<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637</id><updated>2011-07-07T17:26:45.034-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Where in the World?</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>61</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-133142954278879201</id><published>2009-07-10T08:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-10T08:26:48.042-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Surviving the Cincinnati Metro System</title><content type='html'>After many bus trips during my south of the boarder experience, I was pleasantly surprised the first time I set foot on the 81x that runs from the east side towards downtown Cincinnati.  I was greeted by the cool breeze of air conditioning, the odorless air and an all around smooth ride as I was surrounded by a professional crowd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't expect things to be so nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I quickly managed to screw things up on my return trip.  I got the bus, threw the coin in the meter and took a seat towards the back - thus, ensuing the bus crisis of '09.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Excuse me.  EXCUSE me," the bus driver called from the front.  "You don't pay when you get on.  You pay when you get off.  Now, how am I going to remember that you paid?  Did everyone else pay? No.  So now you better remind me that you already paid when you get off, or else I won't remember."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I saw a man shaking his head at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, you &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;forgot&lt;/span&gt;.  You have to pay when you get &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;off the bus&lt;/span&gt;," scolded one of the women up front.  "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Not &lt;/span&gt;when you get on the bus, honey," she continued, making me feel a little less like an adult and more like a toddler.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought about telling her how she forgot that white socks do not look good sandals, but I thought better of it.  I shut my mouth and kept it that way for the remainder of the uneventful trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will I ride the bus again? Yes.  In fact, I already have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt; Don't go throwing your coin into meters if you don't know where it belongs.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-133142954278879201?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/133142954278879201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=133142954278879201&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/133142954278879201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/133142954278879201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/07/surviving-cincinnati-metro-system.html' title='Surviving the Cincinnati Metro System'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-1302179914006440606</id><published>2009-06-25T18:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T18:24:36.055-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blog On</title><content type='html'>3 months.  93 days. 2,232 hours.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No matter how I look at it, the number still amazes me.  That's approximately just how long I've been reliving in the U.S. after a winter abroad.  Coming back to the U.S. threw me into a bit of a culture shock.  Something I was not really expecting, seeing as I'd been through it before.  But somewhere between unpacking roughly 138 lbs. of luggage and going back to school at OU, the cold Ohio weather completely froze my blogging abilities.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But now I'm back.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've realized that I don't have to be beyond the boarder to have an adventure.  After all, there are plenty of exciting things going on right in my own backyard, right?  Well, while the "whereintheworld" part of my blog may simply just be my own hometown, I'm determined to make the most of my time.  So here I am, back in the good ole' U.S.A., determined to blog on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt; It's not where you are, but what you make of it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-1302179914006440606?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/1302179914006440606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=1302179914006440606&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/1302179914006440606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/1302179914006440606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/06/blog-on.html' title='Blog On'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-2359675687142166092</id><published>2009-03-20T19:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T19:53:58.035-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Loosing my crutch</title><content type='html'>Today was my first day as the only student from OU in Merida.  Its like I took out the big crutch that was the program and am now living on my own.  It was just me and mama for lunch and then the two of us for dinner also.  I know I'll only be here for tomorrow but it gives me a really good look at what it would be like to actually live here in Merida.  Its fun to think about what my life would be like if I lived here full time.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On another note, today was my last day at the office.  I teared up a little when it came time to say goodbye.  Everyone there has been really great and they have made my experience here so much more enjoyable.  I took in some cookies and we all sat around talking about the last three months.  It's funny how much your life can change in such a short matter of time.  We laughed about how on my first day at the office I didn't even know how to get home nor how to tell them even if I did.  I think I've come a long way since then.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I assured everyone that they always have a place to stay in Ohio whenever they want to visit.  I think it would be fun to be able to show them around and I know they would like it.  They too let me know that I always have a place to stay in Merida.  I'm sure that one day I will be back to take them up on that offer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;While it was sad saying goodbye, I know that I will keep in touch with a lot of my coworkers and my boss Roberto too.  I'm excited to step foot back in the U.S. because I know I'll always have wonderful memories of my time here.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day: &lt;/span&gt;Its hard getting rid of that crutch after you've been walking with it for so long.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-2359675687142166092?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/2359675687142166092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=2359675687142166092&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/2359675687142166092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/2359675687142166092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/03/loosing-my-crutch.html' title='Loosing my crutch'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-4117818371289818300</id><published>2009-03-19T19:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T20:15:30.076-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I hate saying goodbye! (and packing my suitcase)</title><content type='html'>It has finally hit me that my time here in Merida has come to an end.  All of the other OU students have left and my roommate leaves tomorrow, making me the only one left from the program still in Merida.  I realize that Sunday will be here before I know it so I have already started packing my suitcases, which is perhaps the worst part of leaving.  Do you know how hard it is to try to pack up the life that you are living and fit it into two suitcases weighing less than 50 pounds?  My only advantage here is that they weigh things in kilos, not pounds.  Therefore my suitcase is allowed to be 23 kilos, which is technically 50.6 pounds.  I need every bit of help I can get!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have very mixed feelings about leaving.  On one hand I am very sad to leave this country and all my friends here, but on the other hand I am a little relieved to be coming back to the United States and to my family and friends there.  I feel like I've gotten to see a lot more of Mexico this year and while there are things I will miss, there are also things that I'm happy to get away from.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One of the things I will miss the most is working here.  I feel like it has been a such a good experience and that it has really helped me understand everything better here.  Tonight I have my &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;despedida&lt;/span&gt;, a little goodbye party that my friends from work are having.  I'm going to miss them all a lot but I'm excited to celebrate with them before leaving.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt; Goodbyes are very bittersweet&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-4117818371289818300?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/4117818371289818300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=4117818371289818300&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/4117818371289818300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/4117818371289818300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-hate-saying-goodbye-and-packing-my.html' title='I hate saying goodbye! (and packing my suitcase)'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-4476945369517835127</id><published>2009-03-18T19:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-18T20:01:13.690-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A look from the other side of the camera</title><content type='html'>The theme of my blog this year seems to be firsts, so here goes one more.  Today I had my first modeling experience.  Yes, me.  modeling.  Not at all what I expected to be doing on a normal Wednesday night. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyways, the people at my work asked me to model for a salon because the salon wants to put an advertisement in our magazine but they don't have anything designed.  I agreed to go get my hair stylized so that we would  have pictures to include in their advertisement.  Little did I know just what I was getting myself into.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've been to a few of the events with my work, but I've always been the one helping take the pictures, not the one in front of the camera.  However, the whole modeling thing started out pretty easy.  First, they took pictures of me getting my hair straightened.  Then the owner decided that we should get pictures of everything the salon has to offer so I got a manicure and my makeup done. Everything was smooth sailing up until this point.  Then it started to get a little weird.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had to pretend like I was getting my hair washed and shampooed, even though we didn't do the real thing.  Then they covered my hair in plastic wrap and stuck me under a dryer so it looked like I was getting my hair dyed.  Finally, to top it all off, they had me lay down in the waxing room so they could pretend to wax my eyebrows and my upper lip, all the while snapping away pictures.  I really hope they don't end up putting those pictures into magazine.  At least if they do, I won't be here to see the magazine come out!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day: &lt;/span&gt;If there is any model out there who can make getting their lip waxed, I would like to meet her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-4476945369517835127?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/4476945369517835127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=4476945369517835127&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/4476945369517835127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/4476945369517835127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/03/look-from-other-side-of-camera.html' title='A look from the other side of the camera'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-4377346003369822301</id><published>2009-03-17T19:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T20:34:48.508-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Are you reading what I'm reading?</title><content type='html'>Throughout my time here in Mexico I have seen a lot of funny signs in spanish.  For example,  a sign next to a cenote said "If you don't know how to swim, don't get in the water."  Another personal favorite are the signs on the side of the road that instruct drivers to "obey the signs."&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;However, nothing can top the number of signs I have seen here in English.  Before I write down some of the best that I have seen, I want to first let you know that I am in no way trying to make fun of those learning english.  There are great number of people here that speak english better than even I do.  That being said, most of these signs do make me laugh because they are written poorly in english.  Secondly, I want to add that I have photo proof  of all of these signs.  I couldn't make this stuff up even if I tried!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok, here it goes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Inside of a cenote, a sign in spanish saying "dear visitor, wet stones are slippery.  Walk at your own risk"  was translated into "dear tourist,  wet stone are slepering.  thank you."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the same cenote another sign in spanish saying "walk at your own risk" was translated two different ways: "precautions tourist, take care of your self" and "friend visitor, walk easily."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Walking up the stairs of a hostel, the low ceiling read: "Be careful.  Down Head."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the bathroom, a sign telling people not to throw toilet paper into the toilet (yes, you don't throw it in the toilet) was translated to "Do not pull out the garbage in the toilet."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At the waterfalls there was a sign that read "Dangerous not to swim."  It was right next to the spanish version saying "dangerous to get in the water."  It was a little confusing to those who were bilingual and very dangerous to those who only spoke english.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Finally, my favorite of them all was not really a sign at all.  It was a list of rules that we found on the back of our hotel door.  I'll type out the list word for word, letter for letter and let you decide for yourself what they are trying to say.  Honestly, I can't even figure out a few of them.  Here they are, the hotel's rules:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. The guest don't get in alcoholic drunks into the room.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. The hotel is not responsible about values objects or documents lost into the room if these aren't protected on the hotel's reception.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. If the guest is surprised doing a bad use into the room; painting walls or breaking an furniture, it will pay.  Please avoid us to report to you to the municipal's autorities.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. If the guest lost the room's key, it cost will be $65 pesos mn.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. If the guest take any thing of the room, like: towels, sheets, etc., it will pay double of its price and will be notified to the municipal's autorities.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. If the guest smoke or inhale any toxic substance, will be reported inmediately to the municipal's autorities.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;While all the rules are good, my personal favorite is rule number 3.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I realize that some of you may not find these mistranslations funny at all.  I however can laugh because I know that I make the exact same mistakes when I translate into spanish.  The only difference is that I would check to make sure I had everything right before printing it on a large sign.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day: &lt;/span&gt;Some things just aren't easy to translate.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-4377346003369822301?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/4377346003369822301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=4377346003369822301&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/4377346003369822301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/4377346003369822301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/03/what-does-that-say.html' title='Are you reading what I&apos;m reading?'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-9030437574198219385</id><published>2009-03-16T18:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T09:38:50.663-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A despedida and a couple of caves</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/Sb_OODzUxMI/AAAAAAAAAVY/rigvwvRRzaw/s200/DSC01290.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314192826254542018" /&gt;Saturday night we had our &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;despedida&lt;/span&gt;, which is our farewell dinner with everyone in the program.  All of the students, the families and the teachers are invited to come to a dinner/dance/farewell to our time in Mexico.  This year marked the 30th year of OU's Programa Mayab so we had an excuse to celebrate a little more.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was really nice to get together for dinner with the whole family and to see everyone from the program.  You can tell how much the families enjoy getting to spend time together.  I also enjoyed getting to see my mama and papa from last year, who I don't get to see nearly enough.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We spent Sunday by our newly filled swimming pool with all of the relatives.  We ate a picnic-style lunch and baked in the hot, hot sun.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today (Monday) was a national holiday, which means no school or work in my case.  We decided to spend the day going to the caves of Calcehtok, which is Mayan for serpent's neck.  There are about 30 caves connected by intricate passageways, making these caves the biggest in all of the Yucatan.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/Sb8I6MvFpYI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/1FT2usZEYY8/s200/DSC01330.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313975881264637314" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The caves are located in the middle of nowhere, only marked by a small handwritten sign.  A guide can be found near the entrance and they are completely necessary if you want to make your way both in and out of the caves.  (Our guide told us a story about three guys that thought they didn't need a guide and ended up spending 3 days in complete darkness, during which they went crazy.)  We were certain to get a guide.  There were only 5 in our group so we joined up with another group of people to make 14 in all.  The guide&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/Sb_Ou6PnUZI/AAAAAAAAAVg/8plGVsofMRU/s200/DSC01337.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314193390624526738" /&gt;asked us which route to take: easy or extreme.  We chose extreme.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The first decent was pretty easy and very beautiful.  We took some before pictures to remember how clean we were going in because we knew we would be dirty after 3 hours in the caves.  If only I had known then how dirty we were about to get.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/Sb_PEnf0XnI/AAAAAAAAAVo/YtbJ03d3EOk/s200/DSC01341.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314193763549339250" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;After getting further down into the caves, we lost the sunlight of the entrance and had only a flashlight each to guide our way through the complete darkness.  The guide took us deeper and deeper into the slippery cave system.  The further and further we got into the cave the more difficult each passageway between caverns became.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At many points throughout the trip we had to squeeze between rocks, army crawl under passageways, climb up ropes and slide down muddy slopes.  It was certainly an adventure.  There were a few times where I didn't think I was going to make it through some of the&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/Sb_Ps0oFniI/AAAAAAAAAVw/UpvCZnnpbbc/s200/DSC01348.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314194454268452386" /&gt;&lt;div&gt; passages. However, I would squeeze through only to have the guide tell us that the next passageway would be even smaller.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All of the caves were really beautiful.  We saw cavern after cavern where our guide pointed out shapes formed by the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;naturaleza.&lt;/span&gt;  We also got to see many bats - some of which were vampire bats - a lot of their guano and a bunch of things left behind by the mayans who once inhabited the cave. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our guide also told us a lot about the Mayans who used the cave and the rumors of the Aluxes who still reside inside.  We weren't lucky enough to see any of these Aluxes, but who knows if they are out there.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After 3 hours inside of the caves, a lot of our group was ready to head back up to sunlight.  The guide gave us three options:  1. we could take the tourist route  2. we could take an easy route OR 3. we could take the macho route.  Guess which one we took?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/Sb_P8zwCG7I/AAAAAAAAAV4/RgJyMd522GI/s200/DSC01373.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314194728911248306" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The macho route was also the quickest so we picked it.  It involved having us squeeze through what was the smallest passageway thus far.  And I mean squeeze through.  I really didn't think any of us would make it through but low and behold, we did and from there we could see the light at the end of the tunnel.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt; I am definitely not claustrophobic. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-9030437574198219385?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/9030437574198219385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=9030437574198219385&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/9030437574198219385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/9030437574198219385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/03/despedida-and-couple-of-caves.html' title='A despedida and a couple of caves'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/Sb_OODzUxMI/AAAAAAAAAVY/rigvwvRRzaw/s72-c/DSC01290.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-3079098604324911759</id><published>2009-03-13T16:09:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T16:23:05.632-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Friday the 13th</title><content type='html'>Friday the 13th has always had that unlucky connotation.  I'm not sure whether it actually is unlucky or if we just have a certain movie to thank for its unluckiness, but regardless, we all associate Friday the 13th with bad luck.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I, however, have had the luck to spend the past two Friday the 13ths here in Mexico, where they aren't unlucky at all.  Thats right, our neighbors to the south believe that this fatefull day only falls on Tuesday the 13th, not Friday.  Isn't it funny how a different latitude can change all your luck?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you need further proof that Friday the 13th is not unlucky, here in Mexico we filled up our pool today.    After spending almost 3 months down here and countless days lying out beside an empty hole in the yard, Margarita decided to fill the pool.  Why haven't they filled up the pool by now, you ask?  Well the answer is simple: here in Merida they believe that it is too cold this time of year to fill up their pools.  It is winter after all.  Even if winter means temperatures in the 90s.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt; Winter is winter which for me has always meant no pools.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-3079098604324911759?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/3079098604324911759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=3079098604324911759&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/3079098604324911759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/3079098604324911759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/03/friday-13th.html' title='Friday the 13th'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-1960692556400492381</id><published>2009-03-13T15:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T15:44:35.604-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Facing my fear</title><content type='html'>Yesterday (Thursday) I did something that I vowed I would never do here in Merida:  I drove a car.  And yes, on the street.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It all started out like a normal day at work.  I was working on some of my projects and then I decided to go on some sales with two of my coworkers.  We headed off to the mall, which is where we were trying to sell ad space.  I know what you're thinking, and yes, my job is very tough. ;)  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, we spent the day at the mall and when it came time to leave, I had the keys in my hand.  I was joking around about how I was going to drive back and I got in the front seat, expecting to see a stick shift but much to my surprise it was an automatic.  I was really just kidding about the driving thing up until this point.  Then I realized that both of my friends were sitting in the car - seat belts on.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I figured I might as well face up to to my fear of the Meridan streets and I stuck the key in the ignition.  Plus I figured that if I managed to find the only automatic car in Merida, it must have been a sign.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I took off down the street and I drove all the way back to the office just fine.  I only gave my friends a near heart attack 3 times.  Really the driving wasn't too bad at all because it wasn't very far, it wasn't busy and I didn't drive very fast.  But let me tell you, those glorietas are not easier than stoplights!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt; When coming to a glorieta, there is only one rule: its my turn!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-1960692556400492381?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/1960692556400492381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=1960692556400492381&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/1960692556400492381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/1960692556400492381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/03/facing-my-fear.html' title='Facing my fear'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-4490345304335380423</id><published>2009-03-12T17:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T19:32:30.612-07:00</updated><title type='text'>One monday, two worlds</title><content type='html'>On Monday we decided that we wanted to do a little shopping and take advantage of the exchange rate, which is now 15.5 pesos to the dollar.  First however, I took Linda to the marketplace to&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SbmskueH0EI/AAAAAAAAAU4/0yyMnG91Yn8/s200/DSCN2472.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312466982409850946" /&gt; get some fresh fruit and of course to experience the Mexican marketplace.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We only ventured a little way into the marketplace because the fruit section is towards the entrance.  But even walking into the marketplace is like walking into a whole new world.  There is table after table of fresh fruits, spices and vegetables.  As you venture onward (the marketplace encompasses a whole city block) you encounter booth after booth of different or sometimes the same things.  There are several booths devoted to religious statues and&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="text-decoration: underline;float: right; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px; " src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SbmuXHLpiTI/AAAAAAAAAVA/fgVhqBgvvU8/s200/DSCN2492.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312468947548342578" /&gt; many devoted to making tortillas and serving food.  As you walk around the market most of the outside booths are for non-edible items such as the traditional panama hats, books or shoes.  Then you head onwards towards the grain section, which is in very close proximity to the live pets section.  If you keep heading onwards you get to the back of the market, which is the meat section.  You can smell the meat section way before you actually see it.  The smell is revolting and unlike anything I have smelled before.  There you can get fresh - and I mean very fresh - chickens, pigs and other types of meat.  At one market there were people walking around &lt;div&gt;with 7 or so whole, feathered but dead chickens dangling off each arm.  I've also seen people walking pigs on leashes that I imagine can only end up in one place later.  It is my personal belief that every person should experience the meat section of a Mexican marketplace because it either makes you appreciate what you eat or turns you vegetarian.  However, I decided to spare Linda from the meat section and we headed back out while we still had enough appetite to eat our food!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After having lunch at my house with the family we headed further North of the city to  my favorite shopping plaza: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/Sbm3B4EpmLI/AAAAAAAAAVI/I-f7vPgv1LM/s200/DSC01268.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312478478319851698" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Altabrisa. Throughout the years the growing trend in the North is becoming more and more Americanized.  There have been several malls that have popped up, Altabrisa being the newest of them all.  This mall is extremely nice with high-end stores, some of which are too classy for even the Cincinnati area.  We shopped around for awhile but many of the stores were still too expensive - even when taking the exchange rate into consideration.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On our taxi ride home from the mall I joked around with Linda that in one day she was able to the two extremes of the Mexican culture.  We went from spending the morning in the crowded downtown marketplace to spending the evening in the high-end shopping mall.  You don't get much more different than that!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt; Distance doesn't really matter when separating two completely different worlds and as much as I hate this fact, its a sobering experience to see both in one day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-4490345304335380423?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/4490345304335380423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=4490345304335380423&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/4490345304335380423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/4490345304335380423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/03/one-monday-two-worlds.html' title='One monday, two worlds'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SbmskueH0EI/AAAAAAAAAU4/0yyMnG91Yn8/s72-c/DSCN2472.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-5916346641919881076</id><published>2009-03-12T15:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T17:23:59.372-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cenotes, beaches and a familiar face</title><content type='html'>As I wrote before, one of my best friends, Linda, came down to visit me for her spring break.  I was eager to show another person around the Yucatan and show them all about my life here in Merida.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She arrived late on Friday, but not late enough to miss out on the night life here in the city.  I took her out for a few drinks at a cafe and then we headed to one of the many discos or &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anthros&lt;/span&gt; here in the city.  For her first mexican disco experience I chose Amarantus, a small but fun club thats not too far away from my home.  One of the things that amazes me about the clubs here is that they are all open bar.  You pay about 5 dollars and then drink the rest of the night for free.  (For guys it is a little more expensive to enter.)  They bring bottle after bottle of liquor to your table with various mixers and then you get to do the rest of the work.  No lines, no waiting at the bar, no paying for every drink. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After a late night out, we woke up on Saturday and headed off to Cuzama, the site of three cenotes.  We road &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SbmfU1tlp5I/AAAAAAAAAUo/1aW5GeBJ6bE/s200/DSC01245.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312452415824701330" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;on a horse drawn truck to each cenote.  While this trip marked my fourth trip to these cenotes, I am still amazed at their beauty and mystery.  I wonder if I will ever tire of going there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Saturday night we went out to one of the nice Mexican restaurants in the center of town for dinner and drinks.  After a long day of swimming in the Cenotes we turned in at about midnight, which is pretty early for a Saturday night here in Merida.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On Sunday we headed to Progresso, the nearest beach town.  While it doesn't &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/Sbmkc5O_N2I/AAAAAAAAAUw/FJgwiFEZibA/s200/DSC01281.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312458051767187298" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;quite compare to the Caribbean beaches, the beach at Progresso is still very pretty.  The water has a blue-green color that is unique to the area.  The palm trees and &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;palapa&lt;/span&gt; huts (a small umbrella-like structure with a roof of palm leaves) make the beach atmosphere ideal for relaxing and taking in sun.  We also went out on a banana boat ride, which is tubing on a huge, yellow, banana-shaped raft that can hold up to 12 people.  The waves were decent sized.  I fell off twice, but so did just about everyone else.  It was an exciting end to our day at the beach.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;From there we checked out Merida &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;en domigo&lt;/span&gt; (on Sunday).  Every sunday the main square of town comes alive with people selling things, shopping, eating, dancing and enjoying the last day of the weekend.  We did some shopping at the small stalls before calling it a day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day(s): &lt;/span&gt;Some places only get better the more you visit them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-5916346641919881076?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/5916346641919881076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=5916346641919881076&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/5916346641919881076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/5916346641919881076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/03/cenotes-beaches-and-familiar-face.html' title='Cenotes, beaches and a familiar face'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SbmfU1tlp5I/AAAAAAAAAUo/1aW5GeBJ6bE/s72-c/DSC01245.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-1127865848520694790</id><published>2009-03-12T15:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T15:33:00.273-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Possibly my biggest frustration</title><content type='html'>One of the most frustrating things for me here in Mexico is the internet connection.  Its not that they don't have internet, because they do.  They have internet just about everywhere: cafes, parks and even fast food restaurants.  The problem is that it seems not to like my American computer.  Or maybe its that my American computer doesn't like it?  (Thats about as far as my computer technology skills can go)&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Regardless, the point is that it takes me so much longer to do the simplest things.  Like load pictures.  Or write a blog post.  If I'm lucky enough to establish connection, I usually either get kicked off before I finish what I'm doing or I my attention span gets the better of me and I quit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This leaves me in my current situation: nearly a week behind on blog posting.  So I have gone to Segafredo's, the nearest cafe and my second home.  I have my cafe and I'm in it for the long run.  What follows are the posts I should have written about several days ago!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt; Falling behind is easy, but catching up always takes time!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-1127865848520694790?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/1127865848520694790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=1127865848520694790&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/1127865848520694790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/1127865848520694790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/03/possibly-my-biggest-frustration.html' title='Possibly my biggest frustration'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-6775136623547877362</id><published>2009-03-07T08:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-07T08:19:02.731-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The smallest little airport</title><content type='html'>I went yesterday to go pick up Linda, one of my best friends from high school.  She flew directly into Merida - aka the smallest airport I have ever seen.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I arrived early to pick her up, thinking that I was going to a normal airport.  I walked inside to find that I was not.  I think I was one of the only two people in the airport, minus the huge number of people working.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I went over to check out the arrivals and make sure that her flight was on time.  The screen looked somewhat like this: there were a total of 4 flights coming in - one from Houston and three from Mexico City.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I thought maybe they only had four flights coming in at the time, but then I realized that it was a list of every single flight for the day.  Four flights come into Merida and four flights go out, making it the smallest, eight-flights-per-day airport that I have ever seen!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt; You don't have to be a big airport when your the only one in the entire state!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-6775136623547877362?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/6775136623547877362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=6775136623547877362&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/6775136623547877362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/6775136623547877362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/03/smallest-little-airport.html' title='The smallest little airport'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-1121766741205493500</id><published>2009-03-06T11:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-06T11:57:47.425-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My run in with the Police</title><content type='html'>Last night I was coming home from a Noosfera (a club) with one of my friends from here.  It was really late at night and there weren't many people on the road.  Before I knew it I looked behind us to see the flashing lights of the police.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now the flashing lights aren't really a bad sign here.  The police here always have their lights flashing, so I was hoping that maybe it was just a coincidence that they were behind us.  But when they got on the loudspeaker and asked us to pull over, I knew it wasn't so.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The police made my friend get out of his car and checked his license and registration.  In the next 20 minutes the policeman proceeded to search the trunk of the car and continued to talk with my friend.  I had no idea what to do.  Should I get out of the car, should I stay in.  The police here aren't really the most trustworthy and they are quite intimidating in their bulletproof vests with their large guns, so I decided to stay put.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My friend came back to the car and told me that we needed to get money, which he had none of at the time.  I racked my purse and came up with 100 pesos (which is only the equivalent of about $7).  He payed the policeman and we were free to go.  I'm not exactly sure what we were paying to get out of - other than driving down the street at night, but it was a lot less hassle to just give the man money and not have to worry anymore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This brings me to the point of this post: the reason why Mexico has so many problems with crime.  Why would you be afraid of doing something bad as long as you have the money to pay off the cop if you got caught?  If the people enforcing the laws are more crooked than those they stop, how are you going to find justice?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Its a weird, messed up system but thats the way life is right now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt; Never leave home without enough money to pay off the cop.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-1121766741205493500?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/1121766741205493500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=1121766741205493500&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/1121766741205493500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/1121766741205493500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/03/my-run-in-with-police.html' title='My run in with the Police'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-3840591699308831885</id><published>2009-03-05T18:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-05T19:00:52.932-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Election Time</title><content type='html'>Here in Mexico its getting to be election time.  They have primaries this month (March) and then the real vote is sometime during June or July.  I'm actually embarrassed that I don't remember the exact dates because of the sheer volume of times I have seen the commercials.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, what strikes me as interesting about said commercials is that they aren't like the ones we have here in the US.  There are commercials from both of the major political parties - the PRI and the PAN, but then a lot of the commercials are just very general commercials telling people to vote.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And when I say general, I mean very general commercials.  Most consist of people instructing you to think about it and then vote, or to weigh the options and then vote.  Oh, and they usually repeat the dates several times for registering and for voting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think I like these type of ads a little more.  While I don't know a single candidate, I also don't know their icky past, their flip-flop voting patterns, or their love scandals.  I think that maybe we should take page out of this book come 2012.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt; This is more a question than a lesson, but: I wonder how differently we might vote if we didn't have to sift through the negative ads.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-3840591699308831885?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/3840591699308831885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=3840591699308831885&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/3840591699308831885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/3840591699308831885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/03/election-time.html' title='Election Time'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-2577723927852224944</id><published>2009-03-04T19:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-04T19:45:48.510-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Where is my $13 million?</title><content type='html'>Today at work we had an interview with a British man who we are featuring in the next issue.  I was invited to join in on the interview and it turned out to be more interesting than I thought.  This man lives here in Merida and because of all the request he has received, he has started a web site where you can go to learn languages - the most intriguing of which is Maya.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The interview was very interesting and we touched on many different topics, but one thing stuck out in my mind: the issue of poverty.  While I fully recognize that poverty exists in all countries, here it strikes me as an even greater problem.  I think the reason is that the wealth is distributed so unevenly here.  In the U.S. most of us identify ourselves as middle class and there have been a growing number of people who identify themselves as so.  While Mr. and Mrs. Jones down the road may have a pool and drive a nicer car, they really aren't that different.  Here however, this is not true.  Mr. and Mrs. Gonzalez have at least 4 nicer cars, a huge house, a house at the beach, a security guard and a live in Muchacha.  Meanwhile 3 blocks down the road there are people living in one room houses with dirt floors - or worse. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So anyways, back to the interview.  Our interviewee told me a fact that he had recently learned.  If you took all the wealth in the world, added it up and then divided it between all of the people in the world, do you know how much money each person would have?  $13 million.  Astonishing, isn't it?  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It really made me think about how greed and selfishness have affected our world.  While I don't really have the $13 million to give away or share with others, it made me appreciate my life and it made me wonder what kind of a difference I could make with what I have.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt; $13 million wouldn't be a lot if everyone else had it too. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-2577723927852224944?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/2577723927852224944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=2577723927852224944&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/2577723927852224944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/2577723927852224944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/03/where-is-my-13-million.html' title='Where is my $13 million?'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-980719879088542592</id><published>2009-03-03T09:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T09:48:11.593-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Guest Speaker</title><content type='html'>Last night I headed off to UNID - one of the Universities here in Merida.  One of my friends from work had told me that her professor would love for me to come and talk to their psychology class.  Their class is all about psychology of the Mexican in the business world and her professor wanted to hear an outsiders perspective on what goes on here.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was a little nervous when she picked me up last night.  I didn't really know what to expect (what to say, what language to say it in, etc.)  I got to sit in some of the class for about half an hour, during which I got to listen to some students present and discuss various topics.  All in all, it was a lot like a normal university level class. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then the professor asked me to come up to the front of the class, tell everyone a little about myself and we had an interview-style discussion where anyone could ask me questions. And did they ask me questions!  I think that the class of about 25/30 people may know more about me than some of my friends! I talked about my views of Mexicans, the workplace and what I have seen so far.  We talked about machismo and feminism, my views on the world, where I see myself in 10 years and so much more.  I actually had a lot of fun talking with the class.  I think was a really good experience for all involved.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For them it was good for them to hear our stereotypes of Mexicans (some valid and some not) and also my opinion after living here.  I also think it helped them to see someone trying to speak spanish, enjoying the lifestyle here and having fun. It kind of helped break the drunk, partying american stereotype that they have of us (all thanks to spring break). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For me, it was great to speak spanish in front of a ton of people for so long.  And the professor said that I even spoke really well - can you believe that?  He asked me to come back and speak to another one of his classes sometime if I wanted, but we'll see if my time limit will allow.  It was also really good for me because it got me thinking about things I haven't thought about before, like: what would I bring from Ohio to Merida or vice versa? What I'll miss the most and least?  For me, it was a great opportunity to reflect on my time here and realize what I'll miss and what I'll be happy to get away from.  It makes me realize that I really need to enjoy my last three weeks here in the peninsula, but also that I will be excited to return to Ohio, my home.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt; I've learned more about myself in one class here in Mexico than I have in 2 years at OU.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-980719879088542592?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/980719879088542592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=980719879088542592&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/980719879088542592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/980719879088542592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/03/guest-speaker.html' title='The Guest Speaker'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-5515594782167846936</id><published>2009-03-02T19:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-02T20:24:56.329-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Another weekend in the Jungle</title><content type='html'>Yet another weekend here in Mexico saw us adventure off into &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;la selva&lt;/span&gt; (the jungle) of southern Mexico.  This time we were headed off to Calakmul, famous ruins site for many reasons.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;First, the site is located in the 1,800,000 acre Calakmul Biosphere Reserve, one of the most important biosphere reserves in the world - second only to that of the Amazons.  Traveling into the reserve is like traveling back into time and getting to see the same landscape that the Mayans once walked through.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our trip to Calakmul was not quite as easy as we had hoped.  While the ruins are one of the largest ancient Maya cities ever uncovered, it ceases to be a major tourist destination.  We ended up taking two second-class busses south from Merida for a trip that lasted about 5 1/2 hours.  We eventually found ourselves in the middle of nowhere at midnight when we encountered a small cabana for the night.  The biggest perk was getting to see the stars at night without the glare of city lights to obstruct the view.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don Antonio, the sweet old caretaker of the cabanas told us that we should get an early start on the day if we were planning on going to the ruins.  He arranged for a cab, which is the only way to get out the ruins, and we headed off to sleep under mosquito nets for the night.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The next day we arose to the sound of roosters crowing and ate a nice breakfast prepared by Don Antonio himself.  We were in the cab by 7am and headed off to the site.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The site is so remote that tit takes at least an hour by car to reach the ruins once you enter into the biosphere reserve.  Along the road we saw a good amount of wildlife which consisted mostly of wild turkeys.  But these turkeys weren't like any I've ever seen.  They looked more like giant peacocks with blue and green feathers, a long neck and a small head topped with a crown of orange bumps.  They were much more beautiful than I expected.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We finally reached the beginning of the ruins.  From there you can take three routes, the shortest of which takes you right to the main attraction - the heart of the old city and the two big temples.  Calakmul was home to about 200,000 people during its peak, so the city is huge.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Both of the temples were equally impressive in size and height, but one is slightly higher than the other.  The bigger one holds the record for the tallest and I believe the biggest pyramid of the all the Mayan pyramids excavated.  Four tombs have been found inside, indicating that the pyramid grew in size throughout the years that the city thrived.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The view from the top of the pyramid made the long, hot accent worth it.  All you could see was jungle in every direction with the other temples poking out from the treetops.  From the top of one pyramid we ran into two mexican guys with binoculars.  With binoculars we could see the very tip of the main temple of Tikal, Guatemala.  (The site of Calakmul is only 30km from the border between Mexico and Guatemala).  So, technically, I can now say that I have seen a lot of Guatemala, regardless of the fact that I haven't stepped food inside of the country.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After spending about 2 1/2 hours at the site, climbing both of the big pyramids and running around the site, we decided not to keep the cab driver waiting any longer.  Plus we were trying to fit in as many sites as possible while we had the cab for the day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We drove back out of the site and headed off towards Balam Ku's.  This site was a lot smaller than Calakmul but it had some really nice stucco work.  Back in the day of the mayans almost all fo the buildings were covered with painted stucco.  The site of Balam Ku's gave us a better look at what the temples used to look like.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;From there it was off to Chicanná.  This site was much closer to where we were staying for the night.  Its big attraction was a huge building whose facade was shaped like a giant face - the doorway being the huge gaping mouth.  It was a depiction of the mayan god of the earth.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;From Chicanná we headed right down the road to Becán, another small, yet impressive site.  There were many high pyramids with stunning views.  Becán was also the first place we really encountered other tourists.  We saw some mexicans at Calakmul and few other tourists at Chicanná, but nothing like the italian tourist group we saw at Becán.  I think that part of the experience of going to all of the ruins that we saw was that they were so remote.  It felt almost as if we had the ruins to ourselves.  It made them that much more awe inspiring and impressive.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Finally it had reached 5pm, which is closing time for the archeological sites.  I can't say I minded though because we had a long, exhausting day of traveling and I was ready to head back to the cabana.  Luckily on the way home from the ruins site we asked the taxi driver about bus rides back north so we could get to Merida.  We found out the Xpuhil (the closest city to the ruins) was so remote that only one bus left each day to go north and it happened to do so at 4am.  We were very thankful that we had asked or else we would have missed our only bus north.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We headed back to the cabana where we proceeded to watch a bit of "The Little Rascals" in spanish before passing out from exhaustion.  At 3:30 we woke up and Don Antonio drove us to the side of the road because he told us it wasn't safe for 3 girls to be walking alone in the middle of nowhere at 3 am.  There we waited with him until we could see the headlights of the bus and we flagged it down from the side of the road.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We were back in Merida by about 9 or 10 in the morning after some long hours on a bumpy bus ride home.  We had the whole day ahead of us, yet we felt as if it were bedtime.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day: &lt;/span&gt;Four ruins in one day is enough to exhaust even the most avid ruins enthusiast!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-5515594782167846936?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/5515594782167846936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=5515594782167846936&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/5515594782167846936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/5515594782167846936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/03/another-weekend-in-jungle.html' title='Another weekend in the Jungle'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-2000332633737506227</id><published>2009-02-27T14:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-27T14:17:41.451-08:00</updated><title type='text'>San Cristobal de las Casas</title><content type='html'>We arrived to San Cristobal de las Casas on Sunday evening, right as the sun was going down.  It was a very quaint city tucked in the middle of all the mountains.  The colorful houses all had red tile roofs that had weathered with age and the streets were alive with the hustle and bustle of people.  We walked around the main avenue and the first thing I did was buy a poncho because it was so cold.  Everyone from here in the Yucatan warned me that it would be cold, but they also think that winters here in Merida are cold, so I didn't really believe them.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After warming up we walked around the city some, got dinner and went out for drinks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The next day we woke up early in the morning to go to the bus station because I decided that I wanted to stay in San Cristobal an extra day.  One out of the other 15 people there decided to stay with me so the two of us changed our tickets and then went to the market to get some food.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After meeting up with everyone again we went out to the Canon del Sumidero where we went on a boat ride down a river.  The river was surrounded by the huge walls of the canon and it was a beautiful cruise.  We also got a chance to see some wildlife.  In total we saw 4 crocodiles and yes, we even saw a monkey!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt; Day 3 and finally we had our monkey spotting.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-2000332633737506227?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/2000332633737506227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=2000332633737506227&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/2000332633737506227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/2000332633737506227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/02/san-cristobal-de-las-casas.html' title='San Cristobal de las Casas'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-4930769184175900294</id><published>2009-02-26T19:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T19:55:00.491-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Misol Ha, Agua Azul and one long bus ride</title><content type='html'>On Sunday, we departed from Palenque to head out to San Cristobal - a mountain town that was about 5 hours away from Palenque.  Along the road, I had heard of a few waterfalls that were popular destinations for tourists, so we decided to get a colectivo that would stop at two sites: Misol Ha and Agua Azul.  Little did I know that they were about to be my favorite parts of the weekend.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;First we stopped at Misol Ha, a smaller waterfall in the middle of the jungle.  It was a really pretty site and we were able to climb behind the waterfall and up into a cave off to the side of the waterfall.  It was a fun destination, but nothing like the waterfall we were about to see.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When we got to Agua Azul, it was easy to see where they came up with the name.  The water was a beautiful shade of turquoise as it tumbled down the rocks in the middle of the jungle.It was absolutely beautiful.  Here at Agua Azul, we were allowed to do some swimming in the crystal clear and cold water.   Before hoping in the water, we decided to walk around the site a little more.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The amazing thing was that the higher and higher you climbed, the more and more waterfalls you saw.  I can honestly say that I never saw a beginning nor and end to all the waterfalls.  As we climbed higher up the mountain, the views became more and more impressive.  The jungle stretched out below us and above us were more and more falls.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tucked all around the path were more little pools and mini waterfalls.  It was impossible to see everything in the three hours that we spent there and I would love to go back and spend a whole day sometime. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We finally gave up on trying to reach the beginning of the falls for lack of time and we headed to swim.  The water was as refreshing as it was beautiful and again, I could have spent all day just swimming around in the various pools formed by all of the falls.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Finally, the time had come to pack up our things and head back to the van.  I was lucky or maybe unlucky enough to sit in the front of the colectivo because I had arranged the transportation.  I could tell that the driver was a little mad that we were behind schedule but I had no idea just how important being on time was.  After all, we were still in Mexico.  But as we raced off to catch the bus to San Cristobal, I began to get a little worried.  We raced around the curving, winding, mountain roads doing well over 40 or 50 mph.  It was a surreal experience as I peeked out my window to see an immediate drop off the side of a mountain.  I don't think I have ever been so happy to get on a bus as I was that day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The bus ride to San Cristobal was the perfect end to our time at the waterfalls.  It was a beautiful ride through the foggy mountains of the Chiapas area with beautiful views of the whole countryside.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt; Day number two in the jungle and still no monkey sighting.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-4930769184175900294?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/4930769184175900294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=4930769184175900294&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/4930769184175900294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/4930769184175900294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/02/misol-ha-agua-azul-and-one-long-bus.html' title='Misol Ha, Agua Azul and one long bus ride'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-4240333453748951933</id><published>2009-02-26T13:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T14:36:07.813-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Saturday in Palenque</title><content type='html'>After arriving in Palenque at around 8:30am, we quickly found a hotel and some breakfast before heading off to see the ruins of Palenque.  I had heard a lot about the ruins and was excited to go see them for myself, but upon arrival we decided to take a tour of the jungle first.&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our guide took us around the ruins to the unexcavated areas of the jungle.  We learned all about different types of trees and plants that the Mayans use for medicine and then we got to swing from the vines like tarzan.  Our trek wound us around the jungle until we came around to a small stream that our guide called "&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;la fuente de la vida"&lt;/span&gt; or "the source of life."  Then he declared that we should have a Mayan baptism.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One by one we got baptized right there in the stream of life.  My Mayan name is now Nicte Ha which means "&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "&gt;flor de la agua"&lt;/span&gt; or "flower of the water."  I actually learned that it was a popular name for several Mayan princesses, so I guess I'll keep it.  After the baptism someone asked the guide if he could drink the water because it was so incredibly clear.  He told us it was safe to drink and that its what the Mayans drank years ago in Palenque.  Now that we had officially been baptized, it was almost a must for us to fill up our bottles with stream water for the rest of the day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SacU8QKhcvI/AAAAAAAAAUA/MSbSc4BU0LA/s320/DSC00957.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307233711243227890" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'courier new'; font-size: 10px; "&gt;With our Jungle guide&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Much to our disappointment, our jungle tour ended without seeing any monkeys and we were left alone to explore the ruins of Palenque.  The ruins site was pretty incredible and they were some of the most elaborate ruins I have seen thus far.  Two very important tombs were found in Palenque.  First of which was the tomb of Hanab Pakal, or Pakal the Great.  It was the first tomb found inside of a pyramid and it still remains the most important and impressive.  While Pakal's tomb is no longer open to the public, there is another tomb that we were able to view.  This tomb dates around the same time as the Pakal's tomb.  The woman inside is thought to be his wife, although no one is quite sure.  I did find it interesting that inside the tombs they found several jade and obsidian goods along with food and drink to sustain the deceased on their tr&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;ip down to &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Xibalba - &lt;/span&gt;the underworld.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We spent the rest of the day exploring the ruins - only 2% of which have been restored - and trekking through the jungle before we returned to our hotel in the tiny city of Palenque.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SacU9u-VRxI/AAAAAAAAAUI/DmR9PcUBZDs/s320/DSC00976.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307233736693466898" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small; font-family: 'courier new';"&gt;The view from the top of a pyramid&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day: &lt;/span&gt;One day in the jungle down and still no monkey sightings.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-4240333453748951933?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/4240333453748951933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=4240333453748951933&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/4240333453748951933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/4240333453748951933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/02/saturday-in-palenque.html' title='Saturday in Palenque'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SacU8QKhcvI/AAAAAAAAAUA/MSbSc4BU0LA/s72-c/DSC00957.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-8633645454616908837</id><published>2009-02-26T12:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T13:41:33.777-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A long weekend in the jungle</title><content type='html'>I don't even know where to begin to describe my long weekend in the state of Chiapas.  I guess I'll just start with the beginning: Friday night.  We decided to leave at 11:50 pm to make the 8 hour bus ride to Palenque.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;First we took a bus to the centro and from there we decided to get a taxi to the bus station.  But we didn't take just any old taxi, we decided to take one of the traditional horse drawn &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;calesas&lt;/span&gt; that they have down in the centro.  There really isn't anything like pulling up to the bus station at 11pm in a horse drawn carriage.  Despite the weird looks, we headed off to get our tickets.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One of the things I have learned about traveling by bus here in Mexico is that nothing can just be easy.  After fighting for a while to get the tickets we were on a bus traveling to Palenque with a group of 15 americans.  I was a little nervous about traveling with such a large group, but not worried enough to keep me from sleeping on the bus.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day: &lt;/span&gt; Overnight buses = one less hotel room to pay for &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-8633645454616908837?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/8633645454616908837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=8633645454616908837&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/8633645454616908837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/8633645454616908837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/02/long-weekend-in-jungle.html' title='A long weekend in the jungle'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-140419278854610963</id><published>2009-02-20T16:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T16:56:27.324-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Sales Career</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I didn't really have anything to do at work so I decided to help with something new: sales.  Now I've never really pictured myself as a saleswoman, let alone a Mexican saleswoman, but I figured I'd give it a shot.  My boss decided that I should call up bilingual schools and schools that taught english, so I could at least I could have the option of defaulting to english if I was really having trouble in spanish.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now talking on the phone here makes things a little bit more difficult, but I figured there was no better way to face my fear than by calling school after school after school.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wish this is the part where I tell you that I sold something, but I didn't - not one single thing.  I think I got pretty close today though.  While I'm probably going to try to stick it out and go at it again, I think this has proven that I'm just not cut out to be a saleswoman.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On another note, I need to get going to go pack my suitcase.  Tonight we're catching the last bus, which leaves at 11:50 and spending a good 8 hours to Palenque.  Palanque is a big ruins site situated in the state of Chiapas, which is in southern Mexico.  I've heard a lot of good things about Palanque and I think this is going to be a pretty good trip.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thanks to Carnival I don't have to work Monday or Tuesday so our extended weekend will hopefully also include Agua Azul, Misol-Ha and San Cristobal, but I'll tell you more about those when I get back from this weekend.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt; Talking on the phone isn't so bad, but the selling part is.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-140419278854610963?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/140419278854610963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=140419278854610963&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/140419278854610963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/140419278854610963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/02/my-sales-career.html' title='My Sales Career'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-2455038779643965324</id><published>2009-02-19T19:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T20:19:46.065-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Carnival is here and you HAVE to be in a good mood!</title><content type='html'>Carnival 2009 has finally made its way to Merida.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It officially started yesterday - exactly a week before ash wednesday with &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;La Quema de Mal Humor&lt;/span&gt; which is a big celebration in the center of the town.  Last night about 15,000 people - including the kings and queens of carnival and the mayor - gathered in the main plaza for festivities, during which they have a big bonfire to ¨burn¨all of the bad thoughts.  Other than signifying the official start of Carnival, it means that you have to be in a good mood for the next week of Carnival.  Thats right - no one in the city is allowed to be in a bad mood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today´s main event was the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;desfile infantil&lt;/span&gt; or the children´s parade.  We got down to the centro at about 3:30 (parade starts at 4) and were met with a wall of people.  The streets were all crowded with parents, friends and spectators to watch the children parade down the street.  All of the children that came to watch also were adorned in bright costumes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The parade started at around 4:30, which is pretty good for Mexican time.  The parade consisted of several preschools or dance schools all made up of kids around the ages of 4 to 7.  You could tell that they had worked for a long time on their coreography, even though most seemed to have fogotten it in the excitement of being in front of a crowd.  Their costumes all looked amazing and some of those kids really knew how to move!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year´s theme for carnival is &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;peliculas&lt;/span&gt; or movies, some of the many costumes that we saw today were Marilyn Monroes, Aladin, The Jungle Book, Toy Story, Finding Nemo and Pinocchio.  It was a nice change from the parades to come, which consist of mostly advertisements and barely-covered twenty-somethings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt; It really is hard not to be in a good mood now that Carnival is here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-2455038779643965324?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/2455038779643965324/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=2455038779643965324&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/2455038779643965324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/2455038779643965324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/02/carnival-is-here-and-you-have-to-be-in.html' title='Carnival is here and you HAVE to be in a good mood!'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-3888321934677435308</id><published>2009-02-17T18:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T01:08:27.321-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fotos from Campeche</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SZvNH_cAmVI/AAAAAAAAAT4/WV8iUsDKybg/s1600-h/DSC00900.JPG"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SZvNH_cAmVI/AAAAAAAAAT4/WV8iUsDKybg/s320/DSC00900.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304058523330582866" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The walls of Campeche.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SZt72ZgTicI/AAAAAAAAATY/XddOLN55IFA/s320/DSC00740.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303969160648427970" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;One of the entrances to the city.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SZt73baioLI/AAAAAAAAATw/5T31bnZcPfE/s1600-h/DSC00888.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SZt73baioLI/AAAAAAAAATw/5T31bnZcPfE/s320/DSC00888.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303969178340991154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I thought I saw a pirate.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SZt73JkXuQI/AAAAAAAAATo/54fWGXdik-g/s1600-h/DSC00883.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SZt73JkXuQI/AAAAAAAAATo/54fWGXdik-g/s320/DSC00883.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303969173550381314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Here is what the wall's of campeche look like on a map.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SZt72jafLYI/AAAAAAAAATg/hGasRP9sr5c/s320/DSC00831.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303969163308379522" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This is what the walls are protecting!   (aka the view from the roof of our hostal at night)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SZt72I30kbI/AAAAAAAAATQ/UlWiL0eF3AY/s320/DSC00844.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303969156183658930" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Every street is lined with candy-colored houses just like this one.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-3888321934677435308?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/3888321934677435308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=3888321934677435308&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/3888321934677435308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/3888321934677435308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/02/fotos-from-campeche.html' title='Fotos from Campeche'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SZvNH_cAmVI/AAAAAAAAAT4/WV8iUsDKybg/s72-c/DSC00900.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-3820531327062193171</id><published>2009-02-17T14:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T18:39:08.323-08:00</updated><title type='text'>More about Campeche</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I realize I seem to have skimped a little of my discription of Campeche in my last post.  While the pirate ship was a really cool part of my weekend, there is a lot more to Campeche than just being a pirate.  However, the city is famous thanks to the ancient pirates of the gulf and their many raids on the old city.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Campeche was the most frequently attacked city on the gulf coast, for reasons I am unaware of.  As a response to these frequent raids, the city built huge walls that completely surrounded their quaint little town.  Cannons and watchmen lined these walls day in and day out to prevent pirates like Francis Drake and Laurens DeGraaf from attacking again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today, a lot of the wall has fallen down, but there are still some important parts standing where you can walk along and see the old cannons that they used.  The centro of the city is beautiful, clean and upkept.  The main zocalo lies only a few blocks from the ocean and serves as the merging point for all the streets lined with their candy-colored houses.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We stayed at a hostal opposite the church in the main plaza.  Watching the city at night and again in the morning from the rooftop deck made our stay in the city that much more exciting.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt; Pirates of the Caribbean were actually a dangerous threat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-3820531327062193171?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/3820531327062193171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=3820531327062193171&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/3820531327062193171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/3820531327062193171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/02/more-about-campeche.html' title='More about Campeche'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-73128420932166257</id><published>2009-02-16T08:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-16T09:51:49.110-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Do spanish pirates say arrggh too?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SZmUYA1EBFI/AAAAAAAAATI/KTykM3vbcpc/s1600-h/DSC00763.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SZmUYA1EBFI/AAAAAAAAATI/KTykM3vbcpc/s200/DSC00763.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303433176465802322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I'll start off with one of the most exciting parts of my weekend: The Lorencillo.  We went to Campeche, a city about 2 hours west of Merida.  As we walked around the Centro of the city, I came across a little advertisement for the Lorencillo, a pirate ship that takes short trips out into the Gulf of Mexico.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Having seen my fair share of Pirates of the Caribbean, I knew this was something I didn't want to miss out on, so we quickly called up and got on the 5'o'clock trip.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Although I think the pictures give an accurate depiction, they don't capture the pirates of the caribbean soundtrack that went on in the&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SZmUYLi35-I/AAAAAAAAATA/Cwfm92RJduw/s200/DSC00748.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303433179342301154" /&gt;&lt;div&gt; background. Yes, this was an experience straight out of the movie, or a least a top-rate ride at Disney.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The hour long boat ride was a lot of fun.  Not only did we get to pretend to sail the boat, we also got to drink rum and watch a fake sword fight.  After the sword fight, the performers - or shall I say pirates - broke out into a salsa performance (I think this might be where we differed from the movie).  We all got to join in and there we were, dancing aboard a pirates ship as we sailed off&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SZmUXwW0dbI/AAAAAAAAAS4/iKiQiVW3qkk/s200/Lorencillo.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303433172043986354" /&gt;&lt;div&gt; into the sunset.  It would have been a very romantic Valentine's Day had I not been there with my roommate.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt; Sailing pirate ships and rum make for a sloppy salsa dance.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-73128420932166257?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/73128420932166257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=73128420932166257&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/73128420932166257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/73128420932166257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/02/do-spanish-pirates-day-arrggh-too.html' title='Do spanish pirates say arrggh too?'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SZmUYA1EBFI/AAAAAAAAATI/KTykM3vbcpc/s72-c/DSC00763.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-6494662048302566456</id><published>2009-02-14T08:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-14T08:18:15.061-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Number 5: Because you only live once</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Last year, while I was living here in Mexico, my motto was "well, this is the only time I'll be living here, so lets do it"  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Obviously, that motto has been disproved by me living here this winter for time number two.  So this year, my motto has become a little more sophisticated (as have I ;)).  It is now, "well, you only live once."  I would like to see that motto proven wrong!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;So anyways, I wanted Dave to be able to see what I mean by "You only live once."  I had to think of something good.  Something that neither one of us has ever done before and most likely will never do again.  And I found it:  Feeding the sharks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;While we were in Cancun I noticed in a guidebook an advertisement for feeding sharks at a local aquarium.  I knew that this would be a perfect opportunity so we headed off to the aquarium to get started.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Once we payed and heard a little more about the adventure, they handed us our wetsuits and we got ready.  We stepped into a huge plexi-glass box that they then lowered into the shark tank.  There were several slits and holes in the side of the cage so we could put the food out through the holes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;As we were down there, the guide was telling me the names of the various sharks in spanish and I was playing translator.  With every shark name that I translated to Dave his eyes got a little bit bigger.  Unlike me, Dave actually knows a thing or two about sharks, and he informed me that the sharks we were feeding were some of the most dangerous sharks.  (This is something you might want to find out before you are stuck in a glass box in the middle of a shark tank!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Anyways, it was an amazing experience being able to feed the sharks and something I will remember for the rest of my life!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SZbrL5Nk1II/AAAAAAAAASg/uaLUFBfmtf8/s1600-h/n12329892_39852268_4788.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SZbrL5Nk1II/AAAAAAAAASg/uaLUFBfmtf8/s400/n12329892_39852268_4788.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302684200844186754" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt; While I have always been against the whole vacationing-in-Cancun thing, I ended up having a once-in-a-lifetime experience!  One point for Cancun.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-6494662048302566456?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/6494662048302566456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=6494662048302566456&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/6494662048302566456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/6494662048302566456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/02/number-5-because-you-only-live-once.html' title='Number 5: Because you only live once'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SZbrL5Nk1II/AAAAAAAAASg/uaLUFBfmtf8/s72-c/n12329892_39852268_4788.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-5731060103977233660</id><published>2009-02-12T16:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T16:56:25.883-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Number 4: transportation</title><content type='html'>You can´t travel around the Yucatan unless you´ve traveled it like a poor college student. It would be boring to rent a car when there are so many forms of transportation out there. So this weekend I think I gave Dave a good taste of the various forms of transportation that the Yucatan has to offer!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think we took a total of 8 bus rides, various taxi rides and several colectivos, which are the vans that go just about everywhere in the Penninsula. We even hit the less traveled on roads by tricitaxi, a bicycle powered taxi, and topped it all off with a horse-drawn truck ride through the jungle to go to cenotes. I think the only thing we possibly missed was traveling by spaceship, so perhaps we´ll have to do that next visit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/strong&gt; Having a car here only limits your mode of transportation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-5731060103977233660?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/5731060103977233660/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=5731060103977233660&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/5731060103977233660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/5731060103977233660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/02/number-4-transportation.html' title='Number 4: transportation'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-5151219844733426376</id><published>2009-02-11T13:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T14:04:38.110-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Number 3: Carribean Beaches</title><content type='html'>Number 3 on the list of things to see here in the Yucatan is the caribbean beaches.  I have never seen water so clear or so blue as it is here on the caribbean coast.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Like I said in my last post, we went to Tulum because it has both numbers 2 and 3: ruins and beaches.  It is one of the most beautiful places I have ever been.  The Mayan ruins sit atop a cliff that overlooks the caribbean sea.  After a spending a hot morning looking at ruins and taking pictures, there is nothing better than going for a dip in the sea.  All you have to do to get there is hop down some rickety wood steps and your on the beach.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Facing the ocean all you see is blue sky, blue water and blue waves.  To your right and left you can see the ruins atop the cliffs that surround the beach.  It is a paradise uniquely Mexican.  No where else can you see both caribbean sea and important Mayan ruins.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day: &lt;/span&gt;This isn't really a lesson, but after Tulum, I am left wondering if the Mayan's were as into sunbathing as the tourists are.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SZNK_QCQxDI/AAAAAAAAASY/jljSx7hqbSY/s400/DSC00601.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301663636841874482" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-5151219844733426376?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/5151219844733426376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=5151219844733426376&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/5151219844733426376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/5151219844733426376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/02/number-3-carribean-beaches.html' title='Number 3: Carribean Beaches'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SZNK_QCQxDI/AAAAAAAAASY/jljSx7hqbSY/s72-c/DSC00601.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-769424551406644141</id><published>2009-02-10T15:22:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T15:48:09.640-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Number 2: mayan ruins</title><content type='html'>Number two on my list of things to do in the Yucatan is the Mayan Ruins. There are many different sites throughout the peninsula that range from wonders of the world, like Chichen Itza, down to smaller or unrestored sites. These sites are so important because they give a glimpse into one of the most sophisticated pre-colombian civilizations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Mayans have been traced back to as early as 2600 BC, with most of the ruins sites boasting at least 1000 years in existence. The civilization thrived until the arrival of the conquistadors, upon which it began its decline. However, the Mayans are still very important to this area because many of the people are at least some percent Mayan. The language is still spoken in some villages and most people know their fair share of Mayan words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sites, some which were found in tact, many of which have been restored, are very impressive. It is amazing to think how a civilization that long ago managed to build such impressive and beautiful buildings. It is easy to fall in love with the various sites, each one containing its own unique identity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SZIPrI8MhsI/AAAAAAAAASQ/fWbLq979Uzg/s1600-h/DSC00596.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301316945177249474" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SZIPrI8MhsI/AAAAAAAAASQ/fWbLq979Uzg/s200/DSC00596.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;For our trip, I decided to head to Tulum, which is on the Eastern coast of the peninsula and technically not part of the Yucatan state, but still part of the peninsula. I have included a picture of one of the many buildings that make up this important Mayan trading post. While this site isn´t quite as large or interactive as some (you can´t climb most of the main builidings) it is still a beautiful site. It is also perfect because it harmoniously coexists with number 3 on my lists of things to do in the Yucatan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My Lesson of the Day: &lt;/strong&gt;Although it was my second trip to Tulum, I realized that trip number two only increased my interest and appreciation for the site.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-769424551406644141?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/769424551406644141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=769424551406644141&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/769424551406644141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/769424551406644141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/02/number-2-mayan-ruins.html' title='Number 2: mayan ruins'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SZIPrI8MhsI/AAAAAAAAASQ/fWbLq979Uzg/s72-c/DSC00596.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-1885589881574158721</id><published>2009-02-10T14:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T15:01:02.537-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Losing the battle against the hormigas</title><content type='html'>A quick side note before continuing on to number 2:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just wanted to let you know that my battle against the &lt;em&gt;hormigas&lt;/em&gt; (ants) has hit an all time low. I think being gone for the weekend allowed them more time to plan and plot and reproduce.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We came home from work today to discover that they had managed to get into our pinata full of candy. This means that they managed to crawl up a dresser, then a tupperware dish, jump onto a towel, climb up the towel, climb along a curtain rod and finally down to the pinata. They are persistent, arn´t they?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here comes the all time low part: my roommate and I dumped out all the candy on the floor with a good 100 or so ants that had magaged to make it in. We then went through every piece of candy, throwing out the ant infested pieces, putting the good pieces in tupperware and killing as many ants as possible along the way. I can´t say I´m proud of the number of ants I have killed today, but I will say that I will sleep a lot easier tonight knowing that I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Persistente&lt;/em&gt; is how you say persistent in Spanish&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-1885589881574158721?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/1885589881574158721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=1885589881574158721&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/1885589881574158721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/1885589881574158721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/02/losing-battle-against-hormigas.html' title='Losing the battle against the hormigas'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-5829805449150773139</id><published>2009-02-09T20:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-09T21:13:40.551-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Number 1: Cenotes</title><content type='html'>Because Dave was in town, I decided that I needed to show him the best the Yucatan has to offer. Number 1: &lt;em&gt;Cenotes&lt;/em&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have seen many different english translation of the word &lt;em&gt;cenote.&lt;/em&gt; Some of these include natural well or waterhole, etc. But none of these seem to acurately describe exactly what a &lt;em&gt;cenote&lt;/em&gt; is, because you can´t really explain it in one word. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Before I try to explain, you need to first know that the whole Yucatan does not have a single river that runs above ground. (Go ahead, look at a map. Its true!) I don´t completely understand why, but I´ve been told that it is because the whole peninsula is extremely flat and close to sea level. Rather than having rivers above the ground, all of them run below the ground in an elaborate system of underground caves, caverns and rivers. I´m pretty sure that this is the only place in the world where you will find this.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So in some places, these underground rivers form giant fresh water pools in underground caves - some close to the surface and open to the air. These big pools are known as &lt;em&gt;cenotes&lt;/em&gt;. Back in the day, the &lt;em&gt;cenotes&lt;/em&gt; used to be a water source for the Mayans. Today, however, they seem to sim&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SZEHbFDykdI/AAAAAAAAARo/ELo5APE9AzQ/s1600-h/cenote.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301026398187721170" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SZEHbFDykdI/AAAAAAAAARo/ELo5APE9AzQ/s320/cenote.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;ply attract tourists and natives alike either for swimming, jumping or just simply looking. &lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Cenotes&lt;/em&gt; are one of the most beautiful things I have seen. The water is amazingly clear, blue and refreshing. Also, their cave setting makes for a pretty interesting swim. Some of the caverns are so deep that you can´t see the bottom and you feel like your swimming in a blue abyss. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;They are both awe-inspiring and somewhat erie at the same time. The water is clear enough to see far beneath what you could ever touch, so when you can´t see the bottom, it makes you wonder what exactly could lerk below. The soundtrack of the cenote consists of nothing - complete silence - with the ocational bat flying above. For me, the cenote is more than just a ¨natural well¨or a ¨waterhole.¨ It is an expe&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SZEHwWv1EcI/AAAAAAAAASA/O3SN3rf7Fpc/s1600-h/cenote.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301026763713089986" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 208px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SZEHwWv1EcI/AAAAAAAAASA/O3SN3rf7Fpc/s320/cenote.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;rience comple&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SZEHbvRWxuI/AAAAAAAAAR4/odLHlKPzkZ8/s1600-h/DSC00586.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301026409518909154" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SZEHbvRWxuI/AAAAAAAAAR4/odLHlKPzkZ8/s320/DSC00586.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;tely unique to the Yucatan. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/strong&gt; There is no english translation of Cenote because we just don´t have anything that could compare&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-5829805449150773139?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/5829805449150773139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=5829805449150773139&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/5829805449150773139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/5829805449150773139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/02/number-1-cenotes.html' title='Number 1: Cenotes'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SZEHbFDykdI/AAAAAAAAARo/ELo5APE9AzQ/s72-c/cenote.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-4035243837802880111</id><published>2009-02-08T12:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-08T13:00:57.950-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Miel de luna....not!</title><content type='html'>I know it has  been a while since I've last written, but I figured I would give you all plenty of time to read up on the last few novel-sized posts I have written.  Ok, and there are other reasons too!  Dave decided to come for a short 4 day visit, so I have been busy trying to show him all that the Yucatan has to offer in only 4 days.  (Which doesn't leave a ton of time for blog writing.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so a short recap of the weekend, Thurday night Dave and Carolyn's boyfriend John-Curtis arrive.   Dave and I went out to sushi and to the bars.  (I know, he came all the way to Mexico and the first place I took him was to sushi, ironic right?  but its tradition) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday consisted of a trip to the cenotes, lunch at my casa, roaming Merida, and me getting sick.  Saturday consisted of going to Tulum and hanging out around the city at night.  Sunday brought us to Puerto Morelos and then to the Cancun airport to say goodbye to the guys and then to where we are now - in an internet cafe searching for more flights to cincinnati because they got bumped.  More on everything to come later!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/strong&gt; Don't fly standby!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-4035243837802880111?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/4035243837802880111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=4035243837802880111&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/4035243837802880111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/4035243837802880111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/02/miel-de-lunanot.html' title='Miel de luna....not!'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-1480642978560038540</id><published>2009-02-04T20:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T20:46:00.826-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fotos from the Corridas</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt; All of these photos go with my post from Feb. 3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Preparing the horses for the show (notice the scar)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299158578035123602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SYpkpow_ZZI/AAAAAAAAAPg/_McAtAJfNGw/s320/DSC00393.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;¨Dancing¨ with the horse&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299167053609816738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SYpsW-vd0qI/AAAAAAAAARY/1eq1ZtHhDVg/s320/DSC00424.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the middle of a fight&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299158585578694210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SYpkqE3hJkI/AAAAAAAAAPw/UmujARQWHGk/s320/DSC00447.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They use a special breed of bull for &lt;em&gt;corridas&lt;/em&gt; because&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;they are so aggressive&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299162396756584338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SYpoH6nIp5I/AAAAAAAAAQg/3DrsJT26cjQ/s320/DSC00469.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;With the &lt;em&gt;forcados&lt;/em&gt; aka the craziest men of the bullfight&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SYpkqXDeNNI/AAAAAAAAAP4/Yxjv4LFZ9wA/s1600-h/DSC00406.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299158590460671186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SYpkqXDeNNI/AAAAAAAAAP4/Yxjv4LFZ9wA/s320/DSC00406.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Brings a whole new meaning to ¨grabing the bull by the horns¨&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299169540549699490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SYpunvUI56I/AAAAAAAAARg/CYAOLnYcRmI/s320/DSC00465.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The &lt;em&gt;rejoneador&lt;/em&gt; with his ¨trophy¨&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299164356763425154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SYpp6ANLmYI/AAAAAAAAARA/AnVGX6c7emk/s320/DSC00451.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Just hanging out with the number 1 bullfighter in Mexico&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;No big deal!&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299164362792740274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SYpp6WqrpbI/AAAAAAAAARI/4NBpmngkOCE/s320/DSC00453.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;¨A bull fight covers all aspects of life: excitement, fear, passion, and death¨&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299162402133532882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SYpoIOpGYNI/AAAAAAAAAQo/3Vg3heZU1DU/s320/DSC00472.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Yep, thats the ear... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299162410471653842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SYpoIttEAdI/AAAAAAAAAQw/V3dRWhTnJwE/s320/DSC00483.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-1480642978560038540?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/1480642978560038540/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=1480642978560038540&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/1480642978560038540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/1480642978560038540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/02/fotos-from-corridas.html' title='Fotos from the Corridas'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SYpkpow_ZZI/AAAAAAAAAPg/_McAtAJfNGw/s72-c/DSC00393.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-4384922488537775403</id><published>2009-02-04T16:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T18:56:34.392-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Cumple in Merida</title><content type='html'>As many of you know, turning 21 in Mexico is a little anticlimactic for us Americans.  Here in Mexico, I've been legal for years.  Regardless, I ended up having a very good 21st birthday.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My birthday actually began while we were driving home in the car from Valladolid, so we celebrated a little the night before coming back.  Then I got serenaded at 6 am by Dave, followed by another serenade at work.  I think they sang to me at least 4 times throughout the day!  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then we celebrated at lunch with Mama's flan, which was the most amazing flan I have ever had.  I think because it was made with love! :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At night one of my friends here had a little fiesta for me at his apartment.  Beforehand, I was determined to purchase my first legal bottle of alcohol and I tried to forget the fact that I could have bought the same bottle on Monday with no problem.  Carolyn, who turned 21 last week, and I pretended that it was our first and took pictures to prove this momentous occasion. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The fiesta was a lot of fun and I ended up having a fantastic 21st birthday in Mexico!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt; Strawberry wine = bad first legal bottle of alcohol&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-4384922488537775403?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/4384922488537775403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=4384922488537775403&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/4384922488537775403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/4384922488537775403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/02/my-cumple-in-merida.html' title='My Cumple in Merida'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-5303062065151768521</id><published>2009-02-03T14:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-03T19:26:02.321-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Everything you ever wanted to know about a bull fight and then some</title><content type='html'>If I had written a post about bull fights on Friday, it would have gone as follows:&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have never seen a bull fight, mostly because I think it is inhumane to kill an animal for spectacle and I do not enjoy the sight of blood.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;However, four days later I have returned from my trip to Valladolid with a whole new opinion of&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt; corridas&lt;/span&gt; (bull fights).  What follows is what I have learned first hand about the history, the tradition and the inner workings of a &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;corrida&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It all started with our trip to Valladolid, a decent sized city about two hours east of Merida.  Valladolid celebrates the Virgin of the Candelaria every year with a two week long &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;feria.&lt;/span&gt;  We decided to catch the second weekend of the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;feria &lt;/span&gt;to learn a little more about the town, the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;feria &lt;/span&gt;and the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;corridas. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I also had a friend from last year, Beto, who was in charge of the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;corridas&lt;/span&gt; for the feria so he talked us into coming to watch.  Thanks to him, we got an in-depth look into what a &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;corrida&lt;/span&gt; is.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On Saturday night, we headed to the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;feria&lt;/span&gt; with him and his friends to go to the concert of a woman named Yuri, who they told us was the Mexican equivalent of Madonna.  We hopped into their truck to head to the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;feria&lt;/span&gt; but they warned us they had a little work to do first.  For some reason, there was a mix up in hotel reservations and they had to find hotel rooms for 6 of the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;toreros &lt;/span&gt;(bull fighters).  Finding a hotel in Valladolid at 8pm during &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;feria&lt;/span&gt; is nearly impossible, so as we drove all around the city, from hotel to hotel, we got a little lesson about &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;corridas&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;First I learned that there are two main types of &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;corridas:&lt;/span&gt; The first type is on foot, and is the type most of you have probably seen.  The second type is done on horseback.  This is where the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;matador, &lt;/span&gt;or in this case called a &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;rejoneador&lt;/span&gt;, fights the bull while riding a horse.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Beto also told us that if it weren't for bull fighting, the whole breed of bulls would go extinct.  They use a special type of bull for bull fights because this type of bull is especially aggressive.  Without bullfighting, there would be no need for these aggressive bulls.  I think this helped me warm up to the idea of bull fighting.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;During this time we were invited to go down early on Sunday to see the preshow for the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;corrida&lt;/span&gt; so we could see more about what goes on before the fight.  However, Beto explained that getting ready for a &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;corrida&lt;/span&gt; is a very sacred tradition that very few people have seen.  All of those who are about to participate in the fight go through a ritual of putting on their elaborate costumes.  He said that it takes them a long time to get dressed because the costumes are all sewn into place, not buttoned or zipped.  Tradition that still alive today: one more point for &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;corridas&lt;/span&gt; in my book. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyways, they eventually found a hotel and we headed to the concert, where we got down into floor seating - for free - and watched Yuri, who ended up being very much like a Mexican Madonna.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then came Sunday's &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;corrida, &lt;/span&gt;my first ever.  It was done on horseback.  We were able to head to the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;feria &lt;/span&gt;early and see all of the horses as they prepared them for the fight.  During the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;corrida&lt;/span&gt; two different &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;rejoneadores&lt;/span&gt; alternate between killing four bulls in total.  Between the two men, they had brought 17 horses to ride throughout the show.  So this gives you a clue as to how exhausting it can be on the horses.  It can also be dangerous.  The picture I have included is of us with one of the men braiding a horse before the show.  In the picture you can clearly see the horse's scar from where it had been previously gored by a bull's horns.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After we poked around backstage, we ran around the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;feria&lt;/span&gt; for awhile with Beto's cousin Fernando, who ended up being a very good &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;feria&lt;/span&gt; guide.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then it was time for the big show.  We got to stand right down on ground level, with only a little wooden fence separating us from the raging bull.  I was a little nervous, and I don't think it helped that everyone kept telling us what to do in the event that a bull might jump the fence.  But I was excited to get such a close look.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Before the bull fight started, we learned that if a bull is especially brave and fights really well, that they don't kill it.  A white flag signals that the bull can live and he gets to spend the rest of his days on a ranch with 200 cows.  While it may be rare, talk about a good life!  One more point for bull fighting.  In addition, the bulls that they use for the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;corrida&lt;/span&gt; are an average of 5 years old, which is much older than the the life of a commercial beef cow.  If you can't tell, I'm starting to warm up to the idea of bull fights.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So we watched the opening parade, the bull fight, the bulls death and I managed to stop shaking.  It was a little gory, but it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.  The ring side seats were pretty cool too.  We got to see everything up close and I mean really up close!  At some points I could have reached out and touched the bull. (For the record, if your ever face to face with a bull, don't move.  When you move, it makes them more likely to charge.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was surprised at how many people it took to fight the bull.  Not only was there the guy on the horse, but there were at least 4 to 6 other guys whose job was to distract the bull.  They don't have swords, but they have &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;capotes&lt;/span&gt; which are the capes that they use to distract the bull.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then there were the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;forcados&lt;/span&gt;, who were the craziest of them all.  They also, ironically, are the only ones who don't receive money for the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;corrida&lt;/span&gt;.  This group of 8 guys, dressed in nothing but their elaborate costumes, line up and taunt the bull into charging at them.  The first one, who is the one wearing the hat, then grabs onto the front of the bull's horns and holds on.  The rest proceed to pile on until they have the bull somewhat under control.  Then one guy grabs onto the bulls tail and hangs on as the rest run away.  This guy is dragged around in a circle until he can make it away safely. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Finally the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;rejoneador&lt;/span&gt; gets off the bull calms it down and then gives it it's last big blow and then then the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;toredos&lt;/span&gt; finish him off quickly.  Once the bull was dead, they cut off one of the bulls ears and gave it to the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;rejoneador&lt;/span&gt; who then walked around waving his "trophy" and receiving applause before throwing the bloody ear into the audience.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After the first fight was over, the second &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;rejoneador&lt;/span&gt; fights the next bull.  The first fighter gets a break.  His camp, and by camp I mean swords and knives, were set up right next to us so he came over to say hello.  He not only fought bulls, but it turns out he speaks perfect english too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He answered all the millions of questions that we had about bull fights.  You could tell he was clearly very passionate about his profession and he knew a lot about it.  He gave us the history of the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;corridas, &lt;/span&gt;which date back to the time of the crusades.  The catholics used bull fights as a way to prepare their horses and warriors for battle.  Because the wars were fought on their territory, bull fighting has remained so important to the Spanish, and in a way, we have bull fighting to thank for our religion.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He also taught us that the bull's ear was considered kind of like a grade of how well the fight went.  He told us that there is judge, like a judge judge, that officiates the fight.  That way the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;matadors&lt;/span&gt; all follow the rules and can be fined or arrested if they don't comply.  He explained that everyone doesn't want to see the bull suffer anymore than they do, so there is an officiate.  He also decides, by how well the fight and death goes, what the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;matador&lt;/span&gt; receives.  If it is just ok, he gets to stand in the middle of the ring and receives his applause.  The next step up is getting to walk around the receive the applause.  Then if he does a good job, he receives and ear; a really good job gets two ears; and the best job gets two ears and a tail.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So we proceeded to watch the next three fights and talked more with our new &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;rejoneador &lt;/span&gt; friend, Gaston Santos.  Only later did we find out that he was the best bull fighter in Mexico.  Not too shabby of an experience for my first ever bull fight, huh.  I guess if you're going to learn about &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;corridas&lt;/span&gt; you might as well learn about from the best.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh, and I forgot to mention that someone gave us the ear of the bull to keep as a souvenir.  As I stood in line for the women's bathroom with a bloody bull's ear in my hand, the ladies told me it would taste really good if you cut it up and fry it.  Currently, it is sitting in the window of our room, right in between the piñata and my mexican cowboy hat.  (Yes, we brought the bull's ear all the way back to Merida.  What else are we going to do with it?  If you have any suggestions, I'm open to ideas!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; After the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;corrida&lt;/span&gt; we watched as they cut up the toros to sell for food.  I honestly watched as the skinned and cut up a whole &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;toro.  &lt;/span&gt;I think that it helped me to know that he didn't go to waste.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok, well I feel like I have written enough for one post, hope you all enjoyed my novel.  I'm off to go celebrate my 21st!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day&lt;/span&gt;: Never say never, because one day you may have a bloody bull's ear in your hand too!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;P.S. My pictures wouldn't load, so those will come later!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-5303062065151768521?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/5303062065151768521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=5303062065151768521&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/5303062065151768521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/5303062065151768521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/02/everything-you-ever-wanted-to-know.html' title='Everything you ever wanted to know about a bull fight and then some'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-6750499451513902820</id><published>2009-01-30T16:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-30T17:30:14.141-08:00</updated><title type='text'>As if speaking in spanish wasn't enough</title><content type='html'>Working here in Mexico has been an experience.  The office that I work in has two modes: empty and chaotic.  I'm not really complaining, though.  I really do like working in the office and its always an interesting experience.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today, for example, we were talking about music and one of the guys I work with, Rafa, was telling me spanish songs to look up on YouTube.  This song search quickly escalated into me having to sing a song in spanish, because as they put it, "I said I wanted to practice my spanish."  So the deal was that if we sung a duet in spanish, I got to pick out a song for us to sing in english.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now I love listening to them speak english with their very heavy spanish accents, so I agreed.  I wasn't exactly sure if this was a solid deal until he looked up the lyrics and printed them out for me to "practice."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So then he proceeded to tell me I had to practice and sing in front of the other 5 people in the office.  I have a theory that they have become less amused with just hearing my broken spanish so now they are going to make me sing it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So we sang our duet, well we "practiced," and they actually said I was a good singer, even though I refuse to believe it.  But I learned a new word in spanish: tone deaf.  (&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;tonifique sordo&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt; The key to learning a new language in another country is simple:  no shame.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;P.S.  I'm off for another weekend adventure in the Yucatan.  Can't wait to write all about it on Monday!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-6750499451513902820?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/6750499451513902820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=6750499451513902820&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/6750499451513902820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/6750499451513902820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/01/as-if-speaking-in-spanish-wasnt-enough.html' title='As if speaking in spanish wasn&apos;t enough'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-8467452399559183903</id><published>2009-01-29T19:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T20:05:46.754-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Las Telenovelas</title><content type='html'>Every night my mama is glued to the T.V.  We watch it in the kitchen while we're eating dinner, we watch it in the T.V. room before bed, and I can even hear the T.V. going in her room after she retires for the night.  Why, you may ask, is she glued to a T.V. that only receives 6 channels?  (Yes, there are still people without cable in the world)&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, Mama - along with just about every other woman here in Mexico - religiously follows the telenovelas.  You could try to compare the telenovelas to American soap-operas, but they differ in many ways.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;First, the novelas are in the prime time T.V. spot.  They go from about 7pm until 11:30, and I believe they change every half an hour, but sometimes I can't tell where one novela ends and the next one starts.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Secondly, they are even more dramatic than soap-operas, if you can imagine.  I'm talking about girls with tumors, who don't know they have tumors but then find out and get married the next day but the wedding gets interrupted by a gunman who shoots the groom in the middle of the ceremony.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Or the best friends who are completely in love with the same guy and can't seem to figure it out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Or the man who falls in love with the daughter of his father's assassin but can't stop having flashbacks of his father talking to him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Or period pieces set on an old hacienda with big, old-fashioned dresses, no running water and escalades to drive them places?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can't even begin to tell you all of the ridiculous scenarios that the telenovelas have come up with, and I must admit that I'm kind of impressed with the amount of creativity that goes into each episode.  I have enjoyed watching them whenever I get the chance!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt; When comes to telenovelas, there is no such thing as over-the-top!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-8467452399559183903?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/8467452399559183903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=8467452399559183903&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/8467452399559183903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/8467452399559183903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/01/las-telenovelas.html' title='Las Telenovelas'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-4536692522551238116</id><published>2009-01-28T16:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T17:11:22.287-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Toto, I don't think we're in Ohio anymore</title><content type='html'>I decided to walk home from work today because I figured a little exercise and some sun couldn't hurt.  On my walks to and from work, I often get lost in my own thoughts and forget that I'm walking down a street in Mexico.  I think its because my walk home is along a busy road with lots of cars and lots of activity going on - very normal beechmont avenue.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And then something comes along to remind me that I am not in Ohio anymore.  Today for example, that thing happened to be two horse drawn carts traveling down the road.  These carts were straight off the farm carts, hauling grains and traveling down the middle of the road in between all the cars.  If it isn't enough to have the pleasure of seeing these two horse drawn carts, the three teenage boys driving them decided to stop and ask if I wanted a ride.  Now as much as I wanted to say yes and arrive to the house amid a pile of grains, I had to decline and walk the rest of the way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It kind of makes me wonder though, is it a bad sign when a horse drawn cart is a step up?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day: &lt;/span&gt;Just when I'm starting to forget, something always comes along to remind me that I'm not in Ohio anymore!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-4536692522551238116?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/4536692522551238116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=4536692522551238116&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/4536692522551238116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/4536692522551238116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/01/toto-i-dont-think-were-in-ohio-anymore.html' title='Toto, I don&apos;t think we&apos;re in Ohio anymore'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-4438172675641199639</id><published>2009-01-27T19:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T19:41:58.368-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Piñata - Much more than paper mache</title><content type='html'>Yesterday was my roommate's birthday.  And not just any birthday, but number 21.  This is a pretty big deal to us Americans and I was determined to celebrate it right, even if it wasn't as big of a deal to the Mexcians. (You are legal to drink at 18 here.)&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So what did I do, you may be asking?  Is this a story about bar hoping, tequila and beer?  Not in the least bit.  It is a story about piñatas!  Because what better way to celebrate your birthday in Mexico, than with a piñata. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So after work yesterday, one of my coworkers, Mike, was driving me home and I was telling him about how I wanted to get a piñata.  We decided to go looking for a piñata store, which are much easier to encounter here in Merida than in the U.S.  In fact, there is a whole block devoted to piñatas in the centro.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We encountered a piñata store quickly and I began searching for the right one.  There were some shaped like disney characters, balls, cars, etc.  And they ranged from palm-sized to bigger-than-my-body-sized.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Eventually I found the perfect one.  It was shaped like one of the traditional&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 176px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SX_QSVb915I/AAAAAAAAAPY/-0xlJpkjmk0/s200/DSC00291.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296180700221659026" /&gt;&lt;div&gt; piñatas and very colorful.  It was exactly what I needed.  So I loaded up on candy and headed home to stuff it.  (For the record, I bought about 3 times the amount of candy than I actually needed.  I guess I need a little more practice in the piñata department!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I gave the piñata to Carolyn when she got back from work and she loved it.  So much so that we decided it didn't deserve to be broken, and it is currently residing in our room.  We did need a little decoration, after all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Between our hammocks, the piñata and the spanish cosmos, its easy to see from our room that we are living in Mexico.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day: &lt;/span&gt;Piñatas are so much more than paper mache and foil.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;P.S.  For those of you who may be worried, we did go out for her birthday.  And yes, it involved tequila and margaritas.  And yes, we had a very good mexican time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-4438172675641199639?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/4438172675641199639/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=4438172675641199639&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/4438172675641199639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/4438172675641199639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/01/pinata-much-more-than-paper-mache.html' title='The Piñata - Much more than paper mache'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SX_QSVb915I/AAAAAAAAAPY/-0xlJpkjmk0/s72-c/DSC00291.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-5437647370229013538</id><published>2009-01-26T09:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T09:55:26.080-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Despite the economy</title><content type='html'>I spent the better part of the weekend in a small beach town called Progresso.  Progresso is about 20 minutes north of Merida, so it is an easy bus ride to get to the beach.  The town of Progresso originally began because it was the closest port to Merida.  But over many years, the town has grown to become its own entity.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We spent a lot of time in Progresso last year because it is the closest beach to our home, but this weekend was the first time I've been this year.  It was amazing to see the differences that the town has made in even the past year.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Progresso has become a popular destination for cruise lines, providing a huge influx in the number of tourists and the amount of money that Progresso receives.  In the past year, they have added new buildings, finished paving streets and cleaned up the beach.  I was amazed at the changes.  Perhaps the most striking difference was that there were no longer stray dogs running the beach. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We went to Progresso both Saturday and Sunday.  On Saturday, there was a cruise ship that brought not only a mountain of tourists, but a mountain of vendors as well.  There were so many vendors walking the beaches, yelling at you from the street, trying to get you to have a massage, etc.  It was a little frustrating for someone who is trying to learn spanish because they all assumed we were with the boat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On Sunday, there wasn't a cruise ship and the vendors had nearly all disappeared so the beach was actually pretty relaxing.  Sunday brought a mountain of Mexicans to the beach, because they all knew the boat wouldn't be there.  I'll have to remember this tip the next time I travel to Progresso.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt; Despite a bad economy, many Americans are still finding a way to travel.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-5437647370229013538?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/5437647370229013538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=5437647370229013538&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/5437647370229013538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/5437647370229013538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/01/despite-economy.html' title='Despite the economy'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-5449641614220940085</id><published>2009-01-23T16:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-23T17:01:46.343-08:00</updated><title type='text'>When you just don't feel good...</title><content type='html'>Some days I just don't don't feel good and today would be one of those days!  I think there has been a bit of a bug going around because of the cool weather at night.  And I think that bug got me about half way through the day today.  Now I don't usually mind being sick, because this type of sick isn't even that bad.  But the thing is, when I'm sick,  the last thing I want to do is try to speak spanish!  So I took an extended &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;siesta&lt;/span&gt; today and I think I'm going to take it easy tonight.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Luckily, I think I've discovered a cure:  This is nothing that a long day at the beach tomorrow can't cure!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt; When you don't feel good, home feels even further away than it is!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-5449641614220940085?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/5449641614220940085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=5449641614220940085&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/5449641614220940085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/5449641614220940085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/01/when-you-just-dont-feel-good.html' title='When you just don&apos;t feel good...'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-7080994711747832764</id><published>2009-01-22T18:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T18:44:58.785-08:00</updated><title type='text'>This is why we don't know Spanish</title><content type='html'>Last night we ventured to the movie theater to see "The Curioso Caso de Benjamin Button" (you shouldn't need a translation on that one!).  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;First, I should say that I love going to the movies in Mexico because I got a movie ticket, nachos and a drink for less than the price of a ticket in the U.S.  However, I feel like the movie ticket has an even greater value to the people here in Mexico.  A movie ticket is also a way of learning english.  While the title of the movie may be in spanish, the movie surely is not. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In one way, this makes me a little mad.  I know there are plenty of movies made by spanish speaking people, in spanish.  But lets face it, Hollywood dominates the movie scene - and not just for those of us in the US.  All but one of the movies currently being shown here in Merida are American movies.  They are all in english with spanish subtitles.  Every once in a while you may come across one that has been dubbed over in spanish, but then it just looks ridiculous.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So when my coworker asked me the other day why Americans don't speak more spanish, I told him it was because of the movies.  And not only the movies, but the signs, books, tv shows and everything else here thats based around english.  I tried to explain that in the US we don't do that.  We don't need to know spanish to go to a movie.  We don't need spanish to use our computers.  We don't need to know spanish to do much of anything in the U.S.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here, however, its a different story.  And in some way I am jealous.  I wish that I got the opportunity to use my spanish as much as they get to use their english here.  But this also makes me realize just how important the US is to everyone, not just those of us who live there.  Its important not only because of its political power, but also because of the US culture that is spreading throughout the world.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt; Even with the title change, Benjamin Button is the same Benjamin Button I could have seen in Ohio.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-7080994711747832764?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/7080994711747832764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=7080994711747832764&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/7080994711747832764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/7080994711747832764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/01/this-is-why-we-dont-know-spanish.html' title='This is why we don&apos;t know Spanish'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-1353187828799044338</id><published>2009-01-21T15:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T15:38:43.696-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My life eating beans</title><content type='html'>In the past three weeks, I have eaten more black beans than I ever thought possible.  I always knew that black beans and rice were the staples of Mexican food, but I guess I never realized how much so.  And in this household, beans far overpower the rice part.  We have beans with everything, and I mean everything. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For example, today we had spaghetti and...drum roll...black beans.  Now how many of you can say you've eaten those together before?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The funny part about all of these black beans is that I absolutely love eating them!  I actually can't get enough, which is a good thing considering their frequent appearance on the dinner table.  I even come home from the bars and all I want to do is raid the fridge for more black beans!  I just hope I can keep black beans as a staple when I return to the U.S.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt; Black beans are the perfect side dish to any meal, and I mean ANY meal!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-1353187828799044338?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/1353187828799044338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=1353187828799044338&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/1353187828799044338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/1353187828799044338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/01/my-life-eating-beans.html' title='My life eating beans'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-2119630667303970909</id><published>2009-01-20T16:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-20T18:18:23.049-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Domingo en las Ruinas (Sunday at the Ruins)</title><content type='html'>On Sunday Car&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SXaCu0zMdvI/AAAAAAAAAO0/B36-zjfaoz8/s200/kabah1.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293562152979560178" /&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SXaCvUUKlnI/AAAAAAAAAO8/GIBZZs372Qo/s200/kabah2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293562161439348338" /&gt;olyn and I checked out of our jail cell and made our first destination Kabah, a Mayan ruins site.  It is located on the Ruta Puc along with several other sites like Uxmal, Sayil and Labna.  Last year we went to the other three sites, but for some reason skipped the fourth, so we were on a mission to complete the Ruta Puc.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We got to Kabah and I was impressed.  The site was a decent size and it was nice to be able to go along and explore at our own pace - no guide, no tour group.  The site is known&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SXaDo2D7xnI/AAAAAAAAAPE/G7VlB0BsSOQ/s200/codzpoop.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293563149750617714" /&gt;&lt;div&gt; for a big building, named Codz Poop, that is dedicated to Chac, the rain god.  The whole facade of the building is decorated with ornate carvings of the rain god's face.  Even though the carvings have existed for thousands of years, they were still pretty ornate and I was excited to see such ornate details. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After Kabah we headed to a town called Muna and then home to Merida for a little time with the family.  My mama's whole family comes over every Sunday to spend time together.  It was nice to get to see all of them. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then we headed off to mass.  I walked into church and guess who I saw?  None other than my mama and papa from last year.  I don't think they recognized me at first, but I went over to say hello and they were just as shocked to see me as I was to see them.  It was really good to see them again and they send their hellos to all of my family.  They said that they think of my family's visit often and keep everyone in their prayers.  They were especially interested to hear more about how Anna, Will, Aunt Debbie, Uncle Ernie, Mom and Dad were doing. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt; Sometimes people show up when your least expecting them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-2119630667303970909?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/2119630667303970909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=2119630667303970909&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/2119630667303970909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/2119630667303970909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/01/domingo-en-las-ruinas-sunday-at-ruins.html' title='Domingo en las Ruinas (Sunday at the Ruins)'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SXaCu0zMdvI/AAAAAAAAAO0/B36-zjfaoz8/s72-c/kabah1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-3981693826465367398</id><published>2009-01-19T12:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-19T21:14:21.444-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sabado en los pueblitos (Saturday in the little towns)</title><content type='html'>This weekend, my roommate Carolyn and I decided to do a little exploring throughout the state of the Yucatan.  Afterall, this is our new state of residence, so we should know  what it has to offer.  Our main goal this weekend was to get to Kabah, a mayan ruins site that we never got to see last year.  We thought that along the way we could hit up a few of the pueblos, because you never know what excitement could await you in a pueblo.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So Saturday morning we headed to the bus station and made our first destination Ticul.  Our bus fare cost about 43 pesos for the hour or so it took to get to Ticul.  When we arrived to Ticul, we had absolutely no idea where to go.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you've never gotten to experience this kind of travel, I highly recommend that you do.  While it may seem a little stressful to some, I think the thrill of not knowing where you're going, how you're going to get there, or what you're going to do when you're there, makes taveling so much more exciting.  Throw a little spanish in there and I could not be happier.  Luckily in Mexico there is always some type of &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;colectivo&lt;/span&gt; (van) that you can hop to go just about anywhere.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok, so back to Ticul.  Once there, we did some exploring, checked out the church, ate some guacamole and did some shopping.  We had heard that Ticul was known as a big shoe producing town, so there were many shoe shops that lined the little streets.  Of course, I bought a pair.  Then we rode via &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;tricitaxi&lt;/span&gt; (a small seat that is attached to thr front of a bicycle, or in this case a motorcycle) to the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;colectivo&lt;/span&gt; and went to Santa Elena.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Santa Elena was even smaller than Ticul.  But we went there because we wanted to see an old church that sat high up on the hill.  It was supposed to have an amazing view.  In addition to this, they had found mummified bodies underneath the church's floor.  So we checked out the museum first and saw the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;momias.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(Just for the record, we were reading a pamphlet in english on the mummies.  It had clearly been translated into english by a spanish speaking person and the title read: "The mommies of Santa Elena."  I felt like I should tell them that there is a big difference between mummies and mommies, but I didn't have the heart.  However, I wonder how many people went to see mommies of Santa Elena and were seriously disappointed.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After seeing the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;momias&lt;/span&gt; we waited around for a sister to come and open up the church.  The inside of the church w&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SXVNvHpDwdI/AAAAAAAAAOE/mR1CY4Qgji4/s200/escaleras.de.muerte.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293222408944337362" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;as a little creepy, b&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;ut it was interesting to see.  We had read that if you asked the right person, they would let you climb up a spiral staircase that led to the upper level and to the roof.  We asked the sister about climbing and she proceeded to tell us that they were fixing the roof and that the stairs were really old and molding away.  She said it was very dangerous.  We were expecting her to tell us "I'm sorry, you can't go," but instead she said "so, go at your own risk."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I asked to see the staircase and slowly began to climb - emphasis on slowly.  The higher I climbed, the more I noticed pieces of the wooden steps missing.  My legs were shaking, and I even gave u&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SXVNvfA23rI/AAAAAAAAAOM/b1FxtD5K7x0/s200/iglesia.adentro.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293222415218171570" /&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SXVNwWV1EnI/AAAAAAAAAOc/nxT1UhKGKdg/s200/iglesia.me.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293222430070084210" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;p for a second there.  My legs were tremblng and I was thinking that this was either one of the &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;bravest or stupidest things I have ever done.  Then Carolyn assured me that we were close to the top, so I quickly climbed the next few steps.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There were still steps left but we stopped at the balcony of the church, which we later found out was about 115 feet high.  It opened up to these long creepy hallways that ran the length of the church and felt like a cave, the walls crumbling underneath our fingers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We ran around up there for a little while and Carolyn decided that she wanted to go to the roof.  I, however, was just fine where I was and let her go first to check it out.  She went a little higher where she found the steps were either completely rotten or missing, making it impossible to make it to the top.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SXVReHlu4DI/AAAAAAAAAOs/Z1sdj95uTjE/s200/welcome.SA.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293226514919120946" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;By this time, we had been up on the balcony for a while, especially when you take into account the slow pace with which we climbed the stairs.  The nun sent up a group of guys to make sure we were ok.  These boys bounded up the steps, two at a time, like it was nothing.  So we followed them down at a quicker pace.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When we reached the bottom, Carolyn assured the nun that we survived and we walked, still trembling, all the way to our hotel.  We spend the night in a bungalow, which we jokingly referred to as our prison cell, because it was a small room made out of cement blocks that was in the middle of nowhere.  And I mean nowhere.  But it was nice to have peaceful night of sleep after a long Saturday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt; There is a very fine line between brave and stupid.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-3981693826465367398?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/3981693826465367398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=3981693826465367398&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/3981693826465367398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/3981693826465367398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/01/sabado-en-los-pueblitos-saturday-in.html' title='Sabado en los pueblitos (Saturday in the little towns)'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SXVNvHpDwdI/AAAAAAAAAOE/mR1CY4Qgji4/s72-c/escaleras.de.muerte.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-167692252514430629</id><published>2009-01-17T07:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-17T07:09:05.842-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Just when I was getting comfortable</title><content type='html'>I thought I was finally getting comfortable at work until yesterday when my boss asked me to do something completely ridiculous: make a phone call.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now speaking spanish isn't easy, but when you're doing it face to face, I can manage.  But talking on the phone in spanish is a whole different story.  So finally I gathered up my courage and decided to just go for it.  I mean all I had to say was, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hi this is emily, I'm working for gente bien and i'm calling because Roberto (my boss) wanted to talk to them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Easy right?  Well I think I stressed out over that phone call for a good five minutes.  But it all went well, thank god.   I just hope they don't expect me to use a phone again any time soon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt; Nothing makes me more uncomfortable than talking to a Mexican on the telephone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-167692252514430629?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/167692252514430629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=167692252514430629&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/167692252514430629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/167692252514430629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/01/just-when-i-was-getting-comfortable.html' title='Just when I was getting comfortable'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-6894223740167764654</id><published>2009-01-15T15:42:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T16:23:15.618-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Did I mention that I love my job?</title><content type='html'>I know I mentioned last week that I began working for &lt;a href="http://www.gentebien.info/"&gt;gente bien&lt;/a&gt;, but I don't think I really talked too much about what I'm doing or really what the magazine is about.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The magazine is all about the social circles here in Mérida.  The classes here are not like those in the US, by any means.  In the US we clearly have disparities in wealth, but I feel like almost 80% of us fit into the category of "middle class."  Here, the disparities in wealth are very clear.  The higher classes live in the modern north side of the city, which is where my house is located.  Driving around this part of the city is much like driving down a road somewhere in America.  The north is covered with American fast food chains, shopping malls, car dealerships, clubs and restaurants.  While the north still isn't quite as modernized as many of our American cities, its pretty close. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then there is the south side of the city.  This is where many of the lower classes tend to live.  Traveling to the south side is like traveling to a whole different city.  The car dealerships, restaurants and clubs are replaced by smaller houses, more people and more poverty.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This disparity of wealth is clearly known to the different levels of society here.  As my boss described to me, the Gente Bien magazine covers classes A, B and C+.  And it only covers private parties and events.  I wasn't sure exactly how I felt about this when I first started.  I didn't want to be lumped in as a &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;fresa&lt;/span&gt; (literally the word means strawberry, but its also how they describe rich people).  However, I have realized that there are some big perks to working for an upper-class magazine.  Take last night, for example.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yesterday was the opening of a new, very posh restaurant called Buddha-Wok.  My boss brought it up yesterday and asked if I would like to join, because Gente Bien was shooting the event for our next issue.  I of course accepted because I wanted to see what working an event was like.  They told me to be &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;bien vestido&lt;/span&gt; (well dressed).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So at 7, one of my coworkers Mike came by and picked me up.  We headed to the restaurant shortly after.  The restaurant was very &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;padre&lt;/span&gt; (cool).  It was one of the nicest restaurants I've been to.  There were about 7 coworkers there at the time.  Two were taking photos and I hung out with the rest.  I tagged along with my boss as he introduced to many people, not one of whom I can remember their name.  Then he said, lets go to the bar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not being one to disobey orders, we all headed to the bar.  I watched the cutting of the ribbon, done by the governor of the Yucatan, and then we passed the rest of the night getting drinks and being fed amazing food.  If this is what its like to be a &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;fresa&lt;/span&gt;, sign me up!  I don't think I'll mind being a &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;fresa&lt;/span&gt; every now and then.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Needless to say, I had an amazing time.  While I can often get confused or bogged down at work, I must say that I do love my job. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day: &lt;/span&gt;Your only as &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;fresa&lt;/span&gt; as you want to be. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-6894223740167764654?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/6894223740167764654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=6894223740167764654&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/6894223740167764654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/6894223740167764654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/01/did-i-mention-that-i-love-my-job.html' title='Did I mention that I love my job?'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-2378654947573210142</id><published>2009-01-14T13:28:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T13:51:45.723-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It just doesn't get any better than this</title><content type='html'>There are many things that I love about Mexico.  The weather is perfect, the food is great, the people are nice, and so on and so fourth.  But one of my favorite parts of living here is getting my laundry done at the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;lavanderia&lt;/span&gt;.  There is really nothing like sending your c&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SW5aq5_TbHI/AAAAAAAAANc/NhsY84HbZp0/s200/DSC00159.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291266305374252146" /&gt;lothes away and having them come back to you, clean and perfectly folded in a little bag.  (I included a picture, because I wanted you all to see how many clothes they fit into that little bag.)  And it only costs 10 pesos a kilo.  So I got all those clothes washed for less than 5 dollars.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I really can't put into words how happy this makes me.  Washing and folding clothes is one of my least favorite things to do.  But the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;lavanderia&lt;/span&gt; makes it too easy.  Our &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;lavanderia&lt;/span&gt; is just a small open shop with a washer and dryer in the back.  We dropped our clothes off on monday and today we picked them up from the same two middle-aged women.  I think next time, I'm going to have to give them an extra tip, because my clothes look amazing.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day: &lt;/span&gt;Nothing compares the smell of fresh clothes from the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;lavanderia.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-2378654947573210142?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/2378654947573210142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=2378654947573210142&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/2378654947573210142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/2378654947573210142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/01/it-just-doesnt-get-any-better-than-this.html' title='It just doesn&apos;t get any better than this'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SW5aq5_TbHI/AAAAAAAAANc/NhsY84HbZp0/s72-c/DSC00159.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-200471134672004377</id><published>2009-01-13T18:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-13T19:20:24.099-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My night in the hamaca</title><content type='html'>As if you needed further proof of my transformation into a Yucateco, last night I slept in a hammock.  It was something that I'd been wanting to do since last year, but I  never got the chance to.  And not only did I sleep in a hammock the whole night, but I also managed to do so without falling out.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The hammock is as much Yucatecan as rice and beans.  Just about everyone here has spent their fare share of nights in a hammock.  In fact, when I told one of my friends here that I was really excited to sleep in one, he looked at me like I was crazy.  It was as if I told him I had never learned to use a fork.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My friend was not alone in that sense.  I have been hearing about how great hammocks are since last year.  And my papá slept in one every night.  So of course, I wanted to see for myself just how great it was.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I must say it was pretty comfortable and much cooler than sleeping in a bed.  I can see why they come in handy during hot nights here in Merida.  The only problem was that I felt a little weird bringing my pillow and my covers into a hammock with me.  I guess I'll have to ask around and make sure thats the way your supposed to do it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But my night in the hammock went so well, that I think I'll do it again sometime - maybe even tonight.  And I'm starting to think about purchasing one so you can all see for yourselves just how comfortable they are.  By the way, if you are looking to buy a hammock, Merida is the place to come.  They are known here for their excellently woven, colorful hammocks.  I'm starting to think that I wouldn't be a true Yucateco if i didn't buy one for myself!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt; Hammocks easily fit into suitcases and are perfect mementos from Merida. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-200471134672004377?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/200471134672004377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=200471134672004377&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/200471134672004377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/200471134672004377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/01/my-night-in-hamaca.html' title='My night in the hamaca'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-1770294994204743655</id><published>2009-01-12T18:40:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-12T19:14:31.422-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mis compañeras de cuarto</title><content type='html'>Officially, I only have one &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;compañera de cuarto &lt;/span&gt;(roommate). Her name is Carolyn.  But unofficially, there are many of us that are sharing this room.  In addition to each other, Carolyn and I have a lot of six-legged roommates.  I'm talking about &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hormigas&lt;/span&gt; (ants).  They are quite possibly everywhere!  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the morning I pass about a good number on my way to the kitchen for breakfast.  They are so small that they practically go unnoticed.  That is, until you realize that those specs in the floor tiles are actually moving.  Or until you leave something sweet on the table and return to find it just crawling with black specs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;While we were staying in Playa del Carmen, we were fascinated when a dropped piece of food was quickly transported by a swarming team of at least a hundred ants.  They had a started a little colony by the light socket that was quickly growing from a tiny town to a thriving aunt metropolis.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;However, what amazed me more than their impressive colony, was the twang of sadness I felt when I heard Margarita get out the can of ant spray.  Now I'm not the kind of person who enjoys living around bugs.  In fact, I would prefer a world without them.  But there is something different about it here.   For some reason I have just adjusted to coexist with them.  I have realized that it is impossible to kill every one of those little devils.  As it is impossible to feel bad and try not to step on them.  (I've tested both approaches)  So for now, we will simply coexist - me, the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hormigas&lt;/span&gt;, the geckos, the mosquitos, and any other creature I may come across in this house.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My lesson of the Day: &lt;/span&gt;There are two types of roommates:  The ones you choose and the ones who choose you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-1770294994204743655?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/1770294994204743655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=1770294994204743655&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/1770294994204743655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/1770294994204743655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/01/mis-copaeras-de-cuarto.html' title='Mis compañeras de cuarto'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-1907908909915906641</id><published>2009-01-10T14:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T15:37:39.778-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I hope the brakes are working</title><content type='html'>For the most part, I´ve noticed that the mexian people are generally a relaxed and &lt;em&gt;tranquilo&lt;/em&gt; people.  Being on time is never really a major issue, in fact, arriving late is more fashionable.  This transcends into many aspects of their lives, with one major exception: driving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to admit I have said my fare share of prayers while riding in a car.  And I have never, ever wanted to get behind the wheel of any car here.  From what I have experienced, speed limits are pretty much useless.  As are stop signs, turn signals, lanes, the shoulder of the highway and seatbelts. (Don´t worry mom, I always wear mine!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With my new job, my coworkers have been nice enough to take me home everyday.  And I really appreciate not having to walk 20 blocks home.  But sometimes I think it would be better on my nerves if I did.  It´s not because they are bad drivers, but its because everyone here just drives like a madman.  And let me tell you, I have seen some serious road rage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, its not the rides with my coworkers that have brought me to talk about this topic today.  Instead it was the 5 hour car ride I took yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We decided that we wanted to go to Playa del Carmen, a city located in the middle of the Costa Maya.  Its a beautiful place, with a great beach.  It also happens to be the home of Miguel, my Mama´s daughter´s husband.  (Did I loose you on that one?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, Miguel was in town for a visit and said that he could take us to Playa with him.  So my roommate and I, the two girls next door, Margarita and Miguel all decided to leave yesterday around 4:30.  If you happen to be keeping count, yes, there are 6 of us that are going to fit into his midsized honda for a 5 hour car ride.  And that was just to start off the trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once we all fit inside, we took off.  And let me just tell you that 80 year old Miguel is one of your classic Mexican drivers.  He drove down the middle of the road just about all of the way to Playa.  That didn´t bother me too much until our two-lane highway turned into a one-lane highway.  When your driving down the middle of the road - with your brights on - and there is oncoming traffic, it tends to scare me a little.  However, my favorite part was when I looked up and realized that we were driving in the shoulder of the highway, just like it was another lane.  I felt like I was trapped in the Mexican version of National Lampoon´s Vacation.  Needless to say, I didn´t get any rest in the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you don´t get the wrong impression of Miguel, however.  He and Maragarita have been nothing but nice this weekend.  We are staying in Miguels apartment, they have cooked us every meal and I´m even using his computer to type this right now.  I´m very thankful for all of their help.  It has been a great weekend so far.  We spent all day on the beach today and the nightlife has been fun as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But when we return to Merida tomorrow, we will be doing so on a bus!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/strong&gt; 6 people + 5 hours - 1 seat = one very long car ride.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-1907908909915906641?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/1907908909915906641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=1907908909915906641&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/1907908909915906641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/1907908909915906641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/01/i.html' title='I hope the brakes are working'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-7321434875676041260</id><published>2009-01-09T07:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T13:39:21.482-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tiburone: a man, a mission, a landshark</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Tiburone&lt;/span&gt;. In english it has just one meaning: shark.  But here in mexico, there are many tiburones that live out of the water.  A &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;tiburone&lt;/span&gt; is what they call a man a who is after the ladies.  I remember last year when I was warned about them.  I thought - how bad could it be?  But its hard to describe in english just what a &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;tiburone&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt; &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;is.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;In mexico, he's the guy that you see at the club with his button down shirt undone, flaunting his chest hair as he dances on the nearest couch.  He's the guy that tells you your beautiful before ever asking your name.  He's the guy that wants to teach you how to dance salsa, even though you doubt that he knows how to.  He's the guy thats hitting on you and somehow is managing to hit on your friend at the same time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I forgot just how funny these &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;tiburones &lt;/span&gt;can be.  But it all came back to me quickly when we were at the club last night.  But I have to admit, the&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt; tiburone&lt;/span&gt; has become a person that I love to hate.  And life here just wouldn't be the same without them.  Nor the clubs as entertaining.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My lesson of the day: &lt;/span&gt;Whether in the sea or on the land, sharks can be dangerous.  But it just wouldn't be the same without them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-7321434875676041260?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/7321434875676041260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=7321434875676041260&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/7321434875676041260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/7321434875676041260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/01/tiburone-man-mission-landshark.html' title='Tiburone: a man, a mission, a landshark'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-1268523155561995452</id><published>2009-01-07T20:37:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-07T20:49:23.594-08:00</updated><title type='text'>And then i saw the cockroach...</title><content type='html'>Day three of my mexican adventure is almost over and all is still going well.  I went to work again where I was a little lost...again...but I eventually found somethings to do.  I am in charge of creating two pages for our next edition, so that should keep me busy for awhile.  I'm also in charge of helping start a new project, but i'll tell you more about that when the time comes.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We finally had lunch together today, all six of us with the girls next door.  Then we rested and went to the Gran Plaza - a mall thats close to our house.  It was fun to shop there again and even more fun to spend in pesos now that the exchange rate is even better for us americans.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The day was pretty uneventful until I went for a shower before bed.  And thats when I saw it.  Hiding in the corner and creeping around the shower, with its six legs and slimy body.  &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;La Cucaracha! &lt;/span&gt;I guess this trip is about more than just learning spanish.  I guess its also about conquering fears and thats just what I did.  And how was I rewarded for killing the cockroach?  A cold shower!  ugh&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt; Never - ever - leave the shower drain uncovered long enough for a cockroach to come in!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-1268523155561995452?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/1268523155561995452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=1268523155561995452&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/1268523155561995452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/1268523155561995452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/01/and-then-i-saw-cockroach.html' title='And then i saw the cockroach...'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-2689968546537719861</id><published>2009-01-07T07:38:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-07T07:48:52.641-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes time flies when your having fun...</title><content type='html'>And sometimes time just seems to stand still.  Like it did yesterday.  I went to my second day of work yesterday.  Because I didn't know how to get there, I ended up walking.  I enjoyed the walk and it only took me like 25 minutes.  When my mama found out, she thought I was crazy for walking! &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyways, my second day took me to hacienda Kuau, a very beautiful and relaxing old hacienda that has been renovated to accommodate parties.  We went there because the owner wanted to buy ad space in the magazine.  They told me that sales visits usually take about 10 to 30 minutes.  After touring the hacienda and waiting for about an hour, i was starting to  doubt that.  We finally left about 2 1/2 hours later.  My boss kept apologizing for how long it took, but i really didn't mind spending my whole day relaxing at a hacienda.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After returning an hour late for lunch, I hung around the house for about an hour and then went to the photoshoot for &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;la portada&lt;/span&gt; (the cover) of the magazine.  I really enjoyed watching the whole process and helping out, but this project too took several hours!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Finally I returned home for a short dinner, ate some &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;rosco&lt;/span&gt; (a type of cake) to celebrate the day of the three kings and we went out for the first time since arriving.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt; When your on Mexican time, some things just seem to take longer&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-2689968546537719861?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/2689968546537719861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=2689968546537719861&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/2689968546537719861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/2689968546537719861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/01/sometimes-time-flies-when-your-having.html' title='Sometimes time flies when your having fun...'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-7608092794150149140</id><published>2009-01-05T19:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-05T20:35:01.729-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I have arrived</title><content type='html'>I finally made it into Mérida last night around 9:30/10 here.  We were immediately hit with the hot weather upon landing.  The temperature has been in the high 90s during the day and a little cooler at night.  Its hot, but I'm not complaining.  It's a nice change from Ohio.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After arriving in Mérida, I met my new Mama - Doña Margarita - a nice señora of about 80 years. She lives alone is a middle class home that is right next door to her daughter's house.  Her daughter, also Margarita, is very nice a well and I can already tell that the two spend a lot of their time together.  I think I'm going to like living with them.  As for my house, it is much larger than the house I stayed in last year.  I feel weird not staying with the same family as last year but I hope that I see them soon! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today I had my &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;cita &lt;/span&gt;(appt.) for my internship.  I will be working for a magazine called &lt;a href="http://www.gentebien.info/"&gt;Gente Bien.  &lt;/a&gt;I was a little nervous, to say the least, but my boss seems like a really nice guy.  Today he told me a little more about the magazine, which is a free, socially-oriented magazine that they produce every other week.  The magazine reaches about 10,000 people each edition.  It is part of a larger network of Gente Bien magazines that are all throughout Mexico with a few branches in the U.S. and Costa Rica.  I found out that the Yucatan's branch is the smallest of the Gente Bien branches.  And I would be willing to bet that it's office is the smallest as well.  It is a quaint 14' x 14' office with several desks.  It wasn't anything like I expected, but I'm happy to be working there.  I'm excited to get to know more about the magazine and find out more about what I will be working on.  So far I have been assigned to do two pages, so I hope I can figure it out!  I guess there will be more on that subject later.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As for the other people at the magazine, they all seem nice.  I found out that most of the employees are students at local Universities who work for the magazine part time.  I think that I'll like working with them a lot.  However, I'm not so sure what they think of me!  I'm afraid that I was so nervous for my first day and overwhelmed by the whole trip that I forgot how to speak spanish!  And when it came time to leaving for lunch, they asked where I lived so they could help me find a way home.  And wouldn't you know it, I had no idea what my address was!  I'm sure that came off well!  But I sort of knew how to get there, so one of the guys drove me home and we eventually found it.  However, I still have no idea how I'm going to get there tomorrow.  I guess I will find a way there, - as they say in mexico - &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;si dios quiere.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Lesson of the Day:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't leave home if you don't know where home is!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-7608092794150149140?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/7608092794150149140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=7608092794150149140&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/7608092794150149140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/7608092794150149140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-have-arrived.html' title='I have arrived'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-381214608985701092</id><published>2008-12-30T20:50:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T20:50:59.716-08:00</updated><title type='text'>5 days!</title><content type='html'>Flight is booked for Sunday, bags are getting packed and my nerves are starting to rise!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-381214608985701092?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/381214608985701092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=381214608985701092&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/381214608985701092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/381214608985701092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2008/12/5-days.html' title='5 days!'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-916931303939995693</id><published>2008-10-19T21:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-19T21:13:02.890-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And the search continues...</title><content type='html'>I'm still looking for a good price on a flight to Merida.  So far the best I have found was on Kayak.com.  Its $387 for a one-way ticket and then I can worry about the return flight later.  The more I search for flights, the worse it seems to get.  It makes me wonder how the economic changes here have affected those in Merida.  I've been scanning El Diario del Yucatan - the local newspaper - but I haven't found a lot of information yet.  Today exchange rate was 12.8 pesos to a dollar, which is only about a peso more than the rate a year ago.  I'll be interested to see how that changes between now and January!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-916931303939995693?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/916931303939995693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=916931303939995693&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/916931303939995693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/916931303939995693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2008/10/and-search-continues.html' title='And the search continues...'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-2247654231869420648</id><published>2008-10-02T14:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-02T14:41:52.141-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Get out the vote!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SOU-VJy3azI/AAAAAAAAAB8/aRPTf_vWl1E/s1600-h/6a00d8341ccd8453ef00e54f30eec68833-640wi.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SOU-VJy3azI/AAAAAAAAAB8/aRPTf_vWl1E/s200/6a00d8341ccd8453ef00e54f30eec68833-640wi.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252673073524992818" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I just cast my vote in my first presidential election!  I've voted in some previous elections, but this was the first time I've been old enough to vote for a president.  As corny as it may sound, I really felt like my vote mattered.  Ohio is such a huge state for this election and I'm happy to be part of a big swing state.  It also felt good to see the board of elections full during a thursday of early voting.  While I'll continue to keep volunteering for the Obama campaign, its nice to know that my vote is already in!  I have a really good feeling about this election....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-2247654231869420648?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/2247654231869420648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=2247654231869420648&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/2247654231869420648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/2247654231869420648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2008/10/get-out-vote.html' title='Get out the vote!'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SOU-VJy3azI/AAAAAAAAAB8/aRPTf_vWl1E/s72-c/6a00d8341ccd8453ef00e54f30eec68833-640wi.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1433272878254211637.post-2933450904673211957</id><published>2008-10-01T19:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-01T19:17:38.948-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bienvenido!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SOQvCX2o5dI/AAAAAAAAABk/B2S1dju5vss/s1600-h/n12329892_3***6827174_6611.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SOQvCX2o5dI/AAAAAAAAABk/B2S1dju5vss/s400/n12329892_3***6827174_6611.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252374783230272978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My mexican family!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bienvenido (welcome) to my new blog!  I hope to set this up so that I can keep in touch while I'm doing an internship in Merida, Mexico.  This will be my second trip to Merida and I can only hope my second trip is as amazing as the first.  I don't leave until the first of the year so until then I'll keep busy by juggling my three jobs, taking classes and enjoying my junior year at OU.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1433272878254211637-2933450904673211957?l=emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/feeds/2933450904673211957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1433272878254211637&amp;postID=2933450904673211957&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/2933450904673211957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1433272878254211637/posts/default/2933450904673211957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emily-whereintheworld.blogspot.com/2008/10/bienvenido.html' title='Bienvenido!'/><author><name>Emily F.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12785476521262717577</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SENzDH4T9gI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u2bf9LhuvXs/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ymj430hI4nM/SOQvCX2o5dI/AAAAAAAAABk/B2S1dju5vss/s72-c/n12329892_3***6827174_6611.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
