OR, IN THE WOODS AGAIN. NOT MUCH TO SHOW EXCEPT THOSE AUTUMN COLOURS.
Below is my personal award to Westminster City Council :
‘THE BIG TIT MUSHROOM IN SHIT‘ AWARD.
Mushroom booby look alike goes to Westminster City Council
I wrote this a while back and couldn’t finish it as my laptop kept crashing! I’m back at Mayfair library and all Westminster City Council system has been hacked, but gloriously they still have Wi-Fi. This a source of great amusement today as I have been going on the demos against digital ID for the last few weeks now, its even made the cover (finally) of our local ragWest End Extra.
or the drought seems over and a’ mushrooming we will go! After a long hopeless summer with no actual sun, chemical clouds poisoning us but no actual rain from the heavens and all wildlife suffering, […]
OR, LIFE BEING A PAIN. Had a rough ride recently and just due to that dirty word MONEY. I was just a bit sick in my mouth uttering such a foul filthy thing. However this […]
OR, VIEWING A SELF CONTAINED PARADISE THAT I COULD MAKE MY FOREVER HOME.
Not a wedding but a birthday!
Well I stayed on. What could I do, such was my love for my new family and the lush, mellow and inspiring environment.
A mixture of the good bad and the ugly on my Mexico trip
As soon as Dulce lured me with a suggestion of a birthday party for me then I was convinced that I had to stay for at least that. What would I do? Go sit on my lonesome in some frankly half rate town on my way back to Cancun (sorry Valladolid but you are a bit second rate!) I extended my booking and also in that way had the chance to go with her to view a new enterprise, a living breathing escape plan for the like-minded. An all encompassing plan for the future of those who really want to go off grid on a permanent basis. This was a huge opportunity for me for it had really been the reason for this trip to Mexico. I had spoken to a family member about having a deep search while I was here, which I had been doing but it had become a dismal failure thus far. Here however magic happens and exactly what I was looking for fell into my lap like a plump, fresh, rosy apple just fallen from the tree. Its name being Neekluum. More on that later however, we are just getting to that.
My days there were all birthdays really, lolling around and picking herbs to identify, roaming the fields and ranches around, talking to cows and drinking beer. Dulce and I would gossip idly and I would try to write in a lazy desultory way then rush off up the path to the wilderness for a quick explore and adventure (like meeting a new cow or finding more ruins of old huge ranch houses.)
On my birthday it was the same except for Dulce getting glammed up for the viewing and me starting to whine about when we were going and where could I find tequila for my fucking birthday for gods sake? I was getting princessy and petulant and threatening not to go anywhere if we didn’t go now. Well it was my birthday and I had survived living through the demonic year of being 66. Also I was born on 6/12 so it was all very sixy, too many sixes in other words and I feared that I would die before I saw this satanic age out. I had now hit 67 so it was a huge cause for celebration. I had banged on about it enough ffs. Didn’t they understand my very superstitious numerological stance on this issue?
The buildings are gradually creeping up on this massive project that I so fell in love with.
Of course this was all very easy and the wonderful owner of this new venture picked us up and off we went to have a look at this jungle paradise. Jacqui and I immediately bonded as she explained the concept of this new off grid chance of a new life in this very beautiful part of the Yucatan peninsula. Although at an embryonic stage there were a few intrepid visionaries who had already bought lots and were building their properties, all of which were at different stages. She would show us the plans in the area that had already been assigned as a central meeting area when we arrived.
Ready to be renovated old windmill that also shows evidence around of previous buildings.
This gated property is of 250 acres of wild jungle which has been visualised for a community of like minded and only had some vague practical ‘rules’. This was all made clear on the wonderfully grubby set of plans she whacked out on the counter of their open community kitchen. It was huge and much like a village of kinds it had areas for the more social and for us more private creatures who only want to meet up on their terms. There is a large piece of land also allocated to larger creatures such as cows and horses which you couldn’t keep in your back garden, or llamas or whatever you can think of as long as they don’t eat other peoples animals of course, but I digress. There is already an area for chucks and ducks but you can have your own and depending on how many lots you want yo can grow your veg separately from the communal more allotment type area. She also explained the legality of foreigners is covered under a rather neat loophole and basically you get on and make what you will of the area you have bought. The miles of raw track we covered was just to show the various area allocations and I felt that this had been supremely well thought out. She held my heart in her hands when she said this, this was exactly what I yearned for. The red soil along that section was rich and it was a very lush area. The lots all have their little signposts and when you see a drilled borehole you know some lucky bastard has that site and has already drilled down to the substrata to reach the pure clean water below.
Wild and wonderful on the road inside Neekluum
Make no mistake, this is not for the faint hearted as it’s raw and brutal in its early stages, a shock to those who lack vision. Clearly this is all organic, no nasties on any level so that freedom to work at one with nature is yours to do what you will with. A lot of relearning and researching the old ways if you don’t already have at least a smattering of that kind of knowledge. Bartering will be encouraged and arts and crafts, evidently not just something to play at, but a necessity so as to allow the place to be self sustaining. Home schooling and the freedom for children to flourish and be children again, for families to be cherished and to be the stable influence that they have ceased to be in this modern blind and ugly world is the basis of the philosophy here. Listening to the birds giving a last hurrah for the day we left watching as the sun set on our way back down the country lanes. We were silent. So much to think about and so much peace for me to see that they did exist dammit, these havens did bloody exist.
THE PARTY.
The horrible harsh laugh as I’m getting pissed was before the tequila
We couldn’t track down a half bottle of tequila so I just settled for wine, little did I know that particular train would come in later. With the stars out and our little group of revellers assembled, we sat out front with birthday girls tinsel and foolishness surrounding her, wine being slurped and cake and fireworks igniting suddenly and dangerously and all the while some strange mixture of music. Oh and plus the obligatory ‘Happy Birthday’ song all was well with the world and I was enjoying being the centre of attention. This wasn’t to last however when a weird very pissed couple turned up who actually were the proud owners of a huge bottle of tequila. It was an accident waiting to happen, and although we shrieked and said the gods were looking after me when the couple announced we were welcome to share it with them, I did foresee disaster.
He seemed so well at the beginning
First though of course it was all very wonderful and we heard of their road trip so far (the car I noticed was parked precariously, and if I might say, rather to close to us) They already seemed hammered and that was me saying after drinking beer all day and having heavily embarked on the vino tinto. However we knocked those shots back of the very delicious tequila shouting wildly and laughing raucously at nothing in particular, certainly nothing that would be laughed at whilst sober. The girl looked Japanese of origin and he was Mexican but both resided in LA and were techies. They were rubbish drinkers. At some stage she realised that she had locked the keys in the car so had to borrow warm clothes from the ever suffering Dulce. They didn’t seem fazed for they knew a way to break in to the car. This they would do in the morning they slurred confidently. I saw the end of the tequila was in sight so suddenly I found their company less attractive and scuttled off to bed.
I would blearily recall a lot of footfall through the night but nothing that actually interfered with my sleep, my lovely selfish drunken sleep.
I had a brilliant vid of cake cutting and many more photos that sadly’ have disappeared
The next morning Dulce told me about the dramas of the night. The continuous projectile vomiting all night by the very fucked Mexican. Poor Dulce, as soon as she mopped up one rank acid pool of puke then he would stagger elsewhere to shit and puke copiously. She had to change his bed linen twice and generally it all had become a hideous drama that I thankfully slept through.
My first view of BDay zone table, more like getting married in a scary way
Also the breaking in of the car proved impossible and poor Aleph had to drive all the way to Merida to get a new one cut. Talk about above and beyond the call of duty. The key arrived and then that one didn’t actually work. These very irritating people were so entitled that they didn’t even seem bothered, indeed when the car was finally entered (don’t ask me how it had all become extremely boring by then) they decided to go on the cenote tour with a completely exhausted Aleph. I stayed most of the day in bed. I felt dreadful. It would seem that I too should have emptied my stomach so as not to have a very foul tequila hangover. It all reminded me of the drunken Mexican in Punta Allen. (click to see post) and also my stay in Villa Hermosa had had a shooting at the bar over the road with five fatalities which you can find at the end of that post. Seems the Mexicans are really rubbish and dangerous drinkers. It’s no good, they are really pants at having a nice knees up, it never ends well.
OR, MY CHANCE AT SHRUGGING OFF PHOBIAS AND GETTING DARK AND DEEP.
Cenote, from the incorrect Spanish pronunciation of the Yucatan Mayan word ts’ono’ot (dzonot) or “well with water”. However these underground and sometimes over ground places (leading to the underground) were venerated magical and sacred sites used for ceremonies. Their Underworld was a place for death and life or xibalba, evoking the type of rebirth that I clumsily have tried to express, where you can grow your consciousness and overcome all the negative that has swamped your soul in the earthly realm. Where the Mayan Gods dwell.
Look at top of photo, only a thin amount of rock separates cave and house above
I love you all, my naughty old birds out there, let’s get to some more happiness and actually bravery on my behalf, a harsh climb down into the bowels of the earth to a magical cave without fairies but a whole bunch of mystical energy. You’ll have to use your imagination a whole load as it was too surreal for belief, and didn’t tolerate photos well. The fancy pics I’ve seen have been heavily doctored and certainly taken with a better camera than my dirty old phone one. It’s better for you to imagine this small cavern complex and derive the same chills and fierce energy through words and imagination.
My collectivo van from Merida was finally simple to get and oh what heaven to escape from the sad remnants of that fine city of Merida. I squeezed on the very busy little bus with my bags half on my lap and half under my legs and basically in the way wherever I squidged them, but at least I was on my way. The tourists aboard seemed terribly excited to escape also, it seems that I wasn’t the only person crushed with disappointment with Merida’s recent unpleasant and frenetic transformation. We bumped along merrily for an hour on boring roads and motorways until suddenly we turned off and the scenery completely changed. We were on the extensive reserve of Homun. An oasis of cenotes and ranches and a place to escape to. Instantly I felt calmed and we tourists were hushed. The locals gradually got off in their various villettes for a normal days work and we waited to also be disgorged from the bus for more glamorous escapades.
Palms and unmade roads on the way to my tucked away heaven
My stop was on the main road before the centre and involved a short walk dragging my case up a small road away from civilisation. I finally felt at peace and knew in my heart that I was coming home. This dusty track was leading me to happiness and would soothe my soul.
Upon arrival just ‘Hostal’ sufficed and the mummy dog seeking shade
The hand painted signs periodically nailed to trees announcing ‘Hostal Oro Verde’ kept my spirits up as I left the tarmac and was on a single path leading into the countryside. Cows mooed, dogs barked and birdies sang, but above all my path was strewn with butterflies that would be disturbed by my footfall and fly up in clouds of glorious colours. Mostly orange but also yellow and some mauve. It was then I noticed the heady aroma of grass and wild herbs and it was then that I knew I would finally be able to rest my weary head, for this indeed was paradise.
At sunset before it gets really nippy
AT LAST, HOME SWEET HOME.
My table outside so I could monitor all who went by like a good nosy neighbour
OR, A BIT OF JUNGLE AND ATMOSPHERE AFTER THE NEWLY RUINED YUCATAN.
I’m not going to bang on today about the shit stuff that I experienced wandering around Mexico at the end of last year, oh I’m not a whiner, you know me better than that. Yesterday is yesterday, fair does.
Becán
While researching this I came across RománPiña Chan, a very famous archaeologist, a tragic afterthought in Mexican research history, specifically that of Becan where he had the accident on that ill fated day. I wanted to include him as he sounded a dear, meek man who suffered hugely for his passion. Bedbound for seventeen years after the spirits of Becan let him fall to his fate.
A unique quiet moment to enjoy the classical arched corridor
Below is his small obituary, as modest it would seem as he was, and although translated quirkily I feel fitting for the man who it seems also discovered the Olmec figures and contributed hugely to the field
✔ Posthumous tribute to the archaeologist in the National Museum of Anthropology
Piña Chan was a generous being and always needed know yourself loved and accepted, says Beatriz Barba
ത Locate the recent find in Becán, Campeche, as part of his legacy
JIMENEZ ARTURE
In 1984, Román Piña Chan fell from a pyramid from the archaeological zone of Becán, an accident that although not managed to remove him from the investigation, the reflection and teaching did limit their ability to move.
Hello my old birds, my darlings, just a quick one about peace and love and meditation.
I’ve had a chance to get back to a more stable state of mind instead of being frenetic and panicky, I’m not quite sure how it happened, but I made a breakthrough today.
A portal into good mental health and heaven?
I have been getting back involved into being more kind to myself. It sounds simple but in fact it’s really hard. When one is used to being and having an over active brain then this process seems far away, and indeed, not really desirable.
Wakey, wakey! Morning everyone! Well it is morning that’s for sure and I’m off to the gym, spa and yoga before lunchtime concert at the reference library, my temple now, my sacrosanct place of quiet and reflection. So without further ado off I trot with my new healthy lifestyle and philosophy.
Confucius He Say…..
After my previous months of confusion it’s more Confucius now, so it’s “Wheresoever you go, go with all your heart.” This was really my philosophy on my travels before but I lost essence of this by somewhat sneering at the small things, the small journeys and now I’m becoming humble again. In the quietening of my impatient brain I also had to remind myself ,“It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop.” I indeed have now accepted this so am learning from my tortuous sudden change in my life of speeding along maniacally. From my disappointment in not being able to achieve moving from London and its seemingly insurmountable obstacles in creating a new wild life in so much as a life in the wild it’s been more of a practical “The [wo]man who moves a mountain begins by carrying away small stones” (surely learnt that in my garden in Turkiye.) And “If you make a mistake and do not correct it, this is called a mistake” I now do not just ignore my fuckups but go about trying to fix them. When whizzing about you can all too easily ignore your foolishness and stubbornly not really learn from it. And remember “The gem cannot be polished without friction, nor the man perfected without trials.” Yeah, I think we all have the hang of that one my darling old birds et al.
OR, HARD GRAFT WITH HOME REPAIRS BEFORE MY NEXT TRIP.
ALERT: The flat is now finished and all is well for this old bird! I wrote this a couple of weeks back when I was very boohoo baby. I painted anything in my way that didn’t actually move refreshed everything and threw away most of my possessions. in a couple of weeks I should be back to telling you about the latest on actual travel rather than snivelling. As they say it’s all character forming……or just plain bad Karma!
Yes I’ve been AWOL, I’ve managed to fall off grid totally by accident or rather by despair. This is why.
Lack of funds, government applications to save my sorry arse and delayed building works forced my hand to stay here. The shocking fact of my allowance being cut off by the ex last year, on the same birthday as my retirement year so had been bought to earth with a resounding crash by trying to live on the minimum state pension. I was suddenly a pensioner and it was very cold and I was trapped with no studio and hence no way of making my art and thus money. My darling ex had encouraged me to spend all my own money while travelling and then quite suddenly completely dump me without explanation. I’m still punch drunk from the shock.
The last months have been tortuous. Clipped wing syndrome, while ironically my windows are ripped out, and my meagre possessions in disarray. scaffolding stealing what little light that is still available to us, and decorating my ever decreasing butt off, I’m silently seething that I, a freedom loving old bird, have been caught in this hellish trap. I feel like I should have seen it coming but how could I while star struck by the old garden and house wreck that was going to be my paradise. I was blind and a fool for not noticing .
Looking through my huge archive of photos today in the reference library, I saw that I had neglected connecting all the animals I had rubbed shoulders with on my travels around the world. I feel I need to correct this seeing as animals are my favourite things.
ELEPHANT SANCTUARY THAILAND, CHIANG MAI.
Jokey baby elephant and guides
Let’s face it animals are part of every aspect of our lives The good, bad and ugly. They feature in religions past and present, they live with us, they entertain and fascinate us, and we eat them. I don’t want to get embroiled here on how much modern humans abuse them rather than revere them, that’s for another time. I just want to casually look over some of my encounters to remind us why we yearn to be on the move and experience the mundane and exotic.
FOR MY OLD BIRDS ALL OVER THE WORLD, FINALLY WRITING THE BOOK.
“I want to do it because I want to do it. Women must try to do things as men have tried. When they fail, their failure must be but a challenge to others.” Emily Dickinson
Alert: Here we have the idea of this blog, concept and birth. I’ve left the dates more to remind me that it’s nearly five years old. And now I’m turning it into a book, I need to revisit and expand upon those two hundred and seventy-plus blogs.
Starting the book has made me humble and proud at the same time. It’s also made me realise how sloppy and casual I was depending on my pics and videos to do the real leg work. Well, no more Mrs Sloppy. A book without pictures requires the written word to encompass the vivid wonder of those travelling photos and to be eloquent enough to tell the reader what was seen, smelled, tasted, touched and felt. To put those pictures into words dammit!
2019-04-15 From blog intro all those years ago.
OLD BIRDS NEST PAGE: THE ETHOS OF DOING IT ALONE
Hello, my name is Rebecca Taylor, or Old Bird to you, and I’m here to guide you older birds on braving the big old world out there and doing it alone. Come with me and I’ll nurse you through the highs and lows of being an Old Bird travelling solo. This is more of a raucous journal with some culture and tips thrown in. Don’t worry you’ll get the hang of it. It’s sometimes shouty-sweary, so if you’re a delicate bird you’ll have to excuse me. [Go first to OLD BIRD FLYING SOLO BLOG so we can shake hands then go anywhere in the list that you wish to get started.]
This is the place for an older birdie to visit and, hopefully, gain the confidence to strike out on their own. Yes, we older birds don’t always have to be in a flock, they can do it alone and it’s not as scary as you think. The world is your oyster, as an older woman or man indeed, you should be out there doing all these things and revelling in life.
I will hop around timewise as the writing of the diary becomes insignificant when you’re experiencing so many wonderful things. Some of it is funny and some plainly ludicrous but all a part of an old bird travelling solo! Enjoy! I’ll take you all over the world. In different forms of transport, doing different activities, eating different kinds of food and exploring places you never even thought about before. I will attempt to nurse you through any pitfalls with hints and tips and generally share the whole experience warts and all.
I’ll many times be daft as a brush and screw up so you don’t have to. I’ll get you there with your preparations, nurse your anxieties, laugh at myself and show you stuff you might want to see and do.
Welcome to the fine art of mature solo travelling. For it is an art, it takes the years you might feel you don’t have left, so I humbly offer all my mistakes so you don’t have to make them. I will also crow when I get something right.
“You arethe one that possesses the keys to your being. You carry the passport to your own happiness” – Diane von Furstenberg
OR A BIT OF ZEN KUNDALINI MUSIC AND A DOG, GO A LONG WAY TO HAPPINESS AND TRANQUILITY.
My neighbour who oversees my work
Since writing this, sadly it appears the sale will not go through after a long weary time of yes, no situation as laws and catastrophes have occurred and misunderstandings and recriminations. I will however never forget my magical time in my garden. I am heartbroken and desolate so am going on a road trip to try to calm myself. I’m still trying to fix this as eternally an optimist! I’ll keep you posted x I’ll also be adding photos and final hammock film
OR, ARTY TURKIYE HERE I COME. Alert: Another unplanned absence folks but been busy getting ready! The Things Old Birds Can Do To Earn a Crust Abroad. Although there can be a lot of casual […]
I come to you just the day before a bit of a milestone birthday, it’s sixty-five. Boom. Well not really. I always say I’m a year older so I’ve been that for the last year. I lie about my age in a different way, sort of back to front, a year older every year.
This is a very apt video I made for my blog at the very beginning.
In love with life, I don’t really care how old I am I just love living it and that involves learning and exploring day by day. Without this, as I’ve said before, I am a shell of a person and no longer able to function. I think that’s how most people are but they aren’t lucky enough to pursue walking on the wild side and this eventually leads to going to seed mentally and physically and ultimately dying from lack of input and loneliness.
OR, ESCAPING JAKARTA AND THE JOURNEY ON TO BUNAKEN, SNORKELLERS HEAVEN.
And finally paradise.
I rushed to leave Jakarta for my final destination of Bunaken. I was so happy to be on the road again (or should I say in the air) that I never even contemplated it being dark when I arrived at the bustling port of Manado in North Sulawesi. It was, and the hotel was scary, and the place was alarming, but I had got there and would spend the night before bartering for a boat ticket first thing the next morning.
OR, OVER A YEAR AGO “THIS IS REALLY HARD MY HOLIDAY ROMANCE WITH SWIMMING DOG IS OVER.”
TODAY.
Getting into food again after my month-long tummy problems
It’s now more or less one year since I left Punta Allen and my doggy. I’m still homesick for it all there but checked online and the prices are huge in Punta Allen Mexico at the moment. I’ll still to my Turkey plan for the moment. Plans are swooping in and out of my life at the moment as the political climate changes in a heartbeat worldwide and I don’t want to make a mistake and have to come home again. I want another long-term stay somewhere and Turkey so my present baby.
Lost my Turkey cap so am going forward with the Vietnam one!!
Turkey will nourish my soul for huge swathes of archaeological sites and magnificent countryside, that I have not yet visited. It will offer me fabulous food and incredible vistas, I will look into possibilities of living there to grow my veg and make my art. I will generally get back to my wandering ways and hopefully regain some lost confidence.
So a brief look over my shoulder to the last place I was truly happy, then onwards and upwards to pastures new. Come on old birds let’s rock it again.
A YEAR AGO FROM THE JOURNAL
Alert: Nostalgia and crybaby form most of this post. If you can’t be arsed with a grown woman and a tough old cookie at that, boohooing over a dog just look at the pics!!
Alkidas ears flapping in the breeze.
My dear old birds this is why you keep moving because if you stay a while anywhere, you form attachments. I am so down it’s beyond belief. The weather isn’t helping nor are the dogs, especially Alkida, who is blissfully unaware of my departure. I’m down, really down. It’s ridiculous I can’t stop crying. Punta Allen has been a huge learning curve and these hounds have been my best friends (apart from Sonia of course).
Alert: So just over a year ago, I posted my sad last days in Punta Allen Mexico. A place entrenched deeply in my heart. I had collected a group of dogs and was getting more and more crazy old bitch, rather than an old bird. Never bored or homesick I felt deep contentment. I have been considering going back as it was the only place I was ever really happy since all the craziness began so please have a look at it and see what you reckon
From my Journal
Can’t believe it’s Wednesday, June 9, 2021, and Sunday I’m due to leave PA. One whole month! I’m panicking now about re-entering the real world. Seeing as the weather is getting progressively worse I will just gossip in my journal for you to get the mood of how things are so changeable down here. A little blow by blow of the intricate workings of Roseliz and Punta Allen.
My beach
This morning I went out and took a video of the village walking all around and over to the lagoon where I took that boat tour from, all those weeks ago. As you can see it’s glorious weather again. After I shot the video I had a really lovely breakfast in a small backstreet restaurant. They had put green peppers, ham, onion and cheese in and it came with the usual fajoles. This included coffee that they served with the actual jar of instant and a little jug of cream, a bargain at 90 pesos. It was a delightful little place with shell fly curtains and various bits of art and hammock chairs. It was great to have got off my lardy arse to experience the rest of the pueblo.
OR, AN ACCIDENT BEFORE LEAVING FOR PARADISE, JUST THE USUAL SHIT FROM A CRASHING AND BASHING OLD BIRD.
Well folks I’ve gone and done it again.
In my wild enthusiasm to have a fresh start and go on a health kick on Sunday, after having, let’s say, run riot with sangria popsicles I crashed and burned immediately upon awakening. I got up and went to throw last night’s soup down the loo preparing for a house clean before my trip to Punta Allen the following day. I sped back past my bed catching my toes on the bed leg that rather protrudes, and went crashing down really hard on my left wrist and then knees, elbows and hip, whilst, I might say holding the fucking soup pan aloft in my right hand. Now, this weird automatic reaction I have noted before, for some reason you protect what you’re holding at the great cost of bodily harm. I’ve done this many times in a fit of the clumsies.
Ow and ow.
Now you might be saying that it’s my fault, but I promise you that normally when I crash and burn it’s due to lack of concentration and not the demon drink. This is why I keep banging on to you old birds especially, to go slow and concentrate on missions whether they be climbing ruins or doing the fucking dishes at home. This more haste less speed Rebecca had a stupid household accident and an avoidable one. This was the same dumb stupidity when I broke my foot in Mexico (link) stumbling on the hotel bathroom step taking my dry clothes with speed to my suitcase. True the step was high but it was because I was planning other stuff in my head and my spatial awareness flew out the window as it does.
The mantra here in Punta Allen
As I sit here and write this from the paradise that is Punta Allen, looking gloomily at my fluorescent blue bandaged hand and wrist, I can recall it all in slow motion as you can in all those magnificent grand falls.
Alert: This is last years offering which I’m adding to. I’ve rejoined the British Museum so I’m back in the members’ room to write and edit photos. So happy to be back in my second home which is more condusive to work-like endeavours. They also have an eclectic library so I’ve just managed to cross reference information on the Zapotec, Mixtec and Mayan with some art photos which are lovely because old and I don’t recognise them so probably they are hidden away in some basement these days. Enjoy
British Museum members room
JULY 2021 OAXACA MEXICO.
OR, A MOUNTAINTOP ZAPOTEC CITY LINKED CLOSELY TO Teotihuacán and mitla
It’s huge, it’s Zapotec and it’s completely different to what I expected. I hadn’t researched at all so it was a huge learning curve from my usual Mayan sites.
A LITTLE HISTORY OF THE ZAPOTEC AND MIXTEC.
In parallel with the rise of Teotihuacan, Zapotec civilisation encompassed much of the southern highlands. In the course of the first millennium BC, early chiefdoms of the Oaxaca Valley coalesced into a militaristic Zapotec state centred on the commanding hill-top capital Monte Albán. Zapotec scribes invented one of the four independent Mesoamerican writing systems (the others being Maya, Mixtec and Aztec) and refined their own variant of the 260-day ritual calendar which was in widespread use throughout Mesoamerica.
From about AD 1200, Mixtec peoples began to assume control of key Zapotec sites through conquest and political alliances. Knowledge of metallurgy, which had been introduced a few centuries earlier from South and Central America, was employed in the production of copper and gold objects to reflect rank and status. During the fifteenth century AD, the Mixtec resisted the Aztec imperial advance, but the consummate stoneworking and metalworking skills of many Mixtec artisans were redeployed to serve the Aztec kings.
The Zapotecs were a sedentary culture living in villages and towns, in houses constructed with stone and mortar. They recorded the principal events in their history by means of hieroglyphics, and in warfare they made use of cotton armour. The well-known ruins of Mitla have been attributed to them.
(I will write another post about the fabulous jade and gold discoveries, that are housed in Oaxaca Palace Museum. This is closed at the moment but I’ll be able to dig up some photos from before. I really need to write a bit more about the amazing Zapotecs)
Castrated man?
CLOSED PLACES AND CHANGED PLANS
I had got up ready to go to the archaeological museum but it has been closed. No signs on the door except the opening hours, and through the peephole a man informed me that they didn’t know when they’d open again to which I replied rather hotly I must confess well put a sign on the door then and change the bloody Google details. He said that’s a good idea I’ll put a sign on the door as if he’d just thought of it. Yes, some people have travelled thousands of miles to see these artefacts I whined. His beady eyes perused me as if I was mad. And sort it out on Google and your site this is the second time I’ve come here. He was making me cross and I felt as if he might just let me in if I kept banging on about it.
Top Tip: With the distraction of what was open or not, and jumping on buses every five minutes as places decided to close some, or all of their historical sites and museums, or basically anything of any interest whatsoever, I learned some bitter lessons. When in times of crisis don’t trust any info gleaned by Google et al. You need to speak to proper locals or call tour guides of the area that you are planning to go to. Nobody bothered to change their details online while I was there so I was disappointed many times. So due diligence is essential, don’t just assume they will tell you any changes especially in casual places like Mexico. Make the calls before you get on that bus, or drag over to the other side of town for that special gallery because they will close when they feel like it!
Alert: Here I am still looking back at a year ago this week, so don’t you think I snuck off again! I am simply trying to get my mojo back after being back here and not travelling since my hideous experience with Heathrow’s ‘quarantine’ hotel hell on my tortuous return from Mexico last September.
ONE YEAR AGO….
OR BLOODY XEL-HA IS STILL NOT OPEN AND APPARENTLY HASN’T BEEN FOR NEARLY A YEAR.
Alert: This is from my post from just one year ago. It’s a reminder that us old birds should be getting out into the world again and Mexico is still a great option.
If you start a little planning now, late March and early April. Just check on the bloody restrictions (which are dropping like flies thank god) and get out there. Don’t be shy you’ll love it whether it be near to home or further afield. Just go before it all gets too pricey as Easter is coming and you need to get out before it gets busy and irritating.
Good Friday falls on April 15th this year so get your skates on, school hols are from April 4th through until 18th so you need to get out now! It’s sneaked up so be quick!
one year ago…..
I now have rented an apartment and am cooking at home mostly. To have my little pad is very reassuring and makes me feel more permanent in Tulum. I will use it as a base because I still intend to bus it to many sites further afield. Palenque, Xel-Ha, Zone Muyil, Kabah, Uxmal and Chicanna to name a few. It might seem foolhardy to rent a flat but having a base means that journeys are easier with less luggage and you can return to a home when you’re done with your visit. It’s a security blanket and you can save money cooking at home.
Although I always bang on about doing everything spontaneously and ‘on the hoof’ sometimes it has led to my down fall, or at least changing plans in a heart stopping, teeth gritting last minute. It’s bad for stress but also what to expect from time to time when travelling alone. You’ll get used to it for even though I’m warning you my old birds, You probably won’t listen, have forgotten or have ignored my advice.
OR THE WILDLY DISPARATE TYPES OF COMFORT FROM YOUR TICKET CHOICES.
I have to be honest when it comes to trains I have only ever gone first class on long journeys. These trips I have adored but I also managed to see the cheaper sections. False economy as far as I’m concerned, for a mature woman. With buses I have a lot of experience across the spectrum and let me tell you when it’s bad it’s very very bad. So let’s have a look at all manner of tickets you can get for buses and choochoos.
Alert: WELL IF YOU READ THE LAST POST YOU’LL BE GETTING THE DRIFT OF MY INTOLERANCE TO BAD BOOKINGS. This post is less harsh but still very judgemental and scathing in parts. Understand that you must weigh up your options carefully if you’ll be aboard for anything over four hours. Your travel tickets can make or break a trip, Choose wisely. As you can see here I’ve had my cockups so you don’t have to!!
OR AROUND THE WORLD, TOURS ARE TERRIBLE AND TO BE AVOIDED LIKE THE PROVERBIAL PLAGUE. SO DON’T BUY THAT TYPE OF TICKET.
All at sea with the dreaded ‘tours’
Alert: I will take you round the different types of tickets you will be required to make as you travel alone in the next posts. How you do it and what to avoid. How to take the sting out of making mistakes and how you’ll rejoice getting it right. How to not do what I have done on various occasions. I’ve made the mistakes so you don’t have to. This is about tour tickets but the next posts will cover bus, plane, boat and trains to name a few.
‘She got a ticket to ride’, remember the Beatles song? Well tickets and their purchase can be the thing of nightmares for solo travellers, especially tour tickets.
LIFE ON THE WONDERFUL EDGE! ENJOY IT WHILE YOU CAN!
HAPPY NEW YEAR TO MY LOVELY OLD BIRDS AND ALL YOU TRAVELLERS OUT THERE! I was going to go back to Russia beginning of this year but I’ve just got in touch with my beautiful serviced apartments in Mexico City and the lovely owner so…….what you reckon?
These pics are for you to whet your whistle for this year…
Alert: This is a reminder that life is short so just GO FOR IT THIS YEAR!!
After you ‘break’ them they laugh and join you in your silly acting in place of knowing the language, just bound by humanity and language barriers having been broken.
. This post is a reminder of why we are human and from whence we came. It’s a timely reminder from my main site of the wonder not the ugly face of these vile days.
There are constantly new devices on the market so keep your eye out for anything that is lighter or multifunctional and I will update this if I find out new short cuts for you.
My luggage rules are one carry on suitcase and a small under-seat rucksack for ALL trips. I will explain how to make this adjustment in your set thinking of how much to take.
Alert: This is from a page on my site with bits added. It’s to get you old girls prepped up for colder trips when the travelling will have become a lot laxer again hopefully. Until then get yourself ready and take note from this post the way to approach any cold trip. There are links all the way through to help a bit
My trusty boots that served me so well and didn’t cost a fortune
This post is months late due to a particularly chaotic patch in my life (yes, more than normal!) I’m back on course now so here we go with last of Mexico posts and a follow up with my floods, buggered back, wonderful acupuncture with my old Chinese professor and a dreadful trip to Spain!
It was no good, I was running out of time. I had stayed many days in Homun and spent many happy hours understanding what your best life can be like and it definitely was here. After my birthday and the visit to Neekluum followed by a massive hangover, I started to feel the call of the road again. I would need to go back to Merida by the collectivo then go on to catch an ADO to Valladolid, there I would spend the night and then go on to Cancun for some beach before leaving to London. It was a boring awkward trip and I managed to fuck it up and hate it in equal proportions.
Happy by the tree of life in Homun. Leaving was agony for me.
Obviously leaving my new family was awkward and traumatic. As all solo travellers will know, when you bond on the road it’s surprisingly difficult saying your goodbyes. The flowing conversation evaporates and foolish clichés creep in to the stilted conversation and dragging silences. That’s why I always plump for a rapid running away with just a shout over my shoulder of ‘tata, love you!’ and just my vague outline scurrying off in a dust cloud that envelopes me. This was impossible with Dulce and Aleph as they were giving me a lift in the bicycle taxi to the town centre and Dulce was dragging her heels having got more maudlin and glum than me if that’s possible. We cuddled and whimpered and went to do another unnecessary task before repeating the hugging. It was truly awful and terribly upsetting even when I wrote obscenities in their guest book at their childlike request. ‘Say that thing you said about that man with the tequila!’ they implored. I looked at them doubtfully ‘With all the swearing ?’ I asked nervously. Yes yes they wanted that. They looked at me with joyful expectant faces so I wrote some foul language about the poor fellow (did we hate him that much?) . Then I had to write a list of silly Spanish expressions that I had used ad nauseum that they loved. With eyes sparking they revelled in those along with the initial loving comments I had made about their lovely little homestead business. Yeah, yeah that was all very well but they wanted all the potty mouth things that I said in English too and my mean comments about other innocent yet irritating guests. This filled up a good amount of time as they would remember other things that must go in, dodgy anecdotes et al, and would drag me back to scribble more.
OR YOU’LL NEED TO TAKE OUT A SECOND MORGAGE FOR THIS SAD SHOW
I really don’t know why I bothered apart from the excitement of a new city found up the road from Calakmul and Xpujil called Valeriana. Literally I thought that people would be able to amble in and I vaguely remembered security being lax around most sites, but more importantly there being a few gates of access. Not just the one.
By the way I’ve thrown in some random vids because I was aware of the rather negative content he he.
Things seemed so groovy and casual back in the day in Mexicos Yucatan and now it’s turned into little America but with military presence everywhere. It’s tragic how history repeats itself and the Latin Mexicans are busy victimising the indigenous groups and destroying just a little more of their homeland and also smashing down huge swathes of virgin jungle. Ooh the new president Claudia Sheinbaum, she’s so cool and green, although she’s not though is she?
See bottom of page for full howling experience!
Anyhoo, it would seem that the relationship with America will now be a sore topic so I doubt she will be giving any thought at all to other issues apart from building camps for the huge amount of deported Mexicans that are being deported. I suppose it will be ‘watch this space’ as to their policies with the States go from now on.
Calakmul. IN 2021 ALL CLOSED UP AFTER THEY LURE YOU IN.
The brief mention given in 21.
“This is another example of closed sections at famous pyramids. Another scam in times of ‘plague
OR,CHICANNA IN SPITTING DISTANCE OF BECAN, AND HORMIGUERO A RIGHT OLD TREK
The much lauded serpent portal but on the top of a high turret
HORMIGUERO A FORGOTTEN SITE IN MANY WAYS.
Three buildings very much like this
Whilst halfway through writing this I suddenly remembered that in fact my adventure started first thing in the morning with a booked cab that I had organised the day before to go to Horminguro dammit! You see what happens when you’re a bad, tired and grumpy old bird and don’t write your journal? I had totally forgotten poor old Hormiguero (Anthill) and possibly if you have a busy agenda so should you.
A few stacked Chaacs (rain gods) as well as many other motifs
I had in fact got very excited and planned this trip with a cabbie. I had heard it was a very unusual and nearly never visited set of ruins only partially excavated. What they mean to say is only the big interesting intact bits were bothered with and the place is a very shady quite sad place.
My impression was that the three misaligned very similar imposing structures, unimaginatively called South, Central and North Structures were almost like a bunch of bureaucratic beasts of the jungle. They are very sturdy and practical looking but they do surprisingly contain a lot of elaborately embellished doorways and panels. One also has the largest serpent doorway but that was up on high and the ground was slick with dew. I didn’t fancy a tumble so just took my images from below. If you were to come her I again would come for the atmosphere and maybe a walk in the jungle where there’s a lot of wildlife, I think you can even camp there which would be splendid!
I take it all back this was an amazing site
I just couldn’t shake my unfair immediate reaction to it being municipal and less Gormanghast and more Croydon, but then again I am very instantly judgemental about these things.
I have researched a bit but can’t get any straight answers except about what a lovely example of Chenes blah blah blah. I felt cheated although it was imposing in its own way but a bit boring and that was the reason I left early moaning to myself. On the way out I just had a nice chat to the two chaps who are its guardians but were very young and not a bit interested in its history or their ancestors work. This was annoying as I thought they might at least shed some light on its history. It was all rather sad and damp and dark and unloved.
In 1984, Román Piña Chan fell from a pyramid from the archaeological zone of Becán, an accident that although not managed to remove him from the investigation, the reflection and teaching did limit their ability to move.
Old Bird Travels Solo! 