The Road to Coba - (part 1)

Back to Mexico (I know, I know, but that many photos take a *long* time to go through, and besides, Flyingpops *still* hasn't written about the Dolphins yet, and I'm nearly at the end of the holiday now, so actually I'm being very quick, comparatively)! This day was *so* packed with information and experience I'm going to be forced to chop it into bits, so just to start with, a little about the journey to Coba...This pick-up was an *absolute* *nightmare* so early that as the main restaurant doors were being unlocked we were barging in, nearly knocking the Maître de off her feet, grabbing a quick bagel with Swiss cheese and butter turkey (for me...oh how I miss American butter turkey...) and loads of watermelon and cereal bars (for Flyingpops) and then we were running for main reception...of course the coach was late, so we sat puffing and panting for about ten minutes, occasionally checking the various coaches that *were* arriving (and being disappointed), until ours finally pulled in, we got on and then spent an hour touring around all the other hotels on the peninsula (Flyingpops turning an increasingly nasty shade of green each time we went around another vuelta in the road), finally finishing up having to get off the coach and wait for another one (about a 20 minute wait, but at least Flyingpops had a chance to return to a normal colour)...some people were getting really quite angry by this stage and were making a lot of fuss about it (which actually worked in our favour later on), but for now was actually a bit annoying and wasn't achieving anything...Flyingpops took a travel sickness tablet and by the time the coach turned up and we clambered on it only took about 10 minutes and she was fast asleep, leaving me to enjoy the hour long DVD about the discovery of the secret passage that led to the burial chamber of Pacal the Great (the engraving on his tomb lid being one of the straws clutched at by Erich von Däniken when writing "Chariots of the Gods")...

Flyingpops woke up just in time to watch the end credits and listen as our guide began his extremely lengthy evangelical lecture on behalf of the Mayan people...it turns out that the Mexican economy currently relies almost entirely on oil, however even the best estimates give them only another 11 years of useful pumping with which to sustain the country...a bit of a problem...they are therefore following in the footsteps of several of the Arab nations and taking the country through the process of forced globalisation and a massive career change to tourism as the primary source of national income...a couple of minor issues with this - huge sections of jungle are being sold off to developers (for a pittance) in one extreme example, when they bagan surveying the land (with helicopters equipped with heat seeking cameras) they discovered 11 thousand people that no-one had any idea were there, living quietly and simply off the land, minding their own business...the other thing is that Mexico, while being "officially" predominantly Spanish speaking actually has 62 "official" recognised languages...16 million people (that are known about) while they may have a bit of Spanish, certainly don't speak it as their first language, and many don't know any at all...so when the jungle is concreted over and littered with sun beds and pool bars, what is to be done with all these people? It's a huge challenge...apart from the obvious (a lot will be needed to clean rooms, wash millions of bed sheets, adjust acidity levels in pools, feed and water countless foreigners), many of the native people are filling unexpected gaps - suddenly a huge number of wooden hotel room doors are needed (for example)...but a lot of people are going to be left over, their homes destroyed, many unable to communicate with landowners and potential employers...

He kept speaking as we pulled into a little gift shop for a comfort break (and I'm *sure* we stopped here as another lesson) -

- telling us not to bother picking anything up right now, we would be back later -

- as we piled back onto the coach he pointed out a couple of things - did we know (he asked) that ancient Mayan people knew how to make and insert silicone breast implants? He pointed at some blankets -

- did we *really* think these were made locally? How many people around here had we seen that looked like those pictured on the blankets? Anyone even vaguely like Pamela Anderson or Arnold Schwarzenegger? No - everyone here, he said, is short, slightly overweight with black hair and deep brown skin - these blankets had come in from China, designed by people who had no idea what they were doing, as had much of the other tourist tat - and it had *nothing* to do with the Mayans (past or present)...very little was helping the *community* to adjust and survive, just one local, buying cheap from China and making money for themselves, not helping out the Mayan people as a race at all...and as such, was frankly an insult...

...the guy that bought these locally made blankets to market had not only helped himself, but he had helped his neighbours too...

What was the Mayan's idea of beautiful? Certainly not polyester pictures of imaginary muscled warriors...He pointed to the trees, the fence posts, even to rocks by the roadside -

- colour (pigment) is difficult to get in the jungle, he said he would show us just how difficult later in the day, but this simple effort with a cheap can of undercoat, that was the height of sophistication...to these people, appearance is all, status symbols are terribly important, as we drove onward through villages he pointed over and over to brick or concrete buildings (only one or two rooms) laying completely empty while the Mayans happily conducted their daily business and slept in traditional hammock in the rickety structures behind them (the concrete buildings there only because they have to keep up with the Mayans, as it were)...

And so, he said, he gave up a lot of time to working with these displaced people (in a charitable way)...educate them, teach them Spanish, give them a useful trade (teaching them how if necessary, throwing in a Victorian a sewing machine if possible) and allow them to transit, as gently, but also as quickly as possible to the new (new) Mexico they are about to find themselves in. Not only that, but teach them to support their community and also find a *proud* position as a modern "Mayan".

Before I came to Mexico I thought the Mayan civilization had ceased to exist and the people were dead...how much had I learned already? There is a lost people here - lost identity and pride, marching with their heads bowed towards the edge of oblivion...just staggering...