OR MERIDA SURPRISES WITH A SWEEPING RANGE OF COLONIAL ARCHITECTURE.
There are scattered monuments and tombs all over and a lot of the tombs have unknown residents that makes it so very poignant. In a lot of the arched windows young lovers sat taking in the views and holding hands. It’s obviously a place to take your beau.
I could imagine myself slumping around on a bejewelled divan groaning at the heat, and dipping my hand in to splash water on my face while inhaling sweet perfume from beautiful flowers I’m sure I had some fabulous palace in an earlier incarnation.
There are benches in the shade of the trees there that you can sit at, near the sprinklers that constantly water the well groomed lawns and peruse the mastery of the instruments and ponder the mystery of the heavens.
To imagine the little hands lovingly playing with them, seen across the millenia, laughing with joy maybe even having fights about who should have a go next. Also the larger hands that lovingly made these things for the then, apples of their eye.
Then there are the scammers who adore mature women travelling alone. They act like some kind of gigolos (Really? Have they even looked in a mirror?)
The best ones really are glorious but the heat never leaves them so by lunchtime my trotters were always scorchio (yes I know birds don’t have trotters but I am a bird piggy)
. 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.
As awful as my train arrival (initiation by fire) had been and my crying into my t-shirt covered filthy pillow the previous night, nothing could have prepared me for the onslaught of rabid Chinese tourists and misery of the Forbidden City. (