Yesterday it was a beautiful cool day here in St. Cristóbal so we went for a looooong walk. (I’m sorry for you folks up there in the US. We’ve been hearing how awful it’s been, temperature-wise.)
As we have posted, it’s election time here in Mexico, including local elections in San Cristóbal de las Casas. We have already commented on the political aspects of the elections. Another peculiar happening during election time is that the city has become dry, that is, no alcohol.
The other day, I tried to so some cleaning. Just a little, not a lot. I was in for quite a surprise, as my father-in-law can attest to…
What was interesting about the unexpected running with the bull on a Chiapas highway was not the excitement, or the rush of running for what we thought was our lives, or a practice session for running with the bulls in Pamplona with my father, or the rare opportunity to run in panic with dozens of Mayan descendants in one moment of shared experience. Rather, it was the structures of authority in place and its comparison to the United States – that wealthy and unenchanting world of reasoned irrationality – a token (as the neo-Marxist Marcuse would say) of advanced (un)civilized progress.
So here it is, the end of a long, stinky day, and what’s the only thing my travel companions can think of? Beer.
So, as I said, I started out this day wearing wet pants and being way overtired. Additionally, I was informed that we were taking the van to a place where we had to take a boat to get to one of the ruins we were going to see. I was thrilled; a zigzaggy van ride, followed by a boat ride. What’s not to love?
Our adventure to the jungle began on Monday morning at 6 am… More or less. Mexico time is fuzzy. When they say 6 am, it could just as well be 6:15, 6:30, or even 6:45. You never really know. But to be safe, obviously, we were ready for 6 am. And so we waited. And waited. You know how it is when somebody else is late. You think of all the things that could go wrong and why it’ll never happen. By 6:15, we started to doubt whether we had given them the correct address. 6:30 am. Still nothing. Imagine our relief when they finally showed up around 6:40. The van was full so we all had separate seats. I had to sit next to a kid with too many tattoos and leaky iPod earbuds. (All the 20-somethings on the bus were listening to music.) Pedro braved the back seat where an unusually large woman was taking up nearly two and half seats. Poor thing just couldn’t fit. Pedro was a good sport about it though. The driver gave us his spiel that pretty much said the roads were dangerous and curvy and if anybody felt the need to barf, to please use a plastic bag. Not an auspicious beginning.
…and feelin’ a little rough.
It’s going to take some time to put it all into bits and bytes so be patient.
We went to another indigenous town today. It was an easy journey. 13 pesos each. Huppy and I were seated in the very back seat of a minivan. It was a simple ride and quiet. The other passengers were sleeping. At one point though, we heard this muzzled thrashing behind us and we looked into the back part of the van and there was a large cardboard box. Imagine my shock when I saw, peering out at me, one little terrified chicken’s eye. As my father-in-law said, I would not want to be a chicken in this part of the world. You never know if you’re going to be eaten, boxed, strangled in a religious ceremony or just tied up at the feet and hung upside down for hours until you get to whatever your fate has in store for you.
No, none of you were stupid or incompetent with your computers. I took a shortcut with the photos that didn’t work.
We are now in a wee little apartment. It’s actually quite cute. I promised I wouldn’t reveal it’s location because nobody wants this place to suffer the “Lonely Planet” effect. See, anything mentioned in “Lonely Planet” ends up getting swamped and/or having its prices raised. It’s annoying. I’ll take pictures and everything soon.