It's really about the birds.
I keep returning to the Hotel Chan-Kah because in the late afternoon, before the sun is ready to set, the birds of Palenque descend upon the trees in the zócalo across the street. When I sit in the open-air second floor restaurant/bar I look out and marvel at the thousands of birds that gather loudly here everyday.
A few decades ago, the birds were the loudest thing in this once sleepy town where businesses along the main street closed during the hot afternoon hours. Now, thanks to the increasing popularity of the nearby ruins, Palenque is quite the bustling little metropolis -- with even a Subway and Burger King -- and the birds are no longer the center of attention (even though they don't know it).
The old Hotel Chan-Kah is a funky looking little building that operated in the same quiet way for decades. No more. On this visit, I was surprised to meet a young woman from the southern coast of France waiting tables and drumming up business for the two musicians who play most nights in the restaurant. Leslie is an enthusiastic dynamo working her way through Mexico down to Argentina as she seeks to reinvent her life. Her joie de vivre is contagious and the Chan-Kah rocked all the nights I was there. With her friend, a chef/DJ, who prepared some great seafood meals and played music that often made me feel like I was in Los Angeles listening to a night of Garth Trinidad on KCRW, this new Chan-Kah and this new Palenque was like a dream.
Not everything about the old Chan-Kah has vanished. My room had a sink with two missing faucet handles. It put a smile on my face. As I sat on the balcony during my last night thinking about the evolution of this hotel and the town, I know that as long as the zócalo remains, I can return to hear the magical birds of Palenque. That will never change. read more