On our vacations thanks to Airbnb, we have been able to reside in the epicenters of cities we visit. For us that is ultra important.We are definitely caught up in the beauty of places. The beauty in the people the beauty in the culture the distinctive ways that we differ from one another. The humanistic ways that we relate to one another. You find this consuming beauty everywhere but it is always beneath the surface. The naked eye is often a lie. She she sees the shadow of what could be and mistakes it for a present reality. But beneath the surface you find the pulse of a generation. You find the motivations of a people. This is the it that we search for when we travel.
The tower of Bable’s dismount broke us up but it created pockets of gorgeous communities throughout the world. I want to see it. I want to see the beautiful. I want to experience the unwrapping of the present. What happens when beauty is disassembled? -You end up with a lot of beautiful places with the grotesque in-between. What do I mean…and he made it gorgeous Cultural influences, what are the I don’t like feeling like a tourist. Sincere relations is what gets me going. Raising a family that is based on relation not blood…anyway. We also don’t want to pay the tourist prices or go to touristy places. I want…we want to get the best feel for wherever we are visiting through the people. That said of course you can only get a partial . She and I wanted to get a better understanding of our southern neighbors so we decided to take a Mexican vacation and go as deep into to the country as we could safely go. We decided to visit the Yucatan Peninsula and stay in locations that would allow us to interact with ThePeople.
To begin our adventure we flew into Cancún. We opted to reside among the people in Cancún. We, she and I that is, rented an apartment (from a native) in downtown Cancún instead of staying in The Hotel Zone.
This was one of our better decisions. The apartment was lush and perfect and it put us among the people of Cancún which was exactly what we wanted.
Our first Mexican experience was an authentic Mexican resteraunt called
It was a familia restaurante chain. Being African-Americans with dreadlocs and braids did not alow us the ambiguity that I desired but I believe that not being white Americans and somewhat speaking the language earned us a pass…I think the mexican culture is not overtly passive. If you do not make yourself known you will not be served. We sat ourselves at the counter for a good while before I interrupted one of the quite busy patrons to take our order. I’m being nice it was ghetto. I mean, it was clean and it was apparent that someone took great pride in the establishment but there was that clutter and clang of in activity. The sound of people appearing busy so I studied the postures and conversations that were going on around me…they were all familia! -and then the bull dog came out of the kitchen dressed in his cooking gear (mask over his beard, gloves on his hands) and discretely but aggressively had conversations with two different groups and then actual work started to be done…until he went back to the kitchen. I couldn’t help but think of home. I was reminded of the family owned Popeye’s chicken that closed it’s doors after a year and countless other family ventures that fizzle because of family familiarity…#Ghetto