The Primeval Waters of Bahia de Ascension

by Susanna Starr

On the first trip I made with my family to the Yucatan in 1973, tourism was virtually unknown. It was prior to the building of the Cancun airport and the only people who ventured down to this part of the world used cars or trucks on the little traveled roads. Those existing roads were rarely paved once you got off the main two-lane highway. 

From where we were staying, about a half an hour south of Puerto Juarez which later developed into the international resort of Cancun, Tulum was another two hours further south. Except for the phenomenal archeological site, there was little else there. The long sand road south to the end of the peninsula, called Punta Allen (pronounced Punta A-yeem by the locals), was deeply rutted. About half way down was the fishing resort of Boca Paila. In order to get there, you had to drive over a rickety bridge and hope for the best.

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My Day as a Pilgrim

by Susanna Starr

It started out with a scant breakfast (have you ever tried a one egg omelet?) and miles of walking around the city streets of Quito in Ecuador wearing wedged sandals instead of sneakers. Wedged sandals are not the shoes of choice when traveling. My feet, already aching, were really in a state of extreme protest, a not too subtle indication of the agony to come. We were on our way to visit the art exhibit we’d been anticipating all day, but hadn’t quite left any time out for either lunch or water.

The Guayasamin Museum was our destination and surpassed all our expectations. The paintings and sculpture were impressive and the house in which they were displayed, splendidly representative of the Ecuadorian painter’s era (1919-1999). The original house had an extensive collection of pre-Columbian art he had acquired over decades. The only downside was that there was no place to eat! Our dilemma was if we were to start searching for a restaurant, there wouldn’t be time to get to Guayasamin’s Capilla del Hombre (The Chapel of Man), which was a “must.” By now it was a toss-up as to which was worse, my overwhelming hunger or my throbbing feet.

We decided to skip the restaurant search and walk to the Capilla which, we were assured, was just a short distance away. We simply couldn’t take a chance on missing the experience of visiting this most amazing structure, Oswaldo Guayasamin’s final dream, completed three years after his death as a tribute to the 500-year struggle of indigenous people of the continent. 

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Leaving It All Behind

by Susanna Starr

To the outside world we had a beautiful life. There we were, living happily with our children in our lovely suburban home. We had interesting friends. What would possess us to leave it all and hit the road? But that’s what we did, launching ourselves into points unknown in the big red truck we bought to replace the suburban station wagon. It also replaced the 4 bedroom 2-1/2 bath home with a cab-over camper that provided just enough space for five people to sleep. Only one person, even if it was a child, was able to walk about at a time.

What we had in mind was simply to begin our personal odyssey with the ultimate destination unknown. Anyone can do it. Despite prevailing opinion, it doesn’t take much, just the initial decision to find another way. That’s how the travel plan began. Leaving all the details open allowed us to experience adventures that we never could have conceived of. That’s how the travel plan unfolds, if you make the space. Our previous lives were now lost and gone forever and we had embarked on a new one.

This one ultimately took us from suburban south shore of Long Island to the sparsely populated area of the Yucatan Peninsula of Mexico. Not one of us spoke Spanish, but we ended up living there for several months, most of it on an isolated beach, on what was later to develop as Playa del Carmen.

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Traveling Back Through Time in Taos

by Susanna Starr

Although Starr Interiors, the gallery that I’ve had for decades, has been housed in what was once the home of one of the founding artists of Taos, New Mexico, E.I. Couse, only recently have I gotten entranced with the history of the building. I’ve known about it, but it’s always been in the abstract. My deed was signed under the presidency of Abraham Lincoln, but the building which was originally constructed as a private home, existed long before that. I’d never given much thought to the previous owners and the part they played in the colorful history of Taos.

Since making a connection with Virginia Couse and her husband, Ernie Levitt, who have the Couse Foundation, I’ve become inspired to do some of my own research into this historic building. They’ve been good enough to provide us with some photos when Virginia’s grandfather and his wife, the first Virginia, lived in the house, from 1906-1909, calling it Las Golondrinas. It was there that her grandfather built his studio by opening up the roof and adding on what looked like a greenhouse to provide him with the northern light he needed to paint by.

He also often painted in the courtyard. This courtyard was beautiful then, as now, and a photograph caoturs Couse sitting in the doorway at his easel with a handsome young model from the Pueblo standing in front of him. In another, we see him sitting in the courtyard on one of the rocking chairs with his wife stretched out on the grass, hollyhocks and Virginia creepers lining the sides of the courtyard.

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Driving Myself Crazy Searching for the Ecological Solution

by Susanna Starr

Since speaking on the cell phone is prohibited when you’re driving in Santa Fe, I pulled over to answer mine, which rang just before approaching Beaver Toyota. So, it was the most logical thing to drive into the parking lot of a large car dealership.

After getting off the phone, I was approached by a nice looking young salesman who asked if he could show me something. Without having any previous thought as to purchasing a vehicle, I responded by saying, “Only if you have a used hybrid that’s not a small car.” A small car would never fit my lifestyle. My modus operandi is to throw all kinds of stuff into my vehicle -- bags of compost, stacks of newspapers for recycling and lots more.

It was a rather flippant reply, since I was there by accident rather than intention. But truth be told, for some time I was feeling upset about the outrageous cost of fuel that my much-loved Land Rover was using due to the obscene rise in fuel costs, with the government for supporting the oil companies, and with the oil companies for notoriously exploiting the American consumer for many decades. So maybe, just maybe, I was somewhat primed for a change.

Meanwhile, the nice looking young guy smiled and said, “I just got in a two-year old Highlander – it hasn’t even been washed yet.” I told him that I wasn’t really serious and he said, “Why don’t you just look at it”? I looked over at my friend who was sitting next to me and he just shrugged. For him that was a major understatement, since he is well known for his love of buying vehicles. He’ll buy one for himself or help anyone else who shows the slightest interest in buying a car or truck, new or used. Now, however, he took great pains not to influence me in any way.

What could I do but at least look?

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A WOO WOO TALE

by Susanna Starr

When I was in elementary school, I used to walk home every day to prepare my own lunch. My teacher, who lived nearby, also walked home for her noon repast.

One day, I excitedly asked her if she had heard anything about the aliens who had landed in the Arizona desert. She looked at me a little strangely as I explained that a space ship had landed in the desert and had tried to make contact with the humans they encountered by drawing symbols in the sand.

Kindly, and looking at me with incredulity, my teacher asked how I knew it was true. “Because my father told me, so it must be true,” I answered. She smiled and suggested that I speak with him once again.

Some time after the invasion of Iraq, a group of concerned people in Taos, New Mexico gathered in a large field outside of the Philip Bareiss gallery. There were a number of speakers, including Native American, Hispanic and Anglos. Each was there to protest the new war.

Huddled in our coats and sweaters against the crisp fall mountain air,  I listened, heartened that so many had come out to express their opposition to the war. Afterward, there was a march down the main highway with the usual banners and signs, mostly homemade. People in passing cars and trucks waved in support. The crowd of protesters ran the whole gamut, from young people to old hippies. I was one of the old hippies.

When the marchers headed for the home of Donald Rumsfeld, who’s had a place in Taos for many years, I joined them. I wondered how we’d be received. We stopped in front of the entrance. Some protesters were interviewed by local and state TV and radio. Others greeted old friends they hadn’t seen for years. There were a couple of nicely dressed, big men standing close by. They didn’t smile, but the crowd was pretty happy. Surveillance cameras were busy accumulating photographic evidence of who was there.

And now we come to the woo woo part.

 When the film was sent back to the labs in Washington to match our faces  against the ones they had on file from days long gone by. Suddenly, the lab techs looked at each other in astonishment. After almost 35 years, one petite woman hadn’t aged at all – she looked exactly the same!

How do I know this is true, my children ask me, their eyes wide in wonder? “I heard it directly from one of the lab technicians.” I tell them. My children believe the story, because their mother told them it was true.

Susanna Starr, author*, entrepreneur, photographer and artist resides most of the time in a small community near Taos, New Mexico and part time between Oaxaca and Laguna Bacalar, Mexico (where she has fantastic and abundant tropical gardens).*Fifty and Beyond: New Beginnings in Health and Well-Being (www.FiftyAndBeyond.com) Her new blog is: http://50-and-beyond.blogspot.com/