My situation wasn’t exactly the same as Gilbert’s. I wasn’t coming out of a divorce or a bad relationship. But I was spiritually bereft. I had built numerous successful careers in corporate environments, only to abandon them to search for something that would make me happy. I knew deep down that corporate life, with its appurtenant stress and soul-sucking politics was not for me, but I kept returning to it because it paid the bills. By the time I’d turned 50 I was a lost soul. I didn’t know who I was, but I knew I had to find a way to make myself happy, to escape from the endlessness of it all.

At the conclusion of my six months on the road I decided to recreate myself as a travel writer and photographer which, frankly, were the only things I’d ever really wanted to do. Now, four years later, I’ve accomplished that goal. I travel 9-10 months per year and have no permanent home. Although I do not suggest that this life is for everyone, one part of my process – the six month career break – was a valuable tool that can benefit anyone. It is not uncommon for Europeans and Australians to take mid-career breaks; employers in these countries seem to understand that employees return to the workplace renewed and brimming with new ideas following such a hiatus. Unfortunately, in the U.S. the mid-career break is not an accepted part of our culture, but there is now a movement afoot to change all that.

Join us and find out how to take a mid-career break

Two weeks from today, on September 14th, the developers of the website Briefcase to Backpack will hold a FREE series of events in major cities across the U.S.and in Canada, titled “Meet, Plan, Go!” With the goal of raising awareness about career breaks and extended travel, they are hosting a FREE event with travel experts, during which attendees will:

• MEET inspirational speakers and like-minded travelers in their area
• Get motivation, contacts and resources necessary to PLAN the trip of a lifetime
• Start taking concrete steps forward and get ready to GO!

I well know what goes into planning long-term travel, especially if the prospective traveler has to make arrangements to take care of homes, pets, pay bills from the road, etc., and I wish I’d had access to this kind of program when I was planning my trip back in 2006. Whether you long for a career break, sabbatical, a spiritual sojourn, an extended global vagabonding experience or just a self-designed “gap year”, Meet, Plan, Go! wants to help you make it happen! Tickets are still available in 11 of the 13 venues; check out the locations of the free event. Here’s wishing you happy traveling and a renewal of spirit.

Mirror images of Ingram Bayou

Half an hour into the paddle, the stream untwisted itself and emerged into Wolf Bay. According to Chris, dolphins are often spotted in the bay but they were hiding on that particular day, perhaps sensing the imminent storm. When lightning cracked in the distance we beat a hasty retreat, but not soon enough. Fat, gentle raindrops plopping into the creek became our metronome for the return paddle.

Cloudy day on Wolf Bay

The 484 acres that constitute Graham Creek Nature Preserve were acquired by and Riviera Utilities and the town of Foley, Alabama back in 2004, and the lands were just opened to the public in January of this year. Captain Chris decided to offer kayak trips because they are less disruptive to wildlife and allow visitors to listen to bird calls without the interference of motor noise. Graham Creek attracts diverse avian species including Northern Bobwhite, Loggerhead Shrike, Bald Eagles, osprey, heron, warblers, vireos, tanagers, grosbeaks, sparrows, waders and raptors. Horticulturists have also identified more than 700 plant species, including a dozen orchids, wildflowers, sunflowers, pitcher plants, lilies and arums.

Padling Graham Creek

Graham Creek habitat was one of the most beautiful places I have ever visited, and I highly recommend this trip to anyone planning a visit to the Gulf Shores or Orange Beach, Alabama area. Contact Captain Chris at Alabama Kayak Adventures. His knowledge of the local flora and fauna is top notch and his prices, at $35 per person for a three-hour trip, are more than reasonable.

Photos courtesy of Captain J.Chris Nelson at Alabama Kayak Adventures

Gulf Shores Vacations

Can’t see the video above? Click HERE to view it in YouTube.

Gulf Shores and Orange Beach are dependent upon tourism and fishing, thus their economies have taken a double whammy during this disaster, since large portions of the Gulf were closed until recently and local fishermen missed the first part of the shrimping season this year. Fortunately, the fishing grounds have now been opened up and the shrimp are being caught in abundance, with no sign of oil contamination. I can attest to the quality of the shrimp, since I did a Forrest Gump during my stay, sampling every variety of shrimp known to man.

Further evidence that the cleanup is working comes from Share the Beach, a local volunteer organization who works with sea turtles. All summer the organization has been moving sea turtle nests from Alabama beaches to Cape Canaveral on the east coast of Florida. After hatching, baby sea turtles immediately head for giant offshore patches of seagrass, where they find shelter and food. Until very recently these seagrass beds were thought to be too contaminated for the young turtles, however the Fish and Wildlife service has now opined that it is now safe for new hatchlings to be released into the Gulf.

The ongoing cleanup will employ special machines that excavate and sift through beach sand up to two feet deep, removing any remaining tarballs or oil residue, with the U.S. Government’s Deepwater Horizon Response effort monitoring and assisting with every step of the process. I left Gulf Shores and Orange Beach, delighted by the fact that I could help in some small way after all. I could spread the message out that it is safe to go in the water, to play on the beach, and to eat the shrimp along Alabama’s Gulf Coast.

Gulf Shores Vacations

Can’t see the video above? Click HERE to view on YouTube.

Chestatee Wildlife Preserve is a non-profit wildlife animal rescue operation that is set up like a zoo so that visitors can enjoy their residents. The facility is open to the public 7 days a week from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. Admission is $10 for adults and $5 for children 11 and younger. They accept cash and check only, and unlike many other facilities of its kind, donations and revenues from admissions at Chestatee are devoted to caring for the animals; none of the funds are used for administrative purposes or site maintenance. The Preserve is located in north central Georgia, near the border with North Carolina, near the historic gold mining town of Dahlonega, which is also well worth a visit.

Dahlonega Vacations

Gulf Shores Beach - pristine white and free of oil and tar

Fort Morgan Beach on the western tip of Gulf Shores

Over the next few days I’ll be writing more about what these folks have endured and how they’ve dealt with the crisis, but for now I’ll echo the message being broadcast by tourism professionals: the brilliant white sand beaches and warm Gulf waters are once again clean and sparkling and Gulf Shores and Orange Beach are open for business. And now if you’ll excuse me, there are a few more shrimp with my name on them…

Gulf Shores Vacations

Cenote Samula at Dzitnup, near Valladolid, in the north central Yucatan

Like a coy exotic dancer, the cenote revealed itself in stages. A narrow column of liquid white light poured through a small hole in the roof, illuminating massive tree roots that spilled over the edge. Frantically searching for water, the sinuous limbs tumbled into the crystal-clear pool at the bottom. Colors gradually emerged in the semi-darkness: black streaks and white guano painted patterns on the ocher and red stone walls, complementing the turquoise blue water cupped in the bottom of this perfectly circular cavern.

I had expected Cenote Samula to be crowded – these naturally occurring sinkholes are among the more popular tourist attractions around Valladolid – but to my delight it was deserted. Closing my eyes, I tuned into its cathedral energy. Water droplets plunked from sweating rocks into the pool and bats swooped back and forth through the sunbeam, emitting their high-pitched warning. Whispers echoed in the cavern; a giggle punctuated the silence. Had other tourists arrived so stealthily that I had not herd them descend via the stone steps? I opened my eyes but was still alone. Three times the laughter mocked me until, unsettled, I climbed back up and crossed the road to visit Samula’s sister sinkhole, Cenote Xkeken, another cavern with exquisite blue water framed by massive curtain stalactites.

Back at the top of the cenote, I stepped to the edge of the hole, peered back down into the darkness one last time and cocked my ear toward the depths, listening. A young Mayan man stood nearby, watching me intently.

“Have you ever been here at night?” I asked him.

“Many times,” he replied.”

“What happens?”

“You hear the two girls, don’t you? They are the spirits of the cenote. They laugh and play and guard the site at night after everyone else has left.”

Cenotes are fascinating, not only for their spiritual significance among the Mayans, but also from a geological standpoint. The Yucatan Peninsula was a giant underwater reef until the last ice age, when the ocean level dropped and exposed a mile-thick limestone platform created by the reef. The coral died, topsoil accreted, and jungle grew up; in time, rain filtered through the soil and carved tunnels through the limestone, creating a giant network of caves. As the ice age waned, glacial melt raised the ocean to today’s level, partially submerging the Yucatan’s extensive network of caves. Some of the limestone ceilings of these caves eventually collapsed, creating sinkholes, or cenotes, that exposed the caverns below.

Today, estimates of the number of cenotes in the Yucatan range from 7,000 to 30,000; indeed many have yet to be discovered. They were historically the only source of water for the Mayan civilization and most of the astonishing Mayan cultural centers, such as Chichen Itza and Tulum, were built around major cenotes. The gentleman who had joined me at the rim explained that Mayans believe cenotes are an entrance to the underworld, where their gods live and spirits, both good and bad, reside after death. But he insisted that as long as visitors enter a cenote with respect and a good heart, they will be protected from harm. He also suggested that it’s a good idea to bring an offering to appease the spirits, even if it’s just a flower. I liked that idea. I’m sure the girls would have appreciated flowers for their hair.

Serpent protruding from ball court stadium appears to devour Kukulcan pyramid

Chichen Itza is rife with signs of serpent worship. Thousands of limestone blocks at the base of the great ball court are carved with scenes of athletes who, upon losing a match, were decapitated; the blood flowing from their severed necks turns into wriggling serpents. Giant serpent heads protrude from the ends of the ball court stadia, while still others stand guard at the bottom of the staircase leading to the top of the smaller Ossario pyramid. The Kukulcan Pyramid also features a pair of serpent heads but strangely, they flank only the north staircase; the other three grand staircases may have purposely been left unadorned as a clue to the significance of the solo pair. The Maya built the temple so precisely that on the spring and autumn equinox, at the rising and setting of the sun, the corner of the pyramid casts a serpent-shaped shadow on the side of the north staircase that slithers down to the serpent’s head at the base.

North stairway with serpent heads at base on normal days

Corner of Kukulcan pyramid casts shadow of a serpent's body on north stairway during sunrise and sunset on spring and fall equinox. Photo courtesy of Wikipedia.

By all indications, the Maya culture at Chichen Itza was steeped in violence. In addition to serpents, other carvings feature jaguars eating human hearts, battle scenes, and row upon row of stones depicting human skulls. Even the cenote, which was undoubtedly their sole source of fresh water, was the site of human sacrifice, a fact that was confirmed when the cenote was dredged from 1904 to 1910 and human remains of adults and children were found at the bottom, all of which had evidence of wounds consistent with human sacrifice.

Serpents, jaguars, and other violent deities failed the Mayans; by 1000 AD the site was mostly abandoned, although it continued to be a pilgrimage site for indigenous peoples until well after the Spanish Conquistadores arrived in 1526. Archeologists offer no explanation for the decline of the city, but I couldn’t help but wonder if residents were forced to leave because water in the cenote was fouled by bodies of victims who were tossed into it. Today Chichen Itza is enjoying a resurgence of sorts: the ruins are the second most visited in Mexico and the Pyramid of Kukulcan is considered to be one of the Seven Wonders of the World.

Pastel houses line cobblestone strets in Valladolid

Though this third largest city in the Yucatan is a mere two hours east of the cultural center of Merida and three hours west of Cancun’s tourist mecca, in character it might as well have been light years away from either. Located in the sultry interior, where not even a whisper of a breeze penetrated most days, the pace of life was simple and slow. Ancient men on three-wheeled bikes languidly pedaled down cobblestone streets past pastel houses, each hawking his product with a trademark signal. A bottled water delivery man rasped “agua” every dozen feet. A knife sharpener rang a jangly bell. On a third bike, an enormous silver wok-shaped vessel had been welded in front of the handlebars. “Que tienes?” I inquired – What do you have? He braked, smiled shyly and lifted the lid, allowing the yeasty aroma of fresh baked bread to engulf me.

My days were crammed with sightseeing. Not only was Valladolid a delight to walk, with lovely churches and neighborhood markets worth exploring, it was a convenient hub from which I could easily visit the major Mayan ruins of Chichen Itza and Ek Balam. Additionally, many minor ruins, cenotes, and Rio Largartos, a biosphere reserve that is home to the largest concentration of pink Flamingos in Mexico, were easily visited on day trips.

Following an age-old tradition, many shops and churches closed for siesta during the hottest hours, reopened in the late afternoon, and stayed open late into the night. At twilight, locals gathered in the main plaza to exchange the day’s news, battling to be heard over thousands of black birds that returned to roost each night in trees surrounding the square, their shrill songs rising to a crescendo before fading away in dwinding light. Under inky black skies, multi-colored spotlights bathed the plaza’s trees and turned slick-bricked sidewalks into gold and lavender pathways leading to the exquisitely illuminated San Servacio Cathedral.

Inevitably, I ended my days at La Casa del Cafe, sipping strong espresso as I chatted with the cafe’s owner, Ani, and other locals who whiled away the time until the midnight closing hour. I departed several days later, wishing I’d had more time to spend in this lovely village, where the easy rhythm of Mexican life still flows uninterrupted.

Master Suite

I tried not to show my embarrassment as the bellman rolled my small dust-caked suitcase through the sitting room and set it up on a heavy wooden bench in the bedroom. He pointed out myriad switches that turned on lamps, wall sconces, and overhead fans and then explained how to work the multiple rain heads in the glass shower enclosure and operate the separate whirlpool soaking tub. Stepping to the far wall in the bathroom he tugged on cords that drew back a ceiling drapery, revealing a skylight; did I wish to let sunlight stream in or would I prefer dimmer lighting? Open. No, closed. Oh, I don’t care. Whatever would make him leave faster.

Enormous bathroom has separate shower and whirlpool tub, bidet, skylights

I hustled him out of the room and hung the do not disturb sign. Reverently, I sat on the edge of the bed and fell back against a bank of fluffy pillows, allowing the plush mattress to envelop me with its silky softness. Delicious. Heavenly. No bed had ever felt this good. Curious about this amazing property, located just 20 minutes north of Merida in the tiny settlement of Xcanatun, I propped myself up in bed and began reading about the history of the resort.

Hacienda Xcanatun, meaning small stone house in Maya, is one the large estates constructed by landowners who grew rich from trading sisal, a string-like fabric extracted from the agave plant that was once used to weave carpets, mats, and various other textiles. Located on what was a pre-hispanic settlement, the ranch began life in the year 1800 with agricultural and livestock activities. As demand for sisal grew, the hacienda switched to planting and harvesting agave plants and the ranch became a strategic hub in the marketing and export of the fiber known as “green gold.”

A combination of the Mexican Revolution in the early 20th century, which saw the hacienda lands turned over to its workers, and the development of synthetic fibers resulted in a slow decline for Hacienda Xcanatun. The final blow came in 1988 when Hurricane Gilbert destroyed what was left of the nine acres of gardens, buildings, and coconut groves, leaving the site to be reclaimed by nature. Finally, in 1994 the overgrown property was acquired by a local visionary who painstakingly restored the ruins into 18 exclusively decorated hotel units surrounded by exquisite grounds, complete with lily pad strewn pond, fountains, and resident iguanas.

Lush grounds, planted with exotics, attracts birds and butterflies

Fresh caught cobia with sun dried tomatoes on a bed of roasted chaya and potatoes

Custard and fresh fruit stiffed pastry cone

Though I hated to leave my inner sanctum, hunger finally got the better of me. Fortunately, the resort’s gourmet restaurant, Casa de Piedra, was just steps away. As the Master Suite had titillated my body, Casa de Piedra tantalized my palate with exquisite salads composed from organic produce grown in local gardens, daily selections of fresh fish from the nearby Gulf, and mouthwatering desserts. Satiated, I returned to my room to find the lights had been lowered and a rosette of fresh-picked blossoms had been arranged on the tuned down corner of my bed linens.

Turn-down service

For three days I lounged by the resort’s two pools, read, wandered the tranquil grounds, and enjoyed an amazing massage at the resort’s on-site spa, which specializes in holistic treatments & ancient Mayan methods of relaxation. And relax I did. By the time I left, both my mind and body were so well restored that my backpack seemed light as a feather, and I floated off to resume my exploration of the Yucatan.

Larger pool and spa

Hacienda Xcanatun rates are $315 per night for Master Suites: $285 for Luxury Suites and $260 for Superior Suites. Although there are no TV’s in the individual rooms, a large screen TV surrounded by comfortable seating is available in the lounge. The resort can also arrange for telephone, fax, wifi Internet access, car rental, laundry service, and tours to nearby ruins and Merida, the capital of the State of Yucatan and the second largest city in Mexico.

Private terrace of Suites and TV lounge

Hacienda Xcanatun is also a member of the highly respected Mexico Boutique Hotels, which arranged for my stay at the resort. Mexico Boutique Hotels was established in 1999 to promote upscale member properties that are carefully handpicked for their intimacy, high level of service and outstanding attributes.

Solid color Paperwallet, made of tear-resistant Tyvek

While the Paperwallet is not a product I would not consider for everyday use, its design was perfect for traveling. It has two credit card slots, two contact card flaps, two easy access pockets, and a cash pocket that handles U.S. bills with room to spare. And because it’s made of Tyvek, Paperwallet is recyclable; you can send your old wallet back to the company for recycling and the company provides a 15% discount on the purchase of your next wallet.

Paperwallet is also ideal for a ploy I use against pickpockets or robbery. I carry two wallets; one with a dummy credit card, some old business cards, and a few dollars of local currency. My “real” wallet is buried somewhere deep in my backpack. If I happen to be the victim of a pickpocket, Paperwallet would be a great decoy that doesn’t cost a lot to replace.

Typochkin Design - Coming Soon

Intraligi Pattern - Coming Soon

Currently, Paperwallets are available in solid colors only, but a variety of patterns will soon be available. Solid colors are priced at $14.99, with free shipping on every order.

Disclosure: The manufacturer of Paperwallet provided me with a free sample of their product. The receipt and acceptance of complimentary items/services received will never influence the content, topics, or posts in this blog.

Stone mask of Chac, Mayan rain god

Uxmal, one of the most important cities of the Maya empire, is located just an hour south of present-day Merida on Mexico’s Yucatan peninsula. Located away from regions of heavy rainfall and the jungles that smother the ruins of Palenque, it stands with all its walls erect, almost as perfect as the day it was deserted by its inhabitants. Perhaps because Uxmal is in better condition than many other Maya sites, very little archeological excavation and research has been done on the site, however archeologists estimate that up to 25,000 residents lived in Uxmal at the zenith of its development during the Late Classic Mayan Period, from 850 to 925 AD.

Archeologists also speculate that Uxmal may have been more of an arts community than a governmental center, which could in part account for its stunning architecture. The Pyramid of the Magician, soaring 117 feet high and built on an unique elliptical base, is actually five superimposed temples. It anchors one side of the Nunnery Quadrangle, so named by Spanish Conquistadores because its 74 small rooms reminded them of nuns’ quarters in a convent. The western building’s facade is decorated with entwined stone serpent images, ubiquitous in the Maya world, which symbolized birth, change, and crawling though time. Even the latticework designs are thought to represent the diamond pattern on the rattlesnake’s skin.

Deeper into the site is the Governor’s Palace, an impressive three-level building with a 320 foot long mosaic facade featuring 103 stone masks of Chac, and the Great Pyramid, which offers panoramic views of the entire site from the top. The latter contains some of the more mystifying carvings in the complex; although said to be birds, many of the stone sculptures more closely resemble beings from outer space.

In the end, all the deities, the human sacrifices, the religious carvings were for naught. By 1000 AD the city had been abandoned, leaving present day visitors to imagine what life must have been like during the apex of the Mayan empire. Uxmal ruins are open every day from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m., and offer a Light and Sound show that begins each evening just after sunset. Though the audio portion of the show is in Spanish, it is worth the $10 price of admission just to see the light display. To reach Merida by car travel south on either Highway 261 or State Highway 18. Public buses also run to Uxmal, but to see the sound and light show, sign up for a guided tour in Merida.

Flat-fronted buildings line the streets of the historic district

Although I’d felt completely safe traveling around Mexico solo for the past few months, I was suddenly anxious about exploring this large, unfamiliar city after dark. By day the city had been intimidating; by night its dark streets seemed positively ominous. Fortunately, the hostel owner assured me that Merida is the safest city in the Republic, handed me a map, and told me to be sure to check out the artwork inside the Palacio de Gobierno on the Zocalo – the Main Plaza at the heart of the city. Four nerve-wracking blocks later I stepped out of the dark street and into a grand square bathed in yellow light, where indigenous Indians spread crafts on handmade blankets and romantic couples embraced in high white loveseats scattered around the plaza.

Mayan women sell handicrafts in the Zocalo, wellspring of Merida's culture

Trovas - roaming musicians who play romantic Yucatecan ballads - take a break on the Zocalo

Over the next few days I learned that, in addition to being the geographic center of Merida, the Zocalo is also its cultural and spiritual core. Present day Merida is built atop the ancient Mayan city of T’Ho, which dates back to 3000 BC and was situated on what is today the Main Plaza. The Spaniards conquered T’Ho in 1532 and dismantled its megalithic pyramids, using the stones for the foundation of the Cathedral of San Ildefonso (1599), which still graces the east side of the Plaza and is the oldest cathedral on the American continent. Directly across the Plaza is the Palacio Municipal (1735), Merida’s Town Hall. On the south side is Casa de Montejo (1542), the former home of the conqueror of Yucatan. The Palacio de Gobierno (1892) on the north side displays 27 enormous murals depicting the bloody Caste Wars that resulted when the Mayans refused to accept Spanish rule.

Interior courtyard of the Palacio de Gobierno, which holds an adtounding collection of paintings and murals depicting the history and culture of Merida

To ensure that visitors enjoy their time in Merida and learn something of the history and culture of the Yucatan, the city sponsors a series of free and inexpensive events in and around the Zocalo:

• Monday: Join a free walking tour of the Plaza at 9:30 a.m.; visit the Casa de Artesanias (Mayan Handicraft House); do a colorful tour of the city on the colorful Carnavalito bus; and attend a free concert with traditional Yucatecan dancing and dress on the Main Plaza at 9 p.m.
• Tuesday: Dance to big band music of the 40′s in Santiago Park on the corner of 59 & 72 at 8:30 p.m. Free.
• Wednesday: Attend a show at the Olimpo Cultural center at 9 p.m., free. Take a ride in an horse-drawn, open-air buggy for a nominal fee.
• Thursday: Serenade at Santa Lucia Park, an open-air concert featuring Yucatecan dress, dance, music and folklore, at 9 p.m. at the corner of 60 & 55. Free.
• Friday: Visit the native markets around town by day; serenade at the main University building at the corner of 60 &  57 at  9 p.m., nominal fee.
• Saturday: Free Mexican Night at Paseo de Montejo & Calle 57 at 7 p.m., free. “Heart of Merida” Festival on the Main Plaza and up Calle 60 to Calle 53 from 9 p.m.to 1 a.m., free.
• Sunday: Stroll “Merida on Sunday,” a street festival on the Main Plaza and along Calle 60 to Santa Lucia Park. Streets are closed, live music, 9 a.m. to 9 p.m., free. Sidewalk art is displayed along Paseo de Montejo between Calle 35 & Perez Ponce, free.

A few days of exploring its historic center completely reversed my earlier antipathy toward Merida. I immersed myself in the city’s culture and history, visiting art galleries and ancient pyramids. I grew to appreciate the city’s simple architecture, crafted from the Yucatan’s only available natural resource – limestone. I reveled in the rich regional food, including Mayan cuisine that made use of healthful indigenous ingredients such as the Chaya leaf, which is crushed and blended into a refreshing, deliciously tart green juice. And still there was so much more that I did not have time to see or experience. I left with regret, knowing that someday I would return for a much longer stay.

Plaza Principal in Veracruz, is filed with vendors and music every night

Almost every city in Mexico has a large open square in the center of town, usually anchored by a cathedral or parish church. Before I began this long-term backpacking trip around Mexico I believed that these squares were all called Zocalos, but I was soon to discover that the naming of these public spaces wasn’t quite that simple.

My confusion began at my first stop, Mazatlan. In the center of the historic old town I found Plazuela de la Republica, the city’s main square, which is surrounded by the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception, Municipal Palace, and the main telegraph and postal buildings.  In La Paz, capital of Baja California South, the Plaza Principal was called Jardín de Velasco (Velasco Gaden). In Zacatecas it was Plaza de las Armas; in Guanajuato the Jardin Union; in Queretaro I found another Plaza de las Armas. But no Zocalos.

Plaza de las Armas - the Plaza Principal in Chihuahua

I Googled the term and hit the Mexico forums, but research further muddled the issue. Even Mexican nationals were in disagreement on the subject. Although most concurred that to be considered a Zocalo a square must have both a cathedral and government building on its perimeter, many also insisted that the term is barely known throughout much of Mexico. Yet I was quite sure that the main square in Acapulco, which I had visited more than 20 years earlier, is called the Zocalo, as is the main square in Mexico City.

It was the Mexico City connection that finally shed some light. It seems that plans for the capital city’s Plaza Principal originally called for a column to be constructed as a monument to Independence, but only the pedestal, or zocalo, was ever built. Over time, the word itself was adopted as the name for Plaza Principal, and several other Mexican cities, including Guadalajara and Oaxaca, followed suit. However, most other Mexican cities still refer to their main square as a plaza, plazuela (a smaller plaza), or jardin (garden).

Merida's lovely Zocalo

So when I checked into my hostel in Merida, I was pretty sure of myself when I asked the owner for directions to the Plaza Principal. “You mean the Zocalo?” he asked.

“Que tienes?” I asked. What do you have?

“Ah, muchas cosas,” he replied. “Que quieres?” Many things; what do you want?

“Tienes coca?”

He tried to suppress the grin that crept onto his face. “Coca?” he repeated.”No, pero tengo coco.” No, but I have coconut, he corrected, as he reached into his into his ice cream cart for a tube of coconut ice cream. Apparently, I wasn’t the first gringa to mix up the word for coconut with the slang for cocaine, though I might have been the most embarrassed.

I don’t even like ice cream. I can accompany my friends to an ice cream parlor and watch them devour sundaes without experiencing the slightest twinge of desire. But Mexican helado is unlike any ice cream I have tasted; it is sweet seduction, nectar of the gods. I’d first answered the siren call in Cabo San Lucas, where I watched a heladero struggle his ice cream cart down a rocky sand path leading to the harbor entrance. Gnarled, dust-caked toes protruded from his decayed leather sandals and his canvas trousers and white shirt hung on his emaciated frame. I would have bought something even if he were selling pork rinds.

A vast smile slit his leathery brown face when I stepped up and asked what flavors he had. Wait, he signaled with an upheld finger, then opened the cart lid and ducked his head through the ice fog to rummage around in its depths. Triumphantly, he emerged with a frozen foot-long plastic tube filled with a white substance. “Usted debe probar este. Es hecho en casa – mi especialidad!” You must try this. It is homemade – my specialty! I tore a corner of the rubbery plastic with my teeth and tentatively sampled the icy treat. Rich, delicious coconut ice coated my mouth and slickened my teeth. Like a greedy baby I sucked on the tube, forcing the frozen cylinder up from the bottom with my thumbs, not willing to waste a single drop.

Girls lineup to buy ice cream from a Zacatecas street vendor

Though I tried to resist, the siren call of Mexican ice cream continued to lure me into its clutches. In tiny Dolores Hidalgo, the town where Mexico’s independence movement began, I rushed through the old jail and cathedral, anxious to get to the main plaza, where some of the country’s most famous ice cream vendors hawk a bizarre lineup of flavors. Our tour guide led us to his favorite stand. Immediately, spoons heaped high with samples were thrust at me. Avocado: smooth and creamy, delicious! Mango: like biting into a big, juicy globe of the fruit. Corn: sweet and starchy. Beer: no way. Fried pork skin: not for this vegetarian. The enormous samples filled me up; I had no room left to try shrimp, mole, or rose, which was just as well, since the ice cream smorgasbord was insidiously making its way down my gullet to my hips, where it determinedly attached itself. I swore off ice cream forever.

Bizarre flavors of Mexican ice cream include beer, shrimp, corn, pork rind, and avocado

Forever lasted a month. It was music that tripped me up. I was wandering around the Zocalo in Merida one night when I heard guitars. Following the strumming to the other side of the plaza, I found three young men belting out passionate, romantic ballads for customers of El Colon cafe. Enchanted that these teenagers were pouring their hearts out without a bit of embarrassment, I grabbed a table on the sidewalk, happy to rest my feet. I scanned the menu, looking for espresso and a snack, but this cafe had only one thing on the menu. Sherbet.

Sitting under the arches at El Colon, enjoying ballads, sherbet, and vibrant nightlife on the Zocalo

I scanned the mind-boggling selection of flavors: orange, papaya, mango, strawberry, chocolate, coconut, pineapple, melon…none of those would do. If I was going to fall off the wagon, it would have to be for something more exotic. Zapote, mamey, anona, tamarindo, pilahaya, saramuyo, ciruela, guanabana…wait, guanabana? This sweet-sour pulpy white fruit with a prickly green skin had been my favorite when I lived in Puerto Rico, but I hadn’t tasted it in years.

Mamey sherbet, made from the red flesh of the tropical fruit of the same name

After that, resistance was futile. I scarfed down a giant dish of guanabana sherbet and followed it up with a second of mamey, an overly sweet tropical fruit with a dark red flesh. I beat myself up over my lack of will power for about two seconds. For more than a hundred years, El Colon has been making exquisite sherbets and champolas (sherbet whipped into milk) from natural fruit. At least I had the comfort of knowing it took the best to bring me down.

Dolores Hidalgo Ice Cream Photo courtesy of Cameron Nordholm

Long ago, someone told me that I still had that same childlike curiosity and advised me never to lose it. I almost did. Years of working in a traditional job, denying my true path, gradually but inexorably sucked the joy out of my life. Fortunately, I escaped in time, deserting the world of business for the life of a travel writer and photographer. Now I wake every morning, eager to share my photos and travel stories about the places I visit and the people I meet. My insatiable curiosity ensures that there will always be another interesting cultural destination I long to explore, another culture immersion experience waiting in the wings. And on the rare occasion when I am irritated or unhappy, I need only to look to the children to recapture my joy.

To really experience the culture of a place when I travel, I try to interact with locals as much as possible, especially the kids. On a Zacatecas hilltop, the girl on the right followed me around for hours, whispering my name and tugging on my pants leg

I met many such children on my travels through Mexico. Usually I instigate the interaction, which is sometimes just a shared smile. Others times we engage in long conversations, the kids telling me fascinating stories about their lives. At my hotel in Playa del Carmen the manager’s two sons often played around the pool. One day they sat down at my table uninvited and started chatting away, the older one telling me how his younger brother got the strange scar that ran vertically down the center of his forehead (he fell off the third floor balcony and had to be flown a hospital in Venezuela for emergency surgery).

On the hilltop known as La Bufa in Zacatecas, I was standing on the flagstone terrace enjoying a sweeping view of the city below when I heard a soft whispered “hola” – hello. Sitting on the hard stone just a few feet away, two Indian girls were selling handmade woven items and jewelry spread on a blanket. Shyly, without making eye contact, one of the girls asked my name. I told her it was Barbi – the name I use in Mexico because of the Spanish expression, “Que Barbara!” which roughly translates to “how horrible.” To be polite I asked about her merchandise but she seemed disinterested. Finally, she worked up enough courage to point at my camera and ask, “Foto?” I obliged, snapping three photos and showing them to her in the camera’s LED display, which elicited squeals and giggles.

For the rest of the day, she followed me around the hilltop. While I was in the Pancho Villa Museum, she hovered outside the door. As I munched on enchiladas from an outdoor kiosk I heard another whispered: “Barbi,” and turned to find her sitting against a tree trunk, snuggled between two metal serving tables. “Hola,” I cried! She rewarded me with a precious dimpled smile before looking down at the ground, embarrassed by her own forwardness.

Many of the children I have meet consented to have their photos taken so that I can share their lovely faces and incomparable spirits with you. Enjoy!

This article is part of the Lonely Planet Blogsherpa Travel Blog Carnival, where this week’s topic is “Kids Around the World.” If you wish to see more photos and stories of children from some of the world’s best travel bloggers, cruise on over to The Silent I, the travel blog of Glennia Campbell, who is hosting this week’s carnival.