Another Time, Another Place

I love the thrill of going to a new country for the very first time. Even when you think you know what to expect, you know that you will be surprised. And this, my first visit to Mexico, is extra special because it's more than my introduction to a new country. It's also my introduction to a new civilization.

I've read about the Maya since I was a child. I've been fascinated by the New Age theories that they were the beneficiaries of instruction by an advanced, alien race. I've watched the movie Apocalypto (a rather visceral film, but one I would still recommend). And now I have seen the Maya with my own eyes.

I went to Chichen Itza today. I'd heard that it's one of the most impressive of all the Maya sites that still exist. I was impressed all right.

I was impressed by this pyramid.

This is not like the Pharaonic pyramids in Egypt, which were either built to be over-elaborate tombs or as landing beacons for alien spacecraft (depending on whom you believe). Instead, the Maya pyramid of Chichen Itza had the supremely pedestrian function of being a calendar. Each step represents a day of the year, the orientation is designed around the solstices and equinoxes, and so on. In other words, the gigantic object in the picture is a 3-dimensional mother-of-all-calendars.

But perhaps dismissing it as a mere calendar is unfair. After all, the Mayan calendar is undeniably dramatic. It ends in two years. That's right, under one popular interpretation of the Maya calendar, the 21st of December 2012 will mark the end of Time. You might want to reconsider your retirement plan.

One of the few things more dramatic than the Mayan calendar is the Mayan version of ball sports. The ball court at Chichen Itza is the biggest of all the ball courts in Central America.

And the ball games played here were played for the highest possible stakes: the captain of the losing team would forfeit his head.

Just behind the ball court is a wall with grisly images of death.

This is where the skulls of the decapitated were kept. The sight brings to mind something said by Bill Shankly, the late manager of Liverpool Football Club: "Some people think football is a matter of life and death. I assure you, it's much more serious than that."

It was odd for me to see that many of the souvenir vendors at the archaeological site were wearing replica t-shirts of European soccer clubs. I saw Barcelona and Inter-Milan and Juventus, to name a few. These vendors looked like they could be Maya, and they had clearly adopted a far less lethal version of ball sports than their late ancestors.

Later that night I was back in my hotel. I had smoothly switched back from the Maya to a far more familiar civilization, that of the international traveler in a chain hotel. I thought about the Spanish conquistadors who came here half a millenium ago and who thought their Christian European civilization must engage the pagan Maya in a fight to the death. I thought of their compatriots who similarly strove against the Inca to the south. I thought of the Mayan souvenir vendors and the Spanish and Italian soccer teams that they support from thousands of miles away. I thought of the dinner I had had, with Italian food, Argentinian wine and Mexican coffee. And I realized something I had not paid attention to before.

There is no such thing as a clash of civilizations. People can and do clash violently. But civilizations simply cannot. Civilization is in food and drink, in art and music and literature, in civility and finesse, and it comes alive through people living with other people. A clash of civilizations makes as little sense as a battle of desserts.

Some of us are privileged to have the means to travel and encounter other civilizations at first hand. And all of us are privileged to live in a time when encounters with other civilizations are not just possible, they are commonplace. I'm going to be reminded of that now every time I eat a gyro sandwich, or watch a kung-fu movie, or listen to music that samples African drums. And I'm going to be very grateful.