The Mayan Ruins of Tulum (Mexico 3 of 4)

One of Tulum's most popular destinations are the Mayan Ruins. Situated on bluffs overlooking the Caribbean Sea, the ruins create a setting that transport visitors to another world.
Tulum, which is a Mayan word for "walled city" served as a trading port and commerce center for the city of Coba, which is situated further into the interior of Mexico. History suggests that prior to its discovery by European explorers, Tulum was called "Zama" by its citizens. Zamas is Mayan for "dawn". Though we were too lazy to get up to see the city live out its original namesake, the above photo taken around 10am, can give you an idea of the breathtaking view that Zama enjoyed each morning.

Tulum boomed between 1200-1500 AD, but was later abandoned as new diseases carried by Spanish explorers decimated Tulum's native inhabitants. The above photos depict details of the facade of the Castillo. It is the largest building situated in the center of the city. Historians maintain that it was mostly used as a ceremonial site and as the main lookout post for the city.
The above photo is the Castillo from the front. The Italian family posing in the right end of this image spotted me as I took this photo. Before long they asked me to take their picture ...seven times with seven different cameras.
Once again, the above image shows the Castillo from a side vantage point. From this angle, you can clearly see a portion of the city wall that is still intact. While at the ruins, I was really drawn to the texture and color of the stone used to hand-build the structures in the city. A stone found on this site in the 19th century bared a chiseled date of 564 AD indicating that the city may have existed centuries before its heyday.
I have to come clean with the photo above. As we were walking, I inadvertently pressed the trigger on my camera as it dangled at my hip. What resulted was an accidental shot of Laura walking through the ruins. Sometimes art just happens, and it seems that this photo is a good example. The texture and movement of Laura's skirt placed in the context of the ancient Mayan path creates a mood that allows something from the present to fit perfectly in an ancient backdrop.
The placard for the above building explained that the structure was most likely a multifamily dwelling.

Architecture Akumal (Mexico 2 of 4)

Akumal is a small resort community just about halfway between Cancun and Tulum. On Wednesday, we taxied to Akumal for a day to snorkel. After about an hour of swimming around with the fishes, we realized that our sunburns were a bit more tender than we had first noticed, so we decided to cover up and take a long walk from the lagoon into town.

The walk into Akumal turned out to be a highlight of the week in Mexico. The air was still, the road was quiet, and the architecture was stunning. With the exception of some Mexican flourishes, I quickly noticed how similarly the architecture in Akumal mirrored the buildings in Greece.

I originally took the above photo in color, but converted it to grey scale when I realized that the lowest portion of the wall so closely resembles the sweeping motion of the lowest exterior wall of Frank Lloyd Wright's Guggenheim in NYC. The Guggenheim photo in my NYC post does not show this congruency directly, but if you compare the two images you'll notice the similarities.

Akumal is a Mayan word that translates to "place of the turtles". Though this region is a prime breeding ground for sea turtles, due to the time of year of our trip, I unfortunately do not have any photos of sea turtles. My next post, however, is dedicated to the Mayan history of the region.

The Beaches of Tulum (Mexico 1 of 4)

In the immediate days after I return from traveling to a new, exotic location, I find it difficult to wrap my head around how distant a recent experience can feel. As I sit down to write this blog entry today in snowy Massachusetts, I welcome back that same sensation when I reflect upon my last week's travels to the pristine beaches of Tulum, Mexico. On a whim, Laura and I decided to take advantage of some free time, and booked a four day escape to tropical waters and equatorial breezes.

This week, I'll be updating The Viewfinder with four posts from our trip. Keeping true to the themes of previous posts, the entries will include photos of festivals; portraits of locals; and snapshots of architecture... both modern and ancient.

This post, however, is dedicated to something I've never stepped foot on (let alone take photos of) before last week... a Caribbean beach.

Though only two hours south Cancun, Tulum represents a different world. Condos and high rise resorts are replaced by solar-powered, thatched-roof cabanas; and Anglophone tourists are required to attempt their rusty Spanish in order to get around. The above photo was taken on Hemingway Beach.

The week we were in Tulum (December 8th-12th) is considered "shoulder season" for the hospitality industry of the region. American tourists down for the Thanksgiving holiday are back to reality in the north, and visitors for the winter holidays are yet to arrive. During our long walks, intersecting another vacationer was a rare occurrence.

Though this lone palm tree made a great photographic subject, I later read that a bending palm tree is an indication of poor health.

Above is Zamas, a restaurant and beach that was about a city block north of the first cabana in which we stayed. On our third night in Mexico, we had drinks at Zamas and listened to a live band called "Latin Taxi".

On multiple occasions we came across small fishing boats that had been partially submerged by abnormally high tides during hurricane season.

Boats were not the only victims of hurricane season. The above piece of driftwood was roughly the length of a pickup truck. (Click on the image for a larger view)

During our week in Mexico, the moon was the closest to the Earth it had been in 15 years. This made the nights on Tulum's beaches extremely bright. For this image, keeping my shutter open for only 30 seconds revealed a milky surf and the true color of the stars. Two of the brightest stars in this image are beginning to streak, which is a visual way to document the rotation of the Earth.

Cosmas & Damien 2008 (You're Caught Up: 11 of 11)

When I moved to Boston, I got an apartment in the quiet neighborhood of East Cambridge. Most of its residents are elderly Italian and Portuguese-Americans. Though Boston's North End is famed for its Italian festivals honoring Roman Catholic saints, East Cambridge celebrates (for 82 consecutive years) a cultural jewel of a holiday... The Italian Festival of the Healing honoring saints Cosmas and Damien.

My affinity to this festival originates from its similarity to the block parties I used to attend as a child with my grandmother in Shamokin, PA. There's incredible authentic food, a out of tune marching band that follows a procession, carnival games, and curious rituals like pinning money on the saints for good luck.

The Italian immigrants that began settling in my neighborhood in the early years of the 20th century were predominantly seaside dwelling fishermen from Gaeta, Italy. In Cambridge, they became landlocked meat packers. In an attempt to retain a piece of their cultural identity, a group of 100 East Cambridge residents established the Society of Saints Cosmas and Damien, the patron saints of Gaeta.

Walking around East Cambridge's streets during the celebration it becomes clear that the future of the festival is uncertain. Its organizers and attendees are almost entirely over the age of 60; and anyone under the age of 40 that you can find at the festival are peeping gentrifies like myself.
Saint Alfo's Band from Lawrence, MA plays many of the Italian festivals throughout Massachusetts.


If you sleep in on Saturday on the feast of Saints Cosmas & Damien, there's a good chance that your alarm clock will be the "oompa oompa" of St Alfio's band marching down the street outside your window. Above, the band prepares to process and a playful band member pretends to attack a festival onlooker with his tuba bell.

Montreal 2008 (Catching You Up: 10 of 11)

My friends and I traveled to Montreal for a long weekend in June of this year. Having never been there, I expected Montreal to be a time warp back to a romantic old city with strong European influence. Though parts of the historic section of town did have the old world charm I expected, I was struck more by the grittiness of Montreal. Though some images of Montreal could resemble the classic Parisian photographs of Cartier-Bresson, I was more inspired by the ubiquitous graffitied buildings and the rawness of the city.


We stayed at a shabby-chic apartment on Rue Ste Catherine called Maison Loft. It was owned by a friendly, entrepreneurial young woman named Noémie. Though initially surprised by the loft (it kind of gives you the feeling that you are staying at a place that could have once been a crack house) we gave in to its gritty charm and were won over by the warmth of our hosts. The above photo, is the view from my room looking down on Rue Ste Catherine.

The graffiti in Montreal was like ivy on buildings.

I am drawn to this photo for a number of reasons. I love the weathered expression on the man's face. He's doing cement work to the front of a shop, and it looks like he's been doing it his whole life. The pattern on his shirt blends in with the reflection of the clouds, blurring the distinction between the man and his environment. Though he's tired and slouched, and probably not the vision that Michelangelo had in mind, when I look at him, the posture of his hand makes me think of the Statue of David. My friends are reflected in the window.