Amblings and ramblings

I have no great theme, or ostentatious observation to make this week. I have generally just been living each day from one to the next, getting gradually more nonplussed about the secondary school (shoddy organising), more nervous at the thought of having to book a flight home, and just enjoying living in Cosolea. Classes were cancelled on Tuesday due to it being Mother’s Day so Guy and I ran off to a swimming pool to cool off for the afternoon. Mexico, as I have already asserted, is a country of contrasts. Whilst being an intrinsically macho country, specifically in Cosolea, where domestic violence, adultery and brutal acts of manliness are rife, Mother’s Day is one of the most important dates of the year, and schools close, events are held and mothers are treated to much love, presents and adulation. Men see their mothers as Deities, and worship the ground the walk on, often referring back to their mothers for advice or affection as opposed to turning to their spouses. I even know of cases of men spending weekends and holidays with their mothers instead of their wife and kids. In this respect, women with children deserve all the praise and dedications that they receive on the 10^th May, as they are the heart of the home, the provider of tortillas and beans, and the bosom which nurses the young as well as the old. Thus I would like to send a message of utter, unconditional, insurmountable love to my own mum. All that I am I owe to her, and I can never repay her for all that she has bestowed on me, though I try every day, by following the lessons she has taught me, and attempting to make her as proud of being my mum as I am of being her daughter.

On an unrelated note, flights to England should be being booked soon either leaving from Mexico City or Guatemala...sounds like a cool place.

Chiapas, chaps

It’s during the holidays that I really appreciate how lucky I am to live in a prime international holiday destination. Whereas some tourists travel thousands of kilometres to visit southern Mexico, these Easter holidays I took a short bus journey (relatively-speaking, five hours is a hop, skip and a tiny little jump) to Chiapas, the most culturally rich state in Mexico, with a thriving indigenous community, buzzing jungle, active Zapatista areas and intriguing ruins, at Palenque. I arrived alone, and after a quick trip to a river for a late-afternoon dip I was joined my Jezabel and his English friend over for a quick visit, and we hit the ruins together. Well, we didn’t literally hit them, as although they’re old and slightly decrepit stones, you’ve got to respect the significance of the mouldy rocks. No, jokes aside, they’re the most gorgeous, extensive Mayan ruins I’ve seen, and although they don’t have the beaches of Tulum coasting them, they have a breathtaking jungle location, and it boggles the mind to think just how many more ancient buildings are under the grass beneath your feet. After the sweltering tropical heat, we were glad when our tour bus dropped us off at Agua Azul, a vast series of waterfalls where the water appears blue as the sky, and feels as cold as ice on your skin.

I then set off, alone again, to San Cristobal de las Casas, a colonial city 5 hours south of Palenque, which lies past Zapatista villages where road blockages and local checkpoints delayed the journey so much that I didn’t get to go to the Cañon del Sumidero (large river canyon just outside of San Cristobal), where I was supposed to be meeting the family. Instead, I staked the ground in the city, secured the hotel, and covered the entire city on foot, just ambling in tranquillity, savouring the cool sun and refreshing shade which was welcome after the steam room that is Palenque and the oven that is Cosoleacaque. But I got a good day and a half in with them, going round the city, going to the zoo (more for the kids than for us) and doing the usual touristy things. Chiapas cannot be ‘done’ in four days, so it’s somewhere I can see myself going back to time again, but it was a worthwhile introduction, and a pleasant little weekend break from my Cosolea.

Semana Santa

Easter doesn’t really exist in Mexico. As a predominantly Catholic country with a hefty influence from Spanish traditions, the Easter holiday is referred to as ‘Semana Santa’, or holy week, and involves a weeklong series of church services, processions, rituals and adornments to the house and church, and I rightly chose to stick around to see all of these (but also rightly chose not to sit in on all of the laborious services and masses. The five am blessing of the palm service, which involved what looked like the entire town, I admired from the front gate, in my pyjamas. The ‘via matrix’, the procession of women in honour of the Virgin Mary’s grief, I watched from the terrace, whilst I was doing some exercise. I did however go to church for the Holy Burial, when they brought all the icons of the saints out, took the image of Christ down from the cross and carried it all around the town. It’s impressive to see just how many people take part in these traditions and how united the community is during times like that. The most spectacular part was the carpet of sand they made with images of flowers going down the main road just outside the house. It didn’t last long thanks to the packs of wild dogs and the hoards of worshippers too lazy to go around it, but it was beautiful whilst it lasted.