Today is Sunday, which is Domingo in Spanish. We're in Merida, so it's Domingo en Merida!
This morning my phone mysteriously died at some point during the night, so I woke up while it was still dark with absolutely no idea what time it was. Naylynn and I had plans to go to Mass at the Cathedral de San Ildefonso at 7:00. I didn't want to wake up Yoshi, so I just jumped in the shower with my fingers crossed, hoping that it was sometime around 6 am. I scrambled to get ready, threw on my dress and opened the door to Naylynn, who had just been about to knock. We looked at each other, and just busted out laughing. . . we were totally wearing the same dress, hers in green and mine in turquoise! We just shrugged and headed out, towards the Cathedral on the Zocolo. We made it there just as the bells started to ring. . . :D
It was the first Cathedral Mass either of us had been to. We stood in wide-eyed silence as the organ echoed off the immense stone walls and vaulted ceiling. It was all in Spanish, of course, but luckily the Mass is so universal I was able to follow along just fine. I think the only thing that snapped me out of the trance was the fact that the lectern had a microphone. I kept thinking, "you don't need that, Cathedrals are designed to project your voice..."
Here's an excerpt from John L. Stephens' Incidents of Travel in Yucatan, describing his and Catherwood's experience, in this very Cathedral when they first came to Merida in 1839:
"The next day was the fete of Corpus Domini throughout all Spanish America, the greatest in the Catholic Church. Early in the morning, at the tolling of the bell, we went to the Cathedral, which, with the palace of the bishop, occupied one entire side of the plaza. The interior was grand and imposing, having a vaulted roof of stone, and two rows of lofty stone pillars; the choir was in the centre, the altar richly adorned with silver; but the great attraction was in the ladies kneeling before the altars, with white or black veils laid over the top of the head, some of them saintlike purity and beauty, in dress, manners, and appearance realizing the pictures of Spanish romance. Indeed, the Spanish ladies appear nowhere so lovely as in church."
(Unfortunately the altar is no longer richly adorned with silver. This and many other churches were looted during the Caste War, which actually began just a few years after Stephens' account was written.)
On our way out of the Cathedral after Mass, we passed beggars lining the doorways holding out cups for change. Many of them were elderly and/or disabled, some mothers with children. They were all dressed in rags. Welfare programs in Mexico are virtually nonexistent.
A much happier sight, however, was the guy playing violin for tips in the Cathedral's courtyard!
We walked through the Zocolo on our way back to the Caribe, and as we were passing the square, we suddenly heard a marching band. We turned to look, and saw the Palace Guard marching, with snare drums and trumpets, towards the flagpole in the center of the square. They did a complete round around the Zocolo, then stopped suddenly, faced, and stood in salute as the Mexican flag was raised in the center of the Zocolo. It was definitely a cool thing to see, and apparently they do it every day! Merida is the capital city of Yucatan, in case I forgot to point that out earlier.
Back at the Caribe, we had breakfast and then the whole group congregated at our daily morning meeting with Professors Sahagun and Tromans. The plan for the day was to go to the Palacio Canton, which houses the Museo de Antropologia -- something I've been super excited for! I stuck to Tromans like glue through the museum, as he explained everything in the place, including a very in depth lesson on the Mayan calandar. Here's a link to my photo album on Facebook.
We made it back just in time to catch the traditional Mayan dancers in front of the Palacio Municipal, which was awesome!
Wandering around later that afternoon, we (by the way, "we" usually refers to Chelsea (Yoshi), Naylynn, JoAnn, Howie, Sam, and myself, give or take a few...) stopped by a little shop that sold bags, scarves, and other things made by the Mayan women up in the highland villages. There was a boy of about twelve or thirteen attending the shop, and I asked him, "cuanto questa? (how much?)" for a scarf. He replied, "treinta (thirty) pesos." One of the bartering techniques I've learned is, generally if you ask the seller how much they want for two items as opposed to one, they will lower the price significantly. So, I asked him, "Cuantos para dos?" and alas, he wanted quarenta (fourty) pesos for two, so I accepted. All I had on me was a cien (100) pesos bill, so I asked him if he had change. He took the bill, asked me to wait a moment, and went across the street to make change at the Oxxo! Of course we were all watching him like hawks and ready to chase after him if he were to suddenly bolt with my money. When he came back he handed me FOUR ten pesos coins. He owed me sixty pesos, not fourty, so I looked at him and said, "permisso," and with my very limited Spanish attempted to get the rest of my change back. He only agreed to give me ten more pesos, so I went and got Howie and Naylynn (who both speak Spanish) from where they were standing a few feet away to help me. We went back to the kid and he was standing, giggling, with another boy about his age counting the money they had both apparently been scamming from poor gringas like me all day. We got the rest of my money (twenty pesos) back and left, glaring and muttering, "sneaky little ladroncitos...."
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