MASTER POTTER JUAN QUEZADA CELADO, 81, DIES IN MATA ORTIZ, MEXICO

 

Juan Quezada Celado in Mata Ortiz

Juan Quezada Celado died at his ranch in Mata Ortiz, northern Chihuahua, on December 1. The master artisan, famous for resurrecting a pottery style known as Mata Ortiz, was 81.

I became aware of Mata Ortiz pottery and its founder, Juan Quezada Celado, quite by accident after meeting Santa Barbara potter Rebecca Russell at a tai chi class last year. Somehow we started talking about Mexico. She told me her pottery work drew her there and she'd traveled to northern Chihuahua to study with Juan Quezada who'd developed a style known as Mata Ortiz. 

I'd lived in Mexico for 17 years and hadn't heard of it. The most common pottery style in Quintana Roo, my stomping grounds, came from Puebla, the Talavera style, characterized by bright colors and diverse patterns with a high glaze finish. Talavera was widely marketed in QRoo, the Yucatan, and throughout Mexico. 

Rebecca showed me her business card with a photo of the Mata Ortiz style. It was like nothing I'd seen before, very elegant, different. She spoke with great respect of Quezada and I later researched both the artist and Mata Ortiz pottery.

Juan Quezada's life story reads like a fairytale. It's the story of a poor woodcutter who transformed himself into one of the most famous artists in Mexico. It's also a tale of a dusty Mexican village that learned how to fashion dirt into clay, transforming it into something beautiful. 

A young Juan Quezada had been forced to quit school to help his family survive. He picked firewood in the surrounding area where a sophisticated pre-Columbian culture had once thrived around the city of Paquime (also called Casas Grandes). It dominated the region for 300 years around 1200 AD and had been famous for ceramics featuring geometric designs in red, black, yellow, and brown which were traded throughout North America.

The boy found ancient pottery fragments as he worked. He even found shards in his own backyard—both Casas Grandes style and an older style still, Mimes, that dated from 200 AD, characterized by bold black on white zoomorphic designs. With his burro, he eventually went farther into the mountains collecting firewood and picking up bright shards along the way.

Though no one seemed to know about the people who made the pottery, everyone knew of the ruins 15 miles north, Paquimé, the center of the Casas Grandes culture. The mounds on the plains were the remains of the outlying communities that spread for miles around the site. At dusk by the light of his campfire, he'd examine his daily collection of shards, trying to figure out how they had been made. At home he dug clay from the arroyos, soaked it, and tried to make pots. They all cracked. Eventually Juan studied the broken pieces and realized that mixing in a little sand would prevent the cracking. His interest led him to the study of the pre-Hispanic pottery of the ancient cultures so close to his village. In time, he figured out how to make round bottoms similar to the prehistoric pots by making a mold after finding some in the outlying mounds. 

Gradually he mastered the process. As a young man, without any instruction, he was making and decorating credible pots for his own pleasure. He had re-created the entire ceramic technology from clay preparation to firing, using only shards to guide him, without help from ceramicists or specialists. But now married, he needed a variety of jobs to keep food on the table for his family—from working as a cowboy to railroad worker, leaving less time to make pottery.

But pottery still enticed him. In 1974 he decided to concentrate on making pots. He could sell enough with local traders to risk leaving his job on the railroad; earnings from the sale of just one pot would outdo what he'd earn on repairing rail tracks. His modest success attracted the interest of his siblings and he began to teach them what he'd learned. He became known as the self-taught interpreter of Casas Grandes pottery, sometimes called New Casas Grandes or Mata Ortiz after the village where it originated. 

Initial attempts to sell the pots in his area on a large scale failed, but he had success with border merchants, where his pottery was discovered by an anthropologist, Spencer MacCallum, who tracked Quezada down and helped him break into the larger US market. 

What started with the meeting of Quezada and MacCallum led to MacCallum's promotion of the pottery style across the border. He showed Quezada's pieces to museum curators, universities, and gallery owners. MacCallum's salesmanship and perseverance cemented the interest in these important markets which were essential to the potter's survival. An exhibition at the Museum of Man in San Diego, 1997, helped establish Mata Ortiz pottery as a legitimate art movement and helped it to gain momentum. After a slow start in the marketplace, gradual acceptance gave way to a full-flowering of Mata Ortiz styles and skills, a development that even the most ardent admirers had failed to predict.

Today over 350 Mata Ortiz families earn all or part of their income from pottery, thanks to Quezada. The finely painted ceramicware can rival any handmade pottery in the world. Quezada single-handedly resurrected the style and ancient techniques of his ancestors' pottery.

Quezada's work has been displayed in museums in numerous countries and in 1999 he was awarded the prize of Premio Nacional de Ciencias y Artes in Mexico. Books have been written about him and his style and techniques are well known throughout the world of pottery and beyond. His talent and influence will not be forgotten and his Mata Ortiz pottery style will continue to garner accolades throughout the world. Juan's pottery now sells for thousands of dollars and has found homes with numerous Mexican dignitaries, a Pope, a former US Supreme Court justice, and a former US First Lady. Tourists and art dealers make the trek to Northern Chihuahua in search of his pottery. More important still, Juan Quezada Celado gave his family a skill and art form that ensures a level of economic freedom for not only themselves but for generations to come. 

"He taught us all," said Quezada's youngest sister, Lydia, in a 2020 Washington Post article. "He's a talented teacher." RIP Juan Quezada Celado.

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.

HAWAII'S VOLCANO ERUPTION STIRS MEMORY OF MY BRUSH WITH PELE, GODDESS OF FIRE

Pele, Goddess of Fire and Volcanoes (By Charles Kane)

Mauna Loa, the world's largest active volcano, recently erupted for the first time in 38 years on the island of Hawaii, raising excitement among scientists trying to unlock its many mysteries. Speaking of mysteries, I have one of my own which I'll share here, though it's not about the volcano itself, but about Pele, the goddess who rules volcanoes, and makes her home at the Kilauea Volcano on the Big Island.

Mauna Loa December Eruption (Honolulu Star Advertiser)

THERE STOOD PELE

"Pele's too angry for a goddess!" my Santa Fe astrologer friend who knew about these things said. "Look at Athena and Aphrodite, or Kwan Yin! They don't have tantrums and throw fire around."

I had no idea where she was getting her information, but I had to laugh. "Well, I like her spunk."

We were on Maui after all, and it wasn't prudent to diss goddesses when you were hanging out on their turf. "And Pele is the goddess of fire. Maybe that's what you do when you're a fire goddess." 

"She's over the top. Way too much anger for a goddess. Everyone says so."

That was one of the things I loved about Sherry. She was so far out she considered herself on a personal level with goddesses. It was only fitting that she had a line on their social codes and morés. She would have rolled her eyes if she heard me say that, and then she would have said, stone sober, "Other goddesses."

"Well, when I saw her, she was pretty mellow."

 "What do you mean, when you saw her?"

"I never told you that story?"

We were sitting in upcountry Kula on the slopes of Haleakala. Sherry had landed a gig doing an astrological reading for one of her clients who lived there. The week-long stay included a primo little ohana on the owner's ten-acre property where we sat while this spirited discourse took place. It was a low-slung two-bedroom guest house with stunning vistas of Haleakala Crater and long views that extended down to the isthmus, the far away lime green cane fields, and the blue Pacific.

"No," Sherry said, now a bit huffy. "How could you not tell me this?

"Oh, it happened years ago, just after I met Paul in the eighties, when Lahaina was still low key. That's when I saw Madame Pele."

Good grief, it was now the millennium and I was still coming back to Maui. It seemed like I'd been coming back to the island half my life.

So I began telling Sherry the Madame Pele story. It had started innocently enough. Paul and I had met just weeks before his 40th birthday. He was heading to Maui with a friend to celebrate. As luck would have it, the travel magazine I worked for was staging a conference there and our dates coincided. Serendipity.

I knew nothing about Pele before her Lourdes-like appearance, though I'd always been a big believer in myths, gods and goddesses. When I lived on Maui a year after college, her name never came up.

The "Aha!" factor started the day after the Pele sighting. Paul was sitting in a bar in Lahaina having a late morning Blood Mary, still confused by the previous night's mysterious incident. He laid his tale on the bartender.

"You'll never believe what happened to me last night."

"Don't tell me you saw the woman with the white dog?" the bartender said.

Paul later told me chills ran up and down his spine.

"How did you know?"

"Everyone's been seeing her lately. Madame Pele, goddess of the volcano. She's showing up all over the island."

Paul sat silent for a minute, thinking things through. "Pele? I've got to tell you the story."

"Shoot."

"Well, my girlfriend's here for a conference. She had a meeting last night until nine and I picked her up in Lahaina. Since her hotel's in Wailea, I didn't drink at all before driving to the other side. The road's too dark.

"Right after we passed Puamana on the outskirts of town, we saw a beautiful Hawaiian girl, hitchhiking. She was wearing a turquoise blouse and white shorts, holding a white dog on a leash. I slowed down because I think Jeanine wanted to pick her up, being a retired flower child, but I sped up. It seemed weird. It was late. We really didn't say much after that. I think we were both kind of dazed a the sight of a Hawaiian hitchhiker with a dog at that hour. She seemed out of place.

"Twenty minutes later we get to the Kihei "Y" where you split off to Kihei or Wailuku, and there she was! The same girl with the white dog on a leash. It's like she just materialized!

"I said, 'Did you see that?' We looked at each other as I passed her. I slammed on the brakes and stopped. I'd overshot where she stood, punched the car into reverse, and slammed on the brakes again, this time stopping dead in front of her.

"I leaned over Jeanine, rolled down her window, and all I could think to say was, "How did you get here?" She looked right at me and said, "It was easy."

"I didn't know what to do, so I just took off. Neither of us knew how she did it. Not a single car passed us. You know how Maui roads are at that hour—empty.

"We drove to Wailea, and this morning Jeanine had another meeting on the Lahaina side so I drove her over and here I am, still trying to figure out what the hell happened. Pele? Tell me about her."

"Madame Pele is the goddess of fire and the volcano," the bartender said as he continued his bar set-up. "She shows up as either a beautiful young woman with a white dog or as an old, old woman with long white hair. She walks along the road, hitchhiking. Everyone's been seeing her lately. A lot."

Over the years, Pau and I have discussed, dissected, and argued it, but we always come up with the same answers. We weren't drinking or smoking, and we're not crazy.

Paul is the pragmatic type: Science rules, myths are for sissies, and ghosts and goblins don't exist.

Me, I'm the free spirit, but this was way out of my league. How did that young woman turn up twenty miles down the road in quick order, with her dog, as though she was just waiting for us to come around that bend? We're positive no cars passed. We didn't slow down or stop, so even if a car had picked her up, she'd have been just getting out when we rounded the bend. There was no time for that.

We have no idea how she did it, but Pele being Pele—anything's possible.

Why did she choose us? No clue. Hawaiians can't seem to agree on what it means either and we have asked many. Some say it's good—an omen—like seeing the shroud of Turin; some say it's not so good. Many ask if we spoke to her. If so, then it's a blessing. The one thing all locals seem to agree on is this: Pele shows up most often on Hawaii, the Big Island, her home, where the volcano flows. But this particular week she was a Maui magnet.

Over the years this story has proved to be the ultimate icebreaker. While eating sushi in Santa Cruz years later, Paul was telling the Pele story to the diner next to him. It was a cozy bar, seating for eight at most, an intimate room. Before Paul got to the crazy finish, a visiting Hawaiian at the far end of the bar interrupted. 

"Hey, bra," he said. "I'm from Maui. I'm gonna tell you where she was waiting: at the Kihei "Y." Right?"

Chicken skin! The hair on the back of my neck stood straight up. "How did you know?" I asked as my heart beat a little faster.

"It's an old cemetery. She always shows up there."

Well, that further creeped me out. The goddess knew her turf.

We never did figure it out, and occasionally we still think of Pele, like now, when the volcano flows. Other island friends have had sightings, but never on Maui. One guy we know saw her twice on the Big Island, as the girl. Local magazines sometimes tell Hawaiian tales of "ghost" sightings. But our Pele was no ghost. She was right there in front of us: a beautiful Hawaiian girl with long flowing hair and a white Samoyed. If only I had reached out to touch her. I was that close.

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 THREE SISTERS, THE MILPA GROWING SYSTEM AND THE GENIUS OF INDIGENOUS AGRICULTURE

The Three Sisters (By National Agriculture Archive)

THE THREE SISTERS—CORN, BEANS, SQUASH

Native peoples speak of this type of agriculture—corn, beans and squash— as the three sisters. In Robin Wall Kimmerer's popular classic, Braiding Sweetgrass, the author explains how these three vegetables got the label. These plants together, she says, feed the people, feed the land, and feed the imagination.

There are many stories about how the three sisters came into being and each of them acknowledges these plants as sisters. One take on the story tells of a long winter when people were dropping from hunger. Three women came to a villager's dwelling on a snowy night. One was a tall woman dressed in yellow with long flowing hair. The second wore green and the third was robed in orange.

They came to shelter by the fire. Even though food was scarce, the visiting strangers were fed generously, with their hosts sharing what little they had left. In gratitude for their generosity, the three revealed their true identities—corn, beans and squash—and gave themselves to the people in a bundle of seeds so that they would never go hungry again.

THE GENIUS OF INDIGENOUS AGRICULTURE

For millennia, from Mexico to Montana, women mound up the earth each spring and place the seeds of these plants into the ground, all in the same square foot of soil. It's called the genius of indigenous agriculture. In mid-May, after planting, the corn seed takes water quickly and is the first of the three to emerge from the ground. Drinking in soil and water, the bean seed swells and sends its roots deep down. It breaks the soil to join the corn, which by that time has already grown six inches tall.

Squash takes its time—it is the slow sister. It may be a long while before the first stems poke up, still caught in their seed coat until the leaves split and break free, says Kimmerer in Braiding Sweetgrass.

These three vegetables are not only the core of the Maya milpa and Central American Indigenous peoples. Native American tribes such as the Iriquois and Cherokee acknowledge these vegetables also as the three sisters because they nurtured each other like family when planted together. 

Milpas may seem mysterious to outsiders but they are a traditional agro-forestry system formed by cultures that create a spacial dynamic to maintain local biodiversity in agriculture. This farming technique has been found to bring continuity and security to a culture's food supply, nutrition, and even the social fabric of a village. 

TIME OFF BETWEEN CROPS

In the milpa system, it is customary to have years of rest in between planting crops. This leads to soil fertility, reduces the destruction of weeds, and helps control harmful pests. Because of the time between plantings of a specific milpa, the Maya, though not nomadic, required a great deal of land mass to achieve the proper platform for the milpa to produce at its maximum. In pre-Hispanic times, land was plentiful and these communal ventures—with family members and/or neighbors joining in both with work and the fruits of their labors—much resembled the structure of the Maya ejido system.

And it was not restricted to planting vegetables. The milpa was diverse and could include orchards, livestock and craft activities, even timber harvesting wood for houses, medicinal plants, beekeeping and hunting. All this made for a complex and varied system that retained sustainability and the use of the land's resources.

THE MILPA CYCLE

A Man and His Son in Their Milpa

The milpa cycle involves two years of cultivation and eight years of fallow or secondary growth to allow for the natural regeneration of vegetation. As long as this rotation continues without shortening fallow periods, the system can be sustained indefinitely.

So unique is the milpa system that after three thousand years, the milpa has received worldwide recognition from the United Nations, as noted in a recent article in "Yucatán Magazine."

UNITED NATIONS RECOGNITION

The UN was impressed by the ancient system for its complexity as a productive model that includes the combined cultivation of beans, pumpkin, and mainly corn, the basis of regional food since ancient timeSquash takes its time—it is the slow sister. It may be a long while before the first stems poke up, still caught in their seed coat until the leaves split and break free, says Kimmerer in Braiding Sweetgrass.

These three vegetables are not only the core of the Maya milpa and Central American Indigenous peoples. Native American tribes such as the Iriquois and Cherokee acknowledge these vegetables also as the three sisters because they nurtured each other like family when planted together. 

Milpas may seem mysterious to outsiders but they are a traditional agro-forestry system formed by cultures that create a spacial dynamic to maintain local biodiversity in agriculture. This farming technique has been found to bring continuity and security to a culture's food supply, nutrition, and even the social fabric of a village. 

TIME OFF BETWEEN CROPS

In the milpa system, it is customary to have years of rest in between planting crops. This leads to soil fertility, reduces the destruction of weeds, and helps control harmful pests. Because of the time between plantings of a specific milpa, the Maya, though not nomadic, required a great deal of land mass to achieve the proper platform for the milpa to produce at its maximum. In pre-Hispanic times, land was plentiful and these communal ventures—with family members and/or neighbors joining in both with work and the fruits of their labors—much resembled the structure of the Maya ejido system.

Maya Man Working His Milpa (From Society of EthnoBiology)

The appointment of the "Maya Milpa as an Important System of the World Agricultural Heritage for their Food and Agriculture Organization" also recognizes the traditional milpa for its resilience to climate and modernity changes, long life, and contributions to the conservation of both the culture and biodiversity of the Yucatán Peninsula.  

THE MILPA'S IMPORTANCE

To sum up the importance and magnitude of milpas, author Kim Wall Kimmerer says it best: "Of all the wise teachers who have come into my life, none are more eloquent than these, who wordlessly in leaf and vine embody the knowledge of relationship. Alone, a bean is just vine, squash an oversized leaf. Only when standing together with corn does a whole emerge which transcends the individual. The gifts of each are more fully expressed when they are nurtured together than alone. In ripe ears and swelling fruit, they counsel us that all gifts are multiplied in relationship. This is how the world keeps going." Amen.

With this final nugget, may I wish you the very best of fall seasons—our harvest season—and a joyful Thanksgiving.  

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.

A SUNKEN CITY IN BELIZE UNCOVERS THE MAYA'S SECRET TRADE ADVANTAGE—SALT

Known in the ancient world as astute astronomers, temple builders, and lords of the jungle, the Maya captured our imagination by their ability to read the night sky and to build magnificent stepped pyramids.

Often left out of the Maya's intricate narrative is their competence at having developed extensive trade networks that linked present day Guatemala, Honduras, and the Yucatán to the Caribbean coast.

TRADERS EXTRAORDINAIRE

Using large seagoing canoes, Maya traders plied the Caribbean coast from Mexico to Panama, bringing obsidian, jade, feathers, pelts, and numerous other goods from the interior and highlands of their vast empire to far flung regions. But little has been mentioned until lately of their most highly valued commodity—salt. 

                               

Bolon Yookte' K'Uh, Maya God of Trade

The Yucatán Peninsula has salt fields in Rio Lagartos, made famous by the annual migration of the flamingos that return to feast on the pink brine shrimp that give them color. The flats are large bodies of water where natural condensation has removed the water from the mineral so that salt can be harvested.

Rio Lagartos Salt Flats 

SALT BRINE

But salt from salt fields was not the only type of salt the Maya traded. During the peak of the Classic Era, from 300 to 900 AD, coastal Maya also produced salt by boiling brine in pots over fires. The end result was shaped into salt cakes, then paddled by canoe to coastal cities to be traded extensively at markets throughout MesoAmerica.

Heather McKillop On Site

Salt is essential for life and as ancient civilizations evolved from hunters and gatherers into agrarian societies, it was not immediately clear how this mineral was acquired until Heather McKillop, an archeologist at Louisiana State University along with her co-author anthropologist Kazuo Aoyama from Japan's Ibaraki University, an expert on stone tools, produced evidence in research published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences.

THIRTY YEAR STUDY

McKillop has been studying salt production sites in Belize's Maya lowlands for 30 years. After discovering a number of submerged Maya cities through underwater excavations, research revealed how the Maya manufactured salt. The discovery comes from a now submerged archeological site known as Ta'ab Nuk Na. It was inhabited from 600 to 800 AD in an area Belizians call Paynes Creek.

Ta'ab Nuk Na is the largest known Maya saltworks in the country and the most revelatory. Her team has uncovered the remains of 110 salt-producing kitchens in the region, each one capable of producing enough salt for 7,000 people per day.

Sharing her co-author and stone expert Kazuo Aoyama's input, McKillop said in Science Daily, "I thought the findings would be that they cut a lot of wood, but in fact, the majority of the stone tools were used for cutting meat and fish. That really changed our views."

Team Excavating Ta'ab Nuk Na (Photo Heather McKillop)

SALT AND THE MAYA ECONOMY

She and Aoyama realized, McKillop continued, that not only were the Maya producing a lot of salt, they were also using salt to produce necessary food commodities for export. This meant the salt-producing Maya played an important role in the greater Maya civilization, which at its height, was believed to have encompassed millions of people throughout MesoAmerica.

"Our research is clear that the coastal Maya were an integral part of the Maya economy because they produced and traded a basic commodity, salt. Since everybody needed salt, the coastal Maya really contributed to daily life," said McKillop.

PRESERVED BY MANGROVES

Although water erodes century-old wooden structures, the Belize site is embedded in anaerobic mangrove peat which contains very low oxygen and staves off micro-organisms that would typically break down similar structures.

Mangroves in Belize (Restorationproject.com)

The survey revealed the presence of ancient salt works, called kitchens, for brine broiling. The salty sea water would be placed in ceramic vessels and heated on a fire. The water would evaporate off, leaving behind just the salt. This valuable mineral was stored in the vessels and traded. New analyses of stone tools found at the Paynes Creek Salt Works site—as it is being called—reveal that not only were the Maya making salt in large quantities but were also salting fish and meat to meet dietary needs while producing a commodity that could be stored and traded. 

SALT KITCHEN WORKERS

Not much is known about the salt workers and their lives. Though they may have been seasonal or daily workers, finding a residence at Ta'ab Nuk Na leads researches to believe this was also their home. But lack of verifiable information leaves a gap in drawing the complete picture of salt sale production and distribution.

Moving Wood Post in Water (Photo by Heather McKillop)

Excavations revealed the remains of several buildings dating to the 6th century—ten pole and hatch huts were discovered. Marking individual artifacts on the sea floor allowed the team to see their distribution and reconstruct the activities in the different buildings, McKillop said. 

MULTI-FACETED 

Not only did the Maya "work from home" by producing salt in their backyards, they also performed household activities such as fishing, preparing and cooking food, woodworking, and spinning cotton. Researchers say the household would have produced salt for itself before trading the surplus with other communities. 

Salt was a scarce commodity inland, where Maya cities were experiencing growth. Most of those areas were supplied from salt works that were located along the coast. In total, the sites at Ta'ab Nuk Na and elsewhere in the lagoon could have produced 60 tons of salt over the course of the four-month dry season, based on the production of a modern salt works in Guatemala. Along with being an invaluable tool for preserving food, salt was also used as currency in the Maya economy.

COTTAGE INDUSTRY

"You might expect this high demand to require a huge organized industry but it appears the civilization's huge salt output was mainly built upon this kind of cottage industry," McKillop said in the Science Daily article.

McKillop's study is a three-square mile area surrounded by mangrove forest that had been buried beneath a saltwater lagoon due to sea level rise.

"Sea level rise completely submerged these sites underwater," she said. 

WATERY FATE

It's not yet clear exactly when the Belize cities met their underwater fate. But McKillop's research is ongoing and she's positive she and her team will get to the bottom of the salt question and through technology, identify dates that the sea might have taken over. And maybe now that archeologists are aware of underwater cities that were vital parts of the Maya empire, more underwater excavations will occur. Stay tuned.

Paynes Creek National Park (By CosyCorner.com)

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.