Yuca-Lessons

1. I worry waaaaay too much about my appearance. I could barely stand to skitter my flabby white self out to the beach in a bathing suit—the skirted tankini kind that resembles a bad square dancing outfit. But peeking out from my head-to-toe swimsuit coverup, I observed unashamed young Italian women sunbathing topless, grey-haired corpulent men in Speedo’s, and happy, blubbery, 60-something French women in bikinis.

2. It is NOT a camera trick or lens filter. Caribbean water really IS blue, and the sand really IS white.

3. I need to learn another language. At one set of ruins we visited, there’s a Mayan guide who speaks Mayan, Spanish, German and French, and he’s learning Italian. I speak fluent (mostly) English and can say, “Dark beer, please,” “Where is Wal-Mart?” and “Do you have a larger size?” in Spanish. I can also say “We’re Americans and we want to dance” in Russian, and “Happy birthday” in Korean. Pitiful.

4. Note to self: Have Ray rig up an open-pit spit barbecue, so I can make tacos al pastor at home. I’m pretty sure it’s a matter of life or death.

5. Mayans are short and stocky. I felt right at home.

6. If there are pistol-packin’ banditos in Mexico, I didn’t see them. I DID, however, encounter banditos in Houston airport’s U.S. Customs/Immigration checkpoints, who hinted that my brother might be treasonous for living in Mexico, who wouldn’t let me touch a Mexican woman as I tried to help translate for her (she didn’t understand that she had to take off her shoes and put them on the conveyor), and who made us haul our bags off one carousel and walk them 20 feet to put them on another carousel for our connecting flight.

7. In any Mexican grocery, the people in line at the ATM will be Canadians, Europeans or Americans.

8. When it’s 104 degrees, I’ll fork over every last peso for a cold Modelo Negra.

9. Burrito supremes, hard-shell tacos, and potato olés are NOT Mexican food.

10. Yes, Mayan kids as young as five work sometimes 10 hours a day or more hawking junk to tourists. Yes, you sometimes spot them sound asleep on a curb. No, no matter how tired or hungry or sweet they are, you cannot bring them home with you. You can offer them a fair price for the stuff they’re selling, or you can stock your backpack with granola bars to help keep them going.

11. Heat is a great leveler. When it’s 104 degrees, all human beings—rich, poor, Mexican, German, American, business traveler, day laborer—are just big balls of sticky sweat.

12. It’s hard to complain about your tired feet or your creaky knees when four old Mayan men are swinging upside-down above you, strung to a pole by their ankles, in full Mayan costume, in over 100-degree heat, for the few pesos you’re willing to toss in a hat.

13. The man playing his saw in the Plaza: “Where you from?” You: “South Dakota.” Saw-Man: “Perhaps you know this song?” (He plays "Somewhere Over the Rainbow.") Saw-Man: “Where you from?” Passerby: “Japan.” Saw-Man: “Perhaps you know this song?” (He plays "Somewhere Over the Rainbow.") Etc.

14. I write poems for artistic self-expression and work hard to avoid the word “love.” Eduardo writes poems in English for tourists on the beach in Progresso, in 10 minutes for 10 pesos (about 80 cents), and uses the word “love” in almost every line.

15. Note to self: All future narrow escapes, family luck, and happy outcomes will result in the erecting of a shrine.

16. This Earth is an incredible wonderland, I now have a passport, and the Big Door is wide open.