New year's eve was spent in a hotel just outside Chichen Itza. The Villas Arqueologicas, as did the other hotels on the premises, held special new years menus for the visitors who decided to spend the evening with them. Mayaland had drinks and music and the like. Villas just had the special menu. I made do with the help of Mexican beer and a bottle of Chilean wine. Though there were other revelers in the dining area, each table kept to itself. There was no mass celebration among the guests.
To my right were two elderly people and a young woman. Parents and daughter?
Across from me was a large Spanish family. They were loud. Every time a waiter returned from tending to them he'd pass my table, and he'd give me a look indicating how annoying they were being. Part of this family spent the majority of the evening down the hall in the billiard room, playing loudly, running back into the dining room to flaunt their accomplishments every few minutes.
Sprinkled throughout the rest of the room were various couples. Some American, some Japanese, some Italians, others Mexican.
I ate my meal, imbibed, people watched, and then as the countdown to midnight approached, I found the area that had WiFi so I could speak to and celebrate with loved ones from around the world.
It was a relief to finally be done with 2013. Though there was plenty to be appreciative of, there was plenty I was ready to forget and move on from. Spending it overseas was the best way to end it. The day leading up to this moment helped me remove myself from what had transpired and allowed me to appreciate the world more fully. Get back to what I love.
The three-hour bus ride from Cancun left me right at the entrance of Chichen Itza. T'was nearly noon when I arrived, the area closed at 4:30. I had to be sure to take advantage of the time, so I made a dash for the entrance without looking back. Quickly I go through, past all the vendors, through the trees, and come upon a glorious site.
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| Eeyore's been to Chichen Itza |
I was awe-struck upon seeing this. Such fantastic architecture and craftsmanship. Such fine condition. I just stood here for a long while just taking it, el Castillo, and its surroundings, in.
As I walked about, I overheard the tour guides speak about the structure. Many clapped to point out the echo heard bouncing of the building. I heard about the 52-year cycle. I admired the craftsmanship. I watched the groups pass by, listening in on the conversations in the multitude of languages.
A prolonged period of time was spent at el Castillo, but I had to ensure I ventured out and saw the rest of the site. Following are images from the other structures.
From el Castillo, a visitor can walk in any direction and hit any number of marvelous visions. Paths would lead one through the forest, past the vendors, to all the riches of the site. As I wandered one of these paths, I realized the bananas I had purchased that morning were left on the bus.
Eventually I made it to the cenote. A cenote is a limestone sinkhole that exposes groundwater underneath. This particular one was used for sacrifices and offerings. Overhearing the tourguides taught me that divers found offerings in this cenote, as well as human remains.
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| Eeyore hopes not to be a sacrifice |
In one corner of the site, I ran into a native of the area. Without asking, I whipped out my camera and decided to take some photos.
Mr. Iguana did not care for the attention, so he scurried off when too many people came close by. Up and over a wall he jumped, leaving me to my thoughts.
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| Watching the vendors make the wares for sale |
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| Curious if he is done having children |
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| El Caracol, the observatory |
Everywhere I turned, every corner of the structures was filled with beautiful craftsmanship. The level of detail on each inch of the site is exquisite, a beauty to behold. The above images attest to the work the denizens of Chichen Itza were capable of.
As the day wound down, I realized I had not exhausted my visit. Though I was sweaty and tired and hungry, I had to make sure I saw everything. I turned back to the entrance, intent on seeing the famous ballcourt.
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| Am I back in Egypt? |
The site of an ancient ballgame that ended with the sacrifice of the loser. Images along the sides told the story of the decapitation of the loser by the victor. Nary a spot in this space was left undecorated.
By this point security began pushing people out. I left the ballcourt and went and had a seat in the grassy area outside el Castillo.
I chatted with some workers there, inquiring about evening events. Unfortunately for me, evening events had been cancelled and would not restart until April. I was left without evening plans.
Still sweaty and tired and hungry, I made my way to the hotel. I was allowed to cut through Chichen Itza, and after some trouble, I finally found my hotel.
There was still time until dinner began, so I decided to go for a swim in the pool in the open central courtyard of the hotel. It was cold, and it got dark rather quickly, but swimming and looking up at the stars was a nice, refreshing experience.
Cleansed from the day, it was finally time to eat. I sat among the various parties in the dining area. The Italians. The Americans. The Spaniards. The Japanese. The Mexicans. Each to their own table. Each celebrating the new year in their own way. I enjoyed beers and a bottle of red wine from Chile. And then came the food. Aztec soup with tortillas, avocado, and tomatoes. The tortillas and guacamole. The pesto pasta.
I observed others. I ate my meal. I sat in complete contentment of a day well-spent. I chatted with the workers when time allowed.
Drinks and food ceased early, but it was still not time for bed. I made my way to the WiFi area of the hotel, to chat with friends and family scattered about the world and celebrate the new year. I sent wishes to them, they returned the wishes back. Thousands of miles from friends, I was not alone.
Just after midnight, the Americans sitting to the right of me at dinner returned from the other hotel where dancing was to take place. They sat with me to partake in the WiFi as well, and we got to chatting. They were all in California. None of them related the way I thought, but I could not discern how they came to be together. The young woman applying to medical school. The elder gentleman an AIDs researcher from Stanford who worked in Zimbabwe. The older woman an anthro undergrad major turned psychiatrist. We were then joined by another couple, among them the daughter of an anthropologist who grew up in Romania.
We all spent about an hour or so talking, being friendly, being social. I even helped the gentleman purchase his airfare, my good deed of the year accomplished quite early.
The new year celebrated, it was time to turn in. Though I did not have much planned for the next day, I knew rest would be welcome.
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