Architecture

Merida and the surrounding area is famous, in part, for its architecture and monuments. Much of the architecture is of a European hybrid style that is unique to this part of the world. Here's just a few of the shots that we've taken. Being around so much building-art is nice. If you're gonna build it, might as well make it pretty. Even many of the small, "common" residences on the regular streets are nice to look at.


This is one of the major monuments in Merida, set in the center of a roundabout in the middle of one of the largest roads in the city (much like the placement of other monuments in Merida). It depicts much of the history of Mexico, and, as you can see, is pretty neato-benito. Click the pics to zoom in for detail.



This guy is pretty serious.



This is the same image (in statue form) that is the Mexican coat of arms on the Mexican flag. There's a pretty cool history, legend, and symbolism surrounding it.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mexican_coat_of_arms
-The Tenochtitlan Legend.



The engraving right behind the above picture.



Karina. :)



Some European-looking architecture.



Some European-looking architecture.



This is the entranceway of a University that we passed. The slogan translates the same as "The Golden Rule."



As we were walking around, we were suddenly overcome by an overwhelming brain-numbness. We became docile and suggestible as most of our cerebral function ground to a halt. Wiping the drool from our mouths, a fleeting lightning-flash of situational awareness tingled in our minds' deeper recesses. Somehow (gracias a Dios), we mustered the composure to document the source of our mental debilitation, and quickly escort ourselves to safety.



This cute little church is a block and a half from our apartment in El Parque de Santa Maria. There are a bunch of little restaurants in the park where we eat almost every day. Karina has become addicted to Mexican sandwiches (Tortas) which she prefers in pork (cochinitas). Sadly (for her), the dominate Yucatan style of salsa is made from habenero (the third hottest chile in the world), not jalapeno or chile de arbol like other parts of mexico. She has been earning awesome girlfriend points by being a complete trooper and trying EVERYTHING though.



Same church a few minutes later.



Streets near our apartment. For sure, the only Dodge Viper we've seen out here which happened to show up in the frame. Makes the picture kinda weird. Most people drive VW bugs here and stuff. Karina took this one.



No cars.



Some European-looking architecture. Someone's little castle house on Paseo Montejo.



Another house.



This style of arch is found all over this area. We photoed this one on a drive we took yesterday near some ruins we were scoping out (still closed). This little town where this and the following pictures were taken is called Chablekal.



Little church in Chablekal. On a Saturday, most of the churches we passed, even in the little towns, were full.



We passed this cool-looking derelict building, and I decided that I must climb up it using the corner bricks on the right-hand side of the shot.



Then Karina took this great picture of it from a little further back, just after sunset. This building was like 836,283 dirt roads into an uber-rural area, just sitting in the middle of nowhere for some reason. Oh, there was a drove of goats somewhere nearby. Their bleating, along with the clucks of chickens, told the tragic tale of the building's last occupants.

Louisa and Juan Filipe were lovers (apparently) united in their love for all goat-kind, torn by the greed of big city land prospectors. Having spent their life's sweat and savings on goat chow and shovels, they were forced to sell their goat sanctuary or let it go to waste. Now the goats' new masters only give the goats half their usual goat chow every other day, and every so often the new master's children poke the goats with sticks. Brother goats, sister goats, cousin goats, auntie goats, kids, and parent goats, half-starved, intentionally irritated from time to time by their should-be protectors, without warning, reason, or explanation.

"Who will remember the goats of Louisa? Who will remember the goats of Juan Filipe? Do you have any more goat chow?," they sing (in Spanish of course) into the fragrant night and into the empty walls of the desiccated farmhouse.

They say Juan Filipe and Louisa walk the streets of Chablekal at night, pinching pesos from the pockets of passers-by, sprinkling a mournful thoroughfare of goat chow behind them.