Venturing off the dollar menu

Having already done the touristy thing (Cozumel) and the beach thing (Roatan), the Lindeman family decided to go native during our last port of call on the Yucatan Peninsula. So, while most of the other cruisers visited the rather whitewashed coastal town of Progresso, we opted to take a 45-minute cab ride inland to the town of Merida. First of all, this probably wouldn't have been possible if Curt hadn't spent those couple of summers in Mexico, because this was the real thing, with out him, there was no way that our pooled knowledge of the Taco Bell drive thru menu was going to get us from point A to point B (and arrange a pick up to get us back to "A" again).

Once we got there, the town itself was much bigger than I thought it would be, in fact, I'm guessing it was probably roughly the size of Wichita. We had our driver drop us off in the center of town at the zócalo which is a large town square found in most Mexican cities, and the hub of all of the action. Together we strolled around the perimeter of the zócalo and wandered through an old church that was once visited by Pope John Paul II, before breaking up to explore on our own.

While Carrie and I should have been terrified to be strolling the streets without our unofficial interpreter, it was a rush. Together we investigated the town's back streets where our white faces—and Carrie's blonde hair—stood out like a pair white patton-leather dress shoes. As we walked, I tossed out "holas" and "buenas dias'" like I had some form of polite Spanish Tourette's Syndrome. We even got confident enough to do a little shopping, starting with the purchase of a couple of cookies and leading up to a hand-made purse we found for Carrie. Before we knew it, it was time for us to regroup with the others for lunch and a little more group exploration.

It was a beautiful city and gave me a clearer picture as to what daily life really is like in Mexico and helped put all of Curt's stories of his days in Puebla a little more into context.