Y Tu Antigua Tambien

We end the first half of our trip where we began: L´Antigua, Guatemala. Twelve hours and four mini vans returned us here from San Cristobal de las Casas last Sunday. We crashed for the night on concrete-like beds at a restaurant/hostel called Kafka, which needs to spend less money on ambience and more on comfort. On Monday evening, we were picked up by our latest couchsurfing hosts. Mauricio and Meynor are two bachelors who share an apartment about 20 minutes outside of Antigua in San Lucas. We were delighted when we entered the apartment and were greeted by a fully decorated Christmas tree and a Westhighland Terrier puppy named Babushka, not to mention a fully stocked kitchen and huge flatscreen TV.

On Tuesday, we rejoined the crew at From Houses to Homes to paint and start building another house. This time the house is for a mom and dad and their three kids. There are many kids at the site, all of whom are helpful assistants. Sometimes there are not enough trowels for the volunteers because the kids are using all of them!

Yesterday was one of our favorite days of the trip. We had a yummy breakfast at "Y Tu PiÑa Tambien." In the afternoon, we visited Juan Jose, one of the builders from From Houses to Homes. He lives with his wife and two beautiful daughters in San Antonio, another little pueblo minutes from Antigua. His daughters (4 and 2) introduced themselves to us in tiny nervous voices: "Soy Gabriela Sofia Fernandez Lopez," "Soy Jaymie Vanessa Fernandez Lopez." Once the formalities were out of the way and the girls got more comfortable, Gaby sang her favorite song for us: Billie Jean by Michael Jackson.

Estamos Aqui

San Cristobal de las Casas is an enchanting, chilly city. It seems as if no one ever rests, even when (like us!) they're relaxing with a hot chocolate or an espresso. Fireworks and church bells count the hours, vendors wander down pedestrian streets selling balloons and ladders of cotton candy, and families gather in cafes for breakfast. We've gotten a chance to savor some of the best foods so far on our trip: samosas, Argentinian steak, curry empanadas, churros, lots of red wine, and the best hummus and fallafal either of us has ever had. Cafe Museo Cafe, a cooperative, and La Luna are a couple of our favorite spots. We've had our share of Mexican, of course, and our favorite so far has been molletes (beans & cheese w/ bread). The hot chocolate, though-- delicious and spiced with cinnamon-- is almost too good to exist.

Casa de Rudy
(Nov 9 – Nov 15)

Everyone loves Rudy! He is a very chill Couchsurfer who has hosted hundreds of people. We have been lucky to crash with him for the last week. He works for a human rights organization as a lawyer and represents the concerns of indigenous women. Having to wake up at 9 a.m. for a job doesn't stop Rudy from partying seriously hard, though. I don't think he got in once before 4, and the acoustics in the house are so good that we can attest he continued partying at home long after that.

Couchsurfing is the best way I've ever travelled. We got to meet up with some other cool people— Maria Elena from Mexico & Kansas, and Karin from Lebanon. Maria Elena left soon after we arrived, but Karin has joined us for some adventures and fun.

San Juan de Chamula
(Wed, Nov 11)

Rain and cold didn't stop the three of us from jumping onto horses and riding down a mountain for an hour. Karin, Sara and I grabbed a few freaking awesome, fresh-baked croissants from El Horno Magico, owned and operated by a French ex-pat, and joined Esther in a taxi back to her house where the caballos awaited.

I don't know why, but I always get the horse that wants to be in front. Me First! was his name (though it might have originally been Sabra). Sara got Snacktime, who stopped to eat every chance he could, even chewing on a bush as we headed down a muddy slope. Karin, a first-time rider, got Naptime.

We arrived in the village of San Juan de Chamula by 10 and spent most of the time visiting the church. Photography is forbidden inside, and disrespectful tourists are fined, so we can't really provide any photos of the experience. The floor is blanketed in pine needles, the walls and tables are covered in candles, and images of saints are everywhere. We viewed a few ceremonies of healing, which included eggs being passed over a woman's body, pulses being taken, and plenty of soda and posh (homemade, bitter liquor) being consumed and sprayed over the candles.

La Revolucion
(every night)

Most of our pesos have been spent at La Revolucion, a popular bar that features live salsa music and blues. Our second night at Rudy's, Miguel drove us downtown in his punch buggy (they're everywhere: Mexico houses one of the most important VW manufacturing centers), and we stopped in for a drink. The place is usually packed, so we hung out upstairs with a few other couples (some dancing, some making out). The guys introduced us to the house specialty (beer, lemon juice, some kind of spicy sauce, salt) and Francisco, a really energetic and insistent dancer, taught us a few moves.

Our last night, a few shady guys tried to dance with Sara and I, so we moved on to Pura Vida, a hippie hangout where there was African drumming.

Esta Es Nuestra
(Thurs, Nov 12)

My favorite experience in San Cristobal (perhaps in all of Mexico, perhaps in all of Central America) was Oventic. We had of course seen cultural and artistic representations of the Zapatista movement throughout the city (even stalls at the market sell “Marcos” dolls), but we hadn't yet seen it in person. After Rudy shared the documentary entitled, “A Place Called Chiapas,” we had a better understanding of Zapatistas and decided that we wanted to go to Oventic, a primary caracole of the Zapatista movement. This trip isn't in Lonely Planet, and it's pretty clear that most tourists don't know how to get to the caracoles, so we realized we'd be taking a (small) risk heading out there. David, a professional drummer we befriended, warned us that there would be many military checkpoints and that we would most likely be denied entry, but Rudy said we could probably take a local bus or two and get in.

After a long, nauseating drive around a mountain, we arrived at Zapatista territory. Joining us, of their own accord, were Arthur (France) and Ricardo (Mexico). At the gate, the officials were masked, and they asked for passports before allowing admission.

Oventic is entirely autonomous, as are the actual Zapatista communities. They make their own food and do not rely at all on the government for any social services. This caracole is supposed to be the most organized, as it offers a secondary school, a center for worship, a restaurant, and a health clinic. The buildings are beautifully illustrated with murals of Che, Zapata, and images of Zapatistas rising out of the earth. “Everything for everyone or Nothing for Anyone” is powerful propaganda that illustrates the group's ideals.

We were directed to wait outside the office of the Junta, which receives all outsiders. There, we spoke with a few representatives of Schools for Chiapas, an American group that has been in operation since 1995, and learned about the history and current condition of the Zapatistas:

• Zapatistas are mostly indigenous Mexicans fighting for equality, education, access to healthcare, and workers' rights
• In 1994, Zapatistas (self-named for the Mexican Revolutionary Zapata) took over mutiple governmental locations throughout Chiapas
• They had been clandestinely organizing for over ten years before that (even infiltrating police and army).
• The revolution was sparked on Jan 1st, after NAFTA went into effect, jeaopardizing fair wages and altering the constitution of Mexico so that those who worked the land no longer owned it
• Shots were fired for 11 days before a truce was called
• San Cristobal de las Casas was taken without a shot, because all of the men on duty on New Years Eve were Zapatista sympathizers
• Marcos, the leader, is a masked man whose identity is unknown (though the Mexican government claims that he is a philosophy professor from the city). He smokes a pipe and has been photographed by magazines like Marie Claire
• Much of the international support gained for Zapatistas in the mid-90s occurred over the internet, which was obviously a radical form of activism during that period-- and is quite possibly the reason they were not erradicated (as one Chase Bank CEO requested in an internal memo that leaked)
• The Zapatistas are currently on oil-rich land, which the government wants back. They have set up caracoles (states) throughout the country to receive visitors and activists
• Since 2003, all of the caracoles have become demilitarized (meaning that all officials were unarmed)

The Junta officials had us enter and once again asked for identification. They seemed to be mostly concerned about governmental spies and remained masked during the entire interview. The four of us (including Arthur and Karin) sat on a bench and spoke in Spanish, which was a second language even for the officials.

I was struck by one of the men who addressed us and answered our questions. He explained that they were still fighting for basic human rights, that we could go back to our homes and explain this to our friends and family and country. He kept saying, “Estamos Aqui” and “now you know the truth.”

I was deeply impressed by the self-empowerment that occurs in Oventic. Our friend Karin compared them to Hezbollah, but it's hard to deny that the Zapatistas have a vision and a mission to raise up the most oppressed peoples in this part of the world.

Getting to San Cristobal de las Casas

A night bus (mostly pleasant, except it was freezing) brought us to Palenque, which Lonely Planet dubs a "fastfood town" meant to get tourists in and out. We saw a few pleasant cafes, ate some excellent bbq chicken and tried to stream the movie Annie (no luck). Most of the afternoon, we spent lying in bed (exhausted from travel), and because it was raining and we felt a bit homseick, we ate Burger King for dinner (Note: This is extra weird, since we never eat Burger King at home. I haven't had it in like 12 years! But it was oddly comforting). Then we returned and took (yes!) hot showers!!!! That was our favorite part of the day!

Thursday morning, after a disappointing breakfast, we headed to Palenque Ruins, which made our stop in Palenque totally worth it. Set in the jungle, it was draped in a faint mist. The temples of Palenque aren't nearly as high those of Tikal, but the sites are far more complex and the carvings better preserved. Some of the walls even retained some of the original red paint (made by squashing insects and leaves)! We located what we thought were the original toilets, read some of the mythical tales about ancient kings joining their mothers after death, and ran into a nice Mexican named Jose, who had spotted us in Merida.

The rest of the tour brought us to two waterfalls, Misol-ha and Agua Azul. Unfortunately, torrential downpour had made both of these sites off-limits for swimming, but we still went exploring. Like fools, we wore our sneakers to go behind the falls of Misol-ha (Note: Ponchos are uselss in hurricane-like blasts of water). Agua Azul in rainy season is brown (though it is absolutely stunning the rest of the time, according to photos) but it is still trailed by a number of restaurants and places to shop. We got some coffee and sat with locals who were watching Mujer, a family-focused TV program that seeks to teach women about motherhood and other socially-acceptable behaviors.

Our driver brought us to a shady little spot (in front of a closed tienda) where another group was waiting for the connecting bus to San Cristobal de las Casas. Jose, who we'd run into at all three stops, was there with his mother and grandmother (so cute!), who are all vacationing together. The bus finally arrived at 6 (half an hour late), and our driver threw us on. We had no idea why he was in such a rush until we realized that there were not enough seats for everyone (and Jose and his family would have to find a hotel and get to San Cristobal a day late!) We felt so bad!
The bus we were on, which was “first class,” was freezing and packed. They insisted on playing violent movies (what is this obsession?) and almost put on a horror film called Art of the Devil. [Those of you who know me well realize that I would have gone straight to the bus driver and had him turn the damn thing off-- seriously, a horror film!!!??? Do you want me to have a heart attack?]

The ride itself was pretty miserable, because the driver careened around corners, not heeding signs of peligroso and symbols of steep cliffs. It was only supposed to be three hours, but the journey somehow took almost seven. At one point our driver got out for a forty-five minute dinner break, not bothering to turn off the engine. Then, when we were still an hour away, the bus broke down. It was pitch black, we were parked next to a cornfield, and the bathroom locked itself. Most of the natives were laughing, and we couldn't understand why until I smelled gasoline.

“Dude,” I said to Sara, “we ran out of gas!”

She didn't believe me at first, but then it was pretty clear that the cops had shown up with a portable tank. That put us in San Cristobal at 1:00 a.m., without dinner, which was fine because we were exhausted anyway. Backpackers Hostel had open beds in the women's dorm, and we were out for the night.

Even in the darkness (and cold! so cold!), I could tell San Cristobal was a magical place. Nestled between mountains like Antigua (but not volcanoes), it feels a bit mystical and unreal. The Zapatista movement had a tremendous influence here, after NAFTA provoked groups of indigenous Maya to protest land allocations and workers' rights. Comrad Marcos, the leader, is said to have told tourists “Sorry for the disturbance, but this is a revolution.” It is also a cultural movement, as quite a bit of art and propaganda have promoted their cause. Much of it is stunning, moving and beautiful. In addition to selling the usual Mayan textiles and souvenirs, for example, everyone sells little Zapatista dolls (which look a lot like ninjas).

I can't imagine the psychological impact on a generation that witnesses this kind of empowerment and presence. The youth culture, in fact, seems really hip (and so well-dressed!). There are quite a few independent theaters in town (showcasing documentaries about Zapatistas) and plenty of opportunities to see natives demanding their rights. At this moment, a group of self-displaced refugees on a hunger strike are camping at one of the churches because military personnel has taken over their community.

So far, we've wandered around San Cristobal, taking in regional music and food. A bit of shopping , plenty of good eats including decent Indian, lots of excellent coffee (I am having an infatuation with espresso cortadas!), and all kinds of freezing our butts off. Since I only have one hoodie and one pair of jeans, and everything else is beach gear, I have yet to change my clothes LOL. But this is a town that, if From Houses to Homes were to set up an office, we might actually move to.

We've moved to Rudy's, who is a member of Couchsurfing, and are a little sad to leave the bonfire crowd at Backpackers Hostel. But Maria Elena welcomed us warmly before heading to Oaxaca, and we are excited about crashing with another local.

Tomorrow, Sara has a guitar lesson with a local performer. Wish her luck!

Rosalba's Halloween Party/Around Merida

On Sunday, we checked out the weekend mercado in town. There had to be a hundred vendors-- everything from tequila to crepes to Panama hats, but alas none of our bank cards would cooperate and we were unable to purchase any of these fun items. Still, we got to check out (briefly) the concert held just across from the main plaza, which mostly consisted of groups of teenagers lip-synching popular music. And we ate some pivi, the traditional Day of the Dead dish consisting of a corn-based dough stuffed with chicken (which I accidently called pipi at first LOL)

Later that evening, we returned to Rosalba's to find the outside patio covered in skeletons, cobwebs, fake tombstones and black paper. Inside, Rosalba and Andrea (her granddaughter) were preparing “finger” food for the guests. In addition to cupcakes decorated like eyeballs and hotdogs transformed into chopped fingers (almond slices for the nails), there were marshmallow skulls. Sara and I made our own callabeza with beans, prepared by Rosalba, and some grated cheese.

We transformed Rosalba into a zombi with a bit of green, white and black paint (which Sara searched for all over town in the rain!!) We checked with her like six times in Spanish to confirm that she was ok with us ripping up her jeans and smearing red meat-seasoning on her old t-shirt. Sara turned me into an eskeleto for about an hour and a half before I couldn't take it any longer and had to wash off all of the paint.

These chicas really know how to celebrate Halloween (three days in a row!). Friends of Rosaltoner stopped by for a few hours of tequila and karaoke, and we got to watch Rosalba get sauced enough to sing sappy Spanish love songs. We hung out with some cool young people that night, the youngest of which were Andrea and her friend Kenia, whom taught us how to play “Papa Caliente.”

Monday was mostly recupperating and hanging out in El Centro (Again? Rosalba asked). We joined her later that night for (yet another) cultural program held in the main plaza. We ate peanuts and watched traditional dancers pull off some pretty incredible performances—including a cool Maypole kind of dance (with streamers). Most impressive, though was the baila where young men and women danced with trays on their heads, balancing beer bottles and glasses of water. One of the young men spun in crazy-fast circles, and all of the water splashed onto the pavement, but niether the tray nor the glasses fell off. Ridiculous! Then, we went back and played a bit of Wii with Andrea. I apparently can't do digital archery very well!

I led Sara on a Terrible Tour of Merida on Tuesday (never been there before, knew nothing about the architecture, could only guess at the monuments—but it was gratis!). After touring multiple churches and mercados, we made our way up to Parque de los Americas, which honors each country of the Americas.

Best Hanal Pixán EVER.

Black spirits. Benevolent, white ghosts. Incarnations of horned gods. Three-tiered altars coaxing the dead back to the realm of the living. Stilts, balloons, drummers, plumes of incense, tons of free food. Bees. Saturday, October 31st brought Hanal Pixán, a Mayan celebration of the Day of the Dead, to Mexico.

Merida is known for its Hanal Pixán festivities, and we planned our trip to coincide with the end of October for this reason. The actual Dia de los Muertos occurs on November 1st (for the children) and November 2nd (for the adultos). The local enthusiasm for Halloween turns the whole weekend into an unforgettable festival whose main purpose is to honor and remember those that have passed, and to have a damn good time doing it. We should take a lesson in mourning from Mexico-- a celebration of life and death.

The Grand Plaza, on Friday, was packed with families and workers building at least 60 palm-roofed huts on all sides of the square. We watched this process without the faintest idea of what they signified until we returned on Saturday to the Centro. Hundreds of people packed the square, wandering in and out of the huts to view the altars they contained. We learned that the altars are built in three tiers to lead the dead inside. Each tier contains sweets, fruit, bread, and other things the particular person liked in life (wooden toys for the children, cigarettes for Uncle Marco). The top tier features a cross (to Christianize the holiday), and candles light the way. There are rules the living have to follow, though. No glass, so spirits aren't scared away by their own reflections (though we saw a Corona bottle on a ship-alter) and, to prevent unwanted run-ins with spirits, no hanging out after midnight.

Annie entered one of the altars, along with other visitors, and received a blessing. One of the Mayan men gave her a small yellow stone to stoke the incense, and another brushed palm leaves over her shoulders and legs. I hope this means she'll have good health for the rest of our trip!

Free food was everywhere (this is where the bees came in). We tried the traditional pan of Day of the Dead at our favorite Mexican diner, Los Bisquets Bisquets Obregon. Another important dish that Rosalba introduced us to is Pivi - a cornmeal and chicken pie-like food wrapped in (corn) leaves. The third was Xec, a fruit dish of oranges and jicama with cilantro and hot pepper. Everyone was eager to help us understand what was going on: no sooner did I point to a dish of Xec and ask,"What's that?" that one person explained and another passed us a plate. Though this wasn't the solemn celebration that no doubt takes place in more remote Mayan towns, it was a serious and fascinating display of the tradition that everyone, locals and travellers alike, was thrilled to experience.

We took a break (while everyone in Merida went on siesta) and got some decent pizza at Vito Corleone's. This was a cool little dive, complete with an oven accented in yellow ceramic tiles. At seven, we returned to Santa Lucia, where children and horses were waiting to begin the desfile. Confession: Annie's not really into parades, but this was the coolest exhibit she's ever witnessed. Led by a horned god on stilts, a gathering of (first) black and (then) white ghosts hanted the street. Students dressed as mestizos (common term here) with faces painted like skulls carried candles in a solemn procession. We followed actors and fireworks to the cathedral, where the first theatrical production of the dead was performed. The cast spoke quick, clipped Spanish, and we were only able to get some of the jokes (ex: a large woman joked that she was a fat skeleton), but the songs and costumes were fabulous. Everyone was merry and generous. When Sara tried to get a couple of candles (they were all out), Jorge returned with two just for us. (He actually looked a lot like Sam Baker, Sara's cousin).

Though we weren't saturated with "Thriller" (as all of you must have been), we confess that this is the best Halloween ever.

Couchsurfing at Rosaltoner

Mexico is seductive. Even though I've been cursed with Montezuma's Revenge since we got to this country (with the exception of the last two days), I love being here. We definitely plan to get back and discover other regions. In this trip, we will settle for a taste of the Yucatan and Chiapas.

Merida, the Yucatan's capital, is one of the coolest cities we've ever explored, like Guatemala's Antigua on a grander scale. Merida could have been the creation of a magical realist: perpetual celebration and the conquest-era buildings (constructed out of pieces from Maya pyramids) feel reminiscient of 100 Years of Solitude. The people we've met have been really kind, patient and friendly. Everyone we have asked for help has gone out of their way to lead us to our destination or explain a custom that is new to us, in slowwww Spanish (mas despacio por favor). So many kind, kind people have told us we look so much younger than 28. We tell them how tall they are.

At Plaza Grande, vendors hock tacos, roasted corn, ice cream, clothing, and souvenirs during the all-day fairs on Saturday and Sunday. Every Thursday night, at Parque Colonial Los Heroes next to Santa Lucia (for 40 years!), the city enjoys Serenata Yucateca. We attended #2,251, where Trio Los Andariegos performed a few ballads and Ballet Juvenil del Ayuntamiento de Merida demonstrated traditional dance. There was even a Declamador, who delivered something between a poem and an oracion, of which we understood approximately 65%.

We were surprised to see that men on stage wear heels. It seems to be a popular choice for entertainers.

To be entirely honest, our introduction into Mexico was through Playa del Carmen (with a brief stop at Chetumal, which was pretty cool). Playa-- though not as obnoxious as Cancun-- may as well be the U.S. (Note: There are at least 3 Starbucks on Quinza Ave.) The beaches were beautiful, the church was lovely, and it's a great getaway for people who want to stay close to home, but we tired of it after just a couple of days. Though there were hundreds of people around, nearly all of whom spoke English, we felt isolated and unable to connect.

On our way to Merida, we dropped in for a few hours at Chichen Itza-- which was fairly disappointing after experiencing Tikal. The ruins almost became secondary to the hundreds of vendors selling cheap souvenirs, and none of the temples could be climbed. Still, the Great Pyramid was an incredible sight. The coolest thing we saw, though, was a snake chasing a lizard up a tree. It moved too fast to capture on film.

Rosalba (59), a Couchsurfer host, took us in on Thursday (for free, of course). She is very sweet, hardworking, generous & fun. An hour after we arrived, she took us for a tour of the city (and then to the program at Santa Lucia). We instantly felt at home and comfortable with her. Trevor, an American who was born in England, is also staying in the house. He has been travelling solo since Seattle, planning to drive his motorcycle all the way down to Panama.

Rosalba and her daughters, Andrea and Gabriela, her granddaughter Aileen, and four dogs live below their family-run/woman-operated business Rosaltoner. Right now, we are staying in Aileen's bedroom, which is pink and populated by Barbies. It's great to be in a house with pets and kids, even though the dogs are a bit Jekyll and Hyde. Lola, the dachsund puppy, just celebrated her first birthday (Aileen wanted Rosalba to make a cake). Aquiles, one of the three sheepdogs, is our bestest friend during daylight hours, but becomes ferocious at night. Griselda follows suit, but Rufino is so old he couldn't be bothered. Being hosted by a family is so much more rewarding than staying in an anonymous hostel. Conversations are much richer, if confusing at times, and Rosalba's family offers all kinds of advice on where to go and what to see.

On Friday, Sara and I explored the city, did a little shopping, viewed the amazing esqueletos featured in storefronts. Sara even learned how to play the saw (one song, anyway). When we returned home, Rosalba invited us to a fiesta, which we thought was happening downtown. Instead, we pulled up to a dark house accented by orange balloons. Three guys stood to greet us, and we thought for a moment that we were joining a family gathering. Not until we saw the flyer on the table did we understand that it was a Couchsurfers' party. Turns out, there's a pretty active Couchsurfing community in Merida, and everyone who turned up for the fiesta was connected to the site.

Playa del Carmen