Chiapas countryside from the bus
Santiago, the San Cristobal-born host of our rented cottage, left with his family for San Francisco, US, when he was 4 and returned to San Cristobal a few years ago. He and his wife now work there as artists. He had sent detailed instructions for us to give to the taxi driver bringing us from the bus station to his house. Landmarks such as the blue wall and the bougainvillea were mentioned, but nothing, however, of the Kinks' lead singer, who was depicted in the mural on the front wall... Why Ray Davies?! Greetings over, we put this to Santiago. He had never heard of the Kinks, or Ray Davies.... it turned out to be a painting of Santiago's dad, who had been an architect of note and influence in Mexico.
Alan, blissfully unaware of the imminent attack by a giant hummingbird, and 'Ray' (Santiago's dad) at Casa Blues... on a sunny afternoon....in summertime
Our little casita was gorgeous (look on flipkey, or Airbnb for Casa Blues), really homely, with a great kitchen, a chimney in which to burn wood on chilly evenings, within a lush garden full of culinary and medicinal herbs and indigenous plants and flowers. As ever, there were animals around - an elderly black labrador, Ako, and two cats: a ginger tom, Tigre, and a fluffly black cat, Huey, with a reconstructed leg due to being beaten with a stick by an old lady whose chickens he had his eye on. They were regular visitors, Ako and Tigre especially when there was a thunderstorm. It rained most afternoons/evenings and there were spectacular storms. One afternoon during a particularly loud thunderstorm it felt like a scene from 'The Sound of Music' when all three dashed in to the house; Ako hid under the table and the cats snuggled up to us.... 'Raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens.......'
The front of the casita, showing the chimney, and the kitchen where Alan taught Santiago how to make bread
Huey sleeping in the sun outside the casita
The scene outside the front door most mornings
Chopping wood for the fire
A garden resident - apparently they pack a nasty sting, they look so cute, too
San Cristobal is a very popular tourist town, with Mexicans and internationals alike. It's much smaller than Oaxaca and it's easy to bump into the same people if you are there for any length of time. We met the couple from Brighton who we met at our Spanish classes in Oaxaca, sitting outside the very winebar they recommended to us some weeks previously. Mmm, lovely glass of Malbec and great tapas.
La Catrina - ubiquitous in Mexico, she symbolises the Day of the Dead, or Mexicans' ability to laugh at death itself. This Catrina stands outside the wine bar in Real de Guadalupe, the 'walking street', where the tourists congregate and which reminded us a bit of Kensington Gardens in Brighton!
Looking down to the 'walking street' from Guadalupe church
Statue of Christ inside Guadalupe Church
Each ribbon represents a prayer
A typical street in San Cristobal; nestling in a valley, surrounded by beautiful countryside
In our local market
Seems that everyone can make their phone work here but us!
Views of the town from San Cristobal Martir Church
Wall art on the way up to San Cristobal Martir
Each one of the thousands of these is cut by hand
Young lovers, and a dog, behind San Cristobal Martir Church
Little shop on the way up to the church
Brightly coloured fence in the barrio near San Cristobal Martir
A little house in the barrio - preparations for a birthday party
The reward of an ice-cream on reaching the top of the hill
And a sweet or cake on the way down
Many dwellings don't have bathing facilities.. this is one of many showers for rent in town
One of the many beautiful churches
The local church, El Cerillo, decorated for the festival, pine needles on the ground in front of the door
Every church has a festival once a year to mark its birthday. Our local had a week long festival while we were there, which entailed incredibly loud exploding fireworks starting every morning at 5am, followed by seemingly interminable, tuneless church bells, punctuated with more fireworks at random intervals, lasting hours. One morning we were awoken at 4am by the sound of a group of singers/guitarists tuning up before playing some bloody cheery Mexican songs. Squinting bleary-eyed out of the window, we saw that they were in our street, virtually opposite our house - I wondered if they were serenading someone - bet they were pleased, if so! This is one crazy town. Our feelings at such a rude awakening, even earlier than usual, were echoed by Santiago's wife, Montse, who had just drifted off to sleep after a wakeful night with their gorgeous baby, Alana, only to be awoken by the immaculately dressed muchachos. Amidst the swearing she confirmed our suspicions that such events were almost certainly peculiar to San Cristobal (she is from another state in Mexico). At around 7.30am, just after the din from the church had finally subsided, came the daily water truck, delivering garafons of drinking water, to the tune of 'Raindrops keep falling on my head' elevator musak style, the truck incongruously emblazoned with the legend 'Armageddon' on the front. Despite the unearthly hour and the enforced insomnia, it made us chuckle every day.
We didn't get a pic of the water truck, but we loved this Pink Panther campervan
SC's version of Kentucky Fried Chicken...
.... and Burger King
But, personally we preferred the excellent vegetarian cafe, Te Quiero Verde, which sold probably the best veggie burgers we've ever eaten, together with a huge salad and chips. Que rico!
https://es-la.facebook.com/tqverde
Photobombed! You lookin' at my bird?
Secondhand bookshop run by an astrologer from the US named Estrella, or 'Star' - weekly showings of films in English for 25 pesos (about a British pound) plus great brownies, and... Earl Grey tea!
We never miss stuff like Marmite or Branston pickle when we're travelling, but we must admit that the cup of Earl Grey was pure nectar. Good job the lights went down pretty soon after we arrived or we may have regretted a less than polite response to the other tourists moaning about the coffee in San Cristobal (which was superb), the chocolate (never mind that it was invented here in Central America) and the foreigners in their respective countries... oh the irony. Travel obviously hasn't broadened their minds.
Santiago introduced us to a local man, Limbanon. A very interesting person, he is originally from one of the villages near San Cristobal, but moved to the town 15 years ago, as he enjoys the culture and diversity it has to offer. He has a wealth of knowledge about local plants, fruits, vegetables, wildlife and Chiapas generally, and he offered to be our guide for a tour of some of the surrounding villlages. Limbanon would turn up at the casita and sit and chat and drink coffee for hours. He has an uncanny ability to turn absolutely any conversation to the subject of food, which he adores. He always arrived with some: his favourite type of avocado ('don't buy the big ones - they're tasteless') sweet potatoes, medicinal leaves to brew into a tea (Anna's stomach had not been right since arriving in Mexico and this leaf was good for digestion). He is a coffee conoisseur and when he declared 'Buen cafe' after draining the first of many cups of coffee Alan made him, it was praise indeed! He is also a teacher of Spanish to local children in the villages and was good for our Spanish, too, becoming increasingly exacting about our grammar as we got to know him better.
Mayan handshake, creating a Mayan symbol with the hands (Orale, guey!)
About 45 bumpy minutes by car from San Cristobal is the pueblo of San Juan Chamula. Infamous for its mix of Mayan and Catholic ritual and religion, the reality was far different from the small, dark, incense-smoke filled place we were led to expect. The inside of the beautiful church is filled with the warm glow of hundreds of candles, and the fragrance of the pine-needle strewn floor. Priests chant quietly whilst lighting still more candles, with local Mayan people sitting beside them on the floor, asking for healing, or for a good marriage for their child, or any one of a million other things. Others filed quietly past effigies of saints and martyrs bedecked with mirrors which reflect the face of the worshipper. The drinking of copious amounts of Coca Cola, and the rubbing of people's bodies with eggs also feature large.
These holy men and women hold great responsibility and power within the community. We heard that they can, for example, decide that a person is behaving in a way not in keeping with the culture of the pueblo and confiscate their land and house and expel them! Many such people end up on what is insultingly called 'La cinturon de Miseria', or the 'band of misery' (around San Cristobal) by people who don't live there. The inhabitants themselves, however, call it ' the Ant Hill', because of the numbers there and the constant struggle to survive. We managed to get lost on a walk to the Mayan Medicine Museum one day and discovered that we had been walking through there! No hassle, no fuss, obviously much poorer than other areas, with houses made from scrap materials, and a few sad souls spending Saturday afternoon in a drunken slumber by the side of the road, but nothing threatening. In fact, lots of people asked in surprise if we needed help to get somewhere, as they rarely see tourists, who have been warned of the threat of mugging or worse!
The atmosphere of devotion in the church at San Juan Chamula was palpable, and very affecting. We stayed inside for ages until the appearance of a trussed chicken convinced us it was time to leave. The muffled squawk as it was sacrificed, which we heard as we headed for the door, was proof that we'd made the right choice.
It was also surprising to find that, even though the place is besieged by tour groups, life goes on there pretty much as it does in so many other pueblos. The streets are filled with market stalls selling stuff people might actually need, not just tourist 'tat', kids and dogs play, and the 'dura vida' (hard life) goes on being 'dura'.
The (in)famous church at San Juan Chamula
Anna, Limbanon (with spring onions!) and local children in San Juan Chamula
From San Juan Chamula we set off for the pueblo of Oventic, getting stopped at check points along the winding road, and explaining as innocently as we could that we were simply off for a picnic. Not exactly on most people's top ten places to visit in Mexico, Oventic is one of few remaining zapatista 'caracoles' (autonomous zones). Once we'd been vetted at the front gate by what seemed to be very young men in woollen balaclavas, only their eyes showing, we were allowed in. The people there live outside of the Mexican system, (take a look at the photos below of the murals there for an idea of their belief in the need for equality and respect and justice for all people) and are therefore not regarded as Mexicans by the local government, who deny them services. The place seemed really devoid of any kind of atmosphere or energy, almost as if we were witnessing the begining of the end, a feeling which was amplified by the mist rolling in until we couldn't see very far ahead of us. We weren't allowed to walk around on our own, but the masked men who accompanied us couldn't, or wouldn't, or couldn't be bothered to answer our many questions, though there didn't seem to be anything that needed to be hidden from us. The buildings, the road, the few ancient computers all seemed to reflect a state of complicit ostracism, and yet they have two tee shirt and souvenir shops. We couldn't find out where the goods were made, as the balaclava'd man we asked explained that he didn't actually live in the caracol, and so didn't really know that much about it! From our short visit, there was no impression of the socialistic utopia we understand that they're striving for. Maybe it is, but we had no way of finding out. We know that courses are run there for 'outsiders' to learn Spanish, or the local language, Tzotzil, and that experience is probably very different, possibly allowing an insight into their philosophy and culture. But, for us, all in all, it was a strangely depressing visit, in complete contrast with the colourful and life affirming post cards which are produced by the zapatistas and are on sale all over the place... but the murals are fabulous. On the way back to San Cristobal, we chatted among ourselves trying to make sense of what we'd just seen, as we drove past women sitting on the front porch of their adobe or wooden houses weaving exquisite textiles on back-strap looms which have remained unchanged for centuries.
The zapatista village, or caracol, of Oventic
The men who guided us around the caracol
Murals in Oventic
Our favourite mural - roughly translated as 'Effective against bad government - soap to prevent
capitalism - enough already! Without cruelty'
'Who stops the rain? Who takes the wind? Freedom lives and never dies'
'Our word is our weapon'
'We are the root'
And some posters/postcards:
'Zapatista school - Freedom according to the Zapatistas'
'No to war - another world is possible. A world where all worlds fit'
Zapatista on horseback (display not strictly authentic)
Altar in the Mayan Medicine Museum
The beautifully carved church of Santo Domingo
This church was not far from our house, near the artisans' market and the general market, a maze of stalls selling fruit, vegetables, herbs, spices, new and secondhand clothes, meat, fish, flowers, church candles and other devotional items...you name it.... we spent lots of time there, buying groceries and talking to the stallholders. We saw very few tourists there.
Alan's hare-brained money making scheme was sadly not a go-er
Detail from antique huipiles (women's blouses).... gorgeous colours and amazing patterns, all embroidered and/or hand-loomed on backstrap looms
Inner courtyard in the textile museum (no, it's not CGI - it just looks that way....!)
We also visited the great museum Na Bolom. It was the home of Danish archeologist Frans Blom and his wife, Gertrude Duby Blom, the documentary photographer, journalist, environmental pioneer, and jungle adventurer. Na Bolom also operates as a hotel and research centre, a non-profit organization dedicated to the protection of the Lacondon Maya and the preservation of the Chiapas rain forest.
Jaguar in Na Bolom
Little Mayan girl, who travels with her mother and sister all the way from a village in the jungle near Palenque (about 200kms) every weekend to Na Bolom to sell jewellery (arranged on the bench)
The area around San Cristobal is famous for both amber and jade. The Jade Museum was a good place to spend an hour or so, with stunning pieces on display from the eight major cultures of Mesoamerica: Mocaya, Olmec, Teotihuacan, Mixtec, Zapotec, Maya, Toltec and Aztec. Jade was the most prized and valuable of all, more even than gold. It represented immortality, eternity, love and power.
Display depicting a meeting between a lowly subject and the leaders of the city, all in jade.....
Or....documenting a visitation from aliens........? 'Take me to your leader'
We went to a fun exhibition in the Casa de las Culturas, by a Zapatista artist called Feliciano Mejia, who lived until he was 109:
Goat
Dog and dead man (zombie?)
Awwww
A humbling experience
We found ourselves in an open courtyard with plants and trees, and saw immediately that there were groups of Mayan people sitting or standing around the edge of the space. The atmosphere made us think of hospital waiting rooms, of all things. And, sure enough, among the group over to our left, a man dressed in a checked shirt, cowboy boots, jeans and a bandana was standing over a man whose hand looked like it was about to explode! It was the size of a melon, and covered with open and infected wounds. The man in the bandana was expertly wielding a scalpel and slicing off the necrotic tissue, (from the look on the patient's face it was obvious that no pain relief was involved) and he looked up briefly and said in Spanish, 'Hi, you're very welcome. Please feel free to come in and look around.'
Feeling very weird about it , we did as asked, and found an amazing display of indigenous clothes in a room to one side. Some of the huarache sandals still had mud on their recycled car tyre soles!
We felt really rude wandering around looking at clothes in a museum which were the same as the ones being worn by the man whose hand was in such a mess, and not a little confused as to what on earth was going on, so we left quite quickly. As we were quietly exiting, the man in the bandana said, 'thanks for coming.'
A quick internet search when we got back to base revealed that the man in the bandana was Sergio Castro himself. A 74 year old ex veterinarian from northern Mexico, he's been treating people from indigenous groups for free for the past 40 years. The traditional clothes in his 'museum' are the result of grateful patients giving the only things they have. It seems that the traditional method of cooking on a wood fired stove, inside the house, using clay pots which tend to explode isn't the safest of things. Add to this the frequent falls into the fires of husbands, drunk on 'pox' (pronounced posh), and the ulcers resulting from the epidemic of untreated diabetes and you can see why this extraordinary man is kept busy 7 days a week. Oh, and he also does house calls! Totally free at the point of delivery.
Obviously, we popped back the following day with a donation. There he was, wearing sterile gloves and a theatre mask, between patients. I apologised for disturbing him, to which he replied that he was pleased that we'd returned. I asked if we could give a little something to help with the work and he said, 'sure', and leaned forward so that I could stuff the pesos into his shirt pocket between the Marlboros and the sterile packs of hypodermic syringes. 'Can't shake hands, I'm all scrubbed up', he explained, 'but feel free to come back.'
I think we just found our recipe for humility!
Some time spent looking him up on the net is time spent well. No photos of this amazing experience as it didn't seem right somehow.
Sergio Castro Textile Museum, 38 Victoria Guadalupe, San Cristobal, Chiapas, Mexico
Our host, Santiago, hadn't heard of the man or his work, but said he'd like to find out more about him. We were discussing our experiences in the kitchen of the casita whilst I was teaching Santiago how to make the leavened flat breads which we were going to eat with the meal which we were preparing to share with him, his wife and baby and Limbanon later that evening. Try finding levadura, (yeast) in Mexico. It's impossible unless you happen across a new friend who's had some sent to them from the States. Thanks, Estrella!
Which brings us nicely to the recipe from San Cristobal. Not flat breads, but...
Stuffed Calabacitas
(our version of the dish served in the great little vegetarian-friendly restaurant Maya Pakal, which serves a great 3 course vegetarian 'menu del dia' for 74 pesos (just over 3 quid)
https://www.facebook.com/public/Maya-Pakal
Ingredients
Two little, round calabacitas per person (they're spherical courgettes).
Rice, chopped onions, basil, oregano, lime juice, olive oil, chopped red chilli, goat's cheese and Central American mozzarella (probably closest to Cheddar in other countries), and warm vegetable stock.
How much of the above ingredients you'll need will depend on the size of the calabacitas and the number of people you're going to be serving. You want to end up with enough mixture to stuff all of the calabacitas once they are hollowed out.
Method:
Preheat the oven to 200 degrees C.
Lightly oil a baking tray big enough to hold all of your calabacitas.
Cut the tops off the calabacitas, and also a little off the bottom so that they'll stand up happily.
Use a small spoon to scoop out the seeds and some of the flesh and discard. Put the hollowed out veggies into salted water at a gentle simmer and cook until they are just starting to soften. Then remove from the heat, drain, and cool under cold water.
Meanwhile, heat the olive oil in a pan large enough to take all the ingredients (except the calabacitas) and gently cook the chopped onions until they're soft, but not browned.
Add the rice and cook for about three minutes, stirring constantly.
Now add the chopped basil and oregano, lime juice, and chopped chilli and then begin to add the stock, half a cup at a time.
Keep stirring gently, adding more stock half a cup at a time as the rice softens and the stock becomes absorbed. You want the rice to be cooked but not too soft.
Now add enough of the mixture to each of your prepared calabacitas to loosely fill them.
Next, press about a teaspoonful of goat's cheese into the mixture, and then add a 'lid' of mozzarella (cheddar), cut to size.
Stand them all neatly on the prepared baking tray and bake in the oven until the cheese lid has browned.
We like to serve them with a crispy salad, sauteed sweet potato wedges (the oil you sautee them in needs to be really hot, or they won't caramelise) and garlic mayo. And of course, Santiago's flat breads and our beetroot hummus as a starter.
This menu is great for serving up in Central America, because the calabacitas will stay warm in the oven, the wedges can be sauteed just before serving, and everything else prepared in advance. Very useful, when 'we'll be eating at 8pm' probably means that most of the guests will start trickling in at around 9.30pm. This is Mexico...... and from what we can gather, most of Central America.
So, adios, Mexico...and muchisimo gracias. We've had a fantastic time here.
Next post.... hola Guatemala!
