magical mexico
I'm itching to tell you all the story from Mexico that I've been wanting to tell ever since it happened... this could have been the most magical thing that has ever happened to me and it happened in a tiny little mountain village in the state of Oaxaca called San Jose del Pacifico. It was surely the highlight of my trip.
But first I need to describe how I got there...
San Cristobal wowed me from the start. It is so colourful, rose and violet and light green buildings, courts with pillars, very colonial and very cosmopolitan. Walking down the street you see cafes with any sort of icecream flavour possible, cool reggae joints to hang in, markets filled with all sorts of hippie goodies, clothes shops, tattoo parlours, and indigenous Chiapans walking everywhere carrying fairy floss or handmade beads, next to tourists and young trendy Mexicans. It is such a strange contrast to see the present mixed with the past so dramatically.. like two Mexicos living side by side. I had amazing nights out in San Cristobal, once after watching a reggae covers band that were very good, I ended up at some random person's house, having followed the sound of the music from our hostel, it ended up being a very nice mansion as well, watching people fire twirl and beat bongos and party on til' dawn. I can very easily imagine happily living in San Cristobal someday, as is what has happened to many foreigners. I made the acquaintance of an Israeli couple who now own a felafel cafe, an Italian/Mexican couple and a 40 year old Californian named Alex who ended up fixing my tattoo and piercing my tongue. Yes folks, I no longer have any embarrassing initials carved on my tummy, instead I have some rather fetching flowers. Photo to be posted later... :) He had owned his own tattoo studio in California for 17 years, but got the itch and ended up travelling to mexico... he had such an amazing time and preferred the society so much to the States that he set up his own tattoo studio in San Cristobal and meeting a nice Mexican girl who came into his studio to get her own tattoo. All in all I was very inspired and impressed and vowed to return.
From cool San Cristobal up in the mountains of the Chiapas, I went back to Puerto Escondido for the second time, desperate to get back to the beach even though there were rumours of hurricanes in that area. When we arrived however, it was sunny, hot and perfect weather! We had an idyllic few days there and I met some of the coolest people I had met so far on my trip, Pepe, Sandra and Marisa from Barcelona, Mariano from Argentina (who lives in Granada) and Manuel from Mexico. Probably the reason I ended up in Barcelona was from talking to Pepe Sandra and Marisa, and I am currently sharing a house with 2 friends of Pepe's (although he is still in Costa Rica last I heard)... funny how life goes. I also made the dubious acquaintance of a Mexican man named Julio, who was convinced that God talked to him, and that all Israeli people were God's chosen people, they were the pure race and all other races were trash. Once he absconded an Israeli friend of mine off to the beach, started crying and telling him that he was God and God speaks to him in his dreams, and basically freaked the hell out of him. One time I woke up and he was in my room snorting coke and smoking crack in front of me in the hostel room we were sharing with some other people (while he was supposed to be working) at 11 am in the morning. Very trippy - so I turned over and went back to sleep. It seems Israelis attract all the crackpots in the world... they either want to worship them or tell them how evil they are for killing Jesus! Or can't resist from sharing their opinions with them on Palestine...
Anyway, after about a week of waking up at 3 pm, lying on the beach until 7 pm, going back to the hostel to swim in the pool then cooking dinner and getting drunk and later going out all night until 6 am and dancing, (what a life) I decided I really had to go back to San Cristobal to see the Day of the Dead (which was after all what I had come back to Mexico to do). I was originally going to go to Michoacan, where it is most vigorously celebrated in Mexico, but time constraints, costs and distance changed my mind. Probably for the best in the end, because although we didn't see parades of people with face paint, Michoacan is apparently crowded with thousands of people in a very small area which may not have been that enjoyable. Then I mentioned to the Hungarian guy working at the hostel that I wanted to go to Oaxaca for Day of the Dead, (it's supposed to be very traditional and beautiful there) and his response was one I will never forget, delivered as it was in a strong Hungarian accent... "If you want to DIE you can go to Oaxaca!! Don't you know what is happening? Dont you watch the news? Go to Oaxaca if you want to die, but you will have to walk because there are no buses to Oaxaca... if you want to DIE you can go to Oaxaca!!" It turns out that the political conflict between protesting teachers and the Oaxaca military, which had been already brewing for some time when I was there the first time, had come to a head. I had been there 2 months previously and saw teachers living in tents in the centre of town, protesting against the unfair regime in Mexico. Already children and teachers had been shot and a few people had mysteriously "disappeared". You can't help but admire these people who are willing to risk being shot at to improve their quality of life and political rights. Then the day before I had thought to return to Oaxaca, an American journalist who had come to report the situation in Oaxaca and was shot at by Mexican military, so George Bush sent in helicopters and military that same day (people heard the helicopters flying over the hostel where i was staying) and all the roads were blocked. The situation calmed down a bit after that, but I recently talked to a Mexican guy who said protests are still going on and have moved to most other states in Mexico, when I went back to Mexico City the whole city was decked out in tents and political slogans in support of Oaxaca, and I met a very drunk Chiapas native who was very anti-state as well in San Cristobal. The indigenous people of Mexico are all very poor and are often overlooked politically, but as the guy from Mexico I talked to said, it is all of the poor Mexicans who are affected. Again, one of those things that really makes you appreciate the benefits you have in life, and even though Australia's bureaucracy may drive us up the wall, most of the time it is working for us.
Anyhow, Oaxaca being out of the question, it was back to San Cristobal. We stayed at a hostel owned by a Swiss French girl, (having decided that even though staying with Doña Rosita was an experience she was utterly too scary). I remember spending a very enjoyable evening in the kitchen surrounded by French and German speaking people, not understanding what they were talking about but soaking in the warm and content atmosphere and the good music. We went down to a little place called Mama Africa the eve of Day of the Dead for a gig that promised to be very good, a group influenced by Brazilian music and Mexican traditional music. As we were sitting there waiting for the gig to begin, a very trippy thing happened... this guy from Melbourne named Owen who I had met in Guatemala walked in, accompanied by Frederick, an ex-Mormon from Utah who I had met in Nicaragua! Neither of them were supposed to be there and it was very weird that they had both met each other as well.
To be continued... dinner date impending... :)
But first I need to describe how I got there...
San Cristobal wowed me from the start. It is so colourful, rose and violet and light green buildings, courts with pillars, very colonial and very cosmopolitan. Walking down the street you see cafes with any sort of icecream flavour possible, cool reggae joints to hang in, markets filled with all sorts of hippie goodies, clothes shops, tattoo parlours, and indigenous Chiapans walking everywhere carrying fairy floss or handmade beads, next to tourists and young trendy Mexicans. It is such a strange contrast to see the present mixed with the past so dramatically.. like two Mexicos living side by side. I had amazing nights out in San Cristobal, once after watching a reggae covers band that were very good, I ended up at some random person's house, having followed the sound of the music from our hostel, it ended up being a very nice mansion as well, watching people fire twirl and beat bongos and party on til' dawn. I can very easily imagine happily living in San Cristobal someday, as is what has happened to many foreigners. I made the acquaintance of an Israeli couple who now own a felafel cafe, an Italian/Mexican couple and a 40 year old Californian named Alex who ended up fixing my tattoo and piercing my tongue. Yes folks, I no longer have any embarrassing initials carved on my tummy, instead I have some rather fetching flowers. Photo to be posted later... :) He had owned his own tattoo studio in California for 17 years, but got the itch and ended up travelling to mexico... he had such an amazing time and preferred the society so much to the States that he set up his own tattoo studio in San Cristobal and meeting a nice Mexican girl who came into his studio to get her own tattoo. All in all I was very inspired and impressed and vowed to return.
From cool San Cristobal up in the mountains of the Chiapas, I went back to Puerto Escondido for the second time, desperate to get back to the beach even though there were rumours of hurricanes in that area. When we arrived however, it was sunny, hot and perfect weather! We had an idyllic few days there and I met some of the coolest people I had met so far on my trip, Pepe, Sandra and Marisa from Barcelona, Mariano from Argentina (who lives in Granada) and Manuel from Mexico. Probably the reason I ended up in Barcelona was from talking to Pepe Sandra and Marisa, and I am currently sharing a house with 2 friends of Pepe's (although he is still in Costa Rica last I heard)... funny how life goes. I also made the dubious acquaintance of a Mexican man named Julio, who was convinced that God talked to him, and that all Israeli people were God's chosen people, they were the pure race and all other races were trash. Once he absconded an Israeli friend of mine off to the beach, started crying and telling him that he was God and God speaks to him in his dreams, and basically freaked the hell out of him. One time I woke up and he was in my room snorting coke and smoking crack in front of me in the hostel room we were sharing with some other people (while he was supposed to be working) at 11 am in the morning. Very trippy - so I turned over and went back to sleep. It seems Israelis attract all the crackpots in the world... they either want to worship them or tell them how evil they are for killing Jesus! Or can't resist from sharing their opinions with them on Palestine...
Anyway, after about a week of waking up at 3 pm, lying on the beach until 7 pm, going back to the hostel to swim in the pool then cooking dinner and getting drunk and later going out all night until 6 am and dancing, (what a life) I decided I really had to go back to San Cristobal to see the Day of the Dead (which was after all what I had come back to Mexico to do). I was originally going to go to Michoacan, where it is most vigorously celebrated in Mexico, but time constraints, costs and distance changed my mind. Probably for the best in the end, because although we didn't see parades of people with face paint, Michoacan is apparently crowded with thousands of people in a very small area which may not have been that enjoyable. Then I mentioned to the Hungarian guy working at the hostel that I wanted to go to Oaxaca for Day of the Dead, (it's supposed to be very traditional and beautiful there) and his response was one I will never forget, delivered as it was in a strong Hungarian accent... "If you want to DIE you can go to Oaxaca!! Don't you know what is happening? Dont you watch the news? Go to Oaxaca if you want to die, but you will have to walk because there are no buses to Oaxaca... if you want to DIE you can go to Oaxaca!!" It turns out that the political conflict between protesting teachers and the Oaxaca military, which had been already brewing for some time when I was there the first time, had come to a head. I had been there 2 months previously and saw teachers living in tents in the centre of town, protesting against the unfair regime in Mexico. Already children and teachers had been shot and a few people had mysteriously "disappeared". You can't help but admire these people who are willing to risk being shot at to improve their quality of life and political rights. Then the day before I had thought to return to Oaxaca, an American journalist who had come to report the situation in Oaxaca and was shot at by Mexican military, so George Bush sent in helicopters and military that same day (people heard the helicopters flying over the hostel where i was staying) and all the roads were blocked. The situation calmed down a bit after that, but I recently talked to a Mexican guy who said protests are still going on and have moved to most other states in Mexico, when I went back to Mexico City the whole city was decked out in tents and political slogans in support of Oaxaca, and I met a very drunk Chiapas native who was very anti-state as well in San Cristobal. The indigenous people of Mexico are all very poor and are often overlooked politically, but as the guy from Mexico I talked to said, it is all of the poor Mexicans who are affected. Again, one of those things that really makes you appreciate the benefits you have in life, and even though Australia's bureaucracy may drive us up the wall, most of the time it is working for us.
Anyhow, Oaxaca being out of the question, it was back to San Cristobal. We stayed at a hostel owned by a Swiss French girl, (having decided that even though staying with Doña Rosita was an experience she was utterly too scary). I remember spending a very enjoyable evening in the kitchen surrounded by French and German speaking people, not understanding what they were talking about but soaking in the warm and content atmosphere and the good music. We went down to a little place called Mama Africa the eve of Day of the Dead for a gig that promised to be very good, a group influenced by Brazilian music and Mexican traditional music. As we were sitting there waiting for the gig to begin, a very trippy thing happened... this guy from Melbourne named Owen who I had met in Guatemala walked in, accompanied by Frederick, an ex-Mormon from Utah who I had met in Nicaragua! Neither of them were supposed to be there and it was very weird that they had both met each other as well.
To be continued... dinner date impending... :)