Merida

The end of October saw me celebrating the end of my GRE nightmare across the border in Mexico. Matt, Nikki and I bussed it from Corozal to Chetumal, and then across the Yucatan Peninsula to Merida, which is reputed to host some of the best Day of the Dead celebrations in Mexico. Unfortunately, heavy rains in Belize and flooding on the Northern Highway - our only route to Corozal and beyond - delayed our departure and we ended up missing the festivities. But our truncated vacation was still worth the 15 or so hours on the bus. Merida is a charming city, with a bustling, beautiful, colonial town center focused around the Plaza Mayor, which boasts a huge park, the city’s cathedral and main government building, outdoor cafes along a covered colonnade, and a juice bar where they squeeze your orange, melon or carrot juice right in front of your eyes.

The weekend market is an insanely crowded conglomeration of stalls selling everything from fresh produce and fish to shoes and the traditional Day of the Dead sugar skulls. Every few feet we encountered someone with a bundle of newspaper-wrapped flowers in the most brilliant combinations of colors, purchased for placing on family graves as part of the holiday celebrations. On “Sundays in Merida” the city blocks of a maze of streets in the center of the old town to make way for bike and pedestrian paths. Not far from our hostel we stumbled on a senior citizen dance party – a 10-piece band sharing a shaded stage with at least 20 elderly couples dancing every Latin step you can imagine. You could see from the way the couples greeted each other with relaxed waves and friendly jibes that this is a regular affair.

Just a couple blocks down the road, the Plaza Mayor hosts stalls selling churros and Panama hats, and another live band and packed dance floor, surrounded by spectators just taking in the view. Everywhere we went that weekend we found people dancing. And with such undisguised, relaxed joy. It was refreshing and restorative just to see the smiles on their faces. Not to mention the pleasure of air conditioned coach buses, handmade pasta, good, cheap wine and shrimp ceviche on a terrace overlooking the beach. And people who were more than happy to encourage you to practice your Spanish on them. Ah, sweet Mexico!