Monday 7 June 2004
Sky again blue after evening of rain bought tickets for the 9am bus to San Cristobal. a wonderful drive through tall wooded hills with fertile plains below. Rain was to restart by the time we walked to the zocalo, so leaving Joan in a cafe with a coffee and our rucksacks Brian set out in the rain, normal fall back style, to find a suitable hotel
The Hotel Pasado San Cristobal was a lovely old building with huge en-suite rooms with tiled floor and large black beams overhead, old wooden furniture and a patchwork bedspread.
Lunch was served on the table on a charcoal grill to keep warm a mixture of meats, cheese and bacon with tortillas and a jug of papaya juice. Luckily by the time we had finished the rain had stopped and we wandered out to the zocalo found the tourist office and got a street map and found.
There was plenty of interest so we started by visiting the museum in what had been the San Dominica Convent. Such conversion and restoration of buildings and gardens into museums is a common theme since the dissolution by Benito Juaraz 130 years ago.
Then as planned we went to go to the small cinema showing one-off DVD films at 8.30 to see Canoa a recent real life Mexican tragedy. It painted the scene of communist uprisings by students in the universities of Mexico city and Puebla, strongly opposed by the Catholic Church. A red flag had recently been put in a church in Mexico City.
Canoa is a small village not far from Puebla where the local priest had spent time building up a religious fervour, convinced that communists would invade, kill them and takeover of his authority.
Four students from its university visited the town in 1968 with a view to climbing Popocatepetl,the very same idea we had recently (in fact they aimed to climb the fourth highest volcano in the region). They arrived in heavy rain and looked for hoping to stay free in the church. Accommodation was refused until someone who had just returned from a spell helping build the Olympic Stadium in Mexico City took pity and welcomed them rooms and food in his grandfathers large family house.
Meanwhile a meeting of the church elders and others came to the conclusion they were evil communists who wanted to place a red flag in their church. Determined to thwart them they dispersed to find arms including guns, machetes, axes and flame throwers. The priest ignored what was happening and the deputy mayor/ policeman failed on an agreed precaution to contact the police in Puebla by phone asking for further information/advice.
The students learned of the attack initially thinking the noise was fireworks and then realising it was a lynch mob. The man from Mexico City was axed and shot dead, the climbers were beaten, in all five men died and several were badly injured. Finally an ambulance and the police were called. Several men were charged and tried, just two were released, but some had jail sentences of seven years.
What a film!
8 June Na Bolom (the name a play on Jaguar House in Tzotzil, and their name Blom)
Danish archeologist Frans Blom (1893-1963) and Swiss anthropologist and excellent photographer Trudy Duby-Blom (1901-1993) bought this beautiful 19th century house and garden in 1950.
They were both obviously very rich, even owned their own plane. It is now a museum with a impressive large formal dining table/meeting room.
Also a restaurant and fourteen rooms for rent (Joan intends to stay here one day). It is also an Institute for the Study and Preservation of Chiapas' Indigenous Cultures.
They both had a deep interest in the indigenous people of Chiapas. The Lacandon people, who lived in the cloud forest jungle, were only discovered in the 1920's.
Their life's work was to befriend, live with and record their lives. As might be expected the house was full of their documents, handwritten, sketched and photographs. But also the clothes and other belongings especially of Trudy who lived to 93.
We left with many unanswered questions but very glad not to have been taken around rapidly by a guide, non was available, and so left to explore at our leisure.
AMBER - a Specialty of the Area
A very interesting museum but we had already learned a good deal yesterday from a friendly owner of a specialist shop. Joan would have liked to buy some although it was very expensive. He told us to beware of the many plastic forgeries available on the street, distinguishable because they would not burn - whereas real amber does with a smell of resin. Any Takers!
It is surprisingly light in weight with a range of colours from pale yellow to red often with insects inside.
Most of the world's amber comes from pine resin but here it comes from a deciduous tree and is mined in drift mines about 30km below the surface. These mines are only active in dry periods for fear of rock falls.
9 June San Juan Chamula
We had hoped Mecedes Hermandez Gomez, a native of Zincantan, would lead the tour but she was not in her usual meeting place but the man taking her place spoke excellent English. Both villages were built using traditional techniques with Shaman healing and Mayan beliefs. Unfounately Brian didn't carry his camera so we have no pictures to show.
Maya believe believe three artistic gods made the world in one day, the gods being a sculptor, a moulder, and a painter. They divide it into sky and earth with the massive tall saber trees of the rain forest supporting the sky.
Whilst being lectured to Joan observed a woman her daughter and an even smaller son all in traditional costume moving heavy logs by carrying them in bundles on their backs with the weight suspended from straps around their foreheads as we had seen fifteen years ago in Nepal. Even the small boy carried a single log, the daughter about ten and the mother sixteen.
The solid church building with a colourful exterior was a mixture of Catholic, Maya and Shaman traditions. Their were candles inside. There were only windows on the male side which was therefore light and considered day and positive, day side of the church leaving the other female side being blank, dark considered night and negative. Two small family groups, seemingly out of place in church, were sitting on the floor chanting with bottles of coke and fanta. They offered us a taste of Posh a strong tasting flavoured sugar cane distillate but we did not try it until Zincantan.
Catholique ceremonies were held only for marriage, baptism and death.
We were told there were some 180 cooperative communities in the village which shared resources meaning food, seeds, tools. their basic foods were squash, maize plants interspersed with runner beans which grew twirled around to support them, a technique we later saw in Chilean small holdings. Pretty flowers were of great significance. Marriage outside village boundaries was discouraged and required special authorisation. On death of a land owner his plot was shared among his eldest male children, hence reducing their size. A leader elected afresh every year represented them in the town hall along with four senior leaders elected by the government.
Zinacantan the second village had an area set up for tourists featuring backstrap weaving looms and cooking on an open fire tortillas made in balls and then pressed flat rather like Welsh Cakes. They were filled with chilli and cheese for us to taste. Next came the medicine round, small pots full of Posh spiced with cinnamon or hibiscus flower or neat spirit.
We were shown a traditional sauna large stones heated in the fire are splashed with water to create the steam. This is used by women (during?) and after childbirth for several days.
Back in town we spent the late afternoon in what had become our favourite coffee bar, full of locals not tourists, notable for the stack of free newspapers and leaflets in Spanish but especially for the chess boards and sets which were widely, enthusiastically played giving a great social atmosphere. It was here we first met Edgar Egill a Norwegian jazz enthusiast, one time professional goalkeeper and journalist/photographer. Brian had lots of correspondence about with him about jazz over the years, always in envelopes covered with slogans recommending JAZZ in bold capital letters, to help source British publications and articles for his intended jazz museum. At that time he ran a music shop full of new CDs, my recording of Bill Evans was sent by him as a present in thanks for one unsuccessful attempt to source some out of date journals.
In the evening at 8:30 we went to that same minority interest cinema to see a French film with subtitles in Spanish. (Wow! writes Joan) But first for dinner in the adjoining restaurant, great tasting soups, lasagna and chocolate cake a tequila sunrise for Brian (too sweet for our tastes) but a dependable rum and coke - the only way I can take coke writes Joan.
The film by Varda explored very types and ages of gleaning, cleaning up after the main harvesters have gone. Milletspicture in the Musee d'Orsay and aother by Jean Breton. An interview of a lady demonstrating gleaning as performed by her grandparents and pointing to the house where she was born. On to modern day gleaning, picking up the potatoes too large or too small or too misshapen, to sell in supermarkets, or apples or grapes ripening after the main harvest had passed. Down to modern day 'down and outs', some doubtless alcoholics, picking through rubbish bins and sleeping in old caravans and cars. A man who went round the n markets in Paris living vegetables and fruit what they had left unsold. People who had made a house of scrap with dolls bodies creepily built into the walls. Not to mention the attitude of local authorities clearly opposed to people taking from the unwanted rubbish disregarded by supermarkets. A thought provoking film writes Joan.
Thursday 10 June PALENQUE
An excellent five hour bus ride to Palenque mainly through hills and pine forests with some land cleared by slash and burn methods used predominately to grow maize but with some beef cattle, some sheep mainly black, chickens and turkeys. The costumes of the women were changing including those of small girls. Many women wore hair in a bun at the front of the head as we had noticed yesterday in the traditional villages.The main event however stood out when the bus came to a halt rather than run over planks of exposed nails. These has been put in place on either side of the carriageway by a small group of men carrying large Zapatista banners, this being the name of the armed rebellion in this part of southern Mexico and Guatemala in the 1960s which was by now well passed its zenith.
One man came onto the bus talked to the driver who announced the fee expected per passenger and distributing leaflets. So
they were obviously still collecting funds, untroubled by the police in
spite of a strong presence of the Mexican military. As usual we were
using a local scheduled bus and payed up like the rest in good humour,
but the we saw the following mini bus tour parties rucksacks being
searched. There are many attractions in travelling this way with the
locals, it sure paid off here.
We stayed at a small central hotel Pasada Aquila Real and walked around the town and convinced ourselves this was simply a stop over other for visiting the ruins. The usual talk of time spent internetting so obviously I kept good electronic records that way for the first time instead of in written notebooks and the forget to consolidate them on my return.
Friday 11 June Palenque Ruins then Overnight bus
Breakfasted at the hotel, then packed our bags and left them in lockers at the bus station ready for the overnight journey to Vera Cruz. Our minibus transfer to the ruins was fast and we were soon surrounded by people selling cold drinks, postcards and every kind of trinket. We decided against having a guide so making our visit more leisurely, though missing some of the background.
A
fantastic site again full of pyramids, the rewards for climbing 40 or
fifty very high steps were the view of the rain forest, which gave real
meaning to the term cloud forest, and the welcome breeze once on top.
There were a few stone carvings and stone pillars but raised a recurring
questioning of over restoration, at least one magnificent carving
looked new and seemed to have been protected by resin.
Joan recorded there were several tours going round and she was glad not to be part of one as the magic is being alone, unhurried, without a barrage of unneeded information. After four hours we
made our way down a steep slope of rocks which had once carried a waterfall, then to current waterfalls and pools and watched three German boys jump in from a suspension bridge far overhead to the museum. The museum was great but dripping with sweat we couldn't wait to get out into the cooler outside.
Sky again blue after evening of rain bought tickets for the 9am bus to San Cristobal. a wonderful drive through tall wooded hills with fertile plains below. Rain was to restart by the time we walked to the zocalo, so leaving Joan in a cafe with a coffee and our rucksacks Brian set out in the rain, normal fall back style, to find a suitable hotel
The Hotel Pasado San Cristobal was a lovely old building with huge en-suite rooms with tiled floor and large black beams overhead, old wooden furniture and a patchwork bedspread.
Lunch was served on the table on a charcoal grill to keep warm a mixture of meats, cheese and bacon with tortillas and a jug of papaya juice. Luckily by the time we had finished the rain had stopped and we wandered out to the zocalo found the tourist office and got a street map and found.
 |
| JOAN PLAYING MARIMBAS in THE GARDEN |
 |
| SAN CRISTOBAL |
Canoa is a small village not far from Puebla where the local priest had spent time building up a religious fervour, convinced that communists would invade, kill them and takeover of his authority.
Four students from its university visited the town in 1968 with a view to climbing Popocatepetl,the very same idea we had recently (in fact they aimed to climb the fourth highest volcano in the region). They arrived in heavy rain and looked for hoping to stay free in the church. Accommodation was refused until someone who had just returned from a spell helping build the Olympic Stadium in Mexico City took pity and welcomed them rooms and food in his grandfathers large family house.
Meanwhile a meeting of the church elders and others came to the conclusion they were evil communists who wanted to place a red flag in their church. Determined to thwart them they dispersed to find arms including guns, machetes, axes and flame throwers. The priest ignored what was happening and the deputy mayor/ policeman failed on an agreed precaution to contact the police in Puebla by phone asking for further information/advice.
The students learned of the attack initially thinking the noise was fireworks and then realising it was a lynch mob. The man from Mexico City was axed and shot dead, the climbers were beaten, in all five men died and several were badly injured. Finally an ambulance and the police were called. Several men were charged and tried, just two were released, but some had jail sentences of seven years.
What a film!
8 June Na Bolom (the name a play on Jaguar House in Tzotzil, and their name Blom)
 |
| Frans and Trudy |
 |
| VIEW from NA BOLOM'S BEAUTIFUL COURTYARD |
Also a restaurant and fourteen rooms for rent (Joan intends to stay here one day). It is also an Institute for the Study and Preservation of Chiapas' Indigenous Cultures.
 |
| One Page from their Notebooks |
We left with many unanswered questions but very glad not to have been taken around rapidly by a guide, non was available, and so left to explore at our leisure.
 |
| SAN CRISTOBAL |
AMBER - a Specialty of the Area
A very interesting museum but we had already learned a good deal yesterday from a friendly owner of a specialist shop. Joan would have liked to buy some although it was very expensive. He told us to beware of the many plastic forgeries available on the street, distinguishable because they would not burn - whereas real amber does with a smell of resin. Any Takers!
It is surprisingly light in weight with a range of colours from pale yellow to red often with insects inside.
Most of the world's amber comes from pine resin but here it comes from a deciduous tree and is mined in drift mines about 30km below the surface. These mines are only active in dry periods for fear of rock falls.
9 June San Juan Chamula
We had hoped Mecedes Hermandez Gomez, a native of Zincantan, would lead the tour but she was not in her usual meeting place but the man taking her place spoke excellent English. Both villages were built using traditional techniques with Shaman healing and Mayan beliefs. Unfounately Brian didn't carry his camera so we have no pictures to show.
Maya believe believe three artistic gods made the world in one day, the gods being a sculptor, a moulder, and a painter. They divide it into sky and earth with the massive tall saber trees of the rain forest supporting the sky.
Whilst being lectured to Joan observed a woman her daughter and an even smaller son all in traditional costume moving heavy logs by carrying them in bundles on their backs with the weight suspended from straps around their foreheads as we had seen fifteen years ago in Nepal. Even the small boy carried a single log, the daughter about ten and the mother sixteen.
The solid church building with a colourful exterior was a mixture of Catholic, Maya and Shaman traditions. Their were candles inside. There were only windows on the male side which was therefore light and considered day and positive, day side of the church leaving the other female side being blank, dark considered night and negative. Two small family groups, seemingly out of place in church, were sitting on the floor chanting with bottles of coke and fanta. They offered us a taste of Posh a strong tasting flavoured sugar cane distillate but we did not try it until Zincantan.
Catholique ceremonies were held only for marriage, baptism and death.
We were told there were some 180 cooperative communities in the village which shared resources meaning food, seeds, tools. their basic foods were squash, maize plants interspersed with runner beans which grew twirled around to support them, a technique we later saw in Chilean small holdings. Pretty flowers were of great significance. Marriage outside village boundaries was discouraged and required special authorisation. On death of a land owner his plot was shared among his eldest male children, hence reducing their size. A leader elected afresh every year represented them in the town hall along with four senior leaders elected by the government.
Zinacantan the second village had an area set up for tourists featuring backstrap weaving looms and cooking on an open fire tortillas made in balls and then pressed flat rather like Welsh Cakes. They were filled with chilli and cheese for us to taste. Next came the medicine round, small pots full of Posh spiced with cinnamon or hibiscus flower or neat spirit.
We were shown a traditional sauna large stones heated in the fire are splashed with water to create the steam. This is used by women (during?) and after childbirth for several days.
Back in town we spent the late afternoon in what had become our favourite coffee bar, full of locals not tourists, notable for the stack of free newspapers and leaflets in Spanish but especially for the chess boards and sets which were widely, enthusiastically played giving a great social atmosphere. It was here we first met Edgar Egill a Norwegian jazz enthusiast, one time professional goalkeeper and journalist/photographer. Brian had lots of correspondence about with him about jazz over the years, always in envelopes covered with slogans recommending JAZZ in bold capital letters, to help source British publications and articles for his intended jazz museum. At that time he ran a music shop full of new CDs, my recording of Bill Evans was sent by him as a present in thanks for one unsuccessful attempt to source some out of date journals.
In the evening at 8:30 we went to that same minority interest cinema to see a French film with subtitles in Spanish. (Wow! writes Joan) But first for dinner in the adjoining restaurant, great tasting soups, lasagna and chocolate cake a tequila sunrise for Brian (too sweet for our tastes) but a dependable rum and coke - the only way I can take coke writes Joan.
The film by Varda explored very types and ages of gleaning, cleaning up after the main harvesters have gone. Milletspicture in the Musee d'Orsay and aother by Jean Breton. An interview of a lady demonstrating gleaning as performed by her grandparents and pointing to the house where she was born. On to modern day gleaning, picking up the potatoes too large or too small or too misshapen, to sell in supermarkets, or apples or grapes ripening after the main harvest had passed. Down to modern day 'down and outs', some doubtless alcoholics, picking through rubbish bins and sleeping in old caravans and cars. A man who went round the n markets in Paris living vegetables and fruit what they had left unsold. People who had made a house of scrap with dolls bodies creepily built into the walls. Not to mention the attitude of local authorities clearly opposed to people taking from the unwanted rubbish disregarded by supermarkets. A thought provoking film writes Joan.
Thursday 10 June PALENQUE
An excellent five hour bus ride to Palenque mainly through hills and pine forests with some land cleared by slash and burn methods used predominately to grow maize but with some beef cattle, some sheep mainly black, chickens and turkeys. The costumes of the women were changing including those of small girls. Many women wore hair in a bun at the front of the head as we had noticed yesterday in the traditional villages.The main event however stood out when the bus came to a halt rather than run over planks of exposed nails. These has been put in place on either side of the carriageway by a small group of men carrying large Zapatista banners, this being the name of the armed rebellion in this part of southern Mexico and Guatemala in the 1960s which was by now well passed its zenith.
 |
| ERNESTO CHE GUEVARA LIVES ON in SAN CRISTOBAL |
We stayed at a small central hotel Pasada Aquila Real and walked around the town and convinced ourselves this was simply a stop over other for visiting the ruins. The usual talk of time spent internetting so obviously I kept good electronic records that way for the first time instead of in written notebooks and the forget to consolidate them on my return.
Friday 11 June Palenque Ruins then Overnight bus
Breakfasted at the hotel, then packed our bags and left them in lockers at the bus station ready for the overnight journey to Vera Cruz. Our minibus transfer to the ruins was fast and we were soon surrounded by people selling cold drinks, postcards and every kind of trinket. We decided against having a guide so making our visit more leisurely, though missing some of the background.
 |
| PALENQUE RUINS |
Joan recorded there were several tours going round and she was glad not to be part of one as the magic is being alone, unhurried, without a barrage of unneeded information. After four hours we
made our way down a steep slope of rocks which had once carried a waterfall, then to current waterfalls and pools and watched three German boys jump in from a suspension bridge far overhead to the museum. The museum was great but dripping with sweat we couldn't wait to get out into the cooler outside.
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