As I commence typing on this beautiful afternoon, I find myself seated in a sheltered but open waiting area; a cool breeze fans my back while turquoise blue waters ripple just twenty feet in front of me. In less than forty-five minutes my feet will walk up a small metal ramp, boarding a large blue and yellow UltraMar passenger ferry, destination Playa Del Carmen. Today’s adventure is a spinoff of my visit last week with Eduardo. As you may recall, he filled me in on a very spiritual woman in Playa Del Carmen that studies “A Course In Miracles.” Tonight, I will attend a study group in her home—a gathering conducted totally in Spanish. This should be quite an interesting experience.
Physically slowing down, while continuing to maintain balance, has been my main accomplishment of the past few days. As much as I loved my bicycle adventure around the island, my body was definitely demanding time for rejuvenation. Hardly leaving home on Sunday and Monday, I focused a great deal of effort on studying Spanish grammar, which is still probably my most glaring language weakness.
Throughout these two quiet days, I stayed centered and balanced, maintaining positive energy levels while both mentally working and physically resting at the same time. Each time mental burnout began to set in, I gave myself a ‘variety’ break, enjoying recreational reading or listening to an audio-book on my IPOD. As simple as this may sound to some, for me it was a major accomplishment.
I’m now comfortably seated on a cushioned high-backed seat, inside the cabin of my ferry, up at the very front of the main level. A gentle swaying motion barely registers with my body’s senses as the ferry rocks back and forth in the light surf. Salty condensation partially obscures the gorgeous view out my large window—a view of an inviting shoreline that becomes increasingly familiar with each passing day.
The unfamiliar cold of powerful air conditioning sends chilled goose bumps up my arms and neck. Having become completely accustomed to a steady diet of sweltering sticky humidity, my body actually feels uncomfortably cold. A small smile forms on my face as I ponder the fact that just four months ago, I would have probably remained uncomfortably warm, even in this fresh cool air.
National Pride
For several weeks I have observed with fascination as the residents of Cozumel gradually began preparations to celebrate their nation’s independence. Exactly 199 years ago today, a small group of people in Dolores Mexico declared their independence from Spain.
Several weeks ago, I noticed with interest as local utility crews began to run white electrical wire throughout the downtown area. Up and down each street, the wires running from one light pole to the next were suspended about ten feet above the sidewalks. I finally understood their purpose when a variety of decorations created from green, white, and red lights began to pop up on these same light poles.
Street vendors, pulling large carts stacked high with Mexican flags and other green, white, and red merchandise, were common throughout the area. Mexican flags and colors began springing up all over the city—in restaurants, government buildings, the clock tower in the plaza, and just about anywhere else you can visualize.
Pardon the interruption, but a few hours have literally zoomed by. I now find myself barefoot; my tired and sore feet are half buried in the cool sand as I sit in the shade of a large green and white umbrella. As I continue my writing on one of Playa Del Carmen’s beautiful white sandy beaches, I can’t help but ponder about an encounter in my very near future.
In just three short days I will return yet again to this beautiful beach city to connect with a long lost friend. He finally responded to my email yesterday—I’ll let you guess just who “he” might be. After ninety minutes of exploring the area on foot, I am now adequately oriented, and know exactly where I will be meeting him on Saturday morning.
The many Independence Day celebrations in Cozumel have been a delightful exploration into the customs and culture of this beautiful people. Monday evening, I stumbled onto a darling program in the Parque De Quintana Roo (a large park by the government offices). As I approached a small outdoor theatre, I noticed several groups of four and five year old children, all dressed in the cutest of traditional garb. The costumes were beautiful, with the little girls wearing brilliantly colored dresses and elaborate hair scarves, while the young preschool boys were decked out in black velvet slacks and jackets, white shirts, green and red bowties, and black velvet sombreros with looping silver trim. My favorite event was when a group of these young preschoolers re-enacted the “Grito de Dolores” (more on that later).
Tuesday evening took on an even more diverse flavor. My new friend JayDee and I found great aisle seats near the stage of the Independence-Day-eve festivities—directly below the balcony at the Palacio Municipal (the local government building). With activities commencing shortly after 7:30 p.m., the stage erupted into a continuous extravaganza of authentic local culture. For three and a half hours we watched as a myriad of singers, dance groups, a theatrical troupe, and two different bands entertained the crowd. Much better than any paid show, this event was staged by the local people, for local people, to celebrate their own culture and traditions.
Observing the crowd of families surrounding me was every bit as fun as watching the program itself. A gathering of several thousand people—from elderly grandparents to very young children—and everything in between—gathered together for these official ceremonies.
Every year, shortly before midnight on the evening of September 15th, people all over Mexico assemble for a reenactment of the “Grito de Dolores”—the primary event that sparked their ten-year battle for independence.
Shortly before 11:00 p.m., the stage lights lowered as a fantastic band “Hombres de Negro” (Men in Black) finished playing their final musical number. Soon the dark stage was occupied by a cadre of soldiers in full combat uniform, including helmets, some carrying weapons, others carrying large bugle-like horns. The sharp sound of these blaring horns suddenly cut through the dark silence as the soldiers began sounding a traditional march. As the horns sounded, spotlights highlighted a large balcony extending from the second floor of the Palacio Municipal.
When the trumpets fell silent, a local female community leader presented a traditional rallying speech, shouting out for the people of Mexico to unite, to pull together. The exact text of the speech given in Dolores, Mexico has been lost—but tonight’s speech is one of many reconstructed versions thought to be very close to the original words.
The ceremony was finalized when the Mayor of Cozumel reenacted the actual “Gritos” (shouts). While ringing a loud bell, the mayor repeatedly called out “Viva Mexico” (Long Live Mexico), “Viva Mexico, “Viva Mexico.” I found myself feeling quite emotional as I observed the deep patriotism proudly displayed by all around me.
The cultural extravaganza ended as quickly as it began—with the soldiers retiring and the spotlights going dark.
Seconds later the skies erupted in a spectacular display of fireworks. Some streamed from the roof of the Palacio, while most were launched from a barge a short distance off shore. The colorful rockets shot high into the sky, creating loud powerful booms as they exploded, almost directly overhead, in brilliant displays of elaborate color.
As JayDee and I strolled back toward her car, she filled me in on the fact that a band in the other corner of the large park would soon begin playing—with the music and festivities continuing until 3 or 4 a.m. in the morning.
“Not for me,” I thought to myself. “I don’t do all nighters very well—even on special occasions like this.” Shortly after midnight, my head was comfortably resting on my pillow.
Today, just seven hours ago, I sat on a low curb along the main waterfront street, enjoying another unique immersion into local culture—the Independence Day parade. In the back of my mind, I had imagined something resembling a hometown U.S. parade—perhaps a few floats, marching bands, commercial entries, and a variety of local flare.
Having arrived a few minutes late, I cannot speak for the beginning of the parade, but I must say that I was surprised by the parade’s content. Yes, there were a few bands—but every one of them consisted only of a small group carrying drums and bugle-like horns—each playing the same traditional march song that was played by the soldiers late last night.
The vast majority of parade entries—and there were a great number of them—were marching students. It seemed as if every secondary school in Cozumel was represented. Following a group of students carrying the school’s banners, the remainder of that school’s student body marched behind, with each student dressed in his or her appropriate school uniform.
While a few student groups marched in a more casual manner, the majority were quite disciplined, stepping forcefully to the repetitive whistle of a drill leader. In many ways, the look and feel of most groups reminded me of a platoon of well trained soldiers. Using a fancy series of high-stepping footwork, these student groups rhythmically stomped their feet to the ground, each group adding their own unique twists. The choreographed arm-swinging movements were equally quasi-military-like. I found the whole display quite unique and fascinating.
My favorite entry in the parade was a group of “bomberos” (firemen) near the very end. Decked out in their heavy dark uniforms, including a variety of interestingly-shaped helmets, each firefighter carried a heavy piece of equipment. Many carried axes and large coils of thick ropes, but a few were carrying bulky tools such as a heavy-duty chainsaw, or even a portable circular saw with giant 16 inch blades. I cannot begin to imagine how difficult it would be to march several miles in that heat and humidity, wearing heavy uniforms, carrying such cumbersome equipment. My hat goes off to these men who frequently risk their lives in service to others.
Shortly after the parade ended, I zoomed home on my bicycle, loaded up my backpack with needed belongings, and hurried toward the ferry terminal to purchase tickets.
The hour is now late, my activities in Playa Del Carmen are now complete, and my return ferry is preparing to pull alongside the docks back in Cozumel. What a wonderful afternoon and evening this has been. I’ll have to fill you in later. For now, I plan to get some much deserved rest.
As my unique day of cultural experience draws to conclusion, I am filled with deep gratitude for the abundant freedoms that bless my life. It seems that with every step I take in the direction of shifting my perceptions, my sense of freedom and peace continues to expand.
Copyright © 2009 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved