2010
January Journals were lost when the site crashed.
2/1 One Stop Shop
I was walking along the beach from Zicatela to Playa Principal, and as I passed one of the beachfront restaurants, a wirey man came barreling out, speaking to me in English. He started small talking, blah blah, blah, then he cut to the chase. He told me, very nonchalantly, that he had coke, speed, mushrooms, acid, hash, marijuana, opium, ecstasy and a few other drugs I’ve never heard of. If I was ever in the mood to partake, all I had to do was drop by the restaurant, which he owned. I said thanks and kept walking. A few moments later he shouted out to me again! ‘Hey lady, we also have great octopus, shrimp, pasta and many other fresh fish dishes!!
2/8 La Policia
Every time I walk past the military base, I am greeted by a soldier pointing his machine gun at my face as he smiles and winks at me. I’m told its their way of flirting, but I find it rather annoying. I guess I shouldn’t complain since almost every traveler I’ve met has a policia bribery story to share and if you ask a Mexican who they fear most, criminals or la policia, they will tell you that there is no difference. The entire make up of la policia is astounding. Police officers actually buy their jobs; including uniform and bullets for their gun. A police officer also must pass along a daily rent to his superior. Rent depends on his post, a policeman stationed near a traffic light will pay premium. Some police officers will just park their cars and truck drivers will automatically stop to pay ‘la modida’ (the bribe).
People live in fear of the police and avoid them at all costs. Any encounter with the police can involve extortion, robbery, torture, rape, even murder.
It’s fascinating to witness the physical reaction Mexicans have when I ask them about la policia. Why haven’t they done anything about it? Corruption seems to be an integral part of their culture.
2/9 La Novella
My home stay has turned into a storyline from a late night novella (Mexican soap opera). When Eduardo gets drunk, he says all sorts of crazy things. Usually he rants about killing all Americans, except for me because I am a girl, or he will promise to take Phillip and me to a bunch of exotic places off the beaten track. Most of the time I just ignore him, but a couple days ago, in one of his drunken states, he told me that Zorbeada thought that he and I were having an affair! I tried to get more information out of him but he was so drunk that he could barely speak. The next day I asked Erika about it and she told me that Philip was the one who had started the rumor. Then, later at dinner, Lalito, their 10 year old monster child, started making nasty remarks about me having sex with Phillip! What the hell was going on in this crazy house?? After dinner I confronted Phillip and he told me that Zorbeada thought that I was having an affair with Eduardo so he told her that I was having an affair with Phillip!
So today I found a new place to call home. I will be living in a thatched roof cabana on the beach about a mile from Zicatela. La Punta is beautiful, remote, and far away from los barrachos. The walk to town everyday will do me good, since I am getting fatter with every tasty Mexican feast.
2/13 Pinche Ladron
My friend Adrian and I decided to watch the sunrise from the ocean. We arrived to playa principal, a beautiful beach surrounded by enormous rocks, at about 5:50am, a half hour before sunrise, and jumped in the ocean. The water was warmer than the air, and the waves glowed in the last minutes of moonlight. As soon as the first light appeared, the pelicans began diving for breakfast. We quickly realized that we were swimming in the middle of a school of frenzied fish. They were jumping all over the place, trying to escape the hungry pelicans. Sadly, when we got out of the water, all of our belongings were gone; our clothes, our shoes, Adrian’s wallet and my bag. Inside my bag was my Spanish notebook, camera phone, the only key to my cabana, the key to the surf shop, my visa card, my money and my black fuzzy purse. Pinche ladron!
We were wet, cold, and only wearing our swimsuits. We spent the next 3 hours walking up and down the beach, frantically looking for any of our things that the theif may have discarded. We found nothing. We went back to his hostel, hoping that someone would be awake to let us in. Adrian thought he had enough change lying around to use the internet to cancel our credit cards. When we got into his room, he let me borrow his only pair of jeans. Adrian is an Australian rugby player. He’s a big boy! I had to keep one hand on the jeans at all times to prevent them from falling off. The plus size to the jeans was they were so long; they covered the bottoms of my feet, so it was like I had a pair of socks on as well to shield my feet from the blistering asphalt.
Of course when I tried to log on to the Washington Mutual customer service website, it wasn’t working properly and the bastards at Washington Mutual refused a collect call from Kimberly Walker. Adrian was so upset by the whole experience, he needed to surf. I was tempted to join him but I thought id be responsible for once and continue the search for the black fuzzy purse.
I met some amazing people while searching for black fuzzy… I met a preacher from Texas who gave me enough money to buy breakfast and coffee.
I met a grandma who gave me a red long sleeved sweatshirt with a giant angel/scarecrow patch on the front of it.
I met a Frenchman who offered to accompany me to the police station even though he would miss his bus to Mexico City ( I declined the offer because he spoke less Spanish than I).
Everywhere I turned people were offering a helping hand!! It was unbelievable.
I finally made my way to the police station, but never made it inside because three eager officers were standing at the entrance as if they were waiting for my arrival.
On a blank white sheet of copy paper, they wrote down my information and statement. Then they each took turns signing it, to make it official. Once the report was complete, all three of the officers and I went in their police truck to another police station. When we got inside it wasn’t a police station at all!! It was a small room, filled with boxes. An old man, not in uniform, was sitting behind a makeshift desk doing accounting. Where was the jail? Where had they taken me? I got out of there fast and headed for my Spanish school, hoping that Steve, the school director, would give me a ride to my cabana and help me explain to my landlord why I didn’t have my key. I was so exhausted I couldn’t speak another word of espanol.
The walk to my school wasn’t easy. It was over 90 degrees and the pavement was unbearable hot. The only alternative was to walk on the dirt that was littered with broken glass and I didn’t think my jeans/socks provided adequate protection. I wanted to cry, but instead I just laughed out loud. I laughed at how hideous I must have looked, walking down the street wearing those clothes in the blistering heat. I laughed at my silly obsession with the black fuzzy purse. I laughed at the absurdity of my police report.
Thank God Steve was at the school! He gave me some sandals (size 13), took me to lunch for some homemade Mexican food and cervezas, and drove me to my cabana.
My landlord broke into my cabana with ease, since it’s really only a bamboo hut with a thatched roof. I slept comfortably for the rest of the day, knowing that even though there are black fuzzy purse stealing monsters out there, they are incredibly outnumbered by goodhearted extraordinary people from all over the world!
And as for the black fuzzy purse… yo se que nos veremos algun dia en algun lugar.
2/14
I am absolutely fascinated by Mexico's corruption and the police. I spend a lot of time walking around, asking people how they feel about la policia. I’ve come across some interesting stories and people worth mentioning…
Marcos is the self proclaimed largest drug dealer in Puerto Escondido (although, I think he deals most of it to himself since he didn’t stop talking for three hours, straight). Marcos was born in Mexico but raised in California where he earned his Master’s degree from Berkeley University. Marcos told me that Mexico is the greatest country in the world because, not only is it situated in between American and Columbia, la policia are so corrupt he can pay his way out of any crime he gets caught committing. On the off chance that he has to spend the night in a Mexican jail, he can pay to have nice quarters, good meals, and TV. Marcos knows all about jail since he has been arrested in 35 different countries.
Brian, an American tourist, was caught driving with a small bag of marijuana. La policia accompanied him to three different ATM’s, while they smoked all of his weed, so he could pay the $1000.00 bribe they demanded.
Hector, one of the local school teachers, was hit by a car while walking home from work. Instead of waiting for la policia to come and file the report, he ran off, bleeding and half broken. He had just been paid and didn’t want to hand his entire salary over to the police officers.
My personal favorite story took place in Chiapas. A man and his wife were sitting in a bar. A drunk man kept asking the wife to dance, right in front of her husband. Finally, the annoyed husband stood up, shot the drunk in the head, sat down, and finished his beer. When la policia arrived, the husband only had to pay $1000.00 as long as he buried the body himself.
2/16
I snuck out of Puerto Escondido a night earlier than planned. I couldn’t bear saying good bye to all of my amazing friends that I will probably never see again. I arrived at the bus station just in time to buy the very last seat on the 16 hour night bus to San Cristobal. Damn, it was a long ride.
San Cristobal is in the state of Chiapas, arguably the most politically unstable state in all of Mexico. It’s the home of the famous Zapatista Guerilla army, led by the masked pipe smoking Subcommandante Marcos. The Zapatistas are fighting to improve the horrific living conditions of Mexico’s indigenous people. I guess you can kind of compare it to the time when African Americans were fighting for equality in America. Only the Zapatistas are organized with tanks, guns, and all that good stuff. At one point, the Zapatistas occupied San Cristobal and many people were killed, now they mostly reside in the surrounding indigenous villages.
Walking through the cobbles stoned streets of San Cristobal, you can feel the tension in the air. Everyone seems bitter or nervous about something. It’s a bit unsettling, but understandable considering the history of violence in Chiapas.
2/17I am a Cowgirl!
This morning I hired a cowboy to take me to one of the remote indigenous villages surrounding San Cristobal. He suggested I leave my camera behind and warned that we may not be welcomed and would have to turn back. Esta bien. Then he asked me if I knew how to ride a horse. I tried telling him that I liked to ride but I didn’t want a ‘caballo loco’. I wasn’t sure if I was making any sense since I don’t know many words pertaining to horseback riding…
Why didn’t I study horse vocabulary before attempting this adventure? My horse was crazy fast! After about 15 minutes, I started questioning what the fuck I was doing galloping through the mountains of Chiapas with a strange cowboy. Yep, I was scared. How was I going to make it through the day without falling off the horse? I wasn’t about to admit to my guide that I wasn’t a cowgirl by telling him that I wanted to slow down.
After a few hours ride and a numb ass, we arrived at our destination. I am not a good enough writer to adequately describe how magical this village is. Its like a kaleidoscope hidden in the middle of the mountains. Brilliant colors are everywhere you look. Every person is dressed like a rainbow. Every building is colorfully painted, including the massive old Catholic Church in the center of the village.
Surrounding the Church is a bustling market. Venders display their fruits, vegetables, meats and hand-woven cloths on brightly colored blankets.
I made my way inside the Church, expecting to see an altar, pews, and all the things one finds in a Catholic place of worship… but that wasn’t the case. The entire Church floor was covered with hundreds of flickering candles of all shapes and sizes. The walls were lines with statues of saints wearing elaborate costumes, and dried flowers hung from the rafters. Mayan worshippers were kneeling and chanting prayers to their Saint of choice. It was a beautiful fusion of the Catholic and Mayan religions.
I pried myself out of the Church and back on to the streets. I was quickly attacked by a throng of begging street children. All their adorable little faces were filthy. Their brightly colored clothes were ragged and soiled. I felt like I was in a Christian’ Children’s Fund commercial. Then I started to look past all the striking colors, and I saw a desperate, impoverished people. Its hard to grasp how such a beautiful place can by so ugly.
The time came to get back on my ‘caballo loco’. How fast was my horse going to run once it realized we were headed home? I’ve been on enough horses to know they kick it into high gear on the return trip. My suspicions were correct. We flew through the mountains. I felt like I was in a country western movie; galloping through streams and open fields, weaving in and out of trees (which my horse wasn’t particularly good at since I have quite a few nasty scratches on my face and arms). Miraculously, I made it home in one piece. It was a good day. Giddy up!!
2/20
This morning there was a massive protest concerning the rights of the indigenous people living in San Cristobal. People marched through the Zocalo carrying banners and signs, while shouting demands for better education and healthcare.
2/23 Welcome to the Jungle…
I left San Cristobal for the dense jungles and ancient Mayan ruins of Palenque. I am staying in El Panchon, a rainforest just outside of town; nothing but forest, cabanas, and an outdoor restaurant. All day and night I am showered with the sounds and smells of the jungle. I fall asleep listening to the howler monkeys and screeching insects. All sorts of interesting bugs and creatures are crawling all over the place. Living in the jungle is definitely an experience.
Yesterday I explored the stunning Mayan ruins. I climbed to the top of each of the remarkable structures to look out across the surrounding hills covered in jungle. Palenque is considered by name to be the most enchanting Mayan site in all of Mexico. There are over 500 building at the site but only relatively few have been excavated. How were the Mayans able to mine, shape, and transport all of the limestone used to build these enormous temples without the use of a wheel… let alone build them all by hand?
2/26
Guatemala is said to be the most picturesque country in all of Central America. It’s swarming with volcanoes, cloud & rain forests, gorgeous lakes and lagoons, Mayan ruins, and a strong indigenous culture. Unfortunately, Guatemala is also scared by a horrendous 36 year civil war that left over 200,000 dead, a million homeless, and countless missing. In 2002 & 2003 the United Nations gave Guatemala a very negative report in regards to women’s rights, indigenous rights, and human rights. And the UN Human Development index rated Guatemala 120th out of 173 countries, the lowest of any North, Central, or South American country. Even though Guatemala has an alarming level of crime and violence throughout the country, every traveler I’ve met that has been there highly recommends it. So, naturally I am crossing the border by river boat to experience it for myself.