Living with the Locals

Life in Mexico has given us a major case of culture shock and a sense of connection and disconnection. How do we explain Donald Trump's bigotry to people who welcome us like members of their own family? Can we make sense out of anyone's belief that Mexican people would leave the beaches of Huatulco or the clean fresh air of San Cristobal del las Casas without a very good reason? 

We left Huatulco on a sweltering night and folded ourselves into an ADO bus for the 12 hour trip to San Cristobel.  Crowded bus and winding road notwithstanding, we both managed to get a little sleep by the time we rolled into gorgeous San Cristobal nestled in a high mountain valley.  Because of a small typo in the address of our hotel, we sent a poor cab driver into wild peregrinations around the city in the morning rush hour traffic. Each time we thought we were on the right track, we would wind up in front of some derelict building or other. Finally, we just asked him to please find us some kind of hotel, which he promptly did.

After a morning descanso y desayuno, we located a city map and began our orientation phase to downtown San Cristobel. Right from the start, it was very clear that this was not just another Oaxaca. The town is much smaller, much more diverse, and actually a bit tidier than Oaxaca appeared to be. 

Three walking streets connect you with most of the museums, churches, mercadores, restaurants and night spots along with other sights. The center of the city, for us, was the Templo De Santo Domingo (where El Papa had just stopped a few days before), and the nearby park, complete with bandstand, that was filled with tourists, vendadores, musicians all swirling about in an amazingly colorful dance. 

Our curiosity was piqued right away by the street vendors who were clearly from a very distinct community, which we later learned was Chemula – about an hour from San Cristobel.  Men, women, and children, primarily from that town, sold their wares day and night lugging huge bundles of flower-bedecked blouses, rugs, scarves, toys, bracelets, hats, candy, pastries and sundry items up and down the walking streets or from small stalls on the north side of town. “No Gracias” more or less became our greeting as we were bombarded by sales pitches of every kind. Oddly, it was not as bothersome as it might sound especially since the vendors did not persist and were very gracious to us despite our refusals. It was just part of the scene.

The second day, we managed to locate our actual hotel, Hotel Ganesha, a kind of yoga retreat/hostel that really proved to be an oasis from the city hubbub. Lynn tried a yoga class there and Eric, per usual, slept in.  

Later, with map in hand, we developed our plan to see as many of the sights as possible in the time we had for San Cristobel. The Centro De Textiles Del Mundo Maya, located in an old convent, was simply stunning. Rooms filled with ancient samples of Maya woven textiles, along with drawers full of more examples that underscore the beautifully detailed and distinctive designs still found in the small villages around San Cristobel. 

Not far from there was Na Bolom. Once a private residence of a anthroplogist and his photographer wife, it is a fascinating look at how the rest of the world came to learn of the still extant Mayan culture, through the efforts of these two people. It's quirky and dignified at the same time, with many photographs and objects of art from the couple’s collection. Other museums we discovered included the Museum of Amber and the  Museum of Bichos and Insectos, an old fashioned drawer-style museum with an astounding collection of the bugs and insects indigenous to Chiapas and the Mexican Isthmus area that included a bewildering variety of scarab beetles, butterflies, scorpions, spiders including a pet-able live tarantula.

By sheer luck, Lynn managed to locate an outstanding guide, Juan Hernandez from Nichim Ecotours, who not only arranged our next planned stop at Palenque, but agreed to take us out to Chemula on his day off, to show us the secrets of his home village, and to offer us a very unique look at the life of these indigenous people. They not only have distinctive and richly colored clothing that they offer for sale in San Cristobel, they have an entirely self sufficient culture, complete with religious beliefs that preceded the Catholic incursions. Thanks to Juan, we learned that what appears to be a small Catholic church in the middle of the village is, in fact, nothing like a Catholic church at all! 

Stepping inside, you find yourself transported as you see a spiritual community that honors the Christian saints in a unique and very personal manner. No Catholic priests, or priests of any kind, are permitted to preach within the walls of the church. Evangelism has been entirely and somewhat forcefully rejected. Instead, families come to sit in front of their particular saint to chant, usually in a Mayan dialect, or to light row upon row of candles that are placed on the floor, or to spread pine boughs to show reverence for spirits of the natural world. There are no pews. Everyone sits on the floor.  From the ceiling there are long, diagonal drapes that symbolize the mountains – an ancient symbol of faith. The altar, as such, is decorated with flowers and draped with special orchids that symbolize life and regeneration. The main figure depicted in the altar space is John the Baptist, who is considered to be much more important that Jesus Christ. In fact, Christ is only depicted in one painting being baptized by John. 

San Juan Chemula

Outside, on the church door colorful symbols of life and appreciation of nature, along with ubiquitous orchids replace the usual hagiography one finds in other churches. The cross, standing in the square before the church, is not, in fact, a Christian cross at all, but yet another much older symbol that predates the arrival of the Catholics in the 16^th century. We felt truly blessed to have Juan with us. Otherwise, we might never have had the deeper appreciation of a different kind of spiritual life.

Afterwards, we visited another nearby village with Juan where we were invited into a home and textile market to see the fabrics and designs similar to those on display at the textile museum while several women prepared native tortilla dishes for us to enjoy. We also sampled something called Puj (push) which is like a very smooth and potent tequila.

We topped the night of with a viewing of a dance/play called Palenque Rojo which was a fascinating retelling of the Mayan story of King Palanque’s life and death. Dance, drums, and chants replaced dialog. We followed that with a visit to Café Revolucion where we drank mescal and tequila while listening to a foot stomping band from Vera Cruz who took us through a medley of fandango music that had everyone in the café dancing, thumping on tables and/or clapping hands.

Our last full day in San Cristobel was highlighted by a walk through the cavernous municipal Mercado which is an indescribable explosion of smells, food, sights, sounds, and people. Want a nice fresh pollo for supper?

or maybe some delicious marzipan perros?