I wrapped up my second semester and first full year at Flinders Uni in early November, and a few weeks later I was on my way to Mérida (via Sydney, Auckland, New York, and Mexico City). I was returning to Mérida to continue my research on the Tren Maya megaproject in southeastern Mexico. I’d visited the city a year and a half earlier, in the very earliest stage of the study. I was pretty relieved to return in the winter, when the region is only mildly sweltering.
Much had changed since my previous visit. Parque de la Plancha was a dusty construction site on my last visit, but now it is a lush park, frequented by joggers and dog walkers in the cooler morning hours. Old train engines and carriages dot the park, a reminder that the Tren Maya is not the first effort to link the city to distant parts of Mexico, and to the fact that seemingly permanent rail infrastructure can still rust and crumble into disuse.
The redevelopment of some streets in the city center has also progressed. What were open trenches and road detours are now widened sidewalks. Central Mérida is a concrete grid that has ceded as much space as possible to traffic, leaving narrow pedestrian ways and very little shade. The redeveloped streets aim to change this, if the newly planted trees can hold on. These redeveloped streets are also cluttered with tourist-friendly businesses, bringing a specific Instagram-friendly aesthetic to downtown. I’ve heard from a few people now that it feels like the center caters more to tourists and seasonal expats, rather than local residents.
The biggest change, at least for my purposes, is that the train is now up and running in this part of the region. On my first visit, the entire train system was still under construction. On my second visit, I focused on areas where constructed was ongoing. This was my first opportunity to visit stations that were open for business. I went to Mérida-Teya, to Tixkokob, to Izamal. I saw a train leave, buses arrive, passengers wait, and construction continue. There are virtually no stores installed in the pristine glass booths at Tizkokob and Izamal yet. The club lounge at Mérida-Teya is empty apart from a few folding chairs.
The stations are located on the outer fringes of the towns they serve. The road to Tixkokob station narrows and narrows, becoming ever more cratered, before reaching the very edge of town and suddenly widening out into a two-lane sweep of smooth asphalt. The Tren Maya has been heavily advertised as a project to “detonate” development in the region, but at the moment the stations feel largely disconnected from their surrounds. The government has never been very clear about how this will occur, but it seems a little cynical to plonk a station on the outskirts of town without a clear plan for how it articulates with local society.
Back in Mérida, I sipped xtabentún in the slow evenings, keeping my field notes and trying to peer into the future of this project. This will probably be my last trip to the region for a while. The next step is funding applications to allow me to return for longer stays, to continue tracking the outcomes of this megaproject. By the time I can return again, the entire train system should be up and running. We’ll see if the promised detonation has occurred.
Philip Luke Johnson 