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.

 

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. 

 

 

MEXICO'S MARVELS—CENOTES OF THE YUCATAN

 

Cenote in Yucatan 

Tangled green vines brush against my face as I trek behind our guide deeper into the low-lying Yucatan jungle. The narrow, gnarly path—recently cut by machete—oozes damp, musty smells.

It is July, rainy season in Mexico, and temperatures are in the nineties, a veritable heat wave. We’re in search of a cenote, a clear fresh water pool, also known as a sinkhole here in the Yucatan, a place the Maya named Sian Ka'an or Where the Sky is Born.

Although the Maya used these ancient wells as their water source in an arid land that offered few rivers, our search is for recreational purposes. We plan to cool off in the cenote’s crystal waters, to swim and maybe snorkel.

Traipsing through thick forest growth alongside a mangrove swamp, little did I realize this jungle spot forty miles south of Cancun and just seven miles north of Playa del Carmen (Tres Rios) would many years later become a major resort. With a wave of the hand, our guide motions us to follow.

Tres Rios cenote (haciendotresrios.com)

We ford the stream behind him and into a clearing. Now surrounded by brilliant green foliage, the scene becomes a primeval forest. The clarity of the cenote is beyond comparison. Gazing into it I see mangrove tree trunks reaching up from the pool’s bottom, breaking the waterline and stretching high into the tropical sky. 

Cenotes are plentiful in this part of Mexico and have become a favorite tourist attraction as vacationers discover they’re an ideal place to cool off in the sultry climate of the Riviera Maya. Nearly five hundred are known to exist in the Northeastern Yucatan where Maya civilization flourished for 3500 years from 2000 BC to 1521 AD. 

Cenote Bang by USGS.gov

To the Maya, a culture made great by ruling dynasties and strong religious beliefs, cenotes were more than just a water source. The Maya believed cenotes were the sacred entrance to the underworld of spirits where Chaac, the rain god, lived. On a parched peninsula, Chaac ruled in a long line of spiritual dieties. Water is life.

Of the Yucatan’s numerous cenotes, perhaps best known is the Sacred Cenote at Chichen Itza, a ceremonial center known for towering pyramids and spring and fall equinox displays of shadow and light. The vertical wall cenote has a diameter of 160 feet and measures 60 feet from its lip to the water surface below. Made famous by archeological explorer Edward H. Thompson, this well brought forth its diabolic history when Thompson dredged it in 1904.

Thompson knew Maya life intertwined agriculture, religion and water. Due to agricultural needs to feed a burgeoning  population, the Maya calendar was developed to determine auspicious dates for planting and harvesting. Thompson also knew the calendar was interpreted by the priests, but as their promises failed to bring rain, he’d heard human sacrifices were thrown into the cenote to appease Chaac. He was also positive that along with the maidens, other offerings would also have been made.

The Boston explorer tested his theory by creating a diving aparatus and taking diving lessons, hiring a Greek diver to assist him, traveled to Boston to buy a derrick and thirty-foot boom, designed his own diving apparatus, and shipped it all to the Yucatan.

Edward H. Thompson (photo americanegypt.com)

On his return, he dove and dredged the Sacred Cenote daily. Finally, about six weeks in, he came up with gold and copper discs, figures of Maya gods and the clincher, human skeletons. His exploration of the cenote proved that human sacrifice was indeed a part of Maya life, with human sacrifice hopefully giving them access to the rain god and his whims.

Chicen Itza's cenote is but one of many in the Yucatan. Part 2 will explore how cenotes were formed and give details on some of the more popular ones on the Peninsula. Stay tuned.

For more information on the Maya, Mexico and the Yucatan, check out my website, www.jeaninekitchel.com. My travel memoir, Where the Sky is Born: Living in the Land of the Maya, is available on Amazon.com. Also on Amazon, are books one and two in my Mexico cartel thriller trilogy, Wheels Up—A Novel of Drugs, Cartels and Survival, and Tulum Takedown. Subscribe to my blog above for my writings on Mexico and the Maya.

HOW MOVING TO MEXICO KICKSTARTED MY WRITING CAREER

 

I became an author after writing a travel memoir about living as an expat in a fishing village on Mexican’s Caribbean coast south of Cancun, long before self-publishing was a thing. As a former journalist, writing came easily to me.

When my husband and I dropped out of San Francisco’s corporate world to move to Mexico, friends and family thought we were crazy. But we’d traveled to Mexico for years and had fallen in love with it. Once settled, I opened a bookstore in our pueblo, Puerto Morelos, and named it Alma Libre Libros—Free Spirit Books. I had a tale to tell.

Every year we returned to the States to buy more books during Mexico’s low season, summer and early fall months when tourism is light. One year during our annual buying spree I decided to attend a writers conference. I pitched publishers, agents, and editors. Nothing gelled.

AHA MOMENT 

At the conference, self-publishing guru Dan Poynter packed the room to overflow at all his lectures. He’d even developed an “E-Reader,” long before Amazon’s Kindle. We all know how that ended up, not with Dan! But his self-publishing ideas were innovative and hands on. He’d had good luck self-publishing his own books and had developed a solid formula, from formatting and cover design to sales and marketing. His book, The Self Publishing Manual, covered everything a newbie like me needed to know.

Feeling empowered by his part cheerleader, part evangelist message on the new world of self-publishing, I took the the bull by the horns and decided to just do it. My writing group had two experienced authors who vowed to assist in editing, and the book nearly wrote itself. After all, it was a slice of life tale—how I bought land, built a house, and moved lock, stock and barrel to a remote fishing village in southern Mexico. After the conference I got serious about writing my memoir, Where the Sky is Born: Living in the Land of the Maya.

PRE-PUBLICATION BLUES 

Back then formatting wasn’t done with a Word or Pages program. It was done by a typesetter—a human! Someone referred me and I went with their suggestion. In about four weeks that was handled. For the cover, since I was writing about life amidst the pyramids, Paul and I took to the road, and with camera and tripod in hand, headed to Tulum, one of the most picturesque of Maya pyramid sites. He got some great shots for the front cover, and for the back cover, the wooden dock of our picturesque pueblo, Puerto Morelos, served me well. 

I found a cover designer from Dan Poynter’s list of designers in his self-publishing manual and she came through nicely. After the typesetting was done and proofed, I was ready to print. I located a printer, signed on for a thousand copies, and voila! A book was born!

THE EDITING CONUNDRUM

After finishing that long awaited first draft, I suggest setting the book aside for a few days. Think on it, dream on it, then give it another pass. When you have your i’s dotted and all t’s are crossed, pass it off to your content editor (if you write fiction). At the very end, after the editor has marked it up like your 10th grade term paper and you’ve folded in changes and suggestions, with your editor’s blessing, pass it to a line editor or proof reader. Some authors incorporate Beta readers into the process, and their insights can be beneficial plus you earn their reader devotion by asking them to help you out

For formatting, since I’m not super tech savvy, I hired a formatter for both paperback and e-format. And for covers on my two fiction books, part of the Wheels Up Yucatán Thriller trilogy, an artist friend in Todos Santos, Baja California, Mexico, allowed me to use two pieces of art that worked out incredibly well. I’ve long been a fan of her work and asked if she would consider my use of her art for the cover. I was floored when she accepted. We worked out a trade agreement—my books for her art, a win-win all around. She sells the books in her gallery. I sent her artwork to a graphic artist to design the title, back cover, and spine.

THE PR DRILL

After publication, next up was public relations and marketing. In those days, one sent PR releases to

newspapers and magazines for review. I snagged several, including one in United Air’s inline flight magazine, and waited for orders to roll in. I had an email list of friends and family—a must—and that helped a lot. Word of mouth was my biggest advantage, and since we owned the bookstore, people knew the book was coming.

But those long ago days have changed. Now most sales are online through Amazon or Ingram Spark, Barnes & Noble, or Apple. And regarding getting a book prepared to publish, tech savvy indie authors format their own work, sometimes even their covers, though I’d advise against that. Professional designers produce a professional cover. 

THE NEXT STEP

Marketing, especially for indies, is a tough go and deserves a post of its own. I won’t go into it here, but be prepared to wear not only your writer’s cap but also a marketing cap if you want to see sales results. And find that lone brick and mortar bookstore in your town or city and ask them to carry

your book and host a book signing. Innovation, dedication, and consistency help, and networking is key. Get to know local writers and tap into the large community of writers worldwide through social media. Writers are no longer isolated, but part of a creative movement that stretches to all parts of the world. It’s an exciting time to write. Just look at it like this: Hemingway’s Paris cafe has gone global.

Happy writing! I continue to write, now penning a Mexico cartel trilogy, and I wrote a non-fiction book on the Maya 2012 calendar phenomenon, Maya 2012 Revealed.

Check out my website www.jeaninekitchel.com for information on Wheels Up—A Novel of Drugs, Cartels and Survival, and Tulum Takedown, books one and two in my Wheels Up Mexico cartel thriller trilogy. Sign up for future blog posts in the link above.

GRINGO MADNESS: ADVENTURES IN OPENING A BOOKSTORE IN MEXICO

 

Imagine transporting ten thousand used books from San Francisco to Puerto Morelos, Mexico, and then trying to clear customs without the proper paperwork. In September 1997 that was my first exposure to the world of owning and operating a bookstore in Mexico—Alma Libre Libros.

Yes, I eventually managed to clear customs. I can only believe that after three weeks of staring at two hundred boxes of books on their dock, some customs official decided to clear the deck and release them. Before leaving our nine to five jobs in San Francisco and making the move, we struggled with the protocol of how to bring the books in. Our contractor had lived there forever and at long last, we followed his advice. "Don't bother to go to the Mexican Consulate before you come down," he told me and my husband. "Just ship the books and see what happens. It's Mexico."

Although we could have received better advice, this wait and see attitude did do the trick. But clearing customs was only the beginning of the challenge to set up shop. We'd planned for years to be at this point in opening the store. Three years prior to moving we shopped for used books on weekends at garage sales, thrift shops, and Friends of the Library sales around San Francisco and even ran classified ads for books. We eventually ran out of space in our Half Moon Bay home and rented a Bekins Storage unit in nearby Redwood City to house them.

I attended a weekend workshop at a community college on how to start a used bookstore, and decided to follow a tried and true formula—for the US at least—on how to realize our dream. We set up the store on a Buy-Sell-Trade basis which would allow readers to trade in used books for store credit. It would generate new titles, buck up inventory, and allow customers to read new books for little, if any, cost.

We learned what percent to have in hardback versus paperback; how much fiction to carry along with mystery, thrillers, sci-fi, metaphysics, art, hobbies—up to twenty genres. Living near San Francisco proved fortunate in that we found an eclectic, wide-ranging mix of titles and customers commented on our selection.

Thinking ahead we contacted our eventual landlord two years before the move and asked if there were any shops on the town zocalo that might be coming available. He soon advised that something was opening up. We started paying rent on shop space in January 1996 even though we knew we couldn't escape San Francisco till late 1997. But location is important. On that note, one might ask why Puerto Morelos? (Easy commute). And we liked the idea of facing the town square.

Our work was cut out for us soon after we arrived from our 4,500 drive from Northern California down to southern Mexico. We immediately began the process for our FM3, or working papers, through a notary. Although it took only three months for our immigration certification to be completed, it felt like a lifetime as at times we had to make daily trips to the notary's office in Cancun to give and retrieve information due to his failure to properly inform us on various procedures.

Meanwhile, the books sat in our yet unopened store. We had the walls painted a bright mustard yellow and the window trims painted Maya Azul, a lovely shade of turquoise that mirrored the color of the Caribbean Sea.

Our next trauma was having bookshelves made. We needed to accommodate both hardback and paperback and decided to go floor-to-ceiling in pine. As luck would have it, by the time our carpenter purchased the wood, torrential rains had railed for two weeks straight. It was now early December and we were chomping at the bit to start alphabetizing and sorting books, all ten thousand of them. As we alphabetized, the carpenter began to bring in shelves but told us not to stack books on them for two days to let the wood dry completely. We waited, then cut strips of cardboard and tacked it onto the shelves first—for safety's sake—in case the shelves were still damp.

After four tiresome days of alphabetical sorting, we began placing books on shelves. We were eager to see the fruits of our labors shelved on the beautiful new wood. We had begun early in the morning that day and pushed ourselves to finish putting all fiction in place, along with spy-thriller, another large section genre. Around six that night we were breaking for dinner and Paul happened to touch the cardboard under one section. To his horror it was soaked—lying in wait to reach our books. Nightmare on Elm Street! Like two maniacs who'd just seen Freddy Kruger, we tore our books off the shelves desperately trying to keep some semblance of order after all those days of sorting. Tension was high. Tourist season was upon us. We had bookshelves but they were unusable in the state they were in.   

So we did what any normal thinking person would do—early the next day we brought out hairdryers and began drying shelves like a shag haircut. When that didn't work, as soon as the sun made an appearance, Paul broke the shelves down and pulled them into the streets to dry the old-fashioned way—with solar power. We can only imagine what the locals were thinking—Crazy gringos! We dragged wet planks of wood into the street, at one point creating a traffic jam. Picture Laurel and Hardy. What a backwards way to begin a business! 

Since patience was neither of our virtues, the next week painfully dragged along. We cut more cardboard and re-tacked it to the shelves. A couple days later all our books were off the floor and on display. On December 20, just in time for winter solstice, we opened our doors. 

We were astounded at the goodwill we received on opening. Even though most of our books were in English, many locals read both Spanish and English. We immediately started trading books, requesting more Spanish language books along with German, French and Italian.

The next week we searched Cancun for a humidifier for the store. Equipped with a relative humidity indicator and now a dehumidifier, we managed to control the store humidity to the perfect temp for books—about fifty percent—as explained to us by the manager of Green Apple Books, San Francisco. Any more humidity and the pages don't retain their crispness, any less and the crowns of the books begin to crack and break.

In those days, summer travel wasn't a thing in the Riviera Maya, so we'd close shop and May through August—low season—we headed back to the States for more books, gathering around four thousand additional titles per buying spree. After the first couple years we were up to sixteen thousand books and began to offer new books on the Maya, Maya culture, pyramids, Latin fiction, ecology and the local environment, birds, mammals, fish, and guide books on the region.

We received many accolades as our reputation grew and were written up in numerous travel guides. We were one of six bookstores in the state of Quintana Roo, the only one with a cache of books so large, both in English and Spanish. My favorite write-up came from the Rough Guide to Mexico, stating we were "the largest English language bookstore from Mexico City to Guatemala." Our local customers came from as far away as Chetumal, and we were a common port stop for sailboats sailing down the Caribbean Coast. Though we no longer have the store, it's now in its third rendition, with owners Caleb and Nicole Moss. Twenty three years in business, and a true gem of Puerto Morelos.

                                                                 ***

Check out my website http://www.jeaninekitchel.com for further adventures on life as an expat in Mexico, Where the Sky is Born: Living in the Land of the Maya. Wheels Up—A Novel of Drugs, Cartels and Survival, and Tulum Takedown, are books two and three in the Wheels Up Yucatán thriller trilogy. Sign in above to keep up with my next tale from the Yucatán.

WHY THE MAYA?

Chac Mool at Chichen Itza

I've been totally entranced with the Maya since I started visiting Mexico's Yucatan Peninsula in the 1980s. Living in California made the west coast an easy destination, and I'd traveled extensively from Guadalajara and San Blas to Acapulco and back more times than I can remember, but had never ventured to the Yucatan or Quintana Roo.  But the pyramids had always beckoned, and it wasn't until I met Paul, who later became my husband, that I made the trek cross country to Mexico's east coast.  Well, I fell in love. Totally, unequivocally, hard.  I've never made it back to the west coast since.  There was just something about the Maya, the pyramids, the culture, and the outbackness of the Yucatan that did it for me.

AWESOME VACATIONS

We started out early on just having awesome vacations.  First we traveled to Isla Mujeres in 1983. It was so 'undiscovered', that when we went to a travel agent in San Francisco, she'd never heard of it.  We assured her it existed as a friend told me there were two great islands off the Cancun coast --Cozumel and Isla Mujeres.  She said if I wanted to get a more real feel for Mexico, go to Isla Mujeres, so we did.

We arrived on the last ferry from the mainland, in those days called the people's ferry, and by the time we reached the hotel, El Faro, out near North Beach, they'd given away our reservation.  It took them an hour to locate our room.  We discovered an outdoor bar under a palapa, settled in, tired from the long trip,  and sipped a cool drink while they figured things out. The air was warm, there was a light breeze, the stars were out.  I felt like I'd died and gone to heaven.  I could have just slept under that palapa.  I was falling in love.  With a place, with a country.  Ayyyy caramba!

FALLING FOR ISLA

Our adventure started the next day when we ran into the ferry captain at a little restaurant on the beach we nicknamed The No Name Cafe.  He was moonlighting as a waiter--his aunt owned it, he explained-- and he helped her out in the daytime.  This was our first clue that Mexico was different from where we'd come from.  People led different lives.  Completely different.  Waiter by day, ferry captain by night?  He was friendly and fun, and we said we'd be back.

The Author at the No Name Cafe

Although we liked El Faro, we'd heard about a romantic little place on the beach far out of town called Maria's.  It had only six rooms and a great French restaurant, and we knew it was hard to get reservations--at either place.  We hopped into a cab around noon and breezed on out there. Wow.  What a set-up.  The cabanas were situated down a garden path crowded on either side by bougainvilllas, flor de Maya, and hibiscus. The path itself was made from cement that had been hand stamped with little iguanas, just too cute to describe.  We saw the charming restaurant with zapote deck nestled on top of the cabanas.  It had a palapa roof, enormous jungly plants, white table cloths on the tables, candles and flowers, too.  This was the place!  We were ushered in by a waiter dressed in white; only one other couple was dining.

MARIA'S

He brought us the menu and we ordered French onion soup and little else that I can recall.  The day was hot and we were really there to try and get a reservation for the cabanas.  "Do you have any openings in the hotel?" I asked.

"You have to talk to Maria," the waiter told me.

A few minutes later Maria came out.  She was worldly, in her forties, dark-haired, curvaceous and quick.  She took a liking to us, sat down at our table and asked if we'd like a glass of wine.  "Por supuesto!"

She assured us she had one room, not her best, but if we were willing to take it, the couple who was occupying the best room would be leaving in two days.  A fait accompli!  We had a room at Maria's.

"Why don't you go down to my beach," she instructed, "and look at the large tortugos.  Sea turtles."

At Maria's on Isla Mujeres

SEA TURTLES

Following her instructions, we passed the compact kitchen and an enclosure for her live lobsters with scale nearby, then wandered down another garden path that soon led to the beach and there it was:  white sand, bleached out Adirondack chairs just waiting for someone like me to sit in them and that flat turquoise sea.  A wood stick cage with door wide open sat on the far side of Maria's dock.

"I want to put my feet in the water," I told Paul, as I ambled towards the sea.

Bath tub warm.  My favorite part about the Caribbean.  The water is so warm.  I waded in up to my ankles, stood and just stared, and then I saw him.  A huge sea turtle!  His green mottled body swam towards me with his flippers outspread.  He must have weighed three hundred pounds, and he was right in front of me.

WHAT COULD BE BETTER?

"He always goes in at night," I heard someone say.  Where did he come from?  I turned and recognized the desk clerk who was doubling as a beach sweeper, now standing next to me.  "Into the cage.  She has us let them out each day, but they always go into the cage at night, on their own."

"Interesting," I said.  "You'd think he'd want to be free."

"But we're at Maria's," he said.  "What could be better than this?"