The city of Mérida, Yucatán, is humid and crowded and busy and colourful and alive.
The pedestrian crossings play a jaunty tune when it’s time to cross the street and in the evenings people gather in the parks in ones and twos and small groups, just to be together.
There is a clear Spanish colonial influence to the city, which is understandable, and its architecture contrasts with the enormous temples and sprawling cities of the Mayans. I’m told that when the Spanish first arrived in Mérida there was a huge Mayan pyramid, that the conquistadors wasted no time in dismantling the temple, taking the stones to build a cathedral instead.
Other than the recycled stones, all that remains of the pyramid now is a plaque celebrating achieving the impossible feat of destroying the marvel of architectural engineering.