Culture Vulture

Cenotes

katia — Thu, 5 Jun 2014 09:59:00 GMT

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3PG8qOL1hs4-Read story with music background

Slowly the discomfort ends.
You open your eyes and let your lungs drink from the apparatus suited for this adventure.
Its sedative.
It’s surreal.
People dream of this freedom and yet only certain percentages pursue the magic of it.
The water is not like the oceans familiar with most dives.
The water in the mangroves is light and dirty.

The visibility isn’t too far disturbed from the purple-brown colours but it encourages the imagination to look beyond the normal realms visited by humans.

After all this is the gateway to the underworld.
This is the gateway where so many souls are lead when their physical lives had expired.
Shhhhhh Kooooooo Shhhhhhhh Koooooooo

Swimming under the roots of trees is like exploring the nerves of a brain.

Each arm-twists and turns.
Each arm is alive and drinking the minerals from the very spot where your body lays.
You feel your heart on every inhale.
Shhhhh Koooooooo Shhhhhh Kooooooo

You feel your blood synchronize with the movement of the water.
The passage begins to darken.
Your Pupils dilate to absorb as much light as possible.
Your pupils dilate perhaps this is a trip.
Suddenly you enter the area where lime stone creatures its way down from the ceiling of the cave.
Teeth like and mysterious.
Before too much is revealed your vision is taken from you.
A layer of distracting halocline has wrapped you up and all you can do is follow the patterns of its swirls and density.
Persisting you let out a breath.
You sink.
Slowly
Surely.
Shhhhhh Kooooo Shhhhhhh Kooooooo

Floating just above the ground as to keep the area clear your eyes adjust to your manufactured torch-light,
Glory surrounds you.
The Halocline now sits around you
Teasing you into a portal of pristine beauty and clarity.
Suddenly the underworld isn’t as scary.
The magic colours and shadows invite you further yet your relative consciousness turns you around and back along the banks of the mangrove.
From brown to black to blue to you.
Harmony takes place in the most obscure places.
Breathing directs all adventures.

The Pink

katia — Thu, 5 Jun 2014 09:49:00 GMT

Got to take it easy.
Everything is covered in sand. I like it. The floors to my bedroom are soft like the bordering shore line. The windows are all made from fly wire so a breeze catches me at unexpected moments. The ceilings in the cabana are tall. The materials are all natural. There are not many people living here on the island. The hostel only has around ten of us here. Seven of those work at the hostel or in town. Its peaceful. Almost too peaceful, too comfortable. I’m not concerned. I thought I was, but I just have to take it easy. It seems that the people I am drawn to are all on pursuit for happiness although I have come to a lot of resting points where they are already there. Isla Holbox caught me unaware.The atmosphere on this island is similar to the calm after a storm. High season has just passed so now the island functions the same as any small village life. Except Holbox is paradise.

I’m finally immune to the sand flies and the mosquitos. They ruin the presence of just being. A friend once said
“There is no moment there is just being”
If that’s a vibe I seem to be attracting I am more than content with learning through this life style. My first evening on Holbox I was in conversation with a now insightful friend I wish to keep in contact. He has painted most of the beautiful murals around town and in the hostel. I navigated a lot from his art. He knew everybody on the island. He was balancing the present with conflicting influences of the ego. He liked analysing the two matters and how free and inspired he was now he found how to just let go. I took this revised conversation with me during my stay here on Holbox. I had missed the whales but the unity of the people I met would most likely bring me back to here.

The sea around the island comes in three colours. The gulf has this eery washed out brown that is then met by deep blue which then turns into the picture perfect crystal waters of the Caribbean. I would float for hours meditating in the peaceful bath water as schools of fish would pass by. The water would go for hundreds of meters at knee-deep. Floating in the deeper parts created a kind of perceptual isolation. You literally became one with ocean unaware of your senses.

Bird watchers would be in heaven here. On the corners of the island, many mangroves take over from the ocean. Different species of sea birds, pelicans and flocks of flamingos meet you all over the island. Hidden in the mangrove muck can you also find these prehistoric un evolved sea cockroach sting ray looking creatures. They have a hard shell seedy eyes and weird bug like legs.

The sunsets, on the Caribbean side of the island. They are as all the reviews suggest breath-taking. Of course the better convenience when the roads are not flooded and puddled to access the beach, although having the opportunity to walk through pools of burnt oranges, hot pink and purple cloud formations is mind-boggling. The puddles which are a cloudy silver from the sanded roads, create the most sensational viewing platform reflecting the wonders of the sky. The grand viewing point is knee-deep in the water of course. It’s a new world. The shapes and colours are beyond words. Never have I seen purple lightning before. When you get the opportunity to witness a passing hurricane in the distance enriched with sunset colours and patterns the mixture leaves you feeling dizzy. Nature at its meanest and most spectacular.

The empty beaches are the perfect places to practice all sorts new things. I would dance with my hula hoop every evening at Sunset. There are bars on the beach that serve cold cheap drinks from swings so you are never left empty when the sun goes down.

There is an abundance of dogs. The dogs run the place. All the locals know the dogs by name.
They have busy lives on Holbox. Dog backwards is god. The island drugs the dogs with sunshine and freedom.
They run their own errands, make their own friends and find the ultimate spots of comfort.

One night in the hostel of which I lived l was invited to enjoy the testing of the newly built fire oven. It was a pizza night similar to the ones I am ever so familiar with back home. The chef at the hostel is Italian, from Calabria. Like any passionate Italian chef he was determined in bringing the best quality from his “unsupported” utensils and products. The evening was perfect. The stars were blanketing the island wonderfully and the smoke from the fire deterred the mosquitos. I felt like I was really at home. Over a few beers a Dutch couple who have made Holbox a working hub put some cheesy spanish classics on getting everybody singing and in the mood for conversation.

They have an incredible story just like everybody who makes it to this island. In short they fell in love with each others hunger for the world and decided to sell everything they own back in the Netherlands, let go of their corporate lives and go on the biggest adventure they could. In November they will Marry here in Mexico and continue the dream.
Sasha the friendly Italian woman who runs the hostel moved to San Diego for a short holiday, never went home and got her parents to send all her stuff from Italy. 14 years ago she came to Holbox a small fishing village and constructed her vision had kids and never looked back.
The chef Antonio similar. Sick of city life pursuing nature and peace came to mexico for three months and in his words “Fuck, it’s already been a year”

Being the only non spanish speaker there was this gentle mixture of italian and english. I was the newest in company yet the night and community made me feel like I had lived there years. A mexican Italian couple who were friends of Antonio had come to visit with their daughter. After she was put to bed they drew out their ukulele and thus began the soundtrack to our filling stomachs.
https://soundcloud.com/katia-benini/family-holbox - Beautiful Music from the perfect night.
https://soundcloud.com/katia-benini/holbox-3
Having discovered this woman had lived in Palenque spinning fire, I was keen to have a spin with her. She taught me some simple poi whilst I hooped through out their songs. It was a memorizing evening. Seeing these families put so much value in sharing unity and constructing friendships. The key ingredient to all human race, finding love. The simple life is the fullest life.

My body and mind was craving tranquility , yet a creative outlet to stimulate my imagination. I found contentment in being alone. I found contentment in just being.

Everybody Sings In Cuba

katia — Tue, 6 May 2014 13:13:27 GMT

The boys sit along the sea wall. They comb the tops of their heads where the perfectly styled layer of hair sits. The sides are shaved revealing ears with golden studs. They have eyebrows more immaculately shaped than Bette Davis. The singlet each wears is fitted for bulging shoulders and perky chests. Their hips are small with the body of a highly trained dancer. The women that walk by, they flirt fiercely with eyes and attitude. They walk proud with shoulders pulled back and hips swaying vigorously. They are dressed in what may appear dated to the western world, but oh my, do they work the style. There is not one iPhone in sight, instead, Havana Club Rum and the smell of cigarettes. As the sunsets deeper beyond the Straights of Florida, the crowd grows, becoming larger and larger. The shanty silhouette of a decaying city stalks from the other side. "Bienviendos a La Habana". What a beautiful sight, what a beautiful city.
Arriving in Cuba is travelling back in time. Suddenly, I am immersed in the 1950’s where American high rollers once arrived to flaunt their decadence. The Revolution has defiantly frozen time. Surrounded by loyal heavy-duty vintage Chevrolets and over stimulated romantic maniacs. The heat ricochets from the cemented roads and buildings. Sweat trails your path, as passionate passerby’s stare and envisage which passport you carry and where it could take them. As a visitor you don’t understand why anyone would want to leave.
In every empty car park there are people practicing salsa tunes on brass instruments. There are games of dominos under colourful rippling washing which dangles from balconies above. Wooden wagons are filled with the season’s finest produce. Every second doorstep is either a pizza, coffee or a sweet shop. Indulging in the facades both restored and shabby, there is an array of street art stretching against decades of viewpoints and propaganda slogans using imagination to promote the subject of the Revolution. It is rare to spot a wall without the celebrated Che Guevara. Enthusiastic artists flood the plazas proud to promote their brightly coloured canvases and creations. The delight never ceases and the chaotic street noises make the perfect soundtrack.Everyday I am filled with nostalgia and long for the next. The chaos is empowering, it is delightfully exhausting, it is Cuba. "Nada se compara con la Habana". Nothing compares with Havana. What a beautiful sight, what a beautiful city.