Merry Christmas and happy holidays everybody! Though we are still exiled in the Suites del Sol (more on that later) with no other family or friends around, we tried to make the best of it and Christmas our little hearts out in the 90 degree heat. Let's tell the story using photographs, shall we? Oh, and if you notice Jillian is absent from most of these, it's because she wore her nightgown for much of the day and made a noise every time I tried to take her picture. So I'll handle narration duties. And of course, each picture clicks through to a larger version for those that want to see more details.

Christmas shopping and preparations always begin with the division of cash and credit cards. Next stop, Gran Plaza!

These mysterious frames appeared along the Paseo de Montejo recently. What will go inside?

Tree at Noche Mexicana, a once-weekly celebration of Mexican culture with food, art, song, and dance. This was our first trip.

Crowds and joy at Noche Mexicana on Christmas Eve.

On stage, singers sing and dancers dance.

Then, it was back to the homestead for some late night imported Cuban rum. Eat it, trade embargo.

Christmas morning, and Jillian gave me a vihuela, a sort of old-fashioned short-necked Mexican guitar with five strings and four frets, with mother of pearl inlay. It is gorgeous.

Jillian also got me a totally unexpected, very cool folding bicycle, which means I can ride to McDonalds for a McNifico any time I want one. I don't even need to ask for permission or ANYTHING.

It was wrapped very tightly in 75 pounds of plastic.

With the present time over, Jillian prepares to cook me breakfast. Not pictured? The new comforter and pillows I got her to try and make our bed more comfortable. Also not pictured? Jillian saying, "I look like such a NERD in my glasses!"

Breakfast of Mexican champions. Also fatsos. Fried eggs, bacon, cheese, and hot sauce, all wrapped in tortillas. It is the fastest possible way to get bacon and eggs into your bloodstream, and I wholeheartedly recommend it.

After breakfast, I took some time to learn how to play the vihuela. I am pleased to report that I am already an expert.

I also learned to fold my new bike.

We spent the rest of the day playing with all of our new stuff. I sculpted a monkey out of this cool clay that turns to rubber when you bake it. Jillian made the rubber carrot, which wasn't something I knew I had always wanted until I had one.

Now, we've got turkey in the oven and it's almost time for some comfortable sleep in our new bedding. All in all, it was a pretty low-key holiday...but that's just the way I like 'em.

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Posted by Malcolm at 07:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

You know the scene in Blow when Johnny Depp is walking through the airport with all the drugs? Yeah, we were pretty much just like that when we landed in Cancun. Except instead of kilos of cocaine we were smuggling 12 sweet cans of Bumblebee solid white albacore and 15 fluid ounces of lovely lady Hellmans. Let me tell you what a relief it was when we pressed the button on the "traffic signal" at customs and we hit green.

An outfit that made total sense at 5 am in chilly NYC - stretch pants, a weird shirt with too tight sleeves and a pashima shawl - was a little unbearable when we re-entered Mexico on a 90 degree afternoon. No problem, I'm cool. I get us two tickets on the airport shuttle to the downtown bus station. I hear there's a beach here...? Anyway the bus station rocks even though I forgot to take my toilet paper through the revolving door (think subway station) which I paid 3 pesos for and I'm itchy and sweating and have forgotten Spanish and we can't get on a bus for 2 and a half hours.

Because I am practically a superhero I manage to change my shirt and tie a gold scarf around my waist so my ass isn't completely out, we check our bags and head out into the splendor of downtown Cancun. Lucky for us there is a Sanborns across the street, which is both a store and a restaurant. It reminds me of eating at the lunch counter at Woolworth's when I was a kid. (I'm 64 years old). Two British burgers (bacon=) and beers later we were right as rain. If rain is hot, tired, disoriented and has to poop.

On the bus, a spiffy ADO GL which was worth the wait, we watched a screwball comedy starring the gorgeous Spanish actress Paz Vega and tried to nap. I doubt we will ever make this trip in quite the same way again - Merida to Cancun by bus to the airport in order to fly Jet Blue for $99 - but it isn't terrible. The bus gives one space to think, looking out the window into the blank dark green of the inland peninsula. It feels like a field trip coming home late. And isn't it? Merida is welcoming, rainy, Christmas lit with more color than in the States and busy in its fashion.

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Posted by Jillian at 10:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Every meal of our eleven day trip was planned weeks in advance. Seriously. We are total fatsos.

We landed in New York on a freezing Friday evening and were swiftly spirited away from that sprawling city by our dear friends. When we arrived at ye old neighborhood pub in New Haven, very cozy, tinsel-y and collegiate, we looked around a table of favorite faces and felt comforted and content. In no time we were in old form, ordering beers and appetizers to stem the tide of dark and cold New England. Malcolm slathered himself in Buffalo wing sauce while I entered a parallel universe of melted mozzarella and pesto sauce. Also de rigeur at Dempsey´s, the mile-high fries, a quasi-food of fat and toppings completely enmeshed, in my mind, with staying up all night studying for finals.

We charged ourselves with the delicious mission of consuming all those things we can´t find here in Merida in less than two weeks time. We could only fail if we did not try. We tried so well my pants don´t fit. Seriously, it´s all elastic waist band skirts this week. I digress.

These foods include, but are not limited to: chicken curry noodle soup at the Ivy Noodle; a child´s weight in dumplings from East Melange (see our review); country style ribs and an onion loaf from, where else, The Rib House (also reviewed here); aloo palak and garlic naan on curry row (6th Street); thin crust white pizza pie in New Haven and a deli made bacon egg and cheese in Manhattan were all very specific requirements fulfilled.

Sizzling shrimp at Bangkok Gardens, fish and chips at The Playwright, and lovely little olives and cheeses and my favorite rosemary crackers from Nica´s market in East Rock were super satisfying. Every dinner with friends was a delight. Malcolm shared steak and chocolate souffle for two at the Knickerbocker on University Place with his traveling companion while I supped on my grandmother´s famous Everyone I Know is Dead Manicotti. Hm-Mm depressing.

We spent our last night in America alone together in New York. This is how we are meant to be. We had a lot of catching up to do, having spent almost 48 hours apart. We attempted entering the soulless glare of Time Square which is even better for fat families but worse for whores than ever, but soon realized that we are not yet tourists like that. Walking, talking, trying to sum it all up while taking it all in we found ourselves drifting east. We happened upon Brasserie Les Halles as if by magic.

A word on our complete crush on Anthony Bourdain, chef, author, coolest guy to ever wear a sleeveless Ramones tee shirt in the jungle of Malaysia: He rules. He is a hero and a god to me. Smart cynicism perfectly balanced with a joie de vivre unmatched by any other ¨celebrity chef¨ (the porcine Mario Batali can bite me). He is a tall drink of water in the wasteland of televised talking heads. And a sexy sonofabitch to boot. I felt smitten only standing inside his restaurant.

The warm, woody space is dark and lit like another, more quality century. Mirrors and chalkboards are the hallmarks of pleasing design to francophile me. It´s all perfectly lovely, shabby chic a la Bourgandy. After a drink at the bar - my absolute last dirty martini of all time - we were sat at the perfect tiny table, just where I wanted. Malcolm had been once before and was advocating steak au poivre (bien sur), but I needed to choose carefully and for myself. The wine list was a little intimidating but we ended up with a good Chateauneuf-du-pape that went well with my lamb and his steak frites. You should stop whatever you are doing this second and run don´t walk to Les Halles and order their fries. Best of all time. So says Bourdain, and I concur. We started with an accidental foie gras served with dark pumpkin bread and unsalted butter. I will just have to return for frogs legs another time. The perfect meal ended with a creme brulee and the house coffee done tableside with flame and flair. super cool.

The cab ride uptown was a delicious blur of lights and sound. I had that perfect feeling, of tipsiness and sated appetite that speaks to me of Malcolm, Christmas, New York, a sense of home and happiness. I knew that I could leave America fulfilled. I had done what I came for. Which, no, smart ass was not eating and drinking everything in the tri-state area. More on that tomorrow. I have to go home for lunch.

[time to reduce. Thanks to God for the lovely and chic Mireille Guiliano ]

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Posted by Jillian at 01:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

...And we're back, after a nice eleven day trip to the US. The whole thing went by in quite a blur, and I regret spending as much time as we did on the Metro-North commuter train between CT and NY. All in all, it was a great, though hectic trip, and we will definitely be hitting you with a flurry of updates about our impressions of returning to the US after spending the last four months in the Yucatan. For now, though, we are on the move, and trying to get our heads above water after such a long time away.

A special thanks to all of those that offered us shelter and their hospitality for our time in the States. Corrie M. & Lauren W. in New Haven, The Hotel Duncan in New Haven, Josephine S. in Clinton, the Ramada Limited in Jersey City, Matt K. in Brooklyn, and the Hotel Ameritania in NYC, you all offered us your own brand of comfort, and we appreciate it.

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Posted by Malcolm at 07:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

You may have noticed that we haven't posted any updates in the last couple of days. Why? Because we're taking a break from warm weather, sunshine, inexpensive lodging, and pork skin tacos in order to take a tiny holiday break back in the States. That means frosty weather, heavy jackets, bagels, family and the associated strife, and late-night drunken pizza slices for the next couple of days. We'll be back in Merida in a couple of days with a full wrapup...and boy, is there a lot to tell.

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Posted by Malcolm at 10:34 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Malc at the office.

still life with Wal Mart

trees, tropical and evergreen

Christmas in Merida

new job for Jilly?.

Museum of Yucatacan Music.

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Posted by Jillian at 01:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Last weekend was my ten year high school reunion. I had to miss it because I live in Mexico. The invitation and subsequent correspondence with former classmates has me waxing nostalgic. The town I grew up in was pretty idyllic, though none of us would have ever admitted as much at the time. We were typical, unhappy, safe and contented in our discontent.

I have gone ahead and devised a test based on my experience growing up in Clinton, Ct. Don't worry if you miss of few of the answers. The sports department head/de facto history teacher, Mr. Brigockas is grading these exams and he is almost always too tipsy to notice. Bonne Chance!

1. What was the name of my middle school clique?
A. The Prude Patrol
B. The Posse
C. The Pink Flamingos
D. Six Chicks

2. Within this clique my position in the social hierarchy was:
A. Alpha Girl
B. BFF to Alpha Girl
C. The girl whose mom let us drink a little
D. The smart, funny pariah within the group

3. What was the name of the arcade/ice cream shoppe on the Madison border, across from The Clam Castle?
A. Uncle Toad's
B. Chip's
C. Pip's
D. Mario's Prize Palace

4. The Clam Castle was:
A. Great!
B. Gross!

5. What was the name of my 6th grade class play?
A. How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying
B. Snowy White and the Seven Chicks
C. Eight is Enough, adapted for the stage by Neil Simon
D. Hamlet

6. My high school was The Morgan School. What was the team name of our biggest rival?
A. The Daniel Hand Band of Heroes
B. The Guilford Buccaneers
C. The Valley Regional Minutemen
D. Nobody cared, because we were pretty awful at sports. Except for girls' volleyball. Those girls would hurt you.

7. In my high school it was more highly valued to be:
A. Sort of stoned
B. Clever-smart, book-smart, stoned-smart
C. Preparing to go on Dead tour/in an indie rock band
D. All of the above

8. My friends and I abandoned the National Honors Society Blood Drive that we were working in order to:
A. Collect more people to donate blood for a good cause
B. Escape the reign of terror of Rebecca Harris and her army of pedantic bores
C. Drive around in Tadd's old BMW, get stoned, go to Marty's and eat 72 chicken fingers with all the dipping sauces.
D. Both B and C

9. Tom Smith, a truly hilarious person once wrote a satire:
A. based on The Aeneid and entitled the Daneid dedicated to Michael Franco whom Tom had nicknamed Danny Tanner from the family friendly sitcom Full House
B. It's A
C. I have just given you the answer to two questions.
D. Poor Michael Franco only vaguely resembled Bob Saget

10. What was written over the doorway of my freshman year English class?
A. Cead Mile Failte
B. Be bold and mighty forces will come to your aid
C. Abandon all hope ye who enter here
D. Don't you draw the queen of diamonds boy, she'll beat you if she's able

Extra Credit: I graduated from high school in what year?
A. 1996
B. I didn't. Senior year I got knocked up, dropped out, and years later finally got my GED
C. Trick question: Clinton still uses the Julian Calendar. So it was 1987 in our estimation.
D. My class pulled such an outrageous, illegal prank that we were all suspended and couldn't graduate until the following spring. We all had to defer college. seriously.

In conclusion, although Wonderful Tonight was a totally trite choice for prom song, class of '06, you were all alright. Except for Seth Greenlaw.

Write in with your answers! High score gets free entry into this year's Bluefish Festival.

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Posted by Jillian at 10:07 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)