lane, winding ones, with no shoulders and limited visibility since the jungle grows right to the edge of the road, overhanging it and in some places almost making a tunnel of vegetation. In other words, a normal Sunday ride in the country.

Aside from the traffic problems, add in that Sofi always travels in a taxi, by bicycle or on foot…and so does not really pay attention to turn-offs and crossroads and forks and such. If she is in a taxi, the driver knows his way…if she is on a bicycle or on foot, things pass by slowly enough to draw her to the correct turn. What that really means, is that Sofi often cannot remember where a turn-off is or which fork to take at a decision point.

Now don’t get me wrong; Sofi is not dumb. She is uneducated in Western ways and almost illiterate in regard to books and book learning. She is suspicious and fearful of many "modern" things. If she must answer the cordless phone in the kitchen, she holds it as if it were a live, withering, poisonous snake. But she is very wise and knowledgeable in the things that are important to her and her family in normal village life. Plus she speaks two languages. It is only when she is removed from her normal village surroundings does it become apparent that her education was very different from mine. But when we are in her habitat, my ignorance becomes so frequently and so obviously apparent that good-humored laughter often greets my clumsy attempts to do or say the simplest things.

Ofelia' house

Sofi, Alma and Ofelia in the kitchen

With no mishaps, we arrived at the traditional thatched-roof house (or na, in Yucatec Mayan) of Ofelia and her family. The na was huge… 8 meters by 5 meters (about 26 feet by 16.5 feet)…a single room built in the ancient manner with lashed joints and palm leaf thatching. At one end was the kitchen…three stones on the floor defining where the fire was; a normal-height table mostly covered with dish rack and a five gallon bucket holding drinking water; a low, round table on which to make tortillas a mano (by hand); and another small, low rectangular table at which meals were eaten. A series of low stools (canché) were stacked along one wall of the na. Other than a couple of rickety folding chairs brought out for visitors, these canché and the hammocks were the only places to sit in the entire house.

A traditional stool or canché

The canché were “modern” ones, made from machine-sawed, wooded boards. These modern canché have replaced the older, traditional style carved from a single log. Some of the older types are very simple and basic; others have more style, artistry and comfort. Many of the rooms (both guest rooms and common areas) at Casa Hamaca are furnished with traditional canché stools.

As an aside, the word canché is interesting. The last part of the word, ché, means tree or wood or plant. No problems there. But to my ears, the Mayan words can and k’aan sound exactly the same. So canché translates as wooden snake or serpent or viper; while k’aanché translates as wooden hammock. I’m told that the word for the stool really is canché and not the other. I found that too bad since I like the idea of the word or concept for the wooden seat being that of a "wooden hammock". So, alas, the word actually translates as "wooden serpent". And the word Cancun aptly is frequently translated as "Viper’s Nest" (Can=Serpent or Viper plus K'u'=Nest)…a fitting description of the Sin City Cancun has become. Cancun, in my opinion, ranks right up there with Miami and Las Vegas (along with what was once called Macau in China) as world-class hedonistic magnets. But back to the small village of Hunuku.

The exposed-thatch ceiling above the fireplace was blackened with smoke. When I asked how old the house was, Don Martin, the husband, told me it was built a year before Hurricane Gilberto (1988) and survived that storm and all of the subsequent ones with no damage. A single light bulb hung from the ceiling beams. On a table at the opposite end of the na was a television, tuned to an afternoon futbol (soccer) game. A few simple shelves held all of the belongings of the family.

Making tortillas a mano

Cooking the tortillas on the comal

Sofi making the salsa

After we had been greeted, Ofelia stated making tortillas a mano on the small round table (many of the guestrooms at Casa Hamaca are furnished with these traditional tortilla tables) and then flipping the tortillas onto the comal to cook. Sofi ground chilies and lime juice in a molcajete (more or less a mortar and pestle) to make a rich and flavorful condiment for the meal to come. When Sofi was finished with the chilies, she sat at one of the small tables and separated meat from bones and placed the meat in a small bowl. No one had told us what the main course would be but I had seen a still-warm pib (in-ground fire pit) in the backyard. Cochinita pibil? Or maybe Relleno Negro?

While we were waiting for Sofi and Ofelia to finish preparations for the meal, Don Martin and I chatted. About his milpa (garden) and the eijido (community-owned land on which any of the villagers could farm). Don Martin said that since almost 75% of the local men now work outside of the village during the week, he really had his choice of where he wanted to farm. He only cultivates about 2 hectares (about 5 five acres) at a time. He does it the traditional way. He prepares the area by first cutting down all of the shrubs and trees, letting them dry and then burning them. This re-nourishes the soil as well as gets rid of any weeds so that he can grow corn for another two or three years before he must prepare another field in the same manner.

Don Martin showing some of his antler collection

We spoke of the alux (see previous notes for more on the alux) and of the hurricanes (Hurricane Felix had just been upgraded to a Category 2 on it’s way to becoming a Category 5 hurricane) and of building houses and of copal incense (pom) and of the deer in the forests and jungle. Don Martin proudly showed off his collection of deer antlers. I did not diminish his pride by telling him that the antlers he showed me would be humiliating to show in Montana or North Dakota or Minnesota or even New Jersey since they were so small, with so few points. We spoke of how cool his house was during the heat of the summer. I did my best to explain that even the coolest nights in his village were still very warm to someone from the north. That doors were not left wide open during the day, year around, in the north. That walls were thick and roofs were not thatch. That it was so cold that water turned to ice and snow. Now that was stretching things a little since that kind of experience is out of their realm of reality. I further compounded their incredulity with stories of ice fishing and driving cars and trucks out on to the ice. I believe they think that I was just telling tall tails to amuse them before dinner.

When all was ready, Alma (the curandera) and I were invited to eat first (after all, we were the guests of honor); when we almost finished the adults of the family (including the women) joined us to eat their meal followed by the younger members of the family when the adults were finished. There were no children other than the infant so we could not see how other children might fit into the eating hierarchy. Before we sat down, we were offered a bucket of water in which to wash our hands.

Alma and I were seated at the small round table. On the table were a stack of freshly made tortillas; two shallow bowls, each filled with a different shredded meat; and a small bowl of the chili sauce that Sofi had just made. One of the shallow bowls held cochinita pibil, a traditional Sunday meal in the Yucatan. Cochinita pibil is pork meat that has been rubbed with achiote paste, wrapped in banana leaves to keep the meat moist, and then buried in the fire pit to bake. It is, in my experience, always tender and delicious. Gringos like me are sometimes served “cochinita light”…just the meat without the flavorful grasa (or fat) or the baked liver. Cochinita is traditionally served with raw chopped onions and, of course, chilies.

Alma, Don Martin, Ofelia, Sofi and Carlos seated on modern canché.
The bowl in the center of the round table holds the mystery meat.

The other bowl held shredded meat that looked a little like chicken. The meat was mixed with chopped radish, cilantro and chili. When I asked what kind of meat this was, I was told it was tepezcuintle. Now that helped a lot! What was its Spanish name? Tepezcuintle is the only name it is called they responded. How big is a tepezcuintle? About this high, indicating with his hands, and about this long…??? Since Don Martin was making these hand gestures over the table, I was not sure if the height was from the table to his hands or from the floor to his hands. When I asked if it were the size of a dog, he laughed and said "No…smaller". “Bigger than a rabbit?” I asked. “Oh, yes, bigger than a rabbit. Maybe up to 10 kilos or so (about 22 pounds). It only comes out at night and lives in a cave in the ground”. “It eats vegetables and fruits and plants and roots,” Martin offered before I could ask. All I could picture was something like a muskrat. Yuck! Where did this one come from? “I got it yesterday evening on the road” Road kill??? “I shot it with my shotgun. What good luck it was to get it for company, verdad?” “And, no, you cannot buy this meat at a market. It is against the law.”

OK, I said to myself, I am here for the experience. If I didn’t eat it, I would never know what it tasted like. After all, I ate pressed and fried guinea pig in Peru and was not the worse from the experience…how much different could this be even if it were muskrat?

Oops! Another meal with no utensils. I waited for Alma to start, watching her out of the corner of my eye. Right! Now I remember. Tear a tortilla, like you would cut a pizza. Take about a quarter of the triangle-shaped tortilla and use it to grasp and hold some meat…and then pop it right in your mouth.

I first tried the cochinita since I knew I would like that. And I was delicious.
Then I took a piece of the tortilla and grabbed some of the “other white meat”. By this time Sofi, recognizing that I was not used to eating without utensils, brought a spoon for the salsa and spoons for the meat. So I was able to add a little chili to the meat before eating. It wasn’t quite like sabor de pollo (tastes like chicken) that even the locals use to describe some meats not usually on the dinner plate. It was, perhaps, a little like mutton (without the fat) or goat…without the gamey taste that some wild meats have. So I had another. Ofelia served orange soda in plastic cups. I drank mine quickly since I saw that the flies were as interested in the soda as I was. Later I noticed that the adults covered their cups with a tortilla to keep out the flies. Tortillas were also used as napkins to clean fingers, faces and mouths.

After the meal we were given a tour of the grounds and shown a small pen with two young pigs. We were invited to help eat one of them as part of a relleno negro in November for their Day of the Dead observance.

Sofi’s husband, Carlos, had joined us for the meal by riding his bicycle from his village of Yalcoba to Hunuku. Since I was driving a minivan, I asked him if he would like to put the bike in the back and ride with us when we took Sofi home. But, of course! It took us about 10 minutes to go from Hunuku through another nameless village to Yalcoba. Carlos told us it takes him about an hour to ride the same route and Sofi added that it took her over an hour and a half to walk the same distance.

Alma treating the new bride

We went to the house of Carlos’ parents. Five of seven kids of Carlos and Sofi were there as well as Carlos’ mother and the new bride of one of Sofi’s sons. Alma worked with/on the grandmother as well as a couple of the kids attempting to cure their ills. She tried to determine if the new bride is pregnant yet but could not make a definite determination as yet. The bride is late, but it is still to soon to tell. We were asked if we would like some atoleatole made with fresh green corn rather than the dried corn that is usually used. Atole, as drunk by the Maya, is a thick mixture of water and masa or ground corn. It can be comsumed warm, room-temperature or cold and it can be sweetened or spiced with cinnamon or chilies. It is a staple of the farmers while working their milpas. Why not? I had already put my delicate gringo stomach at risk, why not go the whole way. I always tell visitors to Mexico NOT to drink the water…that is, to always drink only bottled, purified water. I was sure that the atole had not been made with purified water, but I said OK. Yes, I would like to try the atole. The taste was different. A cleaner, greener, fresher taste with some natural sweetness to it. We took our leave and returned to Valladolid.

The paca, paka, agouti, haaleb, tepezcuintle or tapescuinlte
Cute, isn't he?

The first thing I did upon arrival was to try to identify the strange meat… tepezcuintle. Now I cannot pronounce that word let along spell it. After numerous failed attempts at Googling the word, an alternate spelling gave me the information that we ate a paca or an agouti, a rodent with a range from Mexico to the tip of South America that is commonly eaten. In Mexico, it called tepezcuintle, also spelled tapescuinlte while the Mayan name is haaleb.

When I finally lay down in my hammock, I tried to listen to my body to see if any of the food or liquid I had ingested was going to cause me a problem. My body told me everything was OK and not to worry so I dropped off to sleep for over 10 hours. Maybe haaleb could be marketed as a remedy for insomnia. Quien sabé?

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