Pyramids, pirates and parkour

R-E-S-P-E-T-O, find out what it means to "yo."

(pretty weak joke, agreed, bad Spanish grammar to boot, but it rhymes.)

Part One of our hasta luego, Mexico road trip is back here and it's glorious. Part Two is back here and is slightly less so. This is Part Three and will probably be the worst of the bunch because this thing is going to be a monster.

Then I'll write Part Four tomorrow and you're gonna be "enough already!" I'm processing a lot of emotions plus logistics right now. Dysfunction and short circuiting, that's what I'm doing.

The movers were just here to survey our stuff and left me a stack of forms to fill out before they can pack all our stuff on Friday so now I'm jittery and annoyed. I hate forms, especially ones with mysterious blank lines on them after words such as "attach copy of travel orders in invisible ink to Page Zero" and "apply corporate seal here -- and by "seal" we mean the animal, so go find one now, godspeed and good luck" and "we're killing you with all these forms right now, ha ha ha, don't care."

This hurried and frantic and annoyed Part Three picks up where I left off last time -- on a winding twisty nauseating road where people with nail boards made us stop and give them money. 

That winding road eventually deposited us in Palenque, which is frankly not a very interesting town. I'm not going to mince words, Palenque, your town is ugly. Our hotel was nice on the outskirts, though. It had a pool roughly the size of several postage stamps into which many sweaty tourists deposited themselves at the end of blazingly hot days.

The kids had a blast in the pool, as kids always do, but I swam a couple laps and surfaced with a wad of dark hair woven in between my fingers so that was enough for me. Thankfully the pool also had bar service so I watched the kids swim in hair while I enjoyed a couple beers in the sun. That is a win-win.

But here's the thing. The town is not charming but you absolutely must go to Palenque, Chiapas if you ever find yourself anywhere near it. Reason being, the Mayan ruins of Palenque are spectacular, my favorite of any ruins encountered thus far in the journey.

I wish I had known how popular the Palenque ruins are because I would have been a ballbuster about getting my family out of the hotel room at an early hour. As it was, we moseyed into the site's parking lot around 11:00 and holy hell....just holy hell.

Tour buses were everywhere as we approached, never a welcome a sign when you like your ruins quiet and solo-ish, and a very long line of barely moving traffic snaked into the parking lot where, of course, all spots were taken. We got lucky, though; a man appeared to offer us a parking spot right near the entrance and a car wash, all for the small fee of 400 pesos, about 20 bucks. (400 pesos is not a "small fee" in Mexico, it's a big fee, but for us at the moment given the circumstances -- helluva bargain, my friend, and thank you for the shiny car.)

The line for tickets was longer than long so the kids and I left Alex and Mario in line and went to drink water bottles in the shade. For the record, entertaining kids for the wait is roughly equal in difficulty to standing in a long line. So, so many rounds of I Spy.

The ruins at Palenque are the best and most interesting ruins because they are half hidden in the jungle. Even cooler and more mysterious, there are apparently still a ton of ruins back in that thick jungle they haven't yet been able to get to and excavate.

It is so weird and whispery and perfect.

The earliest signs of inhabitants at Palenque date from 100 B.C. but the city reached its heyday around 700 A.D. That good old late classic period, those were raging good times.

The site is so big that even with the uncomfortable number of tour buses parked out front, you can still find yourself poking around on a ruin all alone, surrounded by thick jungle vines and reached only by a set of mossy green steps. Parts of the site are silent save the sounds of wind through trees and rustles of animals in brush. It's very Indiana Jones, only with fewer booby traps and more tchotchke vendors.

Me and the Loosh enjoying ourselves in front of  my favorite structure,
the one with a jack-o-lantern face.

Some ruins are off limits as they are too fragile but those that are available to climb are not scary. The stairs are wide and the levels many, which always makes for a more relaxed climb and descent. If someone should happen to lose their balance and fall, they'll bruise extensively, sure, maybe break an arm or a leg or both, but multi-leveled wide ascents are preferable to the heartstopping death fear of the steep narrow things at Tonina.

Even Coco enjoyed Palenque, at one point said the actual words,"Mom, I like this place!" That is the highest possible praise because Coco is a very crabby ruins-visitor indeed. Because of all the above, Palenque earns my VERY RARE and VERY SOUGHT AFTER rating of 5 out of 5 pyramids! Wow!

Our driver, sweet kind Mario, asked Coco to take a picture of him 
in front of the ruins to send to his wife.

She is six inches from his face.
She is such a punk.

(These two are peas and carrots. She makes him laugh a deep belly laugh.

He has become a good friend, 
and we are going to miss him very much.)

There's another kind of dumb thing you can do near Palenque, and that is the Misol-ha Falls. Alex liked it because he could jump in and swim right next to a pretty waterfall. I did not like it much but that is because I am a killjoy.

That's Al swimming in the water hole.

He had just been whistled at by many whistle-carrying employees

because he swam too close to the falls.
Alex is a rule breaker.

The next day was a smooth ride to Campeche City in the state of Campeche. At home in Seattle, I am the driver. The kids once asked Alex if he knew how to drive and he was highly offended. But he knows that I love to drive, that I like little more than sitting behind the wheel cruising down the open road (or, as is more likely within Seattle city limits, sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic, which is admittedly less enjoyable.)

What I realized driving to Campeche was sometimes it's nice to be driven, too. I sat in the second row of our sweet minivan and zoned out with my headphones listening to my tunes and looking at the gorgeous scenery. I would sometimes snap back to attention when I noticed one of my family members waving frantically at me. I would remove my headphones and they would say, "We can't talk to you like that!" and I would say, "Yep, that's the point."

If Palenque were my favorite ruins, Campeche was my favorite city. Campeche is a sleepy little town, likely because temps in the summer run hotter than hot so everyone hides indoors. The buildings of Campeche are painted pastel colors and the streets are narrow and seldom used by cars. It's a glorious mixture of pretty and uncrowded and full of good food. It's too hot, though.

Campeche used to have fairly serious and upsetting problems with invading pirates. They built a wall around the city for protection but those damn pirates just kept coming. Campeche has now embraced its pirate past; there is a pirate-heavy history museum and you can find a guy dressed as a pirate sweating profusely on nearly every corner.

This is the nightly pirate show.

The guy on the ground is drunk, of course.

Perpetuating drunken pirate stereotypes.

When the sun goes down, Campeche comes alive. All the people who have been hiding from the sun come out for a nightly show in the main square. This one was traditional Mexican dance. The kids asked me what a traditional American dance was and I said, "I dunno, I guess a barn dance, or like a square dance?" and they seemed disappointed. They don't understand how heartstopping I can make the Virginia Reel.

There is also a nightly light show projected against the library on the main square. It celebrates the history of Campechans. The light show is so well done, we watched it two nights in a row, even hurriedly finished our cochinita pibil the second night to get there in time.

Hell yeah, celebremos Campeche.

Now a brief Campeche cell phone picture explosion --

Coco running through the streets at night.

Finally deliciously cooler.

Coco and Alex have found a pirate.

What a surprise.

(It's not a surprise at all)

The kids and I

on my favorite giant sign.

The C and A and M represent three of our first names.

Lucien was offended so decided to add an L somewhere.

We debated between "clam" and"calm" 

and decided "clam" fit us better.

Coco up on the wall surrounding the city 
ringing a warning bell.

Pirate issues again.

Our next stop on the itinerary was Merida up in the Yucatan. I have heard many great things about Merida but we did not love it as much as we'd hoped. It's not Merida's fault it's 500 degrees during the day in July, and that we'd been on a long journey before reaching it, but by the time we drove into Merida and began strolling its beautiful streets, we were wilting like fragile flowers and very pissed off about hot charming Mexican cities.

There were some great parts. The mansions along the Malecón are without equal -- 

old mansion tour

As are the "conversation chairs" lining the city's main streets and squares --

It's another giant sign.

I'm very stressed out and sad right now.

Just work with me, please.

We tried a bus tour in the hopes of air conditioning but were disappointed to find the bus didn't have such a thing. We sat on the top of the bus in hopes of a breeze but there wasn't much breeze to be had. We jumped off early because even our fancy fans purchased back in San Cristobal couldn't help us.

The best part of adding Merida to the road trip? MORE RUINS. I gotta have more ruins. Between Campeche and Merida we stopped at the nearly perfect Mayan ruins of Uxmal --

We are out of control.

I have great news, guys. The Mayans have figured out rounded corners and modern construction techniques involving mortar --

she's a beauty

We got to Uxmal early in the AM, having learned our lesson at Palenque, so were there nearly alone. Many others arrived later so while it's not without its crowds, you can avoid nearly all of those damn tourists if you arrive early. And no, of course, we're not included in the "tourists" category because we are TRAVELERS.

What did I love most about Uxmal? The rounded corners and mortar techniques, of course, wouldn't that be everybody's enthusiastic favorite? Second to that was the intricacy of the carvings still affixed to the buildings. I also loved the size of the site. We were poking around and exploring for hours, so much to see and all of it spread out and all of it interesting. We ran out of stuff to see at the exact moment we all thought, "yeah, we're kinda done now." Perfect size.

Fourth, I loved the bats. Lucien heard them first in the old palace, a faint squeaky chittery sound I never would have noticed without my animal-loving son in tow. He said, "Mom! There are bats nearby!" and I was like, "Yeah right, whatever" but then he poked around for thirty seconds and found them. The squeaky chittery sound stopped immediately as soon as he was directly under them. The bats had noticed the child in their midst. Lucien peered up into the crack above his head and there they were, a bunch of little bodies swinging upside down and staring right back down at him with their little shiny eyes.

We are looking at another 5 out of 5 pyramid rating here, people. If Palenque and Uxmal decided to duke it out for my affections, I would frankly be like, "Stop the childishness, you are both perfect to me and I will love you both forever." And then I'd just bail the town because who wants to stay in a weird town where pyramids fight.

Back to the bats. It's not easy to take a picture up into a dark crack full of dark animals but I did my best --

The outlines of their little bat heads are cute if you ask me. But Uxmal is where I learned Alex hates bats. We yelled to him we'd found bats and were confused when Al said, "nope nopeity nope nope, no way in hell" and hightailed it in the opposite direction.

We all have something we can't stomach and would prefer to avoid, of course, but I never pegged Alex as a "no bats" guy. In my mind he's more of a "no area rugs" or "no leg warmers" or "no toast" kind of guy because he's just a little different, a little out there, that one. Bats seem far too common a thing to dislike for my Al. Good to know he can still surprise me even after all these years.

Uxmal explosion --

The picture directly above is the Pelota field at Uxmal. Pelota was a popular game of the times so you can find a Pelota field at nearly every ruins site through Latin America. In Pelota, a ball was bounced off the hips and forearms to put it through the hoops at either side of the field. It also often involved human sacrifice at the end of the match. And get this -- it was often the winners who were sacrificed because they were the strongest and best offerings to the gods. It was an honor, you see. 

Every tour guide through Mexico makes the same joke after they relay the above information: "This is why Mexico never wins their soccer matches."

Anyway, it's rare to see an intact Pelota hoop like the one above; almost all are crumbled away or removed to museums. It was the best I've seen. *calm down Palenque, I love you, too*

La Casa de las Tortugas at Uxmal.

It's the house of the turtles.

That is adorable, Uxmal.

I have neglected to mention thus far

how many big lizards hang out at all of these ruins sites.

We always think of our Bobo, of course.

(Lucien saw this guy above and said, "Mom! Lizard parkour!")

Nicely done, Uxmal, nicely done.

I'm not done writing about this trip, may never be done! But I also may take a break just for a second. Mario is taking me to the ciudadela today, which is the huge artisans market in the centro historico. I'm going to stock up on souvenirs in a major way.

Tomorrow, the adventure will continue. I am blogging so fast these days my fingers ache. It's nothing compared to what's coming with those damn forms, though.

Lizard parkour!
MJ

More Marimba

I'm going to caffeinate myself and continue my slapdash speed blogging about our Mexican road trip. Part One is back here. I am supposed to be doing many, many other things instead of blogging to prepare for our looming departure but since I am overwhelmed by all of them -- meh, ignore.

Road trip! Road trip! The most important thing to know about our stay in San Cristobal de Las Casas is Coco bought this wolf hat as a souvenir and has slept in it every night since. There is nothing better than peeking into her room and seeing the top of her little wolf head poking out from underneath the sheets. Wolves have been Coco's spirit animal since she was a wee tiny thing. With the addition of the hat and her constant growling, I'd say her transformation is near complete.

rawr

The state of Chiapas in southernmost Mexico borders Guatemala and as a result, the culture in Chiapas is a mix of many things. It's a mix of Mexico and Guatemala, ancient Mayan traditions mixed with Catholicism and a generous dose of voodoo. The feeling in the air is different from anywhere else we've been in Mexico. The locals are slightly more guarded, the Spanish accent a lot harder to understand. A visitor in Chiapas feels a profound sense of "I am most definitely a foreigner here."

San Cristobal is a charming city with its pedestrian-only cobblestone streets, many churches and brightly painted storefronts. Our favorite part was the night market, which sets up in front of the church in the main square every evening. Vendors are not allowed to sell in front of the church during the day but as soon as the sun goes down -- bam, it's business time.

We bought many things including a wolf hat

We soon discovered Chiapas loves the marimba. There are marimbas everywhere. You can't get a coffee without a smiley marimba player welcoming you into the cafe. I soon began yelling at regular intervals, "I GOTTA HAVE MORE MARIMBA." At first amused, Alex soon became quite annoyed by this. But I gotta have more marimba.

We also learned when traveling to Chiapas, it is important to pack for all four seasons because you will experience them all in one day. That is how Lucien came to own the giant gray wool coat in the above photo with the she-wolf. We never thought we would need a giant gray wool coat in Mexico, but Mexico holds many surprises.

Chiapas is known for amber. The kids and I soon began an obsessive love affair with amber, diving in and out of amber shops with maniacal fervor as Alex yawned out on the sidewalk. I bought a gorgeous ring with a super old termite in it and Lucien is now the happy owner of a small piece of amber encasing his favorite insect in the world -- the mighty ant.

There was also an amber museum, which the kids and I enjoyed but Alex completed in about five minutes then went to sit on a bench.

That dude is not seeing the world through amber-colored glasses.

Old bugs stuck forever

It's an amber marimba.

I was not kidding about the marimba in San Cristobal.

I gotta have more marimba.

There are two important things to see if you find yourself in the San Cristobal area. The first is San Juan Chamula church, which lies in the small town of Chamula about half an hour outside San Cristobal. We were told by friends, "San Juan is batshit and magical," which sounded like a winning combination to us.  

The town of Chamula is odd. It feels... just .....weird. That's the best word I can come up with to suit the town. And I don't think I'm too off to call it "slightly, almost imperceptibly, hostile, but it's there, people." It's like the residents of Chamula know they need tourists to make a living but they don't really want you there.

The people of Chamula are their own tribe. Almost the entire population is indigenous, the Tzotzil Mayan people, and speak Tzotzil, an ancient Mayan language. They are entirely autonomous in Mexico and run things completely their own way. They are also intensely private and don't like you staring so you best blink your eyes and look away, son.

The Chamulans have strict traditional methods of dressing: women wear long black skirts made of shaggy wool with bright purple or pink blouses and men wear furry black vests.

That's a group of young women in the bottom left

in their long black hairy wool skirts

in front of the very unique and bizarre San Juan Chamula church.

I'll get to that in a second.

If a man has a position of great authority and responsibility within the community, he will instead wear a long white tunic --

Like this guy in front of the church. 

I'm not sure what his official duties entail 

but one of them is telling tourists, over and over again, 

that no photos are allowed inside the church. 

And my God, he means it.

We've heard tales of tourists trying to take pictures inside San Juan Chamula who've had their cameras ripped out of their hands and smashed on the floor. We've also heard of tourists taking pictures of locals in the town without their permission and receiving pieces of produce thrown at them angrily in response. 

I was nervous every time I took a picture in Chamula, worried I was going to offend and thus receive a cantaloupe to the skull. I tried to keep people out of my pictures as much as possible but sometimes they wandered in when I was taking pictures of other things.

I was taking a picture of the blond German woman at the right,

who had just purchased french fries and thus attracted the attention

of  a gang of hopeful stray dogs.

Then the woman in her black hairy skirt walked in front of me

carrying a thing of smoking incense and chanting.

That's the kind of stuff that happens in Chamula.

I was taking another picture of the many stray dogs

and caught another local woman in her black skirt selling belts.

It was an accident, and I'm glad nobody cantalouped me.

San Juan Chamula church is unlike any church I've ever seen -- understatement -- and we've lived in both Mexico and Europe so our church experience is staggering.

Giant pieces of fabric are draped from the ceiling almost like a circus tent. A thick smoky incense fills the air. There are no pews, no seats whatsoever. The floor is covered in a thick bed of pine needles. There are millions of candles stuck to the floor with melted wax. Statues of saints line the walls in glass cases and are decorated with pineapples and tiny bits of mirror.

Family members sit in groups on the floor, chanting and waving their hands over the candles. Shamans shriek and spit on the floor while performing cleansing rituals on people in the corners. Bottles of Coca-Cola are everywhere -- we learned later they are drunk quickly so the drinker burps, which is believed to expel bad spirits. Animal sacrifice is a regular part of church rituals so chickens, both alive and very recently dead, are held by families or laid beside candles.

So... yeah, they are doing things a little differently in Chamula.

Walking through San Juan Chamula was surreal and deeply moving. It was also a bit tense due to all the candles sitting on the floor. Coco nearly caught on fire when the back of her hair came within half an inch of a large candle that stood nearly tall as her. I yelled and lunged for her but with all the chanting and spitting and burping and shrieking around me, I just blended right in.

Back in San Cristobal, we happened upon a restaurant run by people from Chamula. There are pictures of the inside of San Juan church on the walls of the restaurant so I took pictures of the pictures. That must be OK, right? They were obviously professional photos so the people in them must have known they were being photographed and approved it, right? Please, no cantaloupe!

The inside of San Juan Chamula,

on a much less crowded day than the day we were there.

We could barely get through the many groups seated on the floor,

which is how Coco came to nearly catch on fire squeezing past a candle.

 Candles. Chickens. Coca-Cola.

Candles and a large knife, don't want to know what that's for.

The second important thing to see near San Cristobal is Sumidero Canyon. We took a speedboat tour through the canyon and it was the coolest thing. Jaw-dropping, breathtaking, all those trite things, blah blah blah, sorry, I'm in a hurry.

The ride was gorgeous and enjoyable -- cliffs a kilometer high towering above you on either side! -- until we were reminded that people are polluting jerks. There is one area of Sumidero Canyon where the currents collide. All garbage that has found its way into the water, most of it from the capital city hours away upstream, converges at this spot and gets stuck. The boat driver suddenly cuts the engine as you round a corner and holy hell -- it's garbage island.

You must move very slowly through the fly-infested mess of garbage. On the other side, the boat operator must perform some maneuvers to dislodge the garbage from the propeller. It's pretty horrifying. He told us they have crews out there regularly to clean it up but it's too much for them to keep up with.

Garbage far as the eye can see.

*shudder*

Remember to dispose of your trash properly and recycle your plastics, everybody!

There's one more thing I need to tackle on this post before I bail and start packing up our millions of Legos. That is truly the one item on the to-do list today and trust it, it's one of the biggest. Can't wait to hear the shrieks of protest as I begin disassembling all the children's Lego creations to stuff the bricks back into boxes and bins.

The last thing to be discussed is our journey between San Cristobal and our next destination, Palenque in the north of Chiapas. We knew beforehand this was the toughest leg of the journey. The road is notoriously slow, winding and hilly. It is also known for people trying to stop you all along the way to sell you things. They will accomplish this by standing on either side of the road and pulling up a rope across the street as you approach.

We knew all this but were still not prepared. I have never seen Mario shaken while driving before (and he drives in the constant stressball of Mexico City) but he was sweating bullets on the road between San Cristobal and Palenque. People pass each other on blind curves, the winding path is torturous at times, and at one point the road was nearly completely washed down the hill thanks to a recent landslide. Drivers were queued up in either direction to take turns traversing the one slice of road still in place. I squeaked out, "I don't think we should be doing this!" just as Mario took his turn, floored it and got us to the other side in a burst of adrenaline.

We did encounter the children on either side of the road pulling up ropes and trying to stop us but Mario more or less blew through those tiny blockades. The kids would drop the rope if they saw you weren't going to stop, they have no interest in hurting themselves just to sell you tortillas.

Then we suddenly got stuck in a long snaky line of barely moving traffic. We could not figure out the reason for the delay. Construction? An accident? A great taco stand?

Upon rolling into the tiny town, I could see the reason way up ahead. I am freakishly far-sighted, Alex swears I can see for miles but that's likely an exaggeration. In any event, I can see way farther than him.

A large group of people, seemingly the entire community, were gathered along the sides of the road. Some of them had large boards with what looked to be giant nails sticking out of them. The boards were being placed on the street in front of every car. They were removed, I was assuming, only after each driver had given the people money. Some car occupants were evidently arguing with the town's residents, which is why we sat there barely moving for so long.

I told Mario and Alex what was happening ahead but Alex refused to believe it. He refused to believe people were taking advantage of travelers that way and shook his head, said, "No, you must be wrong. There's no way that's what they're doing. It must be construction or something."

But sure enough, we reached the nail board and were told we needed to pay a "toll" to drive through the town. I told Mario to pay whatever they wanted so we could get moving again, we'd already lost an hour. He paid them 100 pesos, about five bucks. They thanked us and removed the board.

Alex was so hurt when the truth was revealed. He sat near silent after that, occasionally whimpered like a wounded puppy, "I can't believe they would do that...I mean, they have you trapped...." Alex may not view the world through amber colored glasses but he sure does wear his rosy ones from time to time.

The nail board people made me angry at first but it didn't last long. You should have seen the faces of the people; these people have led hard, hard lives. The sad expressions and deep lines on their faces show it. The homes in the area were made of concrete blocks, just one room, corrugated metal roofs, lots of kids sitting outside. Some houses had windows with shutters but others had only holes where windows should be and clotheslines full of tattered clothing. That community is poorer than poor, and the only thing they can possibly capitalize on is the popularity of their road between two well-visited towns.

We'd lost an hour of our day and five bucks but life is harder than I will ever know for people in rural Mexico so you won't hear me complaining.

We detoured from the twisty road to visit the Mayan ruins of Tonina. The Tonina site has some of the best ruins around. The main structure is one of the biggest ruins in the world. It's not really considered a pyramid, it's a much wider structure with many more levels.

Unfortunately, Coco chose Tonina to declare she hated ruins and never wanted to visit any more ruins ever in her entire life.

I call this one "Coco's misery." 

She is very sick of the Mayans.

The rest of us loved Tonina. There are very few visitors, the ruins are expansive and you can climb and explore nearly everywhere, including several tunnels and maze-like buildings. For all that and more, Tonina gets the very impressive rating of 4.5 out of 5 pyramids. *applause*

Nothing is off limits at Tonina so explore every corner,

feel free to fall off every sheer ledge,

while Coco glares at you from below,

and tells you your vacation is "stupid."

Alex at the tippy top

The Mayans had the best views

Coco sat with crossed arms at the bottom as Mario told her stories in an attempt to cheer her while Alex and I climbed all the way to the top with Lucien. It was a lot of work. The last stretch of climbing at the very top was nearly straight up, more like a ladder really, no handrail of course, and was a heart-stopping long stretch of climbing indeed.

I can't accurately describe my discomfort when I'm climbing tricky ruins with Lucien. He loves it, of course, and I want him to challenge himself and feel great about his efforts afterwards. I can't bog him down and squash his excitement and determination with my fear. But OMG, I'm totally freaking out, guys.

My heart stops. It just absolutely stops, feels hollow in my chest. I don't breathe, either. It's some sort of miracle I haven't passed out and fallen off the things myself given the lack of heartbeat and breathing. Sometimes I picture what would happen should Lucien lose his grip or balance and plan how I will react. I mostly stay below him the whole way up or down, stare at his feet and silently will them not to slip. I also brace myself for the inevitability that should they slip, I will fling myself to the bottom to break his fall with my body.

How is something so agonizing so fun at the same time?

These are the short sections with wider steps,

where I can breathe well enough to pull out my camera,

and capture The Loosh in all his giddy glory.

OK, this train don't stop, on to Palenque! The road was still twisty and turny as we pointed the car North again, but also prettier than just about any drive we've ever taken.

Oh Jesus, another Mexican in a truck making me nervous --

Hanging off the back, going at least 80 mph like it's no big deal. 

I'll be back this weekend. The story isn't over yet but my time in Mexico very nearly is.
MJ