I have found myself disappointed since returning home, that when I tell people I spent a month in Mérida, Mexico, they have no idea where it is. To be honest, I wasn’t sure where Mérida was on a map when I first learned of this program. And it’s not that people should be required to know the geography of Mexico in all its details. It just becomes frustrating when people’s only reference point is Cancún (and I become frustrated I find myself even using that as a reference), and that after a doctor has to search up Mexico on Google, asking me to point to where Mérida is and everything, they tell me it’s a high risk area for tuberculosis (Mexico has a moderate incidence of TB). It isn’t frustrating that people are unaware of this city, this part of Mexico, or anything about Mexico other than the food and weather, but it’s frustrating that they’re not interested in anything else.
I know these expectations are completely unrealistic, because my goodness not everyone wants to hear about my study abroad in detail, but it would be nice if people thought of Mexico as more than a stop on a cruise vacation. Study abroad as a concept is complicated, especially when people’s views of the world can be so closed. Traveling to Europe is celebrated, but a trip to Mexico, or, God forbid, anywhere south, is seen as completely foreign.
Many people want the luxury and vacation of places, but none of the effort that goes with travel. And that is fine for some people, but it just gets me thinking, if you can find a beach a two hour drive away, what is the point of spending thousands of dollars just to say you went to another country? I apologize, I am rambling completely. My anger is likely misdirected and unfair, as many people aren’t intentionally damaging the places they are visiting, asking about, etc. But a big issue is exactly that, that people are so unaware of their actions or ideas.
I found it extremely interesting the contrast in tourist presence at Chichén Itzá versus Uxmal. I was underwhelmed by how little people were at Uxmal, an archeological site as impressive as Chichén Itzá in my eyes. Chichén Itzá’s main focus was on the Grand Pyramid, but upon looking at a map I found there were areas our tour guide hadn’t even hinted to us about. I had high expectations of Chichén Itzá and that excursion was one of the main excitements of mine about going on this trip, but I found that I enjoyed Uxmal and Izamal even more. This is not to say that Chichén Itzá is “ruined” by the tourists and vendors, but that its pedestal seems to serve as pushing other impressive archeological sites down, in a way. That, or I was just completely unaware of how many impressive structures there are in Yucatán. It isn’t a competition, of course, as these sites are allowed to coexist.
John Llyod Stephens wrote of Don Simon in Incidents of Travel in Yucatan, “He said that if he had Uxmal on the banks of the Mississippi, it would be an immense fortune, for there was stone enough to pave every street in New Orleans, without sending to the North for it, as it was necessary to do; but, not to be outdone in sensible views of things, we suggested that if he had it on the banks of the Mississippi … it would be a much better operation to put a fence around it and charge for admission, than to sell the stone for paving streets” (p. 233). This sentiment is so eerie, even mentioning of destroying a once sacred monument for use- not even in its country of origin but the United States.
For some reason, this sentiment reminds me of riding through Yaxunah on the back of Elias’ pickup truck. On the way to the archeological site we could see piles of rocks I could only assume used to be buildings or temples. But isn’t it better for them to remain that way, frozen in time, rather than taken to be used for walls or buildings or roads? I’m sure that some of these stones have been reused. Of course, what is done with the remains of these cities belongs to the ancestors of those who built them.
The above quote just reminds me how many people can see everything as an opportunity, as something to take rather than to just appreciate. Stephens shows this in his writing and our first-week reading of The LA-Times Magazine: “Yucatán Today and Yesterday” (1956) illustrates this with headlines such as “Their crafts are centuries old” and “Furniture: Business is Booming”. The magazine wanted to make Mérida palatable and marketable to the American consumer, not as a person but as a customer. And as a tourist, you are a customer. You are a customer to those you buy from in restaurants, souvenir shops, experiences, etc. I recall Cannibal Tours and the idea of Native people charging tourists to enter the Spirit Houses, and how we’ve drawn connections to entrance fees for cenotes. There is a difference, of course, with Spirit Houses constructed and cenotes natural, but still, Native people are choosing to profit off of something once belonging to them.
I wanted to mention an article I found, “Shaped By Mérida’s Artistic Soul”, written in 2019 by Patrick Hadleman from the New York Times, which I found terribly similar to the article from the LA-Times Magazine from over 70 years ago in attitude. This article follows Hadleman’s trip in Mérida and his observations of Germans who own polo clubs and Belgians owning a restaurant. Hadleman wrote of David from Mexico City and Carlos who owns a Oaxacan restaurant in the suburbs in the North: “David and Carlos spoke in glowing terms about Mérida’s rapid growth. When he arrived here four years ago, David said, there were seven Starbucks; now there are 18.”
Hadleman goes on two write of two New Yorkers who bought a “romantically crumbling” hacienda outside of Mérida and were “painstakingly” renovating it, without discussing any of the history of haciendas or the complications. Hadleman makes sure to note that the expats in Mérida are there to stay, “establishing deep roots” in the city. The whole article, again, feels designed for consumption, in the way the places, restaurants, and culture (expat and Yucatecan) are discussed. This place is being marketed towards the American, towards another potential expat who will make a space for themselves by no doubt displacing others and ignoring the context which they are entering.
We only existed in Mérida for a month, but we made many choices there as tourists (after all, you can’t spell tourism without “us”) and residents, albeit temporary ones. And we were made aware of the context of this city and beyond, but that doesn’t mean we were when we got there. I know I could have been more vigilant in my awareness.
In Sugarcane and Rum: The Bittersweet History of Labor and Life on the Yucatán Peninsula (2020), John Robert Gast and Jennifer P. Matthews write that in comparison to Cancún, “The historic and memorable character of Mérida’s restaurants, hotels, and spas not only allows the tourist to see history but also repeat history via the continuing cycle of inequality in the workforce” (p. 113). Tourism in Mérida is inherently historical while Cancún exists in a bubble. Visitors to Mérida are forced to confront the history by engaging with the city and its people, though they may just not realize it and go to those hotels and spas without realizing the narrative they are becoming a part of.
As a tourist, everything we do is as a consumer. We make a choice to go one place or do one thing, and our choices impact our experience but also can impact the livelihoods of those living in the places we travel to. I think that one of my main takeaways from this trip was that it is incredibly important to be aware of the spaces I am entering, so not as to be ignorant, but also to be conscious of what I am hoping to get or learn from a place. The world is so much bigger than we think about on a daily basis, but it’s also a small world, after all (Disney pun, sorry!!).
