Saturday, March 27, 2010

The Perils of Penelope/Cindy

Well, it is a beautiful Saturday night in Merida and we are strolling in the main plaza... Bo is strolling. Bo is strolling, and I am hobbling. For those of you not on Facebook, I had a misstep in the Hyatt Hotel on very badly constructed steps and twisted my ankle. I was not able to get to the conference yesterday, but have attended wondersul session on the Maya and Mayan women. We have met a lot of wonderful people in and around Merida and our hotel-anthropologists, writers, journalists, and retirees, some come here yearly, some came and never left. We are going to teh village Monday, so I am hoping to be able to maneuver the village streets without too much pain. We will report back when we return. Cheers and love. Cindy

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Merida Yucatan Notes From the Field

I´s wednesday, I think, and I am again in an internet cafe on the main plaza sipping coffiee and composeing my thoughts. I don´t know how to use the spell check yet and Cindy isn´t here so forgive my poor spelling.

Yesterday we went to Progresso and strolled the beach. We were going to have a fish dinner but I asked our waiter for ´botannas´{free snacks that come with beer} six plates arrived. Some of the best food we´ve eaten while here. Our table was a wooden bench under a palm umbrella directly on the white sandy beach. I half expected to be in one of those tropical beer commercials for corona. Six bucks.

On the bus ride back I had a half hour conversation with three teenagers. Kids all over the world are the same.

Cindy was pissed because the bus driver had over charged her. It was the first time she handled the finances. Usually I pay the bus drivers and restraunt bills. The bus driver made off with 50 cents american and I got to smurk for the rest of the day. Priceless. I of course gave our bus driver the tratidional ´gracias´on our departure. He avoided eye contact with Cindy.

We are staying in a wonderful hotel in the center of Merida populated by several elderly ex pats who come down for the winter. Walking distance to almost everything and with a friendly staff who do not mind teaching spanish. The small pool and court yard are perfect. I snag a couple beers at the tienda across the street and we sit out in the moon light at night.

Today the antropoligists arrived at the Hyatt uptown. A five star hotel if I ever saw one. We took the bus up this morning so Cindy could register. {I made her pay to restore her confidence} and as I write she is attending lectures. This morning we met another professor of antro who is staying at our hotel. The first thing she said to Cindy was that her book on the Maya is assigned reading for all of her classes. I told Cindy not to get too excited because the students probably buy used copies.

Walked back from the Hyatt on Calle 60, stopping for a coke and a couple panucho´s at Parke Santa Anna.

Next week we´re going to the Village via taxi {12 pesos/one dollar} and if we survive the ride we´ll spend the night with Pablo and Dasiey and drink fresh squezed orange, water mellon or qual querie. Sarah, Nathan and David. Everybody in the village and I mean everybody asks about you. Pablo and Dasiy have a room for you and yours. Heather, Khristen start working on your spanish. Joel two words...Cervesa y bano...

Cindy is with the anthro´s for the day and much of the night so I´m going to wander around town.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Beach House in Progresso

The Village was everything we remembered. Half a day and we were both exhausted. Taxi ride to and from was like Mr. Toads wild ride without the safety warning. Arrived back home dripping sweat and collapsed into the pool. Two beers and several taco´s later we revived.

Today we´re in Progresso at the beach....hot....hot....hot....

Friday, March 19, 2010

Merida

I met this really sweet dog just before we boarded our plane for Mexico. He poked his nose into my crotch and sat in front of me. I now know that exporting more than 10,000 from the US is against the law. Lucky for me my money belt had only about 500 bucks. I guess some creatures can smell money.

We´ve been in Merida for a little over two days and already we´ve found the perfect house. One bedroom in the Santeago area of Merida. Right now we´re sipping coffiee in the plaza of Merida renting our internett connection and enjoying temp´s in the 80´s. Tommorow we´re off to the village.

By posted comments we need to know how many family and friends would visit us. {And what special services, accomidations, drinks, etc. you would need.}

Monday, March 15, 2010




Bo has written a serious posting on our travels, and I promised I would too. We have been on the road for 2 ½ months now, and getting ready to fly to Merida. We have been thinking about taking this journey for several years and planned for it for at least a year, and now we are half way through our four month trip. It doesn’t seem possible that we have been living in a 22 foot trailer for all this time without a major argument, and we have met many interesting people and seen lots of fascinating things. We miss our children and granddaughter very much, as well as our other family and friends. My mother has learned how to skype and it has been a blessing to be able to see and talk to her once a week.

Bo has been reading Walden, and I have been reading many books on my ‘retirement reading list,” many of these on my new Kindle (thank you Anthropology Department!). In real book form, I have been reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig, a book I somehow missed in the 70’s. It is a slow journey as I read it mainly in Laundromats and places I don’t want to take my e-reader, and it is also slow because it is very philosophical and worth a midlife review. In the book, the narrator is traveling with his son on a cross country motorcycle trip and reviewing his own struggle with mental illness, referring to his alter-ego in the third person. He describes Phaedrus’ fall into mental illness as a crisis in faith in what he calls classical thinking, what we call the scientific method, and the struggle between scientific knowledge and romantic thinking or subjectivity. This, of course is a major tension in the discipline of anthropology.

Bo is retired, but I am still a faculty member, thinking about teaching four sections of anthropology in the fall—book orders are due next week- sorry Russ, not happening. But a major section of the book concerns education and Phaedrus’ dilemma in trying to define “Quality” as a teacher of rhetoric. How to define it and how to measure it. If we are teaching students about quality writing (or thinking or research), how do we define it? To be scientific, it must be quantifiable. What are the criteria for quality? How does a teacher know it in a student’s work and how does a student know how to duplicate it for a good grade? Is there an essential “quality” or is it what the teacher “sees?” Something like “I know it when I see it.” If it is quantifiable and has criteria, who determines these criteria? And if students follow all the criteria, does that mean that their product is quality? And does the rigor of defining quality smother creativity? So I have been pondering these questions (anew, not for the first time) in thinking about teaching and how to give our students a “quality education” and what that means. Since Phaedrus ended up in a mental institution undergoing electroshock treatment because his inner struggle destroyed him, it’s probably best not to become too obsessed about things for which there are no easy answers. The book is embedded with the question also, of what is insanity and who defines it, giving the book a quality of “One Flew Over the Cukoo’s Nest” in which we are left with the question of which of the alter-egos was actually sane and what price Phaedrus paid for his questioning of the status quo.

Well, enough philosophizing, we are off to Mexico in a few days and we will be able to return to the village of Yaxkukul, hoping that we can hold a conversation in Spanish. I look forward to visiting our friends in the village again, and in attending the SfAAs for the first time. We will not have regular internet access, but will try to blog when we find an internet café. Cheers for now. Cindy

Friday, March 12, 2010

Thoughts on Retirement

My friends and family have wondered what effect retirement has had on me.

Roman history records the story of a general who was called from the mist of plowing his field to lead the army in war. When the war was over and the enemy vanquished the general returned to his plow, which lay exactly were he left it, and resumed plowing.

What happened to the oxen is unrecorded.

If the field is a metaphor for the soul, then I too have returned to my field. Some, especially my good friends would suggest that my field is rife with 'Bull Shit'. Of course it is! But I remind you that cow manure is a wonderful fertilizer.

As I compose these thoughts I sit with God behind our trailer in the mist of a Northern Florida Swamp. The air is alive with the sound of life. I've been reading On Walden Pond again and as I nod off at night in our small trailer, I fancy Cindy and I are living our own version of Walden. "One chair for comfort, two for companionship and three for society." We brought four chairs and indoor plumbing so I suspect I shouldn't take the analogy too far.

In sum I have returned to plow my field. To get my field ready for harvest. To mix the manure into the soil. To clear away the rocks that continually push through to the surface. To enjoy the sounds of life. I am content.


Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Travels in Texas

Because we've decided nobody cares about us anymore (Ie. they never phone, they never write, they never skype, they never facebook) We've decided to just post the photos. If you can tell the significance you may win a prize. Maybe....a really really big prize...Maybe a really cool big prize...


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