The curve of Turtle Bay

Beach with condos

Beach with boats

Oh yes, and there’s also the humidity. Dan and I get into the habit of going out for a run into town at around dawn, and even so, there is no place in the air for the sweat to evaporate. But the breeze is pleasant, and the ocean sounds good.

View from our patio looking east into the ocean sunrise

Sunrise along the road into town

Beach shortly after sunrise

We say “Good morning!” to the Americans who like us are out running or walking and “Hola!” or “Buenas dias!” to the Mexicans on their way to work. It is a mile and a quarter, more or less, from our condo into town, the same on the return. There is only one road, and it is a dead end. On the road we see houses and condos, a few shops, a restaurant or two. Very little traffic.

Condo complex on the road into town

Cute pink house with cute red cars and red bougainvillea

Front wall of a private house

La Buena Vida restaurant, not far from our condo

Roadside shops

La Lunita, the restaurant at (well, near) the end of the road, our favorite

I like being near the ocean but not going into it. There are mosquitos or other biting insects in the sand. I get bitten whenever I venture near the beach. Walking up and down the road is my main (only) form of physical activity. We walk or run into town maybe two or three times a day. Walking is a pleasure, although did I say it was hot and humid in Akumal?

Did I say “town”? That may have been a bit of an exaggeration. A few gift shops and restaurants catering to American tourists, a grocery store, a couple of realtors, and a dive shop cluster for about a block along the single road, just off the highway. It’s not a busy place. Everyone speaks English. There is a very nice beach and nothing much else to do. They roll up the sidewalks by about 9pm. What few sidewalks there are.

archway over the road at the entrance to town from the highway (yes, that's the main--the only--road into town)

Shops in town

Town residents, living across from the dive shop

I rewrite about half a novel in one week in Akumal, listening to the wind pounding the ocean surf against our beach. It’s not a bad way to live.

Our condo building--"La Bahia"--as seen from the street

View from the patio of our condo

I left San Martin Tilcajete without shopping bags full of alebrijes–the carved wooden figurines for which this town is justifiably famous. I miss every one of them that I wanted but did not buy. I miss every workshop we did not visit.

Alebrijes, you might ask, what’s the big deal? Let me show you the few alebrijes I bought for myself, and I think you will see.

Two small winged fire-breathing dragons with large ears and (!)antennae

A winged cat

These are just commercial-grade alebrijes, available inexpensively in the workshops where they are carved. We could have bought hummingbirds (every feather carved and painted separately), porcupines, robots, and a profusion of other real and imaginary creatures. Other alebrijes are of collector quality, gorgeous one-of-a-kind creations that are worth the high prices they command. Here are some good examples of both.

In one workshop we watched the artists at work, skilled carvers and imaginative painters both.

Even the entry to the workshop exuded the whimsical fantasy that makes the alebrijes so endearing.

It takes a visit to a place like Monte Alban to realize how pathetic our educational system is in the US. Or at least, it was when Dan and I were growing up. How many of us even heard of the great Zapotec civilization that flourished for over a thousand years in southern Mexico?

Over a thousand years.

And vanished (not the Zapotecs, who are still thriving in the region, but the great civilization they created) without a trace, and no one knows why.

Here is a map of the site at Monte Alban, estimated by some at less than ten percent of the original city, a mountaintop artificially leveled to create this stunning city center whose main plaza is the size of several (American) football fields (300 by 200 meters). The English description says:

Monte Alban, the largest pre-Hispanic city in the region of Oaxaca, represents the first urban plan on the American continent. Its continuous human occupation spans more than thirteen centuries (500 B.C. to 850 A.D.), when its gradual abandonment began, for reasons still unknown.

In its golden age, this city was composed of a Main Plaza, the heart of the ceremonial center, and a series of nearby monumental architectural complexes...

It was characterized by having developed a true State as its system of government, led by the priestly class. A large part of its economy was based on tribute paid by communities in the Valley of Oaxaca, complemented by the cultivation of corn, beans, squash, and other rain-fed products grown on a system of terraces built on the slopes of the surrounding hills.

Monte Alban is one of the few sites in the world where the rise of the State as a system of government is clearly shown...

In 1987, UNESCO named this Zone of Archaeological Monuments a World Heritage Site for the convservation and enjoyment of all people of the world.

Here are some views of the monumental ruins, mostly those to the north of and surrounding the main plaza.

  Looking from the north platform back over the main plaza, you can get an idea of how huge this site is. And yet, it is only a small part of the original city.

And here are some views of the setting. You can see the city and valleys of Oaxaca on all four sides of this site, a breathtaking setting that people would come and visit even if the ruins of the city weren’t so stunning.

Over two thousand ceramic sculptures of misshapen, forlorn people watch the plaza silently. They stand by the side of the street and watch the living people pass by. They do not interact. They are the people who are seen in the mind’s eye but who are not there.

The artist is Alejandro Santiago. According to his statement, he enlisted the participation of more than twenty-five people from his village over a period of several years to complete this work. He says these sculptures “represent the men and women who leave their villages to travel to the United States.”

The people are no longer here, but their shadows, cast in ceramic, remain.

One shop owner tells us that these are people who have died while trying to migrate to the US, or who have been killed by organized crime in Mexico. In Mexico, he assures us, his American customers, not in the United States.

There is something about these figures that lends credence to the idea that they represent those who have died, though the artist’s statement doesn’t say so. Many of the statues show corpses on their backs.

They line the street outside the grills of the shop and restaurant windows. Silently, they watch us, who are still here.

This is the courtyard of the excellent Catedral restaurant. The space was so beautiful that we made a reservation for dinner right then and there. And the meal was wonderful, too.

Here are a few other courtyards.

This last one reminded me of a “Via” in old Palm Beach.

The interior of the mescaleria below seemed a fitting place to try the local Oaxacan brew–mescal, made from all the species of agave except the blue agave that yields tequila. It’s milder than tequila, but still over seventy proof. Three shots for ten dollars, more or less. And an atmosphere that can’t be beat for drinking strong drink. (Yes, that’s a happy Margot and Dan, with a happy bartender.)

The people are friendly. Many have beautiful smiles. Most don’t speak any English.

Have I said that the streets are beautiful? Here are some typical views.

The next several pictures show the wonderful colors and inviting doorways of the ordinary buildings that comprise the fabric of this great city.

In the next few posts I’ll show some of the more significant buildings and plazas, a few charming details, and some interior courtyard views.

I felt drawn to it, and it was more than just the sudden outpouring of monsoon rain that made me decide to go in.

I cannot begin to explain this imagery, but I will say that I find it graceful and attractive. And the couple of worshippers who helped me to learn where to leave my shoes were kind and welcoming.

Actually, I do know a bit about this last one. That’s the god Ganesha, the son of Shiva and Parvati. He’s a popular god, since he is the remover of obstacles and lord of new beginnings.

The Sri Senpaga Vinayar Temple dates back to the 1850s, when a vinayar (elephant god) image was found under a senpaga tree by a small stream. From these humble beginnings grew a graceful and welcoming temple, home to the Ceylonese Tamil community in the area.

Inside and out, the temple was plastered with homilies and admonitions. Perhaps as much as anything, it was the kindness of these that drew me to the place.

"It takes a lot of courage to be happy all the time" "No better advice than the father's"

"A mother's love and care and gratitude in return"

I will end this last post about Singapore, and the last in the long series of posts about Southeast Asia, with this quote from the Sri Senpaga Vinayar temple:

“Hinduism is the oldest religion in the world. Hinduism is a way of life, a system of life values, and feeling of equal respect for all religions. Everyone is deemed a Hindu. There is no conversion required.”