Monday, March 16, 2009

Puebla, Mexico

 March 16, 2009

  • Internet
  • Breakfast
  • 8:40 am Bus station
  • 1:30 pm Puebla
  • Museo Amparo
  • Catedral
  • Fonda de Sta Clara
  • Walk

 

Puebla, Mexico

Today I arrived in Puebla, Mexico, famous for Popocatepetl, tiles, pottery, and mole. I had a chance to try this famous dish in La Fonda de Santa Clara, which was good. But also on the menu were escarmoles, art eggs, which are seasonal. I tried a dish. They were yummy. They looked like tiny yellow corn kernels, but they were smooth and buttery. They didn´t have a particular taste other than they were buttery and had the texture of mushrooms. They were served with guacamole and eaten in tortillas as tacos. What a treat. Better than the grasshoppers.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Oaxaca

 March 11, 2009

  • 10:30 am arrive in Oaxaca
  • Hostel
  • Downtown Oaxaca
  • Museo de Oaxaca
  • Danzon
  • CafĂ©
  • Internet
  • Hostel

 

March 12, 2009

  • Breakfast
  • Templo de la compania
  • Museo de Rufino Tamayo
  • Museo Grafico
  • Artesanias Regionales y Populares de Oaxaca
  • Museo de Arte Contemporaneo de Oaxaca
  • Basilica de la Soledad
  • Jardin Etnobotanico
  • Dinner

 

March 13, 2009

  • Bus
  • Ejutla—Ocotlan
  • Museo Rodolfo Morales
  • Artesania Aguilar
  • Casa Rodolfo Morales
  • Bus
  • Oaxaca
  • Park
  • Mass
  • Sto Domingo

 

March 14, 2009

  • Mass
  • Breakfast
  • Park
  • Casa Crespo—Oscar
  • Museo de Pintores Oaxaquenos
  • Parque Chapulines
  • Manuel & Gualalupe in Park
  • Danzon estudiantil
  • Son cubano
  • Hostel

 

March 15, 2009

  • Breakfast
  • Monte Alban
  • Oaxaca
  • Lunch with Tom, Nancy, Lee Ann
  • Tianguis
  • Hostel
  • Sto. Domingo
  • Mass
  • Tlayuda

 

Oaxaca

I thought San Cristobal de las Casas was the Mexican San Francisco, but Oaxaca is vying for that place. Or could it be that San Francisco is the US-Oaxaca. The place has so much art, artistic venues, museums and music in the plaza (yesterday there was a 40 piece orchestra playing danzon music while the audience danced. It is foodie paradise. And it is warmer and not so cold here. It is a magical place.

 

It has been wonderful to travel through Mexico and Central America. But to be honest it is getting tiring to pack up and settle into a new city every few days or so and orient myself. And while I do meet people it is not the same as friends. Or it could be the headache I have for lack of sleep on the bus last night.

 

Ocotlan

Getting there was one story. I asked the bus driver to let me know when Ocotlan stop was, which is 45 minutes south of Oaxaca. And he forgot. I had to get another bus (and pay the fare again) to get back to Ocotlan.

It is a neat little village where on Fridays the village and the localities have there open air market which surrounds the central plaza, the market and the church. The Zapotecs have been gathering here from before the arrival of the Spanish so it is a very old market. They sell everything: produce, meat, poultry, plastics, bread, textiles, shoes, woodwork, mezcal, and tejote (a drink made with cacao, cacao flowers and pisle--it is very refreshing). They also make these empanadas: they are large corn tortillas made fresh. They are filled with yellow mole, chicken, cilantro and Oaxaca cheese. They are folded over and toasted crisp. Then seasoned with fresh onions and lime juice.

But Ocotlan is also known for its artesanias, put on the map by Rodolfo Morales, who with his time and money renovated the former Dominican monastery into a small museum of the city artesanias. The most famous is from the Aguilar family who make these colorful clay figurines of daily life, funerals, marriages, Fridas, mermaids, devils, Virgen Marys and ladies of the night. I got to visit there studio. The founding mother is now deceased and the work is carried out by her daughters. I got to talk to Juan, Irene´s son about the process. Fascinating.

 

I had a cooking class today. At Casa Crespo, the owner/cook Oscar showed me how to make a guajillo mole with chicken. We also made two kinds of salsa, guacamole, a pureed bean soup, fried banana croquets filled with fresh cheese and topped with salsa, and  2 kinds of quesadillas. One quesadilla had cheese, a zucchini flower and epazote (a herb). The other had cheese and grasshoppers. The Oaxacan cheese was too strong so the grasshoppers were like little, salty crunchy things.

So later I went to the market to buy. They sold them large, medium and small. I bought M$35 pesos worth ($USD 2.35) for about a cup. They are stir-fried with salt and lemon and really don¨t taste like anything except they are lemony, salty and crunchy. I am bringing a bag home. 

 

One of the adventures of traveling are the people you meet.

While in San Cristobal de las Casas, I met Enoko, a young Basque sound engineer ,who for the last three years has donated time and energy to a Zapatista community. Through the course of the conversation, his efforts to liberate his country has linked him to other communities who have been oppressed. And while the community with which he works is far from perfect in its democracy, its efforts are to build a community where material goods are held in common and necessary needs are provided for. While I have reservations about a socialist system as I have seen it, I admire his work to build a more equitable world.

Also in San Cristobal, I met Jorge, a American-Mexican artist/entrepreneur who does some fascinating jewelry, delicate pieces of art using actual leaves which are plasticized. Some of the work is set with precious stones. He recruits young artists to help create and design pieces of art. He was an engaging and welcoming, though opinionated man. He had some interesting thoughts about Mexico and the US. He assessed Mexico as corrupt and inefficient and all those who do business here are “wringing Mexico dry and selling it on the international market. His experience is that packages leaving Mexico are scanned and when agents see that it contains jewelry, it “disappears.” He was looking to locate his business to the US where he can find talented, honest and ambitions young students to train to create art. His assessment of the US as a place to do business is not any better; the US while the US is efficient it is as corrupt. His cynical assessment of Mexico as an inefficient, corrupt nation disturbed me, mostly my sense that there is a great deal of truth to it. His assessment of the US as a corrupt while efficient country left me thinking. His assessment of his Japanese, who buy his jewelry, was skewed as he perceived them as disdaining the non-Japanese.

In Oaxaca’s main plaza, I met a Manuel and Guadalupe, a married couple, teachers, who gave me the history of the May 2006 teachers’ strike, which mobilized the city and state to demand from the government accountability and living wages. In May of 2006, the teachers’ union gave the government a list of needs and received a “slap in the face.” The teachers responded by having rallies and demonstrations articulating their position and protesting the governments’ response by striking and setting up encampments in the Zocalo, the central square. In June, the government took repressive measures against the teachers with surveillance and armed helicopter and soldiers armed with tear gas, batons, and pepper spray. The teachers had been prepared in case of such a move and mobilized their communications (TV and radio). The people supported the teachers by giving them refuge and providing them with sticks and stones to fight back. Young boys carried wheel barrows filled with stones to hurl at soldiers. The sidewalks and benches were broken to create more stones. Subcommandante Marcos told the teachers that they had “cojones” because they fought with nothing more than sticks and stones, while the Zapatistas had guns. The relato was very moving and inspiring. The strike ended in November 2006 due to the fact that that strike has gone on for more than six months (no income for the teachers) and the fact that the leader of the union had disappeared (it is assumed that he was bribed away) and the second in command was not as capable and the strike lost steam.

The teachers’ union inspired other Oaxacans that they could change the social order. And other organizations mobilized to align themselves with the teachers and showed the people that they could demand changes.

While in a Son Cubano, a bar in Oaxaca, I also met Daniel, a young man who works for the army. He was a handsome, talented jack of all trades: an architect, a mason, a leader, an English speaker and a soldier. He had been involved in the “control” of Zapatista territory in Chiapas. His assessment is that the Zapatistas in Chiapas want to separate from Mexico, and that the US is creating dissention so that it can eventually create a canal along Tehuanapec isthmus. While I agree that the US doesn’t always have the interests of the local people in mind, I did have a difficult believing him. After being in Panama and knowing that what the Panama Canal, which was in the US’s possession, cost in resources and 25,000 human lives, I doubt the US would want to build a canal through Mexico’s isthmus. The people you meet make traveling so interesting.

 

El que busca la verdad, corre el riesgo de encontrarla.

--Victor Manuel

Friday, March 6, 2009

San Cristobal de las Casas

 March 6, 2009

  • 9:30 am depart Palenque—I got motion sickness
  • 2:30 pm arrive San Cristobal
  • 3:30 pm Hostel
  • Walk San Cristobal de las Casas
  • Dinner
  • Bar Revolucion—Enoko el vasco

 

San Cristobal de las Casas

San Cristobal is a beautiful city. It has a lot of similarity to San Francisco: its leftist politics, bookstores, coffee houses, anarchist graffiti, hip stores and it is cold (at night). I could live in this city. It also has a large indigenous (Mayan) population.

 

Oventik—Zapatista Territory

It was interesting to go to Oventik. Enoko, a basque volunteer, had told me of the Encuentro para Mujeres, in honor of International Women’s Day in Oventik, a small Zapatista community. I thought it would be a series of lectures and workshops…but it a sporting event for women and girls.

First was locating a combi that would go to San Andres Larrainzar. The combi stop was located just north of the Mercado in San Cristobal. It was fortunate that many drivers knew people (tourists) were going. The combi did not depart until the van was full.

 

It took almost an hour through windy roads to get to Oventik (thank goodness for Dramamine) Upon arrival there were signs declaring: “Ud. ha entrado a territorio Zapatista y aqui manda el pueblo.” There were men in ski masks at the driveway to the town and women in ski masks at the gate. The women were in charge of entry to the event. There were other waiting visitors (foreigners like myself) who also wanted entrance to the event. 

 

I approached the women that a friend had invited me to come to the event. They asked for my passport and asked if I had a camera. “Yes.” Did I have a video recorder? “Yes.” They took my passport (with those of a couple of women who had come) and went away into a small room. A little while later they came out and told the women that they could enter but I could not. For a moment I was about to give up, but I had traveled on a van for an hour and I could not so easily give up and return. I offered the women in charge that they could hold my camera while I visited. A woman there indicated to me that I wait momentarily and they would make a decision in reconsidering my entrance. As I waited I noticed a visiting woman had her digital camera taped with a slip of paper with her name on it. An argentine man was denied admittance and he was advocating with for himself. A decision was finally made to let us enter with the condition that I not use the camera. We were told that we would be watched and if we disobeyed, we’d be asked to leave.

 

They had a sports completion of women (some were teenage girls) teams in basketball, soccer, and volleyball. Some were very good and others had good spirit. At first glance, many of the teams were composed of a majority of non-indigenous women. Some of the women played in bare feet, some in sneakers, some in skirts, some in shorts. While they played two bands played alternately on a stage. I wandered from event to event, falling asleep on the grass at one point. And left at 5:00 pm just before dark, as the combis/taxis stop running shortly after.

 

The community follows norms and an economic system set up by the community. They have a school, a clinic and stores, where their leftist political alliance is clearly displayed. It is a community that has roots in community organizing and self-reliance and has suffered persecution at the hands of the state. It is not a perfect system, as none ever is, but I admire their pluck to set up a system for their community. I read Subcommandante Marco’s reflections on the community and the choices the communities faced back in the 1993 was death of their children by starvation or death at the hands of governmental militia. The choice was obvious: they had to choose life. And in their choice they set up a system apart from the main governmental system.

 

No hay arma mas eficaz que la verdad en pensamiento.

--Oventik

 

Arrazoiak gison egiten gaitu egiak, pertsona.

La razon no hace hombres, la verdad, personas.

--Enoko

 

El hombre vale por lo que sirve, no por lo que sabe y menos por lo que tiene.

--Dr. Manuel Velasco-Suarez, chiapaneco

 

No queremos presos politicos. Queremos politicos presos.

--graffito en Jovel (San Cristobal de las Casas)

 

March 3, 2009

  • Mass
  • Museo Na Balom
  • Museo de los Altos
  • Plaza

 

Tzotzil (Maya) Chiapas

 

San Juan Chamula.

The church of San Juan Chamula is fascinating—the sensation is otherworldly. The church is rather dark as one side wall has no windows. The floor is covered in pine needles, which give off a pleasant smell as they are stepped upon and are used as cushion on which to kneel as there are no pews or kneelers in the temple. The church is lit up in candles that are brought in by the plegarians. Along the sides of the church are Spanish-style saints, dressed in fabric, in glass cases with name labels. The main altar dominates with St. John the Baptist. Next to him is a small crucifix. The plegarians light sets of thin candles (8 to 20) as they place their prayers before God and the saints. While I was there a man emotionally and fervently prayed his plea—an experience that moved me as I could only imagine his petition. Some offered chickens and soda beverages. The candles are place along the center of the church, on tables on either side of the church and at the main altar. The Mayans in their temples believed that the place of ritual transformed itself into the reality of the otherworldly where one communicated with deities and those on the other side.

 

Gaby me commento que los latinos, a pesar de todo, siempre son alegres. Ocatvio Paz comenta que el Mexicano le gusta lo colorido, la pachanga, la musica para escaparse del laberinto de la solitud. Quizas es cierto.

 

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Back to Mexico

 March 4, 2009

  • 5:30 am leave Flores
  • 8:45 am arrive Bethel, Guatemala
  • 9:00 am arrive Corozal, Mexico
  • 10:00 am leave Corozal
  • Arrive Palenque
  • Hostal Yaxkin
  • Immigration
  • Bank
  • Plaza de Artesania
  • Internet
  • Dinner

 

Back to Mexico

Today I arranged to come back to Mexico. I was looking forward to coming ¨home¨ as it were.  But the day ended up being a day of culture crash and frustration.

Rather than take an 8 hour bus ride to Guatemala City and then another bus ride to the Mexican border, I decided to take a shuttle service with San Juan Tours in Flores, Guatemala (a 7 hour ride) to Palenque. Asking for a receipt for my records was a bit of trouble as receipts don´t seem to be the norm here. The day before at Tikal the driver for my ride back to Flores took my ¨ticket when I was told that I could keep it and it would serve as a receipt. He told me I had to specifically ask for a ¨factura¨--a bill. I went back to the agency and over the course of 30 minutes a receipt was created. I learned to ask for receipts especially in regards to my lodging because I was once asked to pay a night I had already paid in Mexico City some 15 years ago. It seems such an ordeal to ask for proof of payment.

The trip started at 5:00 am. We (a Spanish couple, and 2 Unitedstatans) got to the town of Bethel, Guatemala where we boarded a small motorboat up the Rio Chancala, a border between Guatemala and Mexico. The short boat trip was a pleasant surprise as I thought it would all be by van (combi, colectivo, guagua, perrera), and we got to see beautiful country side and women washing clothes along the edge of the river. Scenic indeed.

We then got to Frontera Corozal, Mexico some 30 minutes later and boarded a van to take us the rest of the way. There another Spanish couple joined the excursion. We went into the immigration office in town and I was told that I had no exit stamp in my passport. He couldn´t give me an entry stamp unless I had an exit stamp. I explained that the COPA airline receptionist took care of this when I left for Panama City. The immigration officer told me I would have to take care of this with the immigration office in Palenque.

We then got to the Corozal Bus Company office in town to pick up more passengers. The four Spanish friends had staked out seats so they could chat, but since it was taking long, the men got off to stretch their legs. That is when a woman got on and sat in the seat of one of the Spanish man’s. He told her that he had had that seat, but she refused to move. ¨I bought a ticket just like everyone else.¨ 

¨Yes but I was sitting there.¨

¨The seats belong to everyone. You did not buy a seat.¨

¨But be reasonable. I was sitting there.¨

The argument went on. And the lady sat where she sat and the Spaniard found a seat in the back.

Then we came to the edge of town, the van stopped and an official opened the door to tell us that we had to pay a toll of $M 15 pesos (USD 1.00) each. I was surprised. The Spaniards raised questions about this. Was not this covered in the cost of the ticket we purchased? Upon investigating the toll was only for the foreigners (tourists)—Guatemalans were excepted. To the Spaniards credit, they kept arguing that this was not fair, which I agreed. When I have purchased a bus ticket the driver pays the tolls on the roads; it is assumed in the cost of the ticket. But here the tourists were singled out to pay the tolls. It made me angry, but what could I do? Go back to Guatemala? That is what the official was threatening to do. I realized that we were going to sit there until we paid the fee--$USD 1. What I felt was a bribe--¨la morida¨.

Later I thought that the community of Corozal was not getting any benefits from tourists going through town on their way to and from Guatemala, and this was their way on having some foreign capital to stay in their town.

After I got a place in Palenque, I got to the immigration office by taxi. I explained what the airline attendant had taken away my VISA document and the immigration official at the Mexico airport said everything was OK. They made calls, consulted and discussed. They discussed my legality of staying here another 11 days. They determined that I could not enter unless I had left. They were flummoxed as to what to do. I feared that they´d make me pay a fine as if I had lost my VISA or worse make me leave the country. But I showed them my boarding passes to Mexico and to Panama City. They finally stamped my entry into my passport after about an hour. A small ordeal but inconvenient nonetheless. 

I was given a form to take to a bank to pay an immigration fee of $17 USD. I was told by the immigration official to make sure the bank stamped my VISA form and when I leave Mexico, to be sure to get an exit stamp. When I got to the bank I paid the fee and got a receipt but noticed that my form wasn´t stamped. I brought it to the bank teller’s attention and he said that the receipt would suffice. So I try to do what I am told, but I can´t make the officials do what they don´t do. I realize I have to learn the culture of how things are done.

After having lunch (we hadn´t eaten anything) I went to check out the town of Palenque orienting myself to its resources. At the end of walking a young boy looked up at me and asked if he could shine my shoes. ¨How much?¨ ¨5 pesos¨.  OK. So I say in what is a bus terminal to have my shoes shined, when half way through the work the bus attendant indicated to me that I should have it done outside on the sidewalk (as I was not a bus customer). So I walk to the sidewalk where he finishes my shoes. I ask if he has change and he does not. So I go to the corner grocery store to buy a piece of gum for 50 cents. But I have only a 20 peso bill. She asks for some smaller denomination because she will run out of change. Sigh. I put the gum back and get a bag of nuts (6 pesos). ¨ Can I get change for this?¨ ¨Yes¨ All I wanted was 5 pesos and change to give to the boy. I get 14 pesos back and give 10 to the boy. This has been an ongoing frustration in Mexico and Central America—the fact that I get large bills from the ATM and then many places don´t have change. You have to go to large established stores to break large bills—like supermarkets or Oxxos (7-11). Then I realize that these places are poor countries. The only cash they have on hand is what comes in, never mind about having cash to provide change to customers. 

The arguments, the tourist toll, the immigration glitch, the shoe shine incident and the lack of change all colored my day. I realize I come to this with a US mentality and expectation. I expect things quickly and expediently. I don´t expect to be taken because I am a tourist even if it is for $1.00. I expect that I change is available. But I realize that that is not the authentic experience of the people here. Yes, if you are wealthy, you can have the developed country conveniences at your finger tips (probably). But for the large majority of people, this is not reality. Things go slower here. Things go differently here. The reality of poverty is an issue here and to go on a trip and not expect to come upon this is fantasy. 

And when I look at the majority of interactions I had with the Guatemalans I am grateful. They are such a kind and even-tempered people. And today, I got to meet some very kind artisans and the work they do in the Plaza Artesano: A batik shirt man and a stone cutter, who lovingly showed me their work even though I was in a foul and frustrated mood. I should be grateful indeed.

 

 

Yesterday while I was in Palenque I noticed all the foreign tourists were wearing yellowbands indicating they had paid 22 pesos for entering the national park in which the archeological site is in. And I noticed all the Mexican tourists were not. It began to bother me that the tourists in the colectivos were singled out for this.

But I had pulled out 1000 pesos from my ATM which turned out to be $65 USD. When I arrived a month and a half ago, it was about $80 USD. This exchange rate was in my favor. But I can only imagine the havoc it is having on the Mexicans. It is as if they are getting a 20% cut in pay. It made me uneasy. On the one hand I was in a country where negotiating is part of making a deal and my skills in that were poor at best and I didn´t want to be taken advantage of. On the other hand, I was part of an unequal economic system where I, being from the US, had an upper hand in resources. What to do?

I began to feel paralyzed by the entire economic system. On one hand I thought it was unfair tobe singled out to pay a toll other passengers were not required to pay. I felt at a disadvantage in not being able to negotiate well. On the other hand, I was part of an economic powerhouse (the US) and while the US is undergoing economic crisis, it is small compared to what the Mexicans (and other Latin Americans are undergoing). The Latin American countries buying power is continually diminished as their economies are tied closely to the economic well being of developed countries. I decided that I learn to negotiate by negotiating, and a seller will not undersell his merchandise. And while I am not responsible for the power system in the world (though I participate in it), I must do what I can to change it. But most of all I must simply enjoy Mexico and its people. And though present situation is not fair, my being open and kind to Mexicans and receiving their warmth should not be hampered by economic scruples. 

 

March 5, 2009

  • Palenque Ruinas
  • Museo de sitio
  • Palenque
  • Post office
  • Store
  • Bakery
  • Hostel
  • Internet

 

Big Breakfast= Bad Idea

On the morning of leaving to San Cristobal I had a big breakfast: fruit, bread, yogurt, granola, orange juice, coffee. A bad idea before traveling. I overlooked my tia Teresa’s admonition to eat light when traveling. And I should have known that and the road from Palenque to San Cristobal de las Casas is a windy mountain road. As I boarded I made friends with a fellow traveler, a young Hungarian woman, and conversed with her as she sat behind me—another bad idea. About one and a half hours into the five hour journey I was feeling green and soon after I was vomiting in the rear bathroom (thank God, there was one). I stayed in the back of the bus with another young girl who was also motion sick (I must admit that it was nice not to be the only one sick). The bathroom was not a pretty sight. I ended up in a prone position on the seats in the rear of the bus as the vehicle veered to the left and to the right and back again and then slowed down over speed bumps. I was sending petitions to heaven that the young lady’s and my illness might soon pass. We arrived in San Cristobal at 2:30 pm, not soon enough. And I was only too happy to take a 30 minute walk downtown to a hostel, where I rested.