San Cristóbal de las Casas

I know, I can't believe it either, but I'm FINALLY getting around to writing about what happened during my time in San Cristóbal de las Casas. It's going to take more than one post (I did live there for over a month!) so bear with me, and I hope you find it as interesting to read about as I did living it.

If you were following my adventures all those months ago in July (oopsy), you may recall that my last actual travel post was Camping in the Clouds and I'd basically just arrived in San Cris before heading off to camp in the jungle for a few days. Well you'll be happy to know that I didn't die from those ridiculous bug bites I'd received from whatever nasties decided to gnaw at my poor leg, nor did the exhaustion entirely stop me from putting my tourist hat on (though I was a tad lazy for the first two weeks...).

I did a lot of pottering about the city by myself in the following days, as both Adriana and Manu have jobs and the like, To be honest I thoroughly enjoyed this down time as Greg and I had been doing some really fast, hardcore travelling through the country for a month, and it was nice to just take a breather for a few days. Thus began my love affair with Jack Kerouac and Chiapas' finest hot chocolate, because seriously, no one does hot chocolate like the Mexicans. I tried a LOT of it while I was there, but if you're ever in town I'd recommend Oh La La, which is a French bakery and also does A-MAY-ZING chocolate eclairs, or another place, that is slightly more pricey but worth every penny, called something like Xocolates and can be found in a mini shopping centre thing just off Guadalupe. The whole cafe is dedicated to hot chocolate, meaning you can have it made just the way you like it, down to the flavour, sweetness and type of milk they use.

Source: Murdo McDermid.

'I stumbled after as usual as I've been doing all my life after people that interest me, because the only people that interest me are the mas ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing... but burn, burn, burn like roman candles across the night...'

- Jack Kerouac, On The Road

As well as chilling in the days, I tended to use the nights to party with the locals and couchsurfing friends, resulting in one fateful mezcal story (which unfortunately isn't blog appropriate) and ridiculous amounts of dancing. It was here I actually discovered just how much I adore salsa dancing, and I still can't get over the novelty of being asked to dance rather than simply having someone come up behind me and grind on me/touch me inappropriately. It's nice to be able to go out at night without having to punch someone in the mouth for being a total perv.

Most of our nights where spent in a bar called Revolución (ironically situated directly across from a Burger King), which is probably the most popular in the city and has a different music themed night every day of the week. However, I should probably note that as much fun as it can be, it's one of those places where you always see the same people, which tends to result in a lot of drama and the inability to escape your antics from the previous nights. One of those 'everybody knows everybody's business' kind of places. But fun, nevertheless.

Outside Revo after the unlucky Mexico vs Holland World Cup match.

I was also lucky enough to be in the city for the festival of San Juan Chamula, which is a festival in the indigenous town of the same name, situated in the hills next to San Cris. It was quite a surreal experience, not only because my friend Justin and I where clearly the only blonde people around, but also because the language spoken in the town was Tzotzil, not Spanish, so even my other Spanish-speaking Mexican friends stood out. We were surrounded by people in their traditional dress (which unfortunately I couldn't take any pictures of at the time because cameras weren't allowed), with loud music blasting from the huge stage at the front which reminded me of something between Mexican folk and a German Oompah ensemble.

The church was another other-worldly experience. Due to the Spanish Conquest and the subsequent 'conversions' to Christianity that took place, the religious practices of the people have taken on a compromise combining Christian practices with those of the traditional Mayan religion. There were giant statues of saints bordering a spacious hall, all of which were ornately decorated with colourful fabrics and tinsel, whilst the floor was littered with hay and candles. Seriously, there were candles everywhere (healthy and safety alert!). The local people were kneeling by various saints with their little lines of candles, praying and utter rituals, which involved pouring sweet drinks such as Coke and others I didn't recognise around their candle-altars. Some swayed and others seemed to be blessing family members, and we even saw one sacrifice a chicken.

Perhaps it was the copious amounts of Pox we had been drinking or the sugar high I was getting from the delicious, delicious churros I was gorging on, but the whole scene was utterly enchanting, despite being somewhat bizarre. It felt very strange to be an onlooker to all this; I didn't feel right treating other's personal, religious beliefs and a spectacle to be leered at, especially by some white, privileged tourist without the foggiest idea about what was actually going on. Finding the line between intrigue and accidental disrespect for another culture can often be quite difficult. So feeling enlightened, yet a bit awkward, we decided to leave and head back to San Cris to leave the locals to do their thing in peace.

Source: Murdo McDermid

To give you an idea of the traditional dress, these are a few of the street sellers from San Cris who's picture Murdo took with permission. Apparently in some of the communities it is believed that by having your picture taken can be dangerous because the camera can steal your soul through your eyes, which means that you can even be arrested for taking a picture in some areas. So respect local customs and don't go wielding your camera like a lunatic unless you know what the deal is.

In amongst the chilling and the hot chocolate and the partying, I also had the opportunity to help Adriana out in teaching some of her English classes in the local area: one in a rural community about one and a half hours drive away through the hills and another in the prison of a neighbouring town. And surprisingly, the two experiences weren't all that different. Whilst I've previously taught in a school back home, I have never come across a group of children so eager to learn and grateful for their lessons as I did in the village. We just did a simple English lesson about family (which, if you know my rather complicated, modern family, is always an interesting one!) but they were all so enthusiastic and excited to learn, unlike a lot of the kids back home. It was a lovely to share just a few hours with such a delightful group of children and the time flew by.

The main difference between that class and the one in the prison, mainly just lay in the age of the pupils. It is a male-only prison and the class is of course free and completely voluntary, yet so many people showed up! We taught a little about the differences between British English and American English, as well as attempting to explain the UK, Great Britain and England (no, they are not all the same thing). The guys were so lovely and full of questions, it made it really difficult for me to believe that these were actually 'criminals', locked up for one reason or another. It was one of those perspective changing situations, and I was really sad to have to say goodbye to the class, knowing it's likely that I won't be able to return for a very long time, if at all.

Finally, I got to meet so many awesome people in my first two weeks of stay. I spent a lot of time with Adriana's flatmate Brenda, and consequently ended up meeting a lot of the couchsurfers she had staying over. This further resulted in meeting random people in the street during meal times, because a lot of the tables would be situated outside of a restaurant, and well, the world is just a small place and everyone seems to know everyone in San Cris. So our unlikely band of 'hitch-hikers' spent a lot of time together dreaming up all sorts of ridiculous plans, playing cards and munching on cheap empanadas. And to my surprise, these hypothetical ideas of hitch-hiking became reality, and I ended up joining an Italian guy called Mirko in hitch-hiking to Palenque and escaping San Cris for a little while. But that's its own blog post entirely. 

Camping in The Clouds

I survived my first journey as a lone traveller safe and sound, and arrived in San Cristobal after a very uneventful night bus from Oaxaca. Saying farewell to Greg proved harder than I thought it would, not only because we'd got on so well and had such a great trip, but also because he was my last piece of England out here; the last piece of England that I am going to see for at least six months. So I got a little teary and he got a little awkward, but all in all I think I kept it together pretty well until I got onto the bus and could bury my face in my double chocolate chip cookie. Never down play the benefits of comfort eating.

In San Cristobal, however, I was quickly comforted as I was met by the beautiful chica, Adriana, one of my closest friends from my first term of university who I haven't seen since she returned home from her exchange last January. In true Em style, I was rather animated about the ordeal and was so, so excited to catch up on all the gossip of the past year and a half. I've said it before, but finding little pieces of home away from home all over the world really is one of the joys of traveling. For me, home isn't necessarily a fixed place, but instead it's a feeling you find inside any person you love and feel comfortable with. It's those little perks that make these adventures so addictive.

Adriana took this just after I arrived.

I stayed just one night at Adriana's house before we set off for the jungle the next day. Adriana and Manu (her boyfriend) had picked a place for us to camp in the heart of the jungle called Las Nubes, which required around four and a half hours in various modes of transport to get there. In the morning Adriana and I had been teaching an English class in a rural community about a hour and a half drive form the city, which meant we were in a bit of a rush, and by the time we'd finished a quick lunch of roast chicken (priorities!) we were already setting off pretty late. It turns out this would then cause the start of our adventure to begin long before we arrived at our destination campsite.

We were about 10km when we arrived in a rural community near Las Nubes in the dark, with little money and no means to get to our destination due to the only connecting bridge being under construction. We had been kicked off the bus by the driver who told us that 'el puente' (the bridge), wasn't far away. LIES. We ended up having to negotiate with a family of locals, who tried to extort us for all we were worth for a lift either to Las Nubes or the bridge. We even debated staying in a room that they offered to rent us for the night, but in the end, due to a combination of mistrust and Manu's expertise on all things nature related, we decided to risk getting a lift to the bridge, camp out there for the night and carry on the next day. So we jumped in the back of the 'helpful' family's pick up truck (for the fee of 100 pesos) and were off.

Although by this point I was exhausted, rather scared and pissed at the situation, there is still very little that compares to the feeling of riding in the back of a pick-up truck after a long day, the warm rainforest air suddenly de-sticking your sweaty clothes from your back and making you feel alive again. Just don't open your mouth... I learned that the hard way.

We spent the night by the river, the extremes of the intense humidity and pounding rain each preventing the other from driving me completely insane. I've come to find that Mexico is a very extreme kind of place in many aspects, be it the weather or the people. It's taking a little getting used to.

Everything seems so much less sinister in the light. Turns out our camping spot was pretty beautiful once the sun rose.

The next morning we got ready pretty sharpish as the night watchman of the bridge has offered to give us a ride to Las Nubes when his shift finished in the early hours. So another pick-up truck ride and a short walk later, we arrived, tired and drenched in sweat, but (for me, at least) utterly relieved. It's not that I didn't enjoy our first night camping, it was just nice to finally feel safe again and I think the feelings of uncertainty are always perpetuated in an unfamiliar setting (such as being in another continent, on the other side of the world, in the jungle...)

Staying in Las Nubes was a really relaxing time. We swam and slept and explored and I had a lot of time for writing which is always lovely. We ate fresh mangos from the trees (Adriana told me that mangos here are like a religion; I'm totally converted) and bought beans from a little old lady down the road who thought we were nuts for coming out here with so little money and food, and at night time I lay in a sea of fireflies staring at the clearst sky I've seen in a very long time. I think it's all too easy to forget how breath-taking the stars can be.

There wasn't much space for swimming because the current was so strong and the rapids were crazy, so we made the most of a little area by the campsite which was sheltered by trees. It was pretty incredible to have the place to ourselves.

I can't tell you how happy I am that we had Manu as a guide through the woods, because there is no way we would have been able to find our way in and out alone!

Yes mum, I actually cooked! The guys at the campsite were really confused when we turned down food because we has our own and asked if we were vegetarians... We obviously looked like the crazy hippy traveler types.

Las Nubes is famous for it's waterfalls, and there is no debate as to why. Walking through the forest alongside the river, you can see exactly just how dramatic these falls are, with huge rapids and twenty foot drops appearing almost from no where, weaving in and out of a valley carved through the dense greenary. There's a walk of just less than a kilometer that you can take up to a mirador (look-out point), from which you can see just how vast these rapid and waterfalls become once they escape the forest.

View from our campsite.

 From on top of the mirador. As always things never look quite as good in pictures, but man it was stunning.

Our third adventure of our three day trip began when the time finally came to go home. Unfortunately we'd severely underestimated the amount of money we'd need to get back and I'd some how managed to lose 100 pesos, meaning that we had to walk much of the 6km walk back to the bridge. On an average day 6km would be nothing to me, but with all the camping gear, lack of food/water and the serious heat, it was proving a bit more of a challenge. Luckily, a family on their way to the next town picked us up and took us most of the way, and in that moment I've never wanted to hug someone so much. So after trundling along in a car with seven people, but built for five, that had almost no windows or seatbelts (pretty much no-one uses seat belts here) and a short walk and another combi ride, we reached the bridge, to catch another combi to Comitan (about three hours away), where we caught our final hour long combi ride back to San Cris. Journey's like this are really common out here and I actually quite enjoy the fact that no-one really seems to be in a rush to get anywhere. It's qutie refreshing to take the pace down a few pegs from London.

So we made it home, safe and sound. I showered, we ate some delicious quesadillas at a really cool place down the road and then slept for about a bazillion hours. And aside from the GIANORMOUS bug bites I'd received, we'd done it all pretty much unscathed too.

I'm not sure how well you can make that out, but that bite was basically the size of my entire thigh (bigger than my hand). We spectulated a lot, possibly a spider or a really nasty ant, but basically, I'm just very allergic to tropical bugs.