TRAGIC ROMANCE OF THE YUCATÁN—FELIPE CARRILLO PUERTO AND ALMA REED

 

Two names forever linked to the Yucatán are Felipe Carrillo Puerto, Yucatan’s progressive governor, and San Francisco journalist Alma Reed. Their love affair fueled pages in newspapers on both sides of the border but the unlikely outcome of this very public romance enlisted all the elements of Greek tragedy.

Reed, born in San Francisco, became one of the city’s first women reporters.  An advocate for the poor, she assisted a Mexican family in commuting their 17-years old son’s death sentence in 1921. The story was picked up by the Mexican press. Due to heightened publicity, Mexico President Alvero Obregon invited Reed to visit his country.

ENTER EDWARD THOMPSON

As a stringer correspondent for The New York Times, Reed was sent to meet Edward Thompson, lead archeologist excavating Chichen Itza.  During the visit, Reed met Felipe Carrillo Puerto, governor of the State of Yucatan.

Carrillo had commissioned a road from Merida to Chichen Itza, opening the budding archeological site to tourists and scientists.  To commemorate the event, he organized a welcome ceremony inviting North American journalists and archeologists.

UXMAL AND CARRILLO

At the ruins, Reed interviewed Thompson who’d traveled to Yucatán specifically to excavate Chichen Itza. Thompson took a liking to Reed and recklessly divulged he had dredged Chichen Itza’s sacred cenote and had taken gold and jewelry from the sacrificial victims. Astonished by the enormity of his admission, like the true-born paparrizis she was, Reed asked Thompson to sign a confession. He did.

Felipe Carrillo Puerto in Yucatán

After Chichen Itza, the entourage left for Uxmal. During this leg of the journey Reed and Carrillo got acquainted. Reed was fascinated with the charismatic Carrillo who had been called both a Bolshevik and a Marxist for his sweeping reforms.

In Reed’s interview, Carrillo explained Yucatan had been inhabited by a handful of powerful families dating to Merida’s founding in1542. These wealthy landowners were basically slave masters and notorious for their cruel treatment of the Maya. 

REVOLUTIONARY IN THE MAKING

 In 1910 Carrillo had fought alongside Emiliano Zapata in Central Mexico. From their association he took Zapata’s battle cry, Tierra y Liberdad for his own. Back in Yucatan, Carrillo claimed part Maya, part Creole heritage and began his reforms by setting up feminist leagues that legalized birth control and the first family planning clinics in the western hemisphere. As governor he seized uncultivated land from powerful hacendados and distributed it to the Maya, stating it was their birthright. He built schools. He reformed the prison system.

It was no small wonder Reed named him the Abraham Lincoln of Mexico. As a liberal she agreed with his reforms; on a personal note, she was smitten. But as a divorceé and Catholic she tried to ignore feelings she was developing for the married father of four. She left for the U.S., vowing never to return, hoping to severe ties in what was becoming amor calido (romance of the steam).

The New York Times had other plans however, and sent her back to Mexico to cover the archeology scandal that erupted due to Edward Thompson pillaging the Chichen Itza cenote. Reed had a job to do.

On her second round in Mexico, neither Reed nor Carrillo could ignore their feelings. In the ultimate taboo, Carrillo divorced his wife to become engaged to Reed. He even had a romantic song composed for her, La Peregrina (The Pilgrim).

The two idealists prepared for their wedding that would take place in San Francisco.  Reed hastened back to the City to make arrangements before her permanent move to Mexico.

SEND LAWYERS, GUNS AND MONEY

Shortly after Reed’s departure, however, another revolution seemed imminent. Fighting had broken out in the Yucatan. Henequen planters and hacendados wanted to overthrow Carrillo. President Obregon’s right hand man, de la Huerta, was opposing him and because Carrillo backed Obregon, he was also at risk. Carrillo was forced to find guns to fight both the planters and de la Huerta’s forces. To make matters worse, he now had a $250,000 reward on his head.

To secure guns and ammo, Carrillo went by night to the Progreso coast with three brothers and six friends as guards.  Just as they waded out to the launch they would sail to New Orleans where they’d acquire firearms, a Navy captain signaled to soldiers lying in wait on shore.  The soldiers rowed out and captured Carrillo who told his small group not to fight, but to go peacefully.

 De la Huerta’s forces took them back to Merida, jailed them for the night and planned an arraignment in the morning.  Carrillo refused to make a plea. He was, after all, governor of the Yucatan, and refused to recognize a kangaroo court.  He was condemned on January 3, 1924, and taken to Merida Cemetery where he, his brothers and friends were lined up against the wall to await the firing squad.  The first round of volleys was sent over their heads; the soldiers didn’t want to kill them, so fiercely local were the Yucatecans to Carrillo.

The commander ordered those soldiers to be shot, and over the dead bodies of the first soldiers, Carrillo, his brothers and friends were executed as they stood with their backs against the cemetery wall.

A MARTYR'S DEATH

 In San Francisco, Reed had been alerted that trouble was at hand. She heard the news shortly after Carrillo had died a martyr’s death, at 49.

Grave Carrillo Puerto. Photo Barbra Bishop

She returned to Merida to see the spot where Carrillo fell.  She stayed but briefly, and on arriving back to New York, was sent on assignment to Carthage to explore ancient ruins.  She would never re-marry. Her reporting life took her back to Mexico where she helped establish the artist José Clemente Orozco.

One of Reed’s fears was that Obregon had a hand in Carrillo’s death.  He had, after all, assassinated Emiliano Zapata after luring him to a truce with Pancho Villa. Reed thought Carrillo’s radicalism may have aroused opposition from the Mexican president, but she could never prove it.

The pueblo Chan Santa Cruz, south of Tulum, changed its name to honor the governor, and now is known as Felipe Carrillo Puerto.  Alma Reed died undergoing surgery in Mexico City, November, 1966. She was 77.  

Statue at Assassination Site of Felipe Carrillo Puerto. Photo Barbra Bishop

If you enjoyed this post, check out  Where the Sky is Born: Living in the Land of the Maya, on Amazon. My website is www.jeaninekitchel.com. Books one and two in my Mexico cartel trilogy, Wheels Up—A Novel of Drugs, Cartels and Survival, and Tulum Takedown, are also on Amazon. And my journalistic overview of the Maya 2012 calendar phenomenon, Maya 2012 Revealed: Demystifying the Prophecy, is on Amazon.

THE TRAGIC LOVE STORY OF THE YUCATAN—ALMA REED AND FELIPE CARRILLO PUERTO

 

Felipe Carrillo Puerto and Alma Reed (By Merida de Yucatan)

Star Crossed Lovers, Part 2

Felipe Carrillo Puerto, Yucatan's progressive governor of the Yucatan, and San Francisco journalist Alma Reed are two names forever linked to Yucatan history. Their romance fueled pages in newspapers on both sides of the border, but the unlikely outcome of their very public romance enlisted all the elements of Greek tragedy. 

Reed was born in San Francisco and became one of the city's first women reporters. An advocate for the poor, Reed assisted a Mexican family in commuting the death sentence of their 17-year old son in 1921. The story was picked up by the Mexican press and due to heightened publicity, Mexico President Alvaro Obregon invited Reed to visit his country.

ENTER EDWARD THOMPSON

As a stringer correspondent, she also reported for The New York Times and was sent to meet Edward Thompson, the leading archeologist excavating Chichen Itza. During the visit, Reed met Felipe Carrillo Puerto, dynamic governor of the State of Yucatan, also known as an agrarian reformer.

Felipe Carrillo Puerto, Agrarian Reformer

Carrillo had commissioned a road to be built from Merida to Chichen Itza, opening the budding archeological site to both tourists and scientists. To commemorate the event, he'd organized a welcome ceremony inviting North American journalists and archeologists. 

UXMAL AND CARRILLO 

At the ruins, Reed interviewed the famed Thompson who had gone to Yucatan specifically to excavate Chichen Itza. Thompson took a liking to Reed and divulged he had in fact dredged Chichen Itza's sacred cenote, garnering gold and jade jewelry and ornaments he'd taken from the sacrificial victims. Astonished by the enormity of Thompson's admission, like the true-born paparazzi she was, Reed asked Thompson to sign a confession, which he did.

Chicen Itza (By Frederick Catherwood)

After Chichen Itza, the assembled entourage went on to Uxmal. During this leg of the journey, Reed and Carrillo got acquainted. Reed was fascinated with the charismatic Carrillo who had been called both a Bolshevik and a Marxist for his sweeping reforms.

Caught in the Act, Thompson Dredging Chichen Itza Cenote

In her interview with the governor, Carrillo explained Yucatan had been inhabited by a handful of powerful families dating back to 1542 when Merida was founded. These wealthy landowners were basically slave masters and notorious for their cruel treatment of the Maya. 

REVOLUTIONARY IN THE MAKING

In 1910 Carrillo had fought alongside Emiliano Zapata in Central Mexico. From their association he took Zapata's battle cry, Tierra y Liberdad, (Land and Liberty) for his own. Back in Yucatan, Carrillo claimed part Maya, part Creole heritage and began his reforms by setting up feminist leagues in Merida that legalized birth control and the first family planning clinics in the Western Hemisphere. As governor, he became an agrarian reformer: He seized uncultivated land from powerful hacendados and distributed it to the Maya, stating it was their birthright. He built schools. He reformed the prison system. 

Carrillo Puerto Amongst His People (By Instituto de Anthropologia)

No small wonder Reed named him the Abraham Lincoln of Mexico. As a liberal she agreed with his reforms. And besides that, she was smitten. But as a divorced woman and a Catholic, she tried to ignore the feelings she was developing for the married father of four. She left for the U.S., vowing never to return, in hopes of severing ties in what was becoming amor calido or steamy romance as the English translation went.

Two months later, however, The New York Times sent her packing back to Mexico to cover the archeology scandal involving Edward Thompson and his dredging of the Chichen Itza cenote which she exposed. She had a job to do.

Carrillo Puerto and Reed (By Forasteros)

On her second round in Mexico, both Reed and Carrillo's feelings couldn't be ignored. In the ultimate taboo, Carrillo divorced his wife to become engaged to Reed. He even had a romantic love song composed for her, still popular today, La Peregrina (The Pilgrim). 

It seemed a match made in heaven. The two idealists prepared for their wedding which would take place in San Francisco. Reed hastened back to the U.S. to make arrangements before her permanent move to Mexico. 

SEND LAWYERS, GUNS AND MONEY

Shortly after her departure to the U.S., however, another Mexican revolution seemed imminent. Fighting had broken out in the Yucatan and henequen planters and hacendados were trying to overthrow Carrillo due to his reforms. President Obregon's right hand man, de la Huerta, was opposing him and because Carrillo backed Obregon, he was at risk. Carrillo was forced to find guns to fight both the planters and de la Huerta's forces. And to make matters worse, he now had a $250,000 reward on his head. 

To secure the guns and ammunition they would need to do battle, Carrillo went by night to the Progreso coast with three brothers and six friends as guards to catch a boat to New Orleans. Just as they waded out to the launch that would take them to the U.S. where they'd acquire the firearms needed for their revolution, a Navy captain signaled to soldiers lying in wait on shore. The soldiers rowed out and captured Carrillo who told his small group to not fight but to go peacefully.

De la Huerta's forces took them back to Merida and jailed them overnight for an arraignment in the morning. Carrillo refused to make a plea. He was, after all, governor of the state and refused to recognize a kangaroo court. He was condemned on January 3, 1924, and taken to Merida Cemetery where he, his brothers and friends were lined up against the wall to await the firing squad. The first round of volleys was sent over their heads—the soldiers didn't want to kill them, so fiercely loyal were the Yucatecans to Carrillo. 

The commander shouted that those soldiers were to be shot, and over the dead bodies of the first soldiers, Carrillo, brothers and friends were executed as they stood with their backs against the cemetery wall.  

Merida Cemetery Where Carrillo Puerto Is Buried

A MARTYR'S DEATH 

In San Francisco, Alma Reed had been alerted that trouble was at hand. She heard the news shortly afterwards that Carrillo had died in Yucatan, a martyr's death, at 49.

Reed insisted on returning to Merida to see the spot where Carrillo fell. She stayed but briefly in the Yucatan and on arriving back to New York, was sent on an assignment to Carthage to explore ancient ruins. She would never re-marry. Her reporting life eventually took her back to Mexico where she helped establish the artist Jose Clements Orozco. 

One of Reed's fears was that President Obregon had a hand in killing Carrillo. He had, after all, assassinated Zapata after luring him to a truce meeting along with Pancho Villa. Reed thought Carrillo's radicalism may have aroused opposition from the Mexican president but she could never prove the link. 

Isignia of Pueblo Felipe Carrillo Puerto

The pueblo of Chan Santa Cruz, south of Tulum, changed its name to honor the Yucatan governor, and goes by the name Felipe Carrillo Puerto. Alma Reed died in Mexico City at age 77 in November, 1966, while undergoing surgery.

Antoinette May's book The Passionate Pilgrim, the Extraordinary Life of Alma Reed, tells the story of Reed and Carrillo Puerto as does Alma Reed's Peregrina: Love and Death in Mexico.

If you enjoyed this post, check out  Where the Sky is Born: Living in the Land of the Maya, on Amazon. My website is www.jeaninekitchel.com. Books one and two in my Mexico cartel trilogy, Wheels Up—A Novel of Drugs, Cartels and Survival, and Tulum Takedown, are also on Amazon. And my journalistic overview of the Maya 2012 calendar phenomenon, Maya 2012 Revealed: Demystifying the Prophecy, is on Amazon.

 

FROM STRANGERS TO FRIENDS IN PROGESO DURING THE HOLIDAYS IN MEXICO

In Mexico, the holiday season seemingly goes on forever. And in actuality, it does. From Feast of Guadalupe on December 12 through Noche Buena, Navidad, and Año Nuevo, it finally ends with Dia de Reyes or Feast of the Kings January 6.

As early travelers in the mid-80s to the Yucatán Peninsula, we loved all the festivities and fiestas. That's part of what makes Mexico so Mexico! The pageantry and the color, the fireworks and the continuous holidays. 

For years we planned to move to Mexico so every vacation was centered around a Mexican get-away: from long weekends to a blissful week or two around Christmas. These trips were a quick fix to our serious addiction to the Mexican lifestyle. 

Hotel Trinidad, Merida

FIRST STOP, MERIDA

In 1986 we made our first trip to Merida and Chichen Itza. We arrived in Merida December 23 and located a hotel near the main plaza, Hotel Trinidad. I spotted heavy wood and brass style Spanish doors with "Open 24 Hours" painted at the top and took a look inside. On entering I discovered a hotel straight out of Barcelona, a tribute to Bohemia everywhere. Bright mosaic tiles in wild patterns covered the floors and gaudy paintings with broken pieces of mirror patterned into the frames decorated the walls.

Behind an antique wooden bar that served as reception, a studious looking clerk gazed up from a stack of papers. I looked behind him to an unruly growth of areca palms and a cascade of jungle plants that created a bountiful interior garden.

Within moments we'd checked into a room with 16-foot ceilings, no windows, but an enormous skylight that delivered all the light we needed. The rooms faced the terrace courtyard and during the day many guests left their doors open to take in fresh air and direct sunlight.

On Christmas Eve we woke early and walked to the bus station to catch a bus to Chichen Itza. Crowds thronged the depot as many people were traveling for the holiday. In Mexico as in Europe, December 24, Noche Buena, is celebrated as the feast of Christmas rather than Christmas Day. We were enroute to Piste, the pueblo that served as a base for travelers coming and going to the popular pyramid at Chichen Itza.

CHICHEN ITZA

After the crowded bus trip, we were dropped off a few hours later on the highway near the site. We grabbed our belongings and readied ourselves for the four kilometer walk. Chichen Itza did not fail. We spent the entire day taking in the vast site, but that's another story. Our goal after sightseeing at the pyramids was to head back to Merida and Hotel Trinidad. We made our way back to where the bus had dropped us off and waited for the next bus heading back to Merida to arrive.

The Merida depot, now late in the day, was packed to overflow with those traveling home to their pueblos. We shuffled along the narrow city streets, walking single file as crowds headed in the opposite direction to the terminal. Finally we were back in the tourist zone, where shops were closing their doors. We saw people carrying small bolsas with what I imagined were gifts, and when we passed the open door or window of an apartment, I peaked inside. Unlike American Christmas's, there were no decorated trees nor piles of wrapped presents. Instead we saw small family gatherings and dinner tables laden with platters of food, a happy display of camaraderie apparent by the sound of laughter and conversations we heard in passing.

Merida Streets near Cathedral

That was when I understood the wide divide in our cultures. Since then, NAFTA brought Costco and other mega-markets to Mexico along with fake Christmas trees in November and blow-up Santa Clauses. But in those days, it was different. Christmas was a holiday from the heart, not the pocketbook. It was not about gifts and giving. It was about family.

So naive was I that I thought we'd find a restaurant for a lovely Christmas Eve dinner. Nope. Businesses were closed. Every single person in that vast and marvelous city was certainly sitting across a table from loved ones, enjoying food and conversation. We passed shuttered stores and restaurants for blocks before finding one lone open tienda as we neared the hotel. We picked up a six-pack of cerveza and some antojitos and chips. That was our Christmas Eve fare. Little did we realize the pickings might be slimmer still on Christmas Day.

NEXT STOP, PROGRESO

The next morning, somehow buses were running, and after gratefully accepting coffee and a concha pastry from the clerk at the hotel, we decided to go to Progreso, a port town on the Gulf Coast, 40 kilometers north. But Progreso, small at the time, was locked down even tighter than Merida. After checking out the ocean, not the translucent blue we were accustomed to on the eastern coast but dark, cloudy water, we walked around town hoping to find something open. A few blocks from the beach we stumbled onto an unshuttered seafood restaurant, empty except for a sweet-looking old man who stood behind the bar. He looked like he was the owner, there to clean up, but when I asked if he was "Abierto," he couldn't say no to holiday strangers.

Progreso, Yucatán

"Feliz Navidad. Cerveza?" 

He gestured us in, bowed at the waist and pointed to a table.

We nodded and took a seat. He came around the bar with two Pacifico's and a well-worn menu, pointing to a photo of a shrimp cocktail. Assuming that was our cue, we nodded again. "Por dos," I managed to say.

Our Christmas dinner consisted of a good many cold Pacifico's and a delicious cocktail de cameron served in a giant fishbowl with a side of saltine crackers, undoubtedly the best, freshest shrimp cocktail I've ever had. By our third Pacifico, the owner had joined us at the painted wooden table, now cluttered with beer bottles. We three were a lonely hearts club, sharing a holiday. How many more beers we drank that day I couldn't tell you. But in time, my fractured Spanish was no longer an issue and we laughed and shared stories through sign language and an occasional common phrase.

What could have been an unmemorable Christmas became one we'll never forget, with a reminder on how the world works. At holiday time, everyone becomes your friend and someone to share a drink with, no matter where you are or where you're from.

LEST THEY BE ANGELS IN DISGUISE

And another lesson along the same lines comes from George Whitman, owner of Shakespeare & Company in Paris. His motto is prominently displayed over the bookstore's front door: Be not inhospitable to strangers lest they be angels in disguise. And let us not forget to return the favor.

Shakespeare & Company, Paris

Happy New Year to you! May your 2023 travels be rewarding and memorable.

If you enjoyed this post, check out  Where the Sky is Born: Living in the Land of the Maya, on Amazon. My website is www.jeaninekitchel.com. Books one and two in my Mexico cartel trilogy, Wheels Up—A Novel of Drugs, Cartels and Survival, and Tulum Takedown, are also on Amazon. And my journalistic overview of the Maya 2012 calendar phenomenon, Maya 2012 Revealed: Demystifying the Prophecy, is on Amazon.

MAKING THE MOST OF MAGNIFICENT MÉRIDA—THE JEWEL IN YUCATÁN'S CROWN

Palacio Municipal Mérida (By Lilla Green)

As far as colonial cities go, it's hard to beat Mérida. Although many tourists gravitate to Cancun and the Riviera Maya, Mérida has been gaining in popularity. 

It's a massive city, over a million population and three hours from Cancun by paid highway. This city truly has it all: an impressive main plaza, a large promenade with stately mansions (Paseo de Montejo), horse-drawn carriages, museums, roving mariachi bands, Mexico's oldest cathedral dating to 1561, towering trees, lovely gardens, an impressive block-long municipal market with everything from vegetables, meat and spices, food stalls, live birds, hardware, clothing, machinery, and hammocks.

MÉRIDA EN DOMINGO

Lucas Galves Municipal Market

Sundays are special, known as Mérida en Domingo. All streets around the zocalo are blocked off for artisans and food vendors. A block from the main plaza at Parque Hidalgo near the historic Gran Hotel, chairs are set up for acts by singers, comics, clowns, and mimes to entertain locals and tourists. At this plaza, vendors sell jewelry, hammocks, embroidered purses, gauze clothing, wood and stone carvings, Mexican toys, and balloons.

Gran Hotel

Mérida's streets are narrow and crowded, teaming with life, at times making walking difficult. The city makes you feel alive because you are so often surrounded by others. The historic district is worth a walk (four blocks around the main plaza) as the architecture is in the Spanish colonial style, austere on the  outside but often painted in bright colors. If there is only one thing you will remember about the city, it's the architecture. It parallels much of the city's history.

HISTORIC HACIENDAS 

Hacienda Yaxcopoil, Yucatán Hacienda

The Spanish villas are a reminder of the Spanish era Paseo Montejo's mansions. The boulevard was set in motion at the turn of the 20th century when Parisians came to Mérida to manufacture Panama hats from henequen, the Yucatán's main crop. The area exploded with commerce and along with the mansions on the main promenade, three hundred haciendas were built in the outlying areas.  

Historic Mansion on Paseo de Montejo

YUCATÁN FOOD SPECIALTIES

Cochinita Pibil 

Food is plentiful and cheap and prices are a welcome rest from the high prices on the coast. The flavors are unique. The Yucatán prides itself on its food, so don't fail to try out local fare—from salbutes, tortes, and panuchos to pibil chicken and mole. Fresh fruit ice cream—mango, coconut, banana, mamey, guanabana—is a must at the hundred plus year old cream parlor on the main square, Dulceria y Sorbeteria Colon.

LODGING

Lodging runs the gamut from inexpensive hotels like the Trinidad Santiago (Calle 62 at 55) to high-end, like El Palacito Secreto, with everything in between. This city hosts a number of small, smart and charming hotels that can be had for reasonable prices, often in the historic district. This makes for easy walking to shops and restaurants. 

Hotel Trinidad Santiago

            

Hotel El Palacito Secreto

THE MAYA

Topmost in Merida is the presence of the modern day Maya. Merida has the highest indigenous population of any city in Mexico where descendants of the ancient Maya live and thrive in this massive metropolis that teams with life, history, and a combination of old and new.

Maya Children (By Naatil.org)

If you enjoyed this post, check out  Where the Sky is Born: Living in the Land of the Maya, on Amazon. My website is www.jeaninekitchel.com. Books one and two in my Mexico cartel trilogy, Wheels Up—A Novel of Drugs, Cartels and Survival, and Tulum Takedown, are also on Amazon. And my journalistic overview of the Maya 2012 calendar phenomenon, Maya 2012 Revealed: Demystifying the Prophecy, is on Amazon.

TRIBUTE TO A MERIDA TRADITION—ALBERTO'S CONTINTENTAL PATIO RESTAURANT

                                    

Plaque on Alberto's wall (Yucatán Times)

Since the holidays are upon us, what better time to reminisce about food and places we just couldn't get enough of. My pleasure with Alberto's Continental Patio restaurant in Merida went so far that I even wrote it into the story of Wheels Up—A Novel of Drugs, Cartels and Survival.

"Clay and Layla stopped in front of Alberto's Continental Cuisine, a white-washed mansion turned restaurant a few blocks from the main plaza. After a quick nod of acceptance from Layla, the couple entered. Inside they discovered an oasis filled with antiques and art.

The back wall displayed Madonna art, all in wood and brass next to an ethereal painting of a floating Guadalupe along with a twelve foot cross displayed amid Maya idols. They walked up polished marble stairs to where an older gentleman in a tired business suit stood next to a mostradore." 

Alberto Salum (by Joe Stines)

For the record, Merida is a city obsessed with food, from street vendors selling peso-tasty tacos and salbutes to high-end establishments sporting white tablecloths, silver candelabra, and old school wait staffs trained to anticipate your every need. Alberto's fell into the latter category.

ALBERTO SALUM

Though Alberto's Continental Patio has been closed since 2013, then reincarnated as Patio 57 until 2018, I'm sharing a memory of both the iconic restaurant and it's equally charming and loquacious owner, Alberto Salum. It is with great sadness I report Alberto died October 1, 2021, in Merida. He was in his eighties.

Outdoor patio, during Patio 57 reincarnation. (TripAdvisor)

His great-grandfather had migrated to Mexico from Syria in 1894, and Alberto and his brother José were Mexican born and bred, perfect delegates for the glories and grandeur of the country, city and peninsula they called home. Alberto's Continental Patio was an ode to not only their chosen city, Merida, but to foods native to Merida, the Yucatán Peninsula, and Syria, their family's homeland, though the restaurant's Lebanese dishes were borrowed from their great-grandfather's recipes. 

MENU POTPOURRI

What? you say. How does one combine shish kebab, baba ghanoush, and hummus with chicken pibil, gulf seafood, and margaritas? With innovation and grace, found in copious amounts at Alberto's. It's why, as stated in Alberto's obituary in the Yucatán Times, "the strikingly handsome dining spot was full of character, with an eclectic collection of antiques, paintings, and sculptures."

And oh, what an assortment of art! I stumbled onto the restaurant on an early trip to Merida in the late 1980s. Wanting to not be too near the main plaza, we began to make wider concentric loops around the tourist district and hit pay dirt when we fell upon Alberto's at Calle 64 and Calle 57. 

Foyer of Alberto's Continental but during Patio 57 years

We entered and climbed the marble stairs that stretched onto a long, welcoming foyer. Before us on the left we viewed a wall chock full of grand paintings. Directly in front of us was a massive credenza. Standing next to it was a tall older gentleman in a tired business suit. He smiled and made a slight bow. Could it be Alberto? Indeed it was!

"Dinner?" he asked, waving menus with a flourish. We nodded.

"Dining room?" He pointed to a well-lit room on his right filled with a long center table and a number of four-tops placed around it. Crisp white table cloths and silver candelabra lit by gorgeous glass chandeliers gave the room a patina of pageantry and decorum. "Or," and he paused theatrically as he pointed to his left, "The courtyard garden?" 

CHOICES

A difficult choice. I couldn't take my eyes off the lavish dining room with its sublime lighting, the pomp and circumstance.

He must have seen the pickle I was in. Glamorous dining room or jungly courtyard that bore a tumble of palms, orchids, bromeliads and dead center, the largest banyan I'd yet to see. White linen-draped tables surrounded the massive tree and an ornamental bar to one side boasted more art—but this time with crucifixes in every conceivable material. They cluttered the wall above a liquor-laden mahogany counter, a dueling oxymoron of sin.

Wall behind bar in a more recent iteration (Yucatan Times)

But that first night, I was drawn to the spacious dining room with its sublime lighting and decorum. An obliging smile crossed his lips. "First would you like a cocktail in the courtyard? A margarita? Then we'll move to the dining room."

We followed him as though he was the Pied Piper. He moved towards the Holy Bar to mix up a couple concoctions after seating us with another flourish at the perfect table. We were the only customers to be had. We fell on the drinks as though we'd spent a waterless month in the Sahara. A not wholly unexpected second round was to follow.

As we entered the dining room. Alberto found us another perfect spot. Only one other table was occupied at the far corner of the room and the couple appeared ready to depart. He brought menus, we ordered, and after we finished a delectable meal, he walked over to check if everything had been up to par.

AND SO IT BEGINS

Here is where the true story begins. Or as Alberto would often say, "And that's how my story began in the land of Yucatán."

"Would you like to see my private collection in the back?" he asked without fanfare.

Indeed we would. He took us down a hall crowded to near overflow with antiques and paintings into a small crowded room. The walls were crammed with oil paintings. Pre-Columbian style artwork sat on the floor—statues, plaques, artifacts. He had numerous stories about it all and we were rapt listeners as this highly unusual raconteur talked on. He told us the building itself dated back to 1727 and was adorned with some of the original stones from the Maya temple it replaced. The mosaic floors were from Cuba. I'm sure much more was said but one can only take in so much. (Damn those margaritas).

Mosaic floors in Patio 57 phase (TripAdvisor)

Perhaps this occasion of seeing his back rooms and hearing unbelievable stories of Merida, the art world, the Yucatán and his early life in nearby pueblo Sisal as a cloth salesman before opening the restaurant, a short stint in Palo Alto, CA, as a dentist, and archeological tales about pyramid sites—not to mention the great food—were what bequeathed him early on a successful business that was lauded by numerous and well-known reviewers. His secret: he treated the place as if it was his own living room.

THE HEYDAY

According to obit writer Lee Steele, Merida had already changed quite a bit from its 1960s, '70s and 80's heyday, back when it was listed in guide books and travels stories. In 1985, The New York Times food writer R.W. Apple Jr. included Alberto's "lime soup" and excellent Arab dishes in a nationwide list of recommended dining spots. And ten years later, Susan Spano, also of the Times, called Alberto's a "culinary institution."

"At my courtyard table there, I could see the stars between the branches of an ancient rubber tree snuggled against the wall. Candles glowed. A guitarist played. The menu featured Mexican, Yucatan, and Lebanese dishes—which make surprisingly happy plate mates," she wrote. Even Diana Kennedy, famous expat Mexican author, in her Essential Cuisines of Mexico cookbook clocked in when she described being in his kitchen and charbroiling a chicken for the recipe Pollo en Escabeche.

Outdoor patio (Yucatan Magazine)

Alberto's was a romantic restaurant of the old school. The curved Moorish arches, the mosaic floor. And, as stated by Yucatán Times, it's antiquity was underscored by the countless antiques and oils, archeological relics in this softly lit over-the-top charming hacienda.

What star was I born under that I could experience Alberto and his cuisine over and over again? Every chance I had I dragged our family and guests that three-hour drive from Puerto Morelos to Merida. We'd spend the night in the Gran Hotel in the historic district, play all day in Merida's many markets and shops and walk its narrow streets. Around seven we'd head over to Alberto's. It's still a fond memory for them all, I am delighted to say; you simply cannot forget Alberto. 

"No one met Alberto and left without a story, a memory, or artifact," said Joe Stines, a close friend.

Gran Hotel in Merida

If you enjoyed this post, check out my memoir Where the Sky is Born: Living in the Land of the Maya. It's available on Amazon with tales of expat life and living within 100 miles of four major pyramid sites. Also, check out my website at www.jeaninekitchel.com. Books one and two in my Mexico cartel trilogy, Wheels Up—A Novel of Drugs, Cartels and Survival, and Tulum Takedown, are available on Amazon where my overview of the 2012 Maya calendar phenomenon, Maya 2012 Revealed—Demystifying the Prophecy, can also be found. 

 

 

THE MAYA STRUGGLE THAT LASTED GENERATIONS—THE CASTE WAR OF YUCATÁN

      

Original mural depicting Caste War from Belize.com at Corozal Board Building

                                               

Living in the land of the Maya one takes for granted the solemn undercurrent of a revered, majestic culture that built pyramids, developed the concept of zero, and for centuries, quietly held their ground against the Spanish when their Aztec cousins had succumbed to The Conquest in a heartbeat.

While sunbathing on endless white sand beaches, snorkeling off the Great Meso-America Reef or simply kicking back to enjoy Mexico’s gracious hospitality, it’s easy to forget to whom one owes allegiance in Quintana Roo. But just beneath the surface of a postcard perfect existence lies a Yucatán tale that isn’t much talked about but has set the tone for the past century: the Caste War of Yucatán.

When cultures collide, history requires a winner and a loser. But in Quintana Roo after the Caste War, which began in 1847 and ended first in 1901 and again in 1935 with a half-hearted truce, it’s difficult to determine who won the battle and which side lost the war.

UNSAFE PASSAGE

From 1847 until the 1930s, the Caste War made it impossible for a light-skinned person to walk into the eastern Yucatán or the territory of Quintana Roo and come out alive. This was a place where only indigenous Maya could safely roam. Anyone with light skin was killed on sight. What caused the fierceness of this Maya uprising that lasted nearly a century?

No single element alone instigated the rebellion, but as in most revolutions, a long dominated underclass was finally pushed to its limits by an overbearing ruling class that had performed intolerable deeds. Indentured servitude, land grabbing, and restrictive water rights were but a few issues that pushed the Maya into full-fledged revolt against their Yucatan overlords.

MEXICAN WAR AND THE MAYA

Mural of Caste War in Municipal Building in Valladolid

The history of the Caste War, not unlike Mexico’s dramatic history, is complicated. Mexico’s successful break with Spain led to changes in the Yucatán government, including arming the Maya to help fight the Mexican war against the US in Texas. Maya numbers were needed to assure victory. Armed with rifles and machetes, this tactic backfired in Valladolid, considered the most elitist and race conscious city in the Yucatán.

After a decade of skirmishes, in 1847, when the newly armed Maya heard one of their leaders had been put to death by firing squad, a long simmering rebellion broke out into full-fledged battle. The Maya rose up and marched on Valladolid, hacking 85 to death by machete, burning, raping, and pillaging along the way.

VALLADOLID MASSACRE

Merida braced itself, sure to be the next staging ground for what was fast becoming a race war. In retaliation for the Valladolid massacre, Yucatecans descended on the ranch of a Maya leader and raped a 12-year old indigenous girl. With this affront, eight Maya tribes joined forces and drove the entire white population of Yucatán to Merida, burning houses and pillaging as they went. So fierce was the slaughter that anyone who was not of Maya descent prepared to evacuate Merida and the peninsula by boat.

But just as the Maya tribes approached Merida, sure of victory, fate intervened when great clouds of winged ants appeared in the sky. With this first sign of rain coming, the Maya knew it was time to begin planting. They laid down their machetes against the pleadings of their chiefs and headed home to their milpas (cornfields). It was time to plant corn—a thing as simple and ancient as that.

YUCATECANS STAGE COMEBACK

In 1848 the Yucatecans staged a comback, killed Maya leaders, and reunified. But as the Maya harvested corn planted in hidden fields, they kept fighting, relying on guerrilla tactics to preserve the only life they knew.

Throughout it all, the Maya were pushed to the eastern and southern regions of the Yucatán Peninsula and Quintana Roo, as far south as Bacalar. Mexico slowly gained control over the Yucatán, but rebel Maya held firmly onto QRoo, using Chan Santa Cruz (Felipe Carrillo Puerto) as their base.

Tired from years of struggle, the Maya regained confidence from an unlikely source: a talking cross found deep in the jungle near a cenote.

CHURCH OF THE SPEAKING CROSS

Stay tuned for Part 2 of the Caste War of Yucatán—The Church of the Speaking Cross and the Chan Santa Cruz Maya, in my next post, January 8. To learn more on the subject, The Caste War of Yucatán by Nelson Reed, one of my reference materials, is an excellent read.

Painting by Mario Jiminez

Nelson Reed's The Caste War of Yucatán

For more information on my writing, check out my website at www.jeaninekitchel.com. Where the Sky is Born: Living in the Land of the Maya, is available on Amazon as are books one and two of my Wheels Up cartel trilogy, Wheels Up—A Novel of Drugs, Cartels and Survival, and Tulum Takedown, also on Amazon. For you Mayaphiles, my journalistic overview of the Maya 2012 calendar is also on Amazon–-Maya 2012 Revealed: Demystifying the Prophecy. 

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