5/15/10 - Progreso

Today we went to the beach at Progreso, which is a port city just north of Merida. During the henequen years, when Merida was at the height of it's prosperity, Progreso was the main export point. It was a huge tourist town in the 1920's and 30's, kind of like Cancun is today. During WWII the demand for henequen began to decline because of the increased use of synthetic materials for the purposes henequen once filled. Progreso lost it's appeal as a tourist destination, and has ever since been on the decline. A few years ago, Progreso signed a deal with Carnival cruise lines to become a tourist destination once again. A gigantic pier was built on the beach along with scores of new restaurants and shops. At the last minute, Carnival pulled out of the contract and Progreso was left to clean up the mess. But alas, the pier is still there, and all the restaurants, and it's still a pretty nice beach! So that's why we went.

So all fourteen of us sunscreen - slathered gringos got out of the bus and just followed each other in some direction, assuming whoever was in front knew where they were going. Meanwhile, Professor Tromans stood near the bus videotaping us, with a very amused expression on his face. Eventually we looked back and saw him walking in the opposite direction, and to make a long story short we eventually found the beach.

As a few of us were walking down the beach, we passed a little stand with cute little sun dresses on display. The guy selling them apparently saw us looking, and immediately started in with what Howie would call, the flamboyant gay Latino voice, "Hola, senoritas! Oooh la la, blancitas! Where you from, girls, France? Paris? You lovely ladies speak English, yes?" So, since we had already made eye contact, I decided to try and barter for one. . . it was only polite. So I asked him how much, in Spanish, and he replied, "twenty American dollars," in English. Turns out this guy was from Miami :D. I managed to get it for a hundred pesos, which is less than ten American dollars, so over all I was pretty proud of myself!

After strolling around and exploring a bit, we stopped for lunch at a restaurant across from the beach. On our way in, I was suddenly cut off by a group of three young girls, determined to sell me a starfish out of a bucket in which they had been collected. I, naively, again made eye contact, and just like that they were on me like piranhas. The youngest, who looked to be no more than six, extended her arms out from her sides and shuffled from side to side in front of me, giggling, while I desperately tried to pass! Eventually, Naylynn came to my rescue, and there will be no end of her and Howie scolding me for being too easily manipulated by the cute small ones :D

On that subject, I should mention that there are no child labor laws in Mexico. In a lot of ways it's sad to see. . . these really young kids walking around the street selling little things to tourists. But at the same time, there aren't really any horrible conditions that kids are working in, and it's not at all like it was in the U.S. when there used to be kids working in mines and factories and such. These kids are still running around together and playing (obviously having fun teasing their customers), and just being kids. They are closely watched by their mothers, who are also selling, but never too far away.

After we ate we went back down the beach, passing our friend the dress salesman again ("Oh you look ammmaaazing in that dress! That is your color, mamita!"). We found a little secluded area and had an awesome time swimming in the warm Gulf water. There was a highly amusing incident involving me, a wind tunnel and a bee (. . . :D), and we had a generally amazing time joking around and taking pictures on a random washed up rowboat we found.

Later on, we saw the little girls again, eating their day's profit at a cafe. We decided to ask them to take a picture with us. We knew they would be wanting a tip, so we were ready with pesos in our pockets. They smiled enthusiastically for the photo, then promptly stuck out their hands for money, “pesos para mi?” I pulled a handful of change out of my pocket, with the intention of giving two or three pesos to each of them. Before I could react, a boy of about ten or twelve who had been eating with them (probably their brother), snatched a ten peso coin out of my hand and bolted. The girls immediately chased after him, shouting. I hope they got it from him! This was the incident that coined the term, "ladroncito," or "little thief." (it's more or less a term of endearment. . .)

When we got back to Merida, Naylynn and I went exploring. We were decidedly in the mood for some sopa de lima (lime soup), so we found a restaurant where there was a Mayan lady in the window making corn tortillas by hand, and as such we figured this place was probably pretty good. The soup was awesome, and as we looked around we noticed that nearly all of the other restaurant patrons were drinking some sort of frothy green juice looking stuff. We asked our server what it was, and she brought out a leafy potted plant to show us, and told us it was called “chaya.” The juice is made from the leaves of the plant chopped and blended with sugar, lemon juice, and water. We ordered some and it turned out to be delicious!

On the way back to the Caribe, we visited the University of Yucatan, and talked to a guy who told us of the upcoming Mayan festival. The conversation between him and Naylynn was entirely in Spanish, and I was really proud of myself for being able to follow and understand it almost completely.