pinching myself

One of the glorious things about letting life unfold rather then squeezing it in an attempt to force out a desired out come is that you can be so pleasantly surprised.
Last night we went to the meeting. People were very welcoming and friendly. afterwards we had a very late, delicous dinner and felt so Yucatacan eating at 9:30 PM. We also joined the English library which means I can read to my hearts content. I spotted Shadow of the Wind on the new arrival shelf. " I love this book!" I exclaimed lovingly pulling it off the shelf. I debated about checking it out. I thought I'd leave it for someone else for now since I had already read it and it was a little like saving a delicous treat for later...holding off..delaying gratification..savoring the fact that you knew it could be yours whenever you wanted it.
we came back to the hotel and as I blogged a thunderstorm hit. When I went back to the room, I finished reading Catcher in the Rye and went to sleep around 12:30 in an air conditioned room on a grand king sized bed. Lovely...Upon awakening, I padded down barefoot to the little kitchen area where a graciuos Mayan woman with a genuinely warm smile and a big gold tooth always pleasantly bids me good morning and makes me a cup of tea. John joined me shortly and we struck up a conversation with the only other person around- another somewhat disheveled, sleepy eyed guest. This gentleman is from scotland but lives in london. He loves Mexico. He has been here several times but he especially loves the yucatan because of its culture and friendly people.
After our breakfast and some enjoyable conversation, we bid our farewells and readied ourselves for a trip to the immigration office. We had the hotel call us a cab and we were off (we know where it is but it's so much less stressful to let someone else battle the traffic here in merida). It was an effortless visit. we explained that we have been trying to call to make an appointment but can never get through and since we don't have a phone and are at others' mercy to use theirs it is very difficult. She not only made our appointment without further delay, she made it at the new office in progresso for next Wednesday. No three week wait and it's a bit closer to home. done. In and out in about 10 min.
From there we strolled a block or two up the street to catch another cab and head to the tile store. There are some amazing homes in this area. I use the term "home " loosely. These are edifices of a different time. Massive, regal structures where attention was paid to craftsmanship and detail. Everything was done in large proportions. Doors wide enough to drive a carraige through, windows that stretched for two floors and staircases not meant for walking on but descending from. Sculpted detailing around the windows reminded me of Paris or Italy as did the chandeliers. These weren't showy homes built by people with new money but generational, family residences that had transpired over a hundred or more years, lovingly added to only after careful consideration and tasteful aqcuisition.
We approahed one that clutched at my heart. It was an enormous, grand white three story with an elaborate front porch that wrapped around, verandas on two sides with a huge central balcony in the front. Below the balcony was the front door, actually two front doors each weighing more than I made of wood and inch thick beveled glass. One door was open . I actually caught my breath and told John " look at this house!"We both stopped at the front gate. it was padlocked with a rusty chain. Grass was two feet tall and mostly dead covering the walk to the house. The chandelier on the porch had been vandalized and was broken. There was a man in his late 50's or so, shirtless, throwing a bucket of water on the porch and sweeping it. What got me about this place was the book- The Shadow of the Wind. I had loved it so and having just seen it the night before it was fresh in my mind. At one point in the story, the main character returns to a home that was once beautiful, opulent, only to find it in ruins. It was a very important piece of the story and the image I had in my mind of that structure was standing before me on the streets of Merida. I can't describe the feeling. Just then, the man finished his task and standing, caught site of us. We waved to each other and I yelled to him what a beautiful home it was. John also chimed in with how much we liked it. He thanked us than made a motion we weren't sure of but we thought he was beckoning. he went inside than returned with keys in hand. Making his way through the leaves and dead grass, he unlocked the gate and invited us in. After my initial focus on the undergrowth- snakes was what i thought of- i refocused on the rest of the front yard. it had once been grand but very little of that was now visible. we stepped up onto the porch,veranda.I'm not even sure what to call it. Images of people in gowns, of lush tropical plants in magnificent pots entered my mind. He happily invited us inside. I couldn't believe it! Once through those beautiful doors, we stood on a spectacular floor. to the left and right were huge rooms with columns and gloriously detailed work on the ceilings. Parts of the ceiling were crumbling and discolored. Chunks were missing here and there. there was absolutely nothing inside.No sign of any past inhabitants or their lives other than a shodow of where a very large bookcase filled with volumes had once stood. In the center was a grand staircase a full two stories high that curved upward in front of an enormous window. as we climbed up we could see out the window the remains of a pool now all but overgrown. Once upstairs, we were agiain in a large hall of sorts that led to the huge balcony we had seen in the front. as we drifted from room to room, balcony to balcony, it made me so sad for the waste of it all. this amazing, beautiful place that had once held so much life being wasted and left in a sad stae of slow disintegration. it reminded me of lives I have known, hearts I've known. Places so full of beauty and life rotting away needlessly. At the same time, I felt so much appreciation for the fact that this man, in a brief moment trusted us enough to bring us inside. He was the caretaker. Nobody had lived there for ten years. As we went down the stairs, a phone rang. It was such a strange thing to hear in that emptiness. He put a finger to his lips. We weren't supposed to be in there and he didn't want to get into any trouble. The phone was a landline on a tiny wooden desk, the only thing in the entire house other than a hammock in a back room that was the most decrepit of all. Once off the phone, he was trying to tell us what had happened there. He spoke no English and we lost a lot in translation but the story involved some sort of police officer, shooting, someone going to prison and that it would not or could not be sold. As we thanked him profusely and prepared to leave, he told us there would be a party there the next morning with much music, food and dancing and he invited us to come join him. We again stepped into the bright sunlight and the heat of the day, tiptoed through the tall grass and exited through the rusty gate. As we strolled up the side walk amidst the bustle of downtown traffic we just sort of looked at each other. "Can you believe he let us in? Was that something? And what about this party tomorrow?" neither one of us could picture any sort of festivities in that home anytime soon.
Now it all seems very surreal. The thought of returning...would he even be there? What would it be like to see it fully decorated with life flowing through it again? Was he some madman who had squatted there? Whatever it was, it was unexpected and it was an experience I felt rather than saw. It was liking stepping into a place that before today only existed in my imagination. Like waking up to find that something from a dream was in fact reality.
Had we planned every detail of today and focused solely on completing our tasks, we would have missed this. THIS is life. These unexpected little treasures that happen while we think we have such important tasks to attend to. Once again I am reminded that all things are possible if we are open to them.
i may go back tomorrow to try to take a picture for you, or I may just leave it alone.....