Friday, August 12  

Gabriel wakes me up to help him make some flyers for a 'toquin' at 'El Puesto'. A toquin is a jam at a restaurant where we play Son Jarocho and earn a free meal as well as 25 quetzales each in the process. First tho we need to go out and hand some flyers. I stick some up in the allyways, posts, and windows of the pueblo and run into Marissa and Maceo who are on their way to the lake for a bath so I join them.

The water leaves me feeling fresh and renewed, it is such a beautiful lake, I find it almost hard to believe where I am, the blue of the calm waters flanked by majestic mountains and volcanoes is a hard sight to take in or comprehend. I just smile, glad to be here, dry myself with my shirt and run back to Omars for my guitar to get to El Puesto in time for the Toquin. I dont know any of the songs, but make it up and pull it off. Fluer, the french owner with the oversized beanie, gives us some pizza in return.

I have my first day at work in 'Freedom' and meet some very nice and interesting characters, like an American called Drew who likes his acid and wants to get kidnapped by narcos so he can write a book about it. Israelis are difficult customers, but overall I get the hang of the job allright. People like me and tips are forthcoming. Work finishes at one in the morning. Maceo & I go home on Pacos motorbike up the steep cobblestone streets and under the light rain. Dogs chase us and bark like crazy, one almost bites my leg.

   [ posted by Mr.P @ 04:37 ] 0 Comments

The wooden balcony floor was more comfortable than expected. Roberta gets up first and wakes me up, we go downstairs and eat breakfast with Omar and Marissa comprising of toast with jam and coffee, a nice change from the typical eggs, beans and tortillas.

Roberta leaves early to go to work at 'El Centro Maya' where she does volunteer work with disabled kids while I laze it out and jam with Gabriel on his Jarana.



Hunger soon motivates me to make a move. I walk to town and get to know its layout. A lady in a streetcorner smiles and sells me two 'tostadas', a small tamale called a 'chuchito' and a warm rice drink all for five quetzales. I go to the dock and take some photos, watching the boats come and go. With nothing to do I'm happy to sit for hours and watch, staring at the vast inspiring view, the volcanoes, the face of the indian mountain and the soothing waters that carry hurried boats full of tourists to their next destination.





Taking a deep breath, I get up and go the Freedom bar to hang out.

Paco and Yuri (the owners of the bar) come over, and we smoke together. Marissa offers me a free drink and I happily accept. A travelling posse of three enters the bar with drums and a cute black dog, we have a chat, they are Guty and Daniel (drummers), Guadalupe (dancer and Gutys girl) and Frijol (dog), they will be performing in the bar this week and staying with Omars in the meantime. We speak about our travels, they know Candido and Soraya (the drum group I'd met in Oaxaca) and ask me for news on what they've been up to and where they'll be playing, since I was the last one to see them. I show them some fotos on my Kodak then go to the bar and talk with Gabriel and Maceo about where I can get a job.

Paco comes over as I drink my final beer. I tell him Im looking for work and I might try a bar up the street,

"See me on Monday" he says, then yells to Maceo,
"On Monday you start training this man!", Maceo nods.

I smile, have a drink and keep on chilling. Things have worked out again.

   [ posted by Mr.P @ 06:10 ] 0 Comments

The French guy doesn't wake us up and we're an hour late. So after a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs we make a dash for the bus and arrive just in time. Reberta is pissed, and I don't exactly have enough to get me to the Guatemalan border. Luckily the hostel forgot to charge me for the previous night or I wouldn't have even had that.
At the border they almost don't let me through because I don't have my visa.

"It got stolen!" I plead.

"Bad luck"

The guard isn't the least bit concerned.



I tell him my mother is Mexican and show him a dirty copy of my birth certificate. He smiles and lets me through without charge. I sigh with relief. Roberta has to pay 210 pesos for being a foreigner and now she's doubly pissed. I change my pesos at the slowest bank on earth and get back to the bus depot just in time to leave. There is a host of buses and vans to catch in order to reach San Pedro, first from Huehuetenango to San Pablo, then at San Pablo we ride on a wagon with a german family who don't speak much spanish. They speak english however and I help translate between Roberta and them, she tells them where to go, what to do, how to get there, etc. With them are two blonde children who are having the time of their life. I decide that if I have kids, they too will travel with me.

Roberta is giddy with happiness, she had originally lived in San Pedro and was only visiting Mexico for a while so she feels like she's going back home. She points to all the places of interest, where she worked, ate, etc.



The road to San Pedro is on a descent by the side of a mountain and the view is spectacular, a giant lake flanked by volcanoes and small pueblos creating a dramatic ambience. The clouds which caress the volcanoes peaks and mountains are a rosey orange and add to the surreal beauty of the impressive and majestic scenery. It is 6 o'clock.



We finally reach San Pedro, the driver wants 5 Quetzales, The Guatemala currency,

"5 Quetzales!? Sheesh!" I grudgingly hand over the money.

We walk down the steep cobblestone mainstreet to reach the Freedom bar where Omar (my contact from Oaxaca) works. He's sitting on the bar, we walk up and say hi, but he seems nonplussed, not to worry, Roberta and I get a big 'Gallo' beer to celebrate our arrival. I only have 40 Quetzales left on me but it's beer..

"How much?"

"30 quetzales."

"Take my money!"

Omar hands us a J and we go to the couches to smoke. He allows us to stay over his house but tells us there is only floor. "Floor is great!" I happily reply. Sinuhe and his wife and daughter come into the bar, they're surprised to see me and glad. They are going to the house and we follow, it's a long trek through the labyrinthine allyways of San Pedro, I wonder how I'll ever get back! I'm tired and my backpack is getting heavier with every step but we get there just before I collapse.

We sleep on a wooden platform/balcony after meeting the gang. Julio, from Guate, Maceo from France, Marissa from Spain, and Gabriel from Veracruz. It's a good sleep.

We made it!


San Pedro Mountains

   [ posted by Mr.P @ 07:52 ] 0 Comments

A caterpillars praise to the butterfly.

Miguel and I are the last ones up from the barnyard floor. The Zapatistas are back at their posts, so I sluggishly pull myself out of my sleeping cocoon and find Roberta outside. We get some rice drinks and cookies for breakfast then sit on the hill for hours, Roberta teaches me some Italian while watch the Zapatistas do their thing, after a while we are the only foreigners left which is nice. I'm enamored with the little girls in colourful clothes who stare at us with big curious eyes, they walk together and hold hands - four year olds looing after their six month old siblings as if they were their own. The feeling of community and family is strong.



Its time to leave so we sit outside and wait an hour for a van, Roberta worries it wont come but she soon relaxes as we play a game of throwing rocks. Back at San Cris we get some food from the markets, one of the ladies tries to rip us off with the eggs but we dont buy it, I only have five pesos on me.

"12 pesos for three eggs! That's too much!"

"They've gone up!" she yells back.

"What do you mean they've gone up!? They're eggs, not stock!"

We move on and get 6 eggs for 12 pesos at the supermarket, crazy woman. We cook a pasta feast at Casa Babylon and Roberta goes to sleep. I stay up and play guitar with Antonio, the owner, he shouts me a beer and everyone gets drunk. I pass out on one of the matresses on the floor, a French guy staying at the hostel who is also going to San Pedro will wake us up when it's time to leave.. at five a.m, what a drag, dreading the morning I got sleep with a bad headache.

   [ posted by Mr.P @ 02:48 ] 0 Comments

Roberta & I go to the Zapatista party in "El Caracol", it's a small town up in the mountains near San Cristobal called Oventik. The van up costs us 16 pesos, I'm running out of money and feeling it. Roberta is cool, she comes from Italy and reminds me of my old friend Rachel who I dearly miss. She has a good sense of humour and a happy voice that makes me smile.



When we get into Zapatista territory we're asked to hand over our passports, and led to a shack where a group of armed and masked men interview us, we are then walked to a smaller shack where we again get interrogated and are finally cleared for entry. The scene is bizarre, the men are armed and ask us a number of questions.

"What are you doing here?"
"Um.. dunno?"

"Who are you with?"
"No one"

"What do you do?"
"Nothing"

"Nothing? Do you work, study?"
"Nope"

The Zapatistas look at each other, one of them smiles.

"Ok, you are cleared. Is there anything you want to know?"
"..."
"Er.. where's the bathroom?"



The masked Zapatistas return our I.D and let us through, we go to see what we can do, feeling disorientated and sussed out by the whole strange experience.. The scene outside is just as surreal, every man, woman and child wears a balaclava, except for the many outsiders who are there to raise awareness about various issues and help the Zapatista cause. We're also told that smoking and drinking are prohibited.

We find a dine, inside are a group of foreigners who work for NGO's (Non Governmental Organizations). They represent "Schools for Chiapas" and "G.M Food Awareness". They tell us about the appalling conditions that the indigenous Chiapas population have to live under due to economic reforms and negligence from the government, and about the worrying spread of polluted, or transgenic genetically modified corn that is now being found in Mexico. Mexico is based on corn, its food and its culture, the spread of G.M maize is a worrying trend.



"Activists say the contamination of Mexican fields with GM corn could lead to yet unknown effects on native corn varieties and ecosystems. "Corn embodies deep Mexican cultural values that should be respected and protected," said Areli Carreon, director of Greenpeace's consumer campaign in Mexico. "Most campesinos don't receive benefits from GM corn and view its presence in their native crops as a threat to their form of life."



We leave the diner and find Miguel our friend from San Cristobal outside, he's wth an argentinian girl called Victoria, introductions are made as we walk down the hill and find something to do. I join in a crayon colouring contest organized for the kids by one of the NGO's, kids surround me and watch, I put lots of effort in. I am bored! The group goes back to the diner to get some beans and tortillas and I follow, across the table I overhear two girls talking in english and call out to them. They are Abril from Mexico City and Sherry from Freemantle Australia.

"Hey Im from Australia too!" I call out.

"Where from?!" she excitedly replies.

..."Penrith" I hesitate..

"Oh no! Go the Panthers ya derro!'

We have a laugh and talk in Aussie slang, it feels good, we chat about shrooms, Nepal, Mexico, Shiva. She is a bogan hippy traveller who has been all over the world and never learnt another language than english, the sky darkens and we go out to join the party. A band plays in the main courtyard at the bottom of the towns incline and we're all soon dancing with the zapatistas. Congo lines, Kumbian, Limbo. Its all a lot of fun, and rather strange since an eighty percent of the participants remain with their balaclava well put. We have fun, native Tzlokin kids hang out with us and ask us questions about our countries then show off the little english they know, they also teach us a few words in their native language, they're all very friendly, we take photos and go back to dance.



At eleven everything stops, we are forced to leave, there isn't much left to do, there's no drinking or smoking allowed in the zone so we get some tea and coffee at the diner. Languages are shared, we buy a bag of animal cookies and play with them, figuring out what they are and pitting them against each other in mock battles. Roberta gets into it. Abril finds a spider in her coffee, Miguel orders a coffee "with two spiders please" he jokes.

We go to sleep in a large shack in the middle of town on the cold wet ground with our fellow Zapatistas. I sleep plenty.

   [ posted by Mr.P @ 02:15 ] 0 Comments

The market is a crazy cacophony of vendors, colours, and sounds. Igael and I make our way through the labyrinthine structure to try and find a cheap feed. On the way out we run into the troupe from the previous night. Introductions are made, I meet the likeable Rafa and his dark violinist girl Marcella, Jim the guitarist and his very pretty Adrianna, and the lucidly mellow Jacob. They know Igael and Omar too. I take them to Casa Babylon and we hang out and smoke while Emmanuel continues to make his mix tapes of hardcore Mexican punk.

Rafa teaches me a song.. "Dame tus ojos.. y dame un poco de libertad..", Its soon time for them to make a buck playing music for gringos in the nearby restaurants and I follow. They make some good money and shout me dinner. We go back to the hostel and the gang stays up and chats. I meet a fun Argentinian, 'Nacho', who passes around some Matte, bitter tea to which Im soon addicted. We listen to music and talk about our travels. There is a rumour that a Zapatista party is taking place in the mountains. Roberta wants to go and so do I, we might go together. I like her vibe.

   [ posted by Mr.P @ 04:48 ] 0 Comments

I reach San Cristobal with no food, few pesos, and nowhere to sleep. Its a little colonial city, antique, and perched on the tip of a mountain. Colourful houses and cobblestone streets create a charming atmosphere reinforced by the gorgeous churches and friendly inhabitants.



Leaving the bus depot and wondering what to do, a blonde kid runs up and asks me if i'm looking for a place to stay. I nod. He recommends 'Casa Babylon' two streets down, so I get a floor matress for the night at 35 pesos.The hostel is cozy and has a good vibe. Two shaggy looking guys roll a joint in the patio. They introduce themselves as Igael and Emmanuel. I ask for a drag.

'Tiene Perico' / 'Its got coke', Igael says,

'No problemo', I inhale deeply and taste the sweet powder burning.

Igael is from Hermosillo, and coming back from San Pedro La Laguna in Guatemala, I ask him if he knows Omar, the guy I'd briefly met in Oaxaca with Sinuhe. He laughs! Of course he knows Omar, he lived with the guy! We marvel at the coincidence (or lack thereof) and I know im in the right place.

Emmanuel chills on the bean bag and plays punk music, he's making a mix tape, he reminds me of a younger version of a friend in Australia called Easton. We hang and smoke, two guys show up with bag fulls of shrooms and go for it, drugs are everywhere, I toke on my joint and watch.

In the afternoon I meet Miguel from Switzerland, a built, blonde, blue eyes, with a mastery of Spanish and a great sense of humour, we go out at midnight for something to do and end up at a Reggae party where a funky band from Tijuana is playing. I dance freely, content. But my stomach aches, I hadn't eaten for days until this afternoon where I stuffed my stomach full of junk. Im forced to use the bathroom with no door and get strangers piss on me from the seat. It was an emergency!

Feeling better and dancing, some drinks, talk to some girls, they all love Miguel, its obvious why, we leave at two to get some sleep, on the way out a travelling troupe approaches me, they want some weed, not now, dont have any, maybe tomorrow I say, we might see each other tomorrow, all good, take care brother. Sleep.

   [ posted by Mr.P @ 04:34 ] 0 Comments

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