Where Wonder Meets Wander

Pesos in my pocket and camera in hand, I parked my car in the pueblo and got out and walked. It wasn't long before I came across the bread bike. A tiny Mayan man had piles of decadent goodies in a big tray on the front of his bicycle. I hadn't planned on eating four pastries for breakfast, but I just couldn't decide which one to buy. This is the way they do street food in the little villages that dot the jungle along the coast. Bicycles designed to carry large loads roam the streets, their peddlers ringing little bells or sounding horns to announce tortillas, or fresh squeezed juices, or slow grilled chicken, or, in this case, dessert. I paid a whopping 18 pesos for my find, immediately stuffed a sugar coated bun in my mouth, and kept walking. Just around the corner I saw this little guy... He was waiting so patiently in a little plastic chair while his mother sold banana leaf stuffed tamales from an old cooler. I am amazed at how well behaved the children ar

This 1973 VW Bug ...called a Vocho (pronounced Bocho) here in Mexico, has been sitting in the Pueblo getting painted for almost a month now. At least she is finally green. The origianl plan was to paint an OM symbol on the driver's door, but I am getting impatient. Did I mention patience? This is a trait you need to cultivate if you want to spend time in Mexico. Manana means "some time in the future" and that's ok if you are enjoying the sun and drinking a margarita. But when you get into the nitty gritty of life and you need to get a car painted, you better believe it will test your patience. When I first dropped this car off, they said it would take a week. Its been a month. Well at least there isn't a dog named Tranquillo living under it. My old BMW that I took to the shop around the corner to get some engine work done had to be retrieved 6 months later and poor Tranquillo had to be evicted from his home. That car is now sitting in my garage waiting f

black spiny-tailed iguana "Here lizard, lizard, lizard..." I called, but he didn't come. He flung himself into a crevice between the rocks. Flung is a good word for it. The Yucatan's black spiny-tailed iguanas are the fastest running lizards on earth. I left him a treat. Three round green pods. Maybe, when I was gone, he would venture back into the sunshine and find my peace offering. I hope to make friends with him, the lizard that is, or at least one of them. Every time I head down to the beach I startle a flock of them sunbathing in the grass or on the walk or on top of the cemented limestone walls. They love hibiscus flowers, which is not surprising. I love hibiscus tea (called Jamaica here and pronounced like hamica). They love strawberries too, but those are a little more difficult to come by. So the other day when I managed to get close to one, I offered him a round green pod from an orange flowered tree. I have no idea what the pod is called

Trees in the road. I mean right in the middle of the road. Really big trees. Its one of the most peculiar things I have seen here along Mexico's Riviera Maya coast. At first I thought it was just a particular type of tree. The people here revere the ceiba. Its rumored to be the home of a goddess. Don't knock on the trunk or she will come out and steal young men's souls. Well that seems like a very good reason never to cut down a ceiba tree. But I think the real answer is much simpler than that. The people here respect the age and beauty of great things. Old people, old cities, and of course, old trees. I asked a local, "Why do they build roads right around trees?" And he looked at me as if the answer was obvious, "Why would you ever cut down an old tree when you can preserve it?" Simple enough for me. I love trees.

At first I thought he was dead, lying there still as stone and ancient. Barnacles covered his massive shell and his long flippers lay motionless in the sand. I have never seen a sea turtle even remotely as big. He was easily as long as I am. I drifted quietly over him, looking for signs of life. It seemed sad that such an old and massive animal would come to such an end. And yet it also felt right somehow, him lying there on the sea floor, waiting to become part of the food chain again. All else around me seemed to fade away, the reef, the tiny bright blue fish, the silver barracuda I'd been admiring a moment earlier. The only sign of life in my awareness was my bubbles, floating to the surface, sparkling as they reached the sun. And then he moved. Just a small stretching of his great neck. I wasn't sure at first if I really saw it. My eyes may have been deceiving me. Underwater things seem to move and bend with the motion of the waves, even down this deep. And so I w

The sea is calm this morning after days of raging. Its rhythm calms me a little. The sun is just rising and the palapas are turning gold. I love these mornings when the air is still and clean. Orange oriels sing and land on my yellow flowering vines looking for butterflies for breakfast. Today the plan is to go diving right out here in front of Pueblo Escondido where I live, if it be temporarily.  Nothing here is set in stone. Not the wind nor the waves nor the condition of the reef under them. Endangered sea turtles struggle for survival. Maybe I will dance with one today. Just off shore the water is clear. I can see the limestone stretching out beneath the waves and disappearing into the vast blue where the sea floor quickly drops from 40-400 feet. I love it here. The tropical breezes, the infant fish that grow in the tide pools, the tiny ones with blank and yellow stripes and the ones that are half purple and half yellow. They have found a safe place in which to grow, as I