It’s our favourite time of year, Carnaval!

The senior Isla women's group.  

Carnaval: loud music, outrageously flamboyant costumes, and five days of laughter.

At four in the afternoon on Sunday, the dance groups were scheduled to assemble on the old airport runway across from the Navy base in preparation for the first parade. 

Of course, this being Mexico, where everything starts at least two hours later than planned, there were only two groups who were on time – one being a collection of my friends who decided to debut as dancers this year.

Las Brujas de Isla Mujeres

Their ages ranged from mid-thirties to mid-seventies, and they were all born somewhere other than Mexico. Las Brujas de Isla Mujeres, the Witches of Isla Mujeres, are all gringas, foreigners.

How did this come about?

According to Garnette Hardesty, Betsy Snider started it by posting a video in September to her Facebook page. (Most of you will know of islanders Betsy Snider and her husband Tony Garcia because of their fabulous photos of life in Mexico.) The video Betsy posted was an amusing rendition of the Wolfshager Hexenbrut Witches Dance. She hinted to Bev Willard and Garnette that it might be a fun idea for this year’s Carnaval parade.

Our friend Melodie

Bev suggested that maybe Garnette could create a Facebook page to see if anyone else was interested in participating, so she did. Garnette and a few friends sent out invites to others, asking them to join the Facebook group. 

Bev, who was visiting family in the US before Halloween, offered to bring back costume supplies for anyone interested. 

Those two actions really got the ball rolling.

Starting January 6^th, the eclectic collection of women began to practice the dance steps, sometimes at the Parque Gaviota in Colonia Salina Chica, or on the Malecon behind the Cultural Center, and sometimes at the home of one of the other members.

Garnette - the green-faced bruja

At first they shuffled and stumbled over the unfamiliar routines and then they started to enjoy the dancing. They worked the choreography at twenty different daytime and evening rehearsals, so often they all knew the words to the song by heart. Without costumes. With brooms. And then with complete costumes and brooms. 

On parade day, Sunday, February 11^th, there were twenty-seven witches set to scare the living daylights out of the crowd. They strutted and danced their way along Rueda Medina, from the airport north to Jax Bar & Grill. The audience loved them. Afterwards, the fun and laughter were evident in their many back-and-forth messages reliving the experience.

More witches - Sue Lo in the centre

For the second parade on Monday, February 12^th, the dance troupe was a little smaller. Several dancers had conflicting obligations, helping out at the opening night of the annual Island Time Music Festival. But the ones that performed for the second parade had as much fun as the first time, despite tired feet, sore knees, and aching bodies.

The parade dancers included: Barbara Beck, Margaret Chiffriller, Melodie Deschamps, Esther Ellis, Charlotte Enroth, Kitty Goldberg, Jo Hall, Garnette Hardesty, Jan Johnson, Karon Kailles, Christina Keiffer, Anna Krallis, Ruth Lacey, Brenda Lamonica, Jeanette Lawrence, Lindell Lehrer, Tammi Lewis, Arla Licata, Sue Lo, Karen Mickool, Trina Noakes, Pattie Packard, Christina Rich, Layla Sanders, Ann Shannon, Cindy Tucker, and Cyndi Yates.

Colour and music!

And a final note, a special thank you note from Garnette:

There are so many people to thank, and so many behind-the-scenes collaborators who helped get this off the ground, to make it all happen. The Municipality of Isla Mujeres, Dr. Antonio Coronado Rojas, Secretario General, Carlos Rubén Pérez Martín, Centro Cultural Isla Mujeres, Betsy Snider, Beverly Willard, and Steve Broin, the owner of Casa Sirena.

Glenn D, Lee K, Ann, Melodie D, Steve B, Roger H, Jerry E, Peter C, Gail-M S, Margaret C, Gail M, and Ashley B for their assistance with planning, music, electronics, technical support, make-up, costumes, music, drivers, equipment, water suppliers, plus the after-party planning and hosting.

The boys!

Most of all, I want to thank the dancers for their determination and dedication.

~

What a great idea! And a great bunch of women. We hope you are game to do it again in 2019.Top of Form

Hasta Luego

Lynda, Lawrie, Sparky, and Max

Beautiful costumes

Isla Mujeres Mysteries

Death in the Vineyards 

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Hernando’s frightful encounter!

Hernando on our table

Whispered sounds sifted across the sand.  Something very large was headed his way.  A bright light swept across the beach, momentarily blinding him. Clack!  He quickly tucked his legs inside his house, slamming his large front claw across the entrance, barricading his front door against predators.  Quivering inside his home, Hernando waited, listening to the approaching noises. Would he survive this night? Would he live to see another dawn? “Please don’t let them eat me,” he whispered. “I don’t taste good. I’m all shell. Please spare me.”

Suddenly, he was being lifted up, off the sand. Oh no, was this the end? More noise and bright lights, and he was placed inside a large metal container. This really was the end. He was going to be cooked and eaten! Hernando struggled mightily against the steep metal sides, trying to escape, scrabbling frantically. Then, oddly enough, a beautiful new shell was carefully placed beside him in the container. “What?” he wondered, “What just happened?” 

Exchanging shells in the kitchen sink.

Cautiously, Hernando touched the new shell with his front claws, feeling for a trap. Or worse yet, perhaps a larger creature lurked inside, hoping to catch him for its meal.  Hernando gently turned the shell over, and over, exploring the edges and looking for flaws or holes. It had black, yellow, and white stripes with a gentle curl to the right, and a smooth interior.  

Hernando quickly pulled his slim tubular body from his current shell and spiralled into the new one.  It was a perfect fit, with slightly less weight to carry around, but with room to grow for the next year or so.  And then the big hand reached for him again. The hand placed him inside a different container where he again scrambled and clawed at the sides, hoping to escape certain death. Suddenly, he was set back down on the sand near dozens of his friends. The others were enjoying a feast of tasty food and bathing in clean, shallow pools. Heaven, he was in Hermit Crab Heaven. It was the only possible explanation.

Other hermit crabs exchanging shells

Hernando’s first instinct was to scamper away and hide in the nearby bushes, but once he realized he was not being pursued, he stopped. He turned around and rejoined the party on the beach. Scattered on the sand were dozens of shells in various sizes and colours. Straggly lines of Hermit Crabs, ordered from largest to smallest, clutched the next-in-line crab. 

Hernando knew what this was; he had experienced this many times. It was a shell exchange! 

As soon as the largest crab in the line chose a new shell and decided that it was a good fit, it then released its tight grip on its current house, allowing the now-empty shell to be taken by the next crab in the line.  Eventually, during the evening, as many as eight or nine trades per shell would take place, allowing most of the crabs to secure a newer, bigger shell.  Some would be disappointed, not finding a better shell.  

Pond's Cold Cream Jar being used as shell

Hernando knew that not having any shell was the very worst outcome for a Hermit Crab.  The shells were necessary to protect their fragile bodies from being battered by the rough ground. They were necessary to carry a supply of water and to keep them safe from predators. 

He had made do with a variety of objects in his ten or more years of life. (He wasn’t really certain how old he was. None of the crabs knew how to count, and some of his relatives had lived a lot more years than he had.) In past seasons, he had lived in a plastic bottle top, a glass pill bottle, and, more recently, a white jar that had held a smelly sticky substance before he moved into it. Life was tough for a Hermit Crab. But, he, Hernando, already had a gorgeous new shell, so he ignored the shell line-ups and headed straight to the food.

The thing was, thought Hernando as he munched his food, they were called Hermit Crabs, but really they were very sociable creatures.  They enjoyed meeting up on the beach, touching and exploring with feelers and claws, identifying friends and family. 

The only time things got a bit tense was during the shell exchanges; some of the impatient crabs could get downright nasty if they didn’t get the shell they wanted.  Occasionally, a scuffle would break out, but it was quickly settled when one or the other of the crabs grabbed the shell and scurried away. 

Walked 8 houses. I mark shells with nailpolish

Some evenings Hernando roamed a large area, travelling a very long distance in search of food. And one time he travelled past the green house, past the long white house, past the orange house, past another white house, all the way to the yellow house. The large inhabitant of that house thought he was interesting and picked him up to have a better look.  “What the heck is wrong with these creatures?” Hernando muttered, waving his antennas in agitation. “Don’t they understand that this big front claw can do serious damage to those soft pink sticks they use to poke at me?  I am a seriously mean dude!” 

Same crab showing my red dot, MW photo

Back at the Crab-i-tat, where the beach party was still in progress, the Hermit Crabs gobbled down the free food.  However, there was always a downside to the free gifts. It was frequent and terrifying visits from the large creatures that inhabited this area, flashing their bright lights across the sand and shouting: “Oh, look at this one! He’s huge!”  

Well, he grudgingly admitted to himself, maybe he wasn’t all that scary to the big creatures. He was the one who had slammed his large front claw across the mouth of his shell, hiding, quivering in fear. 

After terrifying the wits out of him for a few minutes, they left him alone again to enjoy the rest of the evening with his Hermit Crab friends. He had survived another frightful encounter, and he was getting bigger every year. 

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Death in the Vineyards Mysteries

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