Day One: Jump off to Chiapas
On theway, Olympia to
Tuxtla, October 21st. Confronting a
long day of travel to our jumping off point to Chiapas from Tuxtla, I didn’t
even bother trying to go to bed and sleep.
Going to bed at midnight and getting up and on the road by 3:00 a.m.
would have turned me into an over excited zombie. One last check of suitcases,
making sure I had everything for two weeks in one small rolling bag and a back pack,
I congratulated myself on my feat of packing for a week of cold weather to be
followed by a week of hot weather in Mexico. And as always, I never wore half
the stuff and wore the heck out of the rest.
I was excited and a bit apprehensive, my friend Lynne has
been to this area about 8 times and loves it more than anywhere else in the
world. I, on the other hand, have read too many travel books about the dangers
to tourists in Southern Mexico. Zapatistas, militia and drug cartels all ran
through my head and played out worst case scenarios. I was going anyway,
earthquakes, military, rebels and all. Chiapas was a place I wanted to see with
my own eyes and walk through with my own feet
My husband Terry dropped us at the airport doors, kissed me
goodbye and drove off through the cold wet night. We checked in and got through
security with no problems. Shout out to my post office guy who walked me
through replacing my lost passport in plenty of time for our trip Need a
passport? Go to the post office people.
Although it was either very late or very early, we found a
Starbucks open at the Seattle airport and got beverages. Lynne went off to
round up a breakfast sandwich and came back reeling with American airport
sticker shock. $12 for a $3 sandwich! I had packed a bunch of Larabars and
broke one open to go with my $9 coffee
until we got loaded on to our flight to Los Angeles. Although we had to change
planes that part went smoothly and we were soon on leg two of the Longest
Travel Day Ever. The Stewardess was blonde with long surfer girl hair. She was
Japanese and we were flying to Mexico City. Down the rabbit hole we go….
We flew Alaska for the first two legs, well worth the extra
cost as it turned out in the end, (stay tuned) and Volaris, Satan’s own
airline, for the very short hop from Mexico City to Tuxtla. We should have
figured out that Volaris was run by the clueless and the careless and was going
to be an epic fail later; because this first encounter with them the damned
gate never got posted and we found it only accidentally by asking someone in a
random line if this was the flight to Tuxtla. Besides which, their personnel
wear the weirdest uniforms ever.
Eggplant purple
cotton tunics with sashes like 70s coat dresses, and a dashing scarf tied to
one side like a 50s starlet in a press photo, accompanied by the wearing of jaunty WWII eggplant
purple caps, the ones that look like envelopes you open and put on your head. They looked kind of like they got a
pattern from the company and had their moms whip up their outfits. Each stew
had perfect make up and an old school bun, the round kind that looks like a
donut.
By the time I had to fly home with them, I was sure these were the uniforms of the devil and his minions, but luckily that was two very happy, joy filled weeks away from touchdown in Tuxtla.
By the time I had to fly home with them, I was sure these were the uniforms of the devil and his minions, but luckily that was two very happy, joy filled weeks away from touchdown in Tuxtla.
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| Volaris Stews |
The other piece of entertainment in Mexico City was us in
our down coats and vests and long sleeved shirts fresh out of the freezer in
the Northwest, landing in steaming Mexico City after about 16 hours on the road
and standing in a ginormous un-air-conditioned room with a zillion other
passengers, like cattle in a line, waiting to get our Visas for travel. I was
astonished at the number of cheery Australian women in line with us, that’s a
long way to come for a vakay! Except for the long sweaty line and a back tired
from a giant back pack that part was easy. We were warned DO NOT lose your
Visa. You have to have it on you at all times. Tip: Lock your passport up safe
in your hotel and don’t carry it. Carry your cardboard Visa instead. But if you
lose it you are looking at a substantial cash punishment for the loss. The
signs said, “No Photos” so I didn’t.
We landed in Tuxtla
about 20 minutes after takeoff. Tuxtla is a bustling industrial metropolis
whose claim to fame is its central location in Chiapas. The Zoques founded the first settlement way before Spain showed up and named it Coyatocmoc, the house of the rabbits. After a while, the Aztecs muscled in and renamed it Tuchtlan, which means the same thing, hence Tuxtla. It must be a beneficent sign. Artful Rabbit and all that.
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| Chamula Goat Skin Skirt Lady |
We got in about 9 p.m. and headed out into the night to find a taxi. On the way finally! Lynne pointed out my first Chamula lady. She had been talking about visiting the villages run by grumpy ladies who wear goat skin skirts and make amazing textiles. Wow. The tiny Mayan lady did have a hairy goat or sheep skin lashed around her waist with a sash that looked like an obi. I just looked at Lynne round eyed with a big smile ear to ear. We had arrived.
A 30 minute taxi ride through the night to our hotel, booked
on line from photos, a little scary.
There were political slogans on every wall and reminders that Chiapas
was going to hang together to come back from the earthquakes. Hundreds of tiny open air restaurant things in people’s yards
by the road, all open and each seemed to have a few people in plastic chairs kicking
back under bare light bulbs. There were also a lot of cops standing around on
corners with semi-automatic weapons and I can’t tell a cop from a soldier
myself so they could have been militia.
We were now in the heart of EZLN country, meaning the
Zapatistas, (Zapatista National Liberation Front) who are still active and
still working for the good of indigenous people, which means everyone is always
mildly uneasy here. The Zapatistas
exploded on the scene in 1994 when they staged an insurrection in San Cristobal
de las Casas to protest the signing of NAFTA and the loss of land, jobs and
life style all associated with big business. Here’s a great link to more if you
are interested:
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| This yarn smile was on my bed at the hotel. I loved it, it says so much about Mexico and the Mexican people who are so warm and caring and welcoming, even if they don't have much, they still have open hearts. |
We descended in our little Toyota taxi to the heart of the
city and I was amazed to see so much street life at 10 o’clock at night. We
found our hotel, the Hotel Del Carmen, and although not super fancy, it was
quite nice although we were too tired to care by then. The desk clerk handed us each a room key, the
Wi-Fi log in and a bottle of water and we staggered upstairs to our room with a
guy who couldn’t figure out how to make the teevee work. We were too pooped and
to polite to tell him we didn’t care.
Teeth brushed with bottled water, face down and lights out. Tomorrow
San Cristobal de las Casas!
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| The Virgin Mary and Baby Jesus at the hotel. The baby is wearing a Zapotec blanket, handmade. |
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