a Novel by Marilee Manz
The Classic Maya had a true written language that consisted of glyphs that were either syllabic or logographic. A glyph could either be a syllable or an entire word or concept. These glyphs could be in sculptures, painted on walls or ceramics, or drawn in their own version of books: codices. A codex was made with bark paper and folded back and forth like an accordion.
Cheryl is filled with admiration for her textile purchases and never gets tired of looking at them. So they become art.
When you finally arrive at Chichen Itza…it’s very exciting to see El Castillo waiting for you.
In the Anthropology Museum in Merida there are many representations of twins. These twins populate many creation stories. Once thought to be recent, these stories were told in antiquity.
Climbing up is easy, but when you come down you have to concentrate on your feet and nowhere else. If you stop to look around, then your fear will keep you stuck. This temple in Uxmal appears to go straight up with sharp pointed stairs.
Cheryl is a ballroom dancer who has taken many lessons in the past, and in Entering the West she returns to the studio.
Dance is also very important to the Indigenous people of the Americas, past and present, from the prairie nations and their secret societies to the Maya whose Kings danced at ceremonies of accession and religious meaning.
The Mexican site Palenque has many stucco figures adorning its temples; including this one of the King Pakal dancing which you can find on the Palace.
Palenque did not disappoint: the Temple of the Cross was more beautiful in person.
Pierce, Sally and Cheryl naturally got up and walked off together. Agua Azul were rapids and water falls on the Rio Xanil. Aqua colored water flowed rapidly over pinkish round rocks. The Maya worshipped water, and rivers represented the underworld to them.
They walked for awhile and soon Cheryl realized she wanted to putter around by herself and take photos. She could feel she was holding them up.
“Hey, you guys can carry on, I’d like to stay here and take some arty shots. I’m not interested in seeing the end. I’d like to go slow.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’ll meet you back at the bus.”
With a wave, they walked on and Cheryl enjoyed being alone as she meandered along the path that traveled beside the water; it was covered in vines and what looked like cacao pods. Three young girls were seen eating the seeds out of one of the pods. Cheryl forgot herself and nearly asked them if she could try one too.
By herself she took some photographs and then tried to soak in the environment. Unlike Canadian forests, life in this jungle along the river and waterfalls was not peaceful. Above the sound of the rushing water was the high pitched whine of the insects, cicadas mostly. Cheryl assumed they were cicadas, as well as other buzzing insects. The cicadas sounded like little engines getting ready for take off: chucka, chucka, chucka, chucka, chuk chuk chuk chu….whine…..whyrrrr whine.
Cheryl wondered if she ever lived here would she get used to it.
She popped into the merchant areas that were on the opposite side of the path from the water and there were many T-shirts available, but she was beginning to get the idea that the T-shirts were the same no matter what city or site they were in. They weren’t unique to the area.
It was the uniqueness of the textiles that got her attention. Hanging on the dark canvas walls of a store she saw some blouses with a cream-colored cotton bottom, but a cross stitched top. The cross-stitched section had a dark green background with large fuchsia pink, peony flowers. Cheryl had seen women along the road wearing this exact blouse so she decided to get one.
The Maya woman who ran the little shop was attentive and offered to bring down any shirt Cheryl looked at on her wall. There must have been living space on the other side of the dark brown canvas, as a little boy kept peeking his head underneath. His Maya mother kept gently pushing his head back with her hand along with a torrent of words Cheryl didn’t understand, but the meaning she could guess.
When traveling, we need to be reminded that things are not done the same way as in our native lands. When Cheryl visits the market in Chamula she is mindful to be open to experience.
She takes a deep breath, and walks in.
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