Mérida Magic

As we pulled into Mérida, we realized we weren't in Kansas anymore (and by Kansas, I mean a beach town, a tourist haven, or small pueblo).  Mérida is the capital of the Yucatán, the largest city in the peninsula; it has the highest indigenous population (60% Mayan) and evident Spanish, French, and British influences.  

Many of the streets are cobblestone, and the colorful colonial buildings have ornate, carved doors and window boxes reminiscent of Paris or Barcelona.  On Sunday, everyone gathers in the town square.  Artists and food vendors fill the plaza, locals blow bubbles and giddy children leap for them, a band in gold suits fills the air with lively music, and people flood the streets to dance for hours.  

The Sunday scene

Around sunset, a ceremony is performed to lower the flag from the plaza center, and police march proudly in a procession. A Sunday mass echoes from Cathedral de Mérida, a towering structure, adorned with big brass door handles, that was built in the 1500s with stones from the Mayan ruins.

A mile from the city center are colonial mansions, many of which sprung up during a period of prosperity at the end of the 19th century.  Around this time, it is rumored that Mérida housed more millionaires than anywhere else in the world.  Today, many of those mansions have been repurposed into office buildings, museums, and banks.  To our good fortune, some are now hotels.  

Our Air BnB, Villa Mérida, is one of the most beautiful, peaceful places I've ever seen.  The rich, warm colors pop from the walls, fountains drown out the city noise, and vaulted ceilings, chandeliers, and tall doors that open with skeleton keys are daily reminders of the historical roots of this home.  Patrick is a charismatic host, excited to chat and share Mérida suggestions. All of the floors are original, and the tiles stay cool on the hottest of days.  Orange blossom soap and shampoo fill the air, and I think I'll always think of Mérida when I smell that sweet fragrance.

We've fallen into a lazy rhythm of waking up slowly, wandering down the block to the market, selecting the right ingredients, and cooking an afternoon breakfast in the large kitchen that sits beyond the pool at Villa Mérida.  We read and write for a few hours, then venture to town.  We sit on park benches and people watch, we follow the smells in the air to the best street food, we try to mimic the foot patterns of the dancers, and we laugh with the crowds of joyful locals.

If Mérida had a word, it would be "energy"- or "tradition" - or "free".