Here I was 'head over heels' with a young woman who was teaching me about empathy and demonstrating her willingness and ability to grow, as much as I could have hoped for. I was 'in tune' and waiting for next 'event'. Barbi and I headed for Cancun, where I could take a side trip and see my first Pyramid, at Chichen Itza. I expected something big to happen! And I could remember re-incarnated Mayor of Old Sacramento who I had met some twenty years earlier. He said he had discovered many Mayan sites in his previous life.

The trip was prepaid, including hotel, but when we arrived at Mayaland Hotel they had no record of our reservation. Barbi was upset which can easily happen if you expect efficiency in México. I on other hand, began to feel my body hair 'stand and quiver'. Fate was smiling on me but Barbi wasn't. My explanations about what was 'intended' just added to her frustration. She commanded that I should, "Get owner! And straighten this out.”

It was no problem except that they had no rooms at The Mayaland that evening. The owner was quite pleasant and said she'd arrange a place for us at 'Club Med' property up road. Barbi wanted to be sure we could come back for entertainment at Mayaland and asked if I had ascertained how this had happened? I replied that it wasn't anyone's fault and that she would soon see we were better off for it. I didn't need any intuition to feel her mounting disgust with my arrogant certainty that it was about to happen. There had been other events of synchronicity and weirdness in our time together for previous thirteen months and I had told her that her energy had been very important all of these things that had happened. I was 'in flow' and she couldn't relate to my elation. The 'Villas Archaeologique' was place that people who had excavated site a hundred years or so ago, had stayed in.

Upon walking into courtyard, I was even more certain something 'special' was going on! The place was like a museum in a jungle gazebo and even smelled way it should. I was looking at all artifacts and carved rocks in their displays or among plants. The earlier statues were much more refined and Greek looking. Why had no one mentioned this in any of literature? I was absolutely 'stoked'! The more recent Mayan statues had this gargoylish long-tongued creature that Barbi had told me during week in Cancun that reminded her of me. I was so sure anyone could easily see degradation of a society over many millennia. Barbi said it could have been her Greek ancestors who had come to Central America. The dates on statues would make that fit my 'traveler' theory as well.

I was certain that anyone could see work of Churchward and MacDari might be vindicated by this art alone. Churchward claimed Mu had a higher culture and technology and Barbi had to agree older artistry was in every way superior. "I wish MacDari and Churchward had met here to compare their notes." I enthused. "Just as Kelts (Toltecs) and Lemurians did."

"Well if they met here they probably met in Indus and became Phoenicians as you say, too. But we need to get to temple or pyramid, Bob!"

I was trying to 'feel' presence of 'The Red-Headed League' (of Megalith Builders) that my early-life literary friend Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Sherlock Holmes had turned me on to. The scientific branch of their unified organization or original League of Nations called Tuatha de Danaan seemed more likely makers of these fine works of art. I forget how long it was before Barbi took me by hand and brought me back to reason we were there in first place. She was into that almost as much as I was grooving on Etruscan/Phoenician or Mu/Kelt connection to this part of world. It had taken me by surprise but still I felt there was more, and off to room we went. It was cooler in small room, and as we freshened up I pestered Barbi for a celebration.

"Bob, we don't have time for all of that."

"Just a 'quickie!" I pleaded.

"You don't know meaning of word." She joked as she ran away from me and out door.

As we rounded first corner of courtyard I saw manager in front of us, talking to a group of 'turistas'. I waited anxiously as Barbi tried to push or pull me towards exit. At what appeared to be an 'opening' in their conversation I brazenly asked, "Can you direct me to what is really important here? I'm not interested in 'official' Mexican government position that tour provides!?"

He responded in his best English combined with a calming French type accent. "I don't know what you mean, Sir?!"

"I mean I know Mexicans and their Franciscan forbears aren't interested in having Mayan people of Chiapas and elsewhere getting to know degree of pride they should have in their heritage."

He looked at me and shrugged his shoulders as he looked at Barbi tugging on my arm. I was sure he knew more than he was allowed or willing to tell me. I was convinced I wasn't going to get any encouragement from him, so I followed Barbi who was into her 'mall walk' that I always joked about. Her small legs were quite powerful and when she wanted she sure knew how to use them, like when shopping.

"You know, I might learn more if we took tour." Barbi said in a half-hearted manner with full knowledge that I was not going to listen to their lies which included Mayans not having existed before time of Christ. Barbi remarked with conviction. "You know everyone isn't into same things you are."

Many people would agree with her criticism of my often intense social behaviour. "I make no apologies for being willing to question authority and act in a right and growth oriented or 'open' manner. You are getting pretty good at it yourself lately, you know!" I said as I squeezed her hand.

At that time Barbi and I were living apart, but we had lived together for about six months during time we had known each other. Her sexual abuse issues had been faced but character and programming of behaviour that had been her life for so many years were still being evaluated. She had just turned twenty five and I was forty three years old.

I had read about buildings on site more than once and I was most interested in seeing 'Pelota' where they had played a game with a big ball. The winner of this game got to choose who would die! Thus I figured, it was likely that sometimes winners chose death. You wouldn't imagine that a team with ten players would make this kind of decision without some major motivation. I told Barbi that Persian roots of game Parcheesi were not necessarily real origin, by saying. "The early MesoAmerican Indians played a game just like Parcheesi that some historian/anthropologists said was Persian."

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