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It has now been almost 2 weeeks since Will wrote to you all and about time we gave you an update on our adventures. After spending a lazy few days down at Mazunte so that I could relax and apparently forget all my spanish that I learnt, we headed back in land to a place called San Cristobal de las casas. San Cristobal came highly recommended by my friend Nod who went for a couple of days a few years ago and ended up staying a few months. It is easy to see how. The small city situated up in the highlands of the state of Chiapas is a colonial city. The centre is all cobbled streets and brightly coloured shop and house fronts. There is a bohemian and rather kooky feel to the place, it reminds me almost of Brighton. The city is surrounded by traditional Tzeltal and Tzotzil villages and so is very much at the heart of the indigenous rights movement and sympathizers of the Zapatista rebels. Will has bought his own pro revolution T shirt which Im advising he doesnt wear at any border crossings as I dont fancy a bit of Mexican jail. Images of Che Guevara are everywhere and graffiti is all very political 'pro change' slogans everywhere.
We checked into our youth Hostel owned by someone who happened to see me look at a photo of Nod on facebook and recognise her straight away as the the guapa girl from England who loved to dance Salsa-what a reputation to have around Mexico, and she left 2 years ago. We visited the Mayan Museum of Medicine and learnt all about how you can cure pretty much anything with some chicken bones,the right chants and burping fizzy drinks to release bad spirits. We then got to sit through a 20 minute film of a woman giving birth and Ive decided I never really wanted children anyway. The point of this horror movie was to demonstrate the role of the midwife in Mayan life. Part of the ritual involved with birthing includes waving axes over the mother and smashing eggs on newly born babies. The good news is that the father must be present throughout the whole event to prop the mother (who is on all fours) up, so no Ill pick you up once its over darling Im just going back to sleep/the office whilst youre dealing with that.
A visit to San Crisobal wouldnt be complete without going to the local village of San Juan Chamula. This village situated just 20 minutes drive away is home a very unique religious practise. Some sort of remix between ancient Mayan beliefs and Catholicism is the Templo de San Juan. From the outside it looks just liike any other ordinary church that the spanish came and errected on arrival. However inside looks very different. Hundreds of flickering candles, clouds of incense and worshipers kneel with their faces to the floor. Patients bodies are chnted over and partd of their bodies rubbed with eggs or bones, and the occassional chicken. Around the walls are boxes of almost porceline doll like statues of saints, which make Chucky look like a friendly doll. Mirrors attached to each of these dolls reflect away evil spirits and their names are somewhere between Catholicism and make believe. Jesus isnt present here but a dead embalmed body was. We were warned not to take photos unless we wanted to be shot on the spot for killing spirits with our flashes. Their holy water is coca cola or pepsi, anythingt hat will make them burp up and release bad spirits (just another way these huge cooperate giants are putting their dirty hands on the most vunerable). We didnt stay too long, Will was scared his clumsy feet would knock over some candles and he would be sacrificed.
In the evening we went down to 0one of the many live music venues, where the music was raggae or ska and dance away with a massive mix of people from around the world. The atmosphere here is so friendly and vibrant we didnt want to leave but Palenque is next on our list of places to get to...
I feel that Will should be writing about our long journey from San Cristobal to the jungle runis of Planque seeing as I am only 5ft4 and dont get travel sick in small places. Will was not a very happy man, apparently 5 hours of being squished as our van man went for a world record in speed over bumps isnt ideal. Louise and I enjoyed watching the countryside turn to jungle until we reached the runis of Palenque. Only uncovered in the last centruy from huge thickets of forest, vines and home to howler monkeys Palenque has thousands of Mayan ruins poking up from behind trees and waterfalls. It looked like soemthing straight out of an Indiana film. Paintings, sculptures, neds and toliets still remain well preserved in these temples home to Pakal,who we were told several times by our tour guide practised incest and had 6 toes and a tail. Recently the tomb of the Red Queen was unearthed which we got to see, where a mask of 1000 jade stones was found, one of the best in the entire world.
We stayed in a jungle hut, just outside the ruins in an area where hippies come to play with fire poi and tatoo each other. Long gone is the free love for everyone, if you dont have several piercings, dreadlocks and stupid imparactical baggy trousers you are not part of the gang. Frankly these people need a good wash. The evening entertainment was good, local bands played there stuff and the hippies belly danced and waved flags around. Most of them floated around in the same way I did when I decided to take my Malaria tablets, car sickness tablets and stomache settler tablets at the same time, which resulted in my slurring all my words and not being able to open my eyes. I assured wveryone I was fine but apparently rolling around the floor of a dirty coach station does make your fellow travellers worried for you.
So now we are in Cancun experiencing (having our senses destroyed) by SPRING BREAK, which frankly is horrendous and I feel old enough to be the vast majority of the population heres mother. Will even told some girls to go home as they were far to young to be out. Yes, Cancun is where all the 18 year olds of America come on holiday to try their first alcohol, what with it being illegal to drink in America until 21. The result is similar to a mix between a school disco with a bunch of kids high on too many sweets, some of the worst pop music in the world being blasted out at frankly a very awful level of volume and the strip along the beach is more tacky and enough electicity being pumped into lighting a million neon lights that would sustain a small countries electricity power for a year. We are escaping for the quiet more civilised Isle of Mujeres now....
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