Poems and Prose by Travelers

Loss
By A Kelty

No noise wakes me just one in my head.
"Contrition," I say.
 "Why,"  she says.
"We are different, we are tired, we need to separate and think it over," she says.
"We need to talk." I say.
My head stops talking and the birds take over as they flit about the patio. So happy.
I am happy my head says.
 The weather is beyond fine and the sun now turns the edge of the building to gold.  Mountain air and mountain light combine on my patio to make a miracle.
I watch in awe.
Could she ever see it. Could she feel it. Could she smell it.
A jet glides in over the mountains bringing a hundred people to the city.
None of them will ever be her.

Text A Kelty  © 2013

Silly Things
By A Kelty

Voices on the stairs, a dog barks, the maid sweeps, a bus horn sounds, a bird chirps and the city wakes up.
 My neighbor clangs bowls together as she slices fruit for her breakfast.
She needs passion, she told me, just once before she dies; she has never had passion, never that crazy in love feeling that makes you do silly things.
I invited her to do a silly thing but she can't today, she has her chiropractor session.
Not tomorrow she teaches.
Not the next day, the bus ride will exhaust her.
Not the next, her daughter is coming.
Not the next her allergies are acting up.
Her cold still lingers.
Her back hurts.
Voices on the patio, a car starts. The sun hits the edge of the patio and the birds chirp. A dog barks, bowls clank.

Text A Kelty  © 2013

Prose And Poems From Travelers Across The Border
Excerpts from www.softseattravel.com 

Yolanda  
Armond Kelty

I hear the whimper of a lonely dog,  a poor apartment dog locked in while his master leaves each day for the city.
 I look out to see that the sun has just started to abrade the edge of the roof outside my apartment. The birds have started their frantic chirping.
The dog's whimper turns to a sad whine of loss.
     My water bottle gurgles as if there is someone in the kitchen filling a glass. I wish it were her hand pressing on the lever.  It's not and never will be, she thinks that my tropical outpost is primitive and uncomfortable and a little backward,
the very reasons why I love the place.
     We can always get modern and efficient and boringly predictable at home in New Haven.  We often did.
But can we find the pulse of life that I found last night in the plaza where Mariachis played trumpet beneath the trees.
     One trumpet played off to one side, another at the other side, distant from their accompanying violins and bass guitar so that the volumes came into balance.
The first would make a plaintive wail with a hard-edged brassy sound; the other would answer,  muffled by trees and the porticos of the old colonial building.
The sound was sweet and exotic.
When the Mariachis ended their serenade of a young couple seated at the sidewalk cafe, the pulsing rhythm of the Latin band at the other end of the plaza drew me in that direction.
     Eight men and a woman played a rhythmic salsa tune while couples danced and a family member passed a cup around.
"How old are you," I asked the young drummer when the song ended.
 He had fired in rim shots without hesitation at just the right time, every time.
The son of the conga player answered, "Nuevo."
 Just nine years old and he kept the beat like a pro, tacking out a rhythm on the side of his two drums and then, at every twelfth bar, he would slam in his metallic accents seamlessly.
His little brother handled the clave while his aunt in a skin-tight homemade outfit adorned with spangles in strategic places, danced Salsa while sensuously massaging rhythm from a long metal tube with serrated sides: zt, pause zt, zt, accented zt, pause zt, zt, accented, hypnotic.
A couple next to me stood spooned and moving to the rhythm of the strong electric base beat and I envied them their closeness. She in purple rebozo,  stylishly slung over her shoulders and a long skirt split to mid-thigh; just like Mexico, hiding and showing at the same time.
They moved as one and I felt my legs move and my feet move but I was only one and there came a twinge of loss: lost time, lost opportunity, lost love.
The Salsa rhythms crashed to a finale with rim shots and symbol sizzles as the cup passed again at the hand of the sequined aunt.
     In the quiet the sweet voice of a tenor crying for Yolanda came from the other corner of the square. Two guitarists with subtly-amped flat-topped acoustic guitars did vocal harmony around Cuban love songs, always full of pain and longing. I listened while sipping a Modelo Negra and remembering dancing to Pablo Milanés's.  "Yolanda, Yolanda, Eternamente Yolanda"
     That is how I would sing it if I could, but the name would be different. My song might be as fleeting though, as fleeting as the feeling in the plaza on that night of warm tropical fantasy brought on by rhythms and songs and words of love.
The sun rubs higher out my window, my water bottle gurgles again for no one, the dog's wail turns into a whimper, my neighbor starts her percolator, and the sun now burns the patio where I will take my coffee: alone, happy, and free.

AK
 Text A Kelty  © 2013

related
God's Light

Closing Doors
by A Kelty

I know I should be up.   The sun has already lost its crispness. The birds are up and have been for an hour but my coffee in bed tastes sweet even with the guilt.

Carnival starts today and the city will pulse with bands and parades. The men readied floats through the night. They decorated flatbed trucks that come in from the villages. Each village will have its float.  The young people will get to ride on the floats and throw gifts to the crowd, maybe to me if I get out of bed.

A door slams.  An email comes in and it is terse and lifeless, much like that slamming door, much like our friendship.  I read and file for later thought.

What to do when love goes bad, or just goes. There is no anger, no pain, no recrimination, no passion.
We are numb, signaling like lost ships with broken semaphores on a wire stretched thin.
I hesitate to show feeling, she acts as If she has none. She reminisces about when I would wait for her while she shopped. I reminisce about the days when she did not shop.
Are we too old and worn out, bored and lazy, too comfortable to get up off the couch, too content with a little bit. Are we tired?

A door slams again and the new tenant who thinks that he lives alone is moving about in his apartment.  The man then goes out with a slam of his door. The sign says close it gently, cuidado, take care with doors.

Although it is carnival day and we still must be quiet. I will close this door gently.

Text A Kelty  © 2013

Bus To Morelia, Touring Morelia, Butterly Migration

Bus to Morelia, Touring Morelia
Updated June 21, 2013

     The bus pulled into the first class bus station several miles from the center of the city of Moralia with the sun not up yet.  The cab from the terminal to the historic center of the city costs 70 peso.          Once in the Centro Historico,  I wanted to see the downtown area of preserved colonial buildings that have been converted to museums. The city's artisan museum is in one of the old convents and several fine old hotels line the streets around the main plaza. Street-side restaurants look out on the plaza from beneath the preserved Portales.

   Breakfast of coffee and eggs at the outdoor restaurant felt like dining in Europe with all the old timers sipping their cappuccino and appraising the young women as they walked by on their way to work.
Just across from the portales, near a park where a kiosk dispenses maps for a small fee hunkers the huge Cathedral that gave the city a chance to show off its wealth. The church building was constructed in a baroque style called Tablerado.  Work started in 1660 and was completing in 1744. The stone is pink Cantera, a soft, easily-worked volcanic stone that gives the church its unique tone. The interior does impress.

     The rich towns lavished much cash on their churches during colonial days. The cathedral at San Luis Potosi, a silver mining town, ranks high on a list of elegant colonial churches as does the church in Moralia.

     The tourist kiosk dispenses information about butterfly trips. The monarchs winter in the mountains of Michoacan, not far from Moralia. Morelia makes a good base city for winter trips to see the Monarch Migration.  MMG Tours offers a nine-hour trip leaving Morelia at 8:30 am. The trip includes guide, modern van, and lunch. The cost is 500 Pesos, $40 USD Approx.

      The Monarchs start moving south from Canada and the US in September and complete the migration in November. They roost for the winter on the steep slopes of the southwestern sides of mountains near ten thousand feet in Michoacan State where it borders the State of Mexico. It wasn’t until 1975 that researchers discovered that the Monarch butterfly wintered in Michoacan.
     Morelia can also be a good base for tours of Patzcuaro its islands and the Archaeological Zone of Tzintzuntzan.  Morelia Michoacan Guides    www.mmg.com.mx runs tours to the ruin site of Tzintzuntzan.

     Morelia's Centro Historico is a walkable several blocks north and south and 20 blocks east and west. Sightseeing in the historic center of Morelia was made easier by the tourist kiosk that dispenses information and sells maps.  The Artisan Museum and the craft shops at Plaza Valodollid is a good visit. The Artisan Museum is located in Morelia's oldest building, the 1550 exconvento San Francisco. The space, located on two floors, provides great shopping and an enlightening look at the many arts and crafts produced in Michoacan.

Coffee shops and dining at the Park of Roses near the 

Archaeology Museum. 

     Later I caught a cab to the Anthropology museum. They display a great collection of pre-Hispanic art and archaeological artifacts, but for some odd reason they don’t allow photos.
Next to the Museum the park offers outdoor tables for coffee or ice cream in the Park of Roses.
        See links
 Morelia Monarch Butterfly Migration

Cancun to Tapachula Chiapas By Bus

A visitor to our blog inquired about traveling to Guatemala from Cancun but not going through Belize as a solo traveler.
I can appreciate the desire to avoid Belize after going through Belize City on a trip to Tikal.
There are optional routes that will take you through some interesting parts of Mexico

• Yucatan

The trip through Southern Mexico from Cancun to Tapachula could be a great route to go into Guatemala and one heavily traveled by solo travelers including solo women backpackers from Europe and North America.
The route will take you through some notable Mexican colonial towns including Valladolid, a very safe town with a well-lighted zocalo and many international visitors. 

Valladolid will offer good hotel options, transportation, night life, and a cenote for swimming. You are 25 miles from ChichenItza and an inexpensive collective cab ride to the ruin site.
Further northwest you will pass through Merida, a splendid colonial town with museums and nightlife. If traveling by bus you will be using ADO first class buses. ADO and OCC bus (ADO) cover all of southern Mexico and reach Tapachula.

Merida is well-lit in the central area and a great party place on weekends. Several main streets around the Zocalo are closed off to vehicles and given over to food kiosks and musical groups. From Merida you can reach Uxmal and other Mayan ruin sites.
Next stop heading northwest would be Campeche and then Villahermosa. In Villahermosa a visit to the La Venta Sculpture Park will offer artifacts from the Olmec culture including the large sculptured heads of the Olmec.

ADO bus runs service from Villahermosa to Palenque, which is in Chiapas. Palenque offers the great Palenque Ruin Site and several day trips to other sites including Bonampak and Xachilan. You can book a tour or make these trips on your own. See details.
Investigate a cross river trip to Tikal and then Guatemala City

In Palenque the area of the Canada (Canyada) is well-lit at night and offers a varied choice of hotel options. Also find camping at Maya Bell on the ruins road.

If you do party in any of these cities and towns, the key to safety would be to not make yourself an easy target. Stay in lighted areas and head home early and sober. Thieves like an easy target. Don't flash cash, cameras, jewelry, or logo backpacks/luggage. You are bound to meet travelers going in the same direction as you and it is often helpful to go as a group.

Stick to the first class buses on this trip. For the most part this will be ADO Bus or OCC, both run by ADO. Night buses by ADO, (OCC) are a good option and at time the only option. You can sleep on the bus and arrive in the morning.
There are bus routes where you will take second class buses, to Uxmal for instance, but they are Sur buses run by ADO. (A very good ride but perhaps no lavatory)


From Palenque book an ADO Bus (OCC) to San Cristobal de las Casas. San Cristobal offers an illuminated zocalo which is quite a sight at night.
From San Cristobal book OCC to Tapachula. In Tapachula's OCC station you will find Tica Bus, a cross border bus that goes through Guatemala City and Central America to Panama City.
Guatemala will require some additional precautions. Group with others, don't stray far from lighted streets, and try to get local info about unsafe areas.