In a Crocodile Nest

Last week we went on an outing from Isla Mujeres—to CrocoCun, a reptile reserve a half-hour south of Cancun. We’ve passed it several times on our travels in the Maya Riviera, but never thought of stopping. Luckily, Erick Lara, who works in our Nautibeach Condos office, and his girlfriend Ana used to be guides at CrocoCun, and Erick invited us for a complimentary private tour. We’re glad we took him up on the offer!

CrocoCun is set in a lush jungle, with walking paths laid out among the animals’ enclosures. After Erick and Ana were greeted warmly by the staff, a gorgeous Green Military Macaw seemed to recognize them too. After kissing Becky, she accepted a peanut from Erick, cracked the shell, delicately tongued out the nut, rolled it around in her mouth to remove the papery covering, spit out the skin, and finally swallowed the meat!

Nearby, a stunning Mexican Yellow-headed Parrot watched the peanut maneuver, called out his name, “Lorenzo!” and received his own peanut. Erick told us that the Yellow-headed Parrot can learn 50-60 words, more than any other species except for the African Gray Parrot. Because it is so prized as a pet, poachers cut down the jungle to reach the nests, and this beautiful parrot is on the verge of extinction.

Crocodiles, on the other hand, are plentiful both in the wild and at CrocoCun, from small, limber 3 or 4-year olds to huge lumbering adults. We were allowed to hold one of the youngsters and were surprised at its soft belly. Nothing attacks a croc from under the water, only from above, and its boney, spiny back provides ample protection. Ana had no such protection 3 years ago when, distracted by a school boy in her tour group, she didn’t notice the crocodile reach for her hand. While she went off for 17 stiches and staples, the sobbing child was consoled by his teacher and classmates.

We walked through an enclosed area with about 30 crocodiles behind a foot-high stone wall. This may be the only place in the world where people can walk among crocodiles, which, when provoked, move with the speed of a horse! Erick pointed out the alpha crocodile, alone in the pond. The others stay on land. One male was lounging on the shore with his tail and back legs in the water. We guessed he could scamper away if her highness became displeased by his semi-trespassing in her pond. [Photo by Eric Lara -- he was INSIDE the little wall]

Erick’s favorite reptile is the snake. He cares for 14 snakes in the Cancun home he shares with his mom and sister. Cancun in Maya means snake (Can) nest (Cun). The Yucatan is second in the Americas in its number of snakes, with Costa Rica and Belize sharing the number one spot. Erick handed us a native boa constrictor, which gripped our hands and arm is a strong hug. Its skin was shiny and very soft. After holding the small boa, we were shocked to encounter a rare 12-foot yellow albino python with pinkish eyes . . . thankfully in a cage.

Occasionally a spider monkey would come close for a visit or peer curiously down from the trees. The name comes from the ability to use its prehensile tail to hang from trees while keeping its arms and legs free. Several females had babies clinging to their backs or stomachs. While the babies scampered up the tree trunk, the adults came down for the chunks of grapes we held out, prying open our fingers to reach the fruit.

The oddest animal we saw was not the albino python nor a strange-looking soft-shelled turtle, but Xoloitzcuintle, a rare hairless dog that has been in Mexico for 3,000 years. CrocoCun’s two xolos greeted Erick and Ana like long-lost friends and freely let us stroke their silky bodies. They radiated heat, as their natural body temperature is several degrees higher than other dogs. In ancient times, Xolos were considered sacred . . and also popular in chilly regions of Mexico, not only because of their gentle disposition, but because they helped keep the family warm at night. Eric says that today one Xolo dog can cost $4000.

Thank you to Erick and Ana for a fun and educational morning! For more information, visit http://www.crococunzoo.com/.

Becky and Nancy

A Very Maya Christmas

Not being Christians, Nancy and I don’t celebrate Christmas. This season, though, we were invited to attend a Mayan celebration on Christmas Day at a little community on the edge of Puerto Morelos sponsored by the Jungle Spa (a great place for a traditional Mayan massage).

The celebration started with the arrival of Joseph, with a penciled-beard, a beautiful teen-aged Mary riding a burro, and an entourage of local adults and children singing Christmas carols. It was sweet to see them moving slowly along the dirt road through the jungle.

Upon the arrival of the holy family, and after much recitation, little baby Jesus was placed in Mary’s arms—a local infant of about 3 months with a head of black hair and a patient disposition as the spa dog, dressed up for the holiday, sniffed his head, and visitors from Denmark, Sweden, Canada, and the States snapped photos of the happy family.

The three robed wise men arrived with their gifts, and then it was time for fun and food. The massage therapists performed several traditional dances, including one with a tray of full water glasses and a bottle of beer balanced on their heads.

Local artisans displayed their wares, and there was delicious Mayan food. The panuchos (pictured right) were excellent, but the pork tamales were so extraordinary that we ordered four to go (85 cents each) for our next two dinners.

We caught a taxi back into Puerto Morelos and stopped at a vegetable and fruit store for pineapple, mangoes, and veggies. We were surprised to see so many stores open on Christmas —perhaps the holiday isn’t quite so revered among the Maya merchants as one would think. We like supporting local businesses—especially when so many all-inclusive resorts don’t give much back.

Sandra Dayton, the founder of the Jungle Spa, gives a lot back to the culture she loves, in part through her non-profit organization. She told us that massage as simple relaxation is foreign to the Maya. Her therapists “are from a culture where giving massages is a way of healing. . . . When they were born, a midwife massaged them out of their mother's belly. They were massaged all during the infancy and at 7 or 8 years old they were taught to massage their parent's and grandparent's tired bodies when they came home from working in the cornfields.”

We envision the day when more cultures incorporate massage into daily family life. Imagine girls AND boys running to give Mom and Dad a foot, hand, and shoulder massage when they return from work.We have a lot to learn from the Maya!

For info about the Jungle Spa, visit www.mayaecho.com/Jungle_Spa.html.

Becky and Nancy

Sedona

Last September Nancy & I spent a week in Sedona, Arizona, to celebrate our seventeenth unofficial and our third official wedding anniversary. It was the first time either of us had stayed in the red rock town. We were both blown away by the beauty.

The sky takes on a deep blue against the red rocks, and the air seems crystal clear. We were surprised at how much vegetation there was—lots of pines, junipers, manzanita bushes, and many varieties of cactus, not all dust and desert.

We went for a hike every day—and there are A LOT of hiking trails. One morning we did a yoga session up on a flat rock with a spectacular view of Bell Rock, the surrounding mountains, and the green valley. It was one of the vortex sites, where the earth’s electromagnetic energy is particularly strong. Nancy also practiced planking.

We spent time at several vortexes, and finally admitted to each other that we felt no special energy…although Nancy’s hair got some fetching swirls!

We spent a full day hiking at the nearby Grand Canyon. The Canyon is gorgeous, of course. Despite our altitude sickness, the intense heat, and the overwhelming depth of the giant chasm, we loved it.

We would go back to Sedona in a heart beat, perhaps to see the spectacular color later in the fall. We loved it!!!

Becky

Paris Revisited

The summer after I graduated from the University of Minnesota, I was an au pair (live-in-nanny) for a French family who lived near the Eiffel Tower. Each morning, after our pitite dejeuner of fresh crusty bread, creamy Montrachet goat cheese, and a bowlful of café au lait, I would walk the children to the Eiffel Tower playground. I felt flooded with awe at the fulfillment of my dream of living in France.

 

This spring Becky and I spent a week in Paris. One afternoon, after a picnic near the Eiffel Tower, we discovered that the playground with its little carousel is still there.  My little ones who loved that carousel would be in their forties now and probably have no memory of the American who spoke French badly but loved playing with them in the sand.

Being in Paris reminded of my second visit for the 1986 publication of Ma Soeur, Mon Amour, the French translation of Lesbian Nuns: Breaking Silence. My co-editor Rosemary (Curb) Keefe and I spoke at a women’s bookstore (no longer in existence) and discovered that Parisian women-loving-women regarded our lesbian-feminist zeal as rather quaint, unsophisticated, and somewhat embarrassing. Having achieved equality with men, they were past such narrow concerns. And why were we still using that old term? Lesbian was so militant! They preferred to be “discrete” about their private lives. It sounded to us as if they were still in the closet.

This time Becky and I found the GLBT Center of Paris, thanks to a delightful Lesbian Connection contact dyke. This young Portuguese woman who has lived in several countries told us that the Paris Gay Pride parade draws thousands of revelers, mostly straight people. It’s more party than political. Sonia says that French lesbians are still very . . . discrete.

Being in Paris also reminded me of two months my partner Barbara and I spent there in 1988. The Gare D’Orsay had recently been converted into the glorious Musée d'Orsay, full of light, huge open spaces, and beautiful French art. Barb and I went on the free day each week and enjoyed the sumptuous salad buffet in the chandeliered restaurant. Since the buffet is no longer offered, Becky and I split an order of soup and salmon. We felt like royalty lunching at Versailles, surrounded by mirrors and full-breasted women frolicking amidst clouds on the ceiling.

After this fourth visit, much as I love Paris, I don’t long for my magical city any more. My French dreams have been fulfilled by stolling hand-in-hand along the Seine with my beloved wife, exploring Notre Dame together, and walking the magical labyrinth at Chartres Cathedral with her.

Edith Bohan, 1914-2011

Edith Jean Bohan, 97, died November 2, 2011, at Luther Memorial Home in Madelia. The daughter of John and Ida Norton of Frost, Minnesota, she was born February 19, 1914, and was baptized and confirmed at Bethany Lutheran Church. Her parents were both immigrants from Norway and, consequently, Edith spoke only Norwegian until she began school. After graduating in 1928 from Frost High School, where she won prizes for track events, bread baking, and embroidery, she attended the University of Minnesota Farm School.

(Pictured above: Mom and my sister Vicki)

To support herself during the Depression, Edith became a hairdresser in Minneapolis after graduating from Paul’s Academy of Hairdressing. She moved to Oakland, CA and worked at the salon in the prestigious Claremont Hotel. She later moved to Los Angeles, where she worked for a number of years in a Hollywood salon frequented by movie stars. In the mid-1940s Edith returned to Minneapolis, where she opened her own shop, Miss Modern, on Nicollet Avenue. Benefitting from Edith's Hollywood aura, her business thrived.

(Pictured above: Becky, Mom, Nancy)

On November 5, 1947, Edith was united in marriage to Clarence “Doc” Bohan, D.V.M., at Mount Olivet Church in Minneapolis by Reverend Rueben Youngdahl. After a winter in northern Minnesota, where Doc tested cattle, the couple moved to Madelia and made it their home for the remainder of their lives. While raising two children, she helped in the veterinary clinic, located in the basement of the family home.

Edith was an active member of Trinity Lutheran Church and Rachel Circle. She taught Sunday School for fifteen years and was a Luther Memorial Home volunteer. She served as First Lady of Madelia for the fifteen years that her husband was mayor. Edith’s hobbies included gardening, baking, quilting, and embroidering. She enjoyed traveling and twice visited relatives in Norway. After Doc retired, he and Edith often drove to Florida or the Southwestern United States during the winter.

In 1996, Edith moved into Luther Memorial Home with her husband, who passed away the following year. While diminished by a failing memory in her later years, she maintained a sweet and loving disposition.

Edith is survived by her daughter Vicki Bohan and her husband, Richard Havens, of Lincoln, CA; daughter Becky Bohan and her wife, Nancy Manahan, of Minneapolis; grandson Scott Havens of Boise, ID; and stepchildren Jack Bohan and Deanne Bohan, San Jose, CA. She was preceded in death by three sisters and four brothers.

A memorial service will be held 10:00 a.m. Friday, November 11, 2011, at Luther Memorial Home in Madelia. Memorials should be sent to the Luther Memorial Home or Trinity Lutheran Church in Madelia.

Terry and Amy

In our blog posts from Greece, we didn't say enough about our friends, Terry Cramer and Amy Posmantur. This delightful couple has lived and worked in college and school education in Vicenza, Italy, for nearly two decades.  We met them five years ago in Venice and have joined them almost every year since then, in Puerto Rico, Mexico, or Italy. This year we spent Amy's spring break in Athens and Crete.

Like us, Terry and Amy love to hike, so we took long walks through Athens and longer hikes through the deep Imbros Gorge and across the windswept mountains of Crete.

We shopped for fresh fruit from street vendors.

And then we ate in on a rooftop in Athens looking up at the Acropolis.

Too bad Terry and Amy had to go back to work and couldn't toast Crystos Anesti! (Christ Risen!) while cracking the traditional red Greek Easter eggs.

Our next trip with Amy and Terry? They've invited us to Morocco in April 2012. Inticing!

Nancy

Homage to the Oracle of Delphi

"Over a vast period--ages in which people came and went, empires rose and fell--the Oracle proved to be the most durable and compelling force in what was arguably the most important society that humans ever devised. She was the guide star of Greek civilization. We have no equilavent. . . . No voice, civil or religious, carried further. No authority was more sought after or more influencial. None. She quite literally had the power to depose kings."

So writes William J. Broad, award-winning New York Times science writer, in his fascinating book The Oracle: Ancient Delphi and the Science Behind Its Lost Secrets. Broad pulls together the strands of ancient history, archeological quest, and modern scientific inquiry regarding this figure shrouded in so much mystery. (Actually, there were many Oracles, often matronly women, succeding each other. During Plutarch's stint as high priest of Delphi, there were two Oracles and one back up. Even Plutarch was not privy to the inner rites of these Oracles.)

The ancient Greeks laid the foundation of our scientific world. Pythagorus, Euclid, Aristotle, and scores more, established the basic principles of mathematics, geometry, physics, and philosophy. These great thinkers respected the Oracle of Delphi. Socrates even credits her with setting him on the course that made him one of the world's greatest philosophers.

As described by the ancients, the Delphic Oracle would sit on a tripod, breath in vapors, enter a state of exaltation, and then answer questions put to her, the answers coming directly from the god Apollo. Her answers were sometimes ambiguous, othe times quite specific. King Croesus once sent a courier to ask "What am I doing now." When the Oracle said he was cooking lamb and turtle stew, it seemed improbable. Yet she was spot on. On that day, at that time, the king was cooking that stew!

Broad's book chronicles the unearthing of the ruins at Delphi and the scientific search for the source of the fumes that enabled the Oracle to reach her elevated state. After years of research, John Hale, an American archeologist, and Jelle de Boer, a Dutch geologist, published their findings in 2001. The tripod sat directly over the intersection of two geological faults where a mixture of gases, including the ecstacy-inducing ethylene, wafted through tiny fussures.

The media was quick to mock the Oracle as getting high and rambling, but the question remains, how could she have been so accurate and commanded such respect for hundreds of years?

I like to think that the Oracle tapped into "the Field," much like Edgar Cayce did in his self-hypnotic trances, where she could step into a higher level of consciousness, the transcendental state where the past, present, and future all blend, where all knowledge is accessible.

The Oracle continued to have power into the Roman period. The Christians, however, labelled her a witch in league with demons, and after 1200 years and thousands of accurate prophecies, in 395 C.E., the shrine was closed by the Roman emporor. Subsequent earthquakes eventually shut off the fumes.

Nancy and I leave Crete tomorrow to journey to Delphi. Amidst the stunning scenery and awesome ruins, I will be paying my respect to that "sisterhood of mystics" as Broad calls them, who generation after generation, guided one of the world's greatest civilizations.

Becky