Introduction.
I have been working in tourism now for over a decade and have learned many things, met many wonderful people and as I reflect and look through old photos and email conversations I realize that many of these experiences were meaningful encounters with visitors genuinely interested in the Yucatan and its people, its customs, foods and traditions. My memory fades as time goes by and it all becomes a blur, so I thought it might be interesting to document some of the highlights; some of the experiences with folks both local and foreign, as many of them are truly worth sharing.
Tourism Tales – Texas, Trump and Tortillas
I picked up the blonde lady from Texas at one of Merida’s commercial hotels, the imposing Fiesta Americana, built on the site of Merida’s former country club in the middle of the Paseo de Montejo.
She had come to Merida to meet up with a group that was going to be traveling in an organized tour, doing things magical and spiritual, but had arrived a day early and wanted to make the most out of her time. Having seen the Netflix Chef’s Table episode featuring Rosalia Chay and her marvelous cooking in Yaxunah, she arranged with me to go and visit Rosalia and learn about her cooking and life in a small village.
As we drove out of Merida towards the Cancun highway exit, on calle 59, I made the usual stop at a fading mural of former president Donald Trump which I try to include on any tours in the areas east of Merida. Many people are interested in street art and this rather well-done painting, albeit critical (“Trump Sucks! He is a Sith Lord” it exclaims) of the controversial leader, is definitely worth a look and also an opportunity to gauge my guest’s political leanings, thereby informing me on what subjects to avoid during our upcoming hours together. Politics and religion, and all that.
“I voted for him!” she exclaimed when I pointed out the pursed-lip replica on the wall, peering out from behind a peeling whitewash. “Both times!” she continued.
I made the corresponding mental note and we continued on. Fortunately, our conversation flowed easily and no touchy subjects were brought up.
On the home stretch from the town of Pisté to Yaxunah, we came to the minuscule village of Chendzonot, which is not much more than a few homes and a government grocery store. A pair of huipil-clad ladies were crossing the road, and I stopped, lowering the passenger-side window of the car.
“¿Que hacen?” I asked them, wondering if it was corn they had in the little red plastic bucket they were carrying. “¿Es mais?”
“Es para nuestra comida” they answered, smiling, opening up the bucket to reveal some very yellow, freshly made tortillas.
“¿No quieren?” one of them asked, and removing the small towel over the container, the woman proceeded to offer us some of their still-warm tortillas.
My guest looked at me and asked if she should take one. I told her that absolutely, yes, it would be the correct thing to do. So we were handed a tortilla each and they and we, continued on our way.
They were the most amazing tortillas.
Her trip, which was to be all about good vibrations and spiritualism, truly began in that magical moment on a deserted stretch of Yucatan road when two lovely Mayan women, without a moment’s hesitation, offered to share their meal with two complete strangers.