Los para-aguas

I bring my raincoat because I know its coming. My hair is still warm from being on the roof hanging yesterday´s sheets to dry. Tall and fluffy mamoths, pregnant with rain, pilling up around the edges of this high mountain valley. I walk down the narrow street and take the time to notice things that have become common sights in my daily life. A street vendor manuevering a cart piled higher than his head with fruits and vegtables. Indigenous women in identical embroidered shawls, carrying countless bundles of babies, food and crafts on head and hip. The agua truck cruising the neighborhoods broadcasting its presence and a catchy tune through a single blown out speaker. The air smells of fresh pan, exhaust, carnitas, laundry soap. A man on a bike slows as he rides past, gives me a kissy face, wobbles but regains enough balance to turn again. I make my best Barrett- double chin, cross my eyes and stick out my tounge. We both laugh. I climb the innumerable steps up to the church high on the hill over looking San Christobal de las Casas. I breathe deeply and take in the whole valley. Cinderblock houses of every color- watertanks, rebar and clothes lines above, green feilds full of vegetables, maiz, countless church steeples strung with plastic prayer flags. I hear the first growl in the belly of the sky, its 1:23, right on time. The first drops fall heavy, tiny rotten plums satisfied to splat down to earth. Lightning cracks and the sky opens. I litterally run into the church, and am not alone as I stand inside the arched doorway. A family is with me, softly murmering in a native language. The plastic faces of the holy santos stare at us from their glass cases. The high ceilings echo with every crash of thunder. A neon virgin of Guadelupe sheds her light and love upon me as I sit in the empty church and write this. Its 2:02, the rain has stopped, people are poking their heads out of windows and doors. I step out onto the street once again, maybe I will get a popsicle, maybe a new book.

Montañas de magico

Since last heard from I have moved on from the mango farm in Palenque, but not before mastering the jungle. If you`ve never spent time in the jungle it may be hard to imagine the struggles and joys that dwell with in. The hardest thing for me was the heat. This is the hottest time of the year in southern Mexico, just before the rainy seasons begin. I wake sweaty, I continue the day sweaty, I drip sweat into the beans I cook, I take a shower but it doesn`t matter, still sweaty. Over 100F and humid. Other things of challenging nature: mosquitos, ticks (I found 10 on me in one day), scorpions, massive ant armies (some fiery), tarantulas, rats, snakes, not to mention a terrible itchy, blistering rash from being covered in mango milk while harvesting. Luckily there are remedies, or should I say palatives, to these situations like beer, popsicles, swimming holes, mosquito nets, etc. However, getting to eat as many mangos as I want everyday almost makes up for everything.
So I after a months stay I leave my car in the care of a friend and continue on with my friend Ana to camp and hitchhike our way to a place called San Christobal de Las Casas. We take a few days to visit another mayan ruin site and stay at the most beautifull waterfalls (see pictures from previous blog). The mountains are high and the road is windy. We pass from jungle into pine forest and back again, through mists, across barren mountain tops. This land is still very much inhabited by the indegenous people of Chiapas. Well worn foot paths lead to villages miles and miles away from the road where many traditional cultures are still alive and well. These mountains are the origen of the Zapatista rebellion in the nineties. The communities here continue to identify themselfs as Zapatistas, having their own governing structure. I am learning and experiencing more about this topic and will write more when I am better educated.
Now I have made it to San Christobal, and have come to the end of any kind of plans I have made. The future is open. The day is promising.

The difference between the sprout and the bean

La selvadora

Do you ever wake up into moments of your life and realize where you are and what you are doing? In the past month I have woken up atop of an ancient pyramid of the Maya, deep in the jungle of southern Mexico, with the hot sun beating down on my back, the symphony of the jungle beasts at a defening roar. I have woken up in a chrystal blue pool, fed by an enormous waterfall, staring up into the sky as massive storm clouds colided creating lightning and booming with thunder. I have woken up in the house of a family in a Zapatista community, holding a chuby, laughing baby, while eating a simple lunch of food grown by the people there and hand made tortillas. Most recently I woke up riding my bike down a dirt road, smelling the greeness of the feilds surrounding me, staring back at the cows I pass.
I am in and around Palenque, Chiapas. I arrived here about a month ago, but really, there is no time here. I have found work on a small farm. Life is very simple. Wake with the sunrise, do chores and farmwork, eat beautifull fresh food, nap, read, stretch, walk, ride, cook, sing... and sleep. We have no electricity, but we do have running water and gas, which is more than most people in this area. I am learning all about preserving methods for mangos, there are so many that we can´t keep up with them as they ripen. There is a family of monkeys in the trees above my hut that I am getting to know. There will be more stories to come.
Much love to all.

Relatos de Poder

Its been awhile, an I apologize for the delay in stories and pictures. Since my last post I have experienced in full the contradiction that is Mexico. Aurora and I spent the last part of March and the begining of April in Mexico city, population 26 million, and the next two weeks high in the mountains south of the city, being a part of a Danza del Sol (sundance). I will begin with D.F. (what mexicans call mexico city). We stayed at a couchsufing spot in a part of the city known as Coyoacan. This neighborhood has been home to many famous mexican artists, Frida Kahlo and Deigo Rivera being most well known. The area is beautifull, tree lined streets, friendly people, plazas busy with the afternoon crowd, eating icecream, strolling about. While in the city I almost hit my cap for culture and history, having visited atleast 5 museums, including the monumental Anthropology museum and also the very impressive ruin site of Teotihuacan. If anyone has any questions about Mexican history this would be a good time to ask me. What I learned from all of this is that the story of Mexico is rich, and ancient and tragic. Which brings me to the Danza del Sol. This is a festival hosted by an ogranic farm for the native traditions of Mexico and the U.S. It is to honor the sun and give thanks for all that it gives us. Aurora and I were invited to help in the kitchen for the week, but were included and encouraged to partake in all of the wonderfull happenings as well. If you are familiar with the sundances of the native amercians then you can imagine what this was like. We felt really blessed to have been invited. We camped in the most beautifull canyon, surrounded by misty mountains, covered by blue sky. We met wonderfull people in this place who will guide us and help us on our journey. I learned a lot about the deep tradition and culture that has been preserved and is practiced in Mexico . The longer I am here the more I realize how complex this place is. So after the festival we went down the road to a town called Malinalco and camped out with some friends for a few days. Here I celebrated my 25th year on this earth with a wonderfull day that included a picnic, swiming in a spring, and eating a whole trout. The celebrationfor both Aurora and my birthdays will continue today, in Mexico city, where we have invited everyone we know in the area to come with us on a boat ride in Xochimilco. (Xochimilco= long boats painted crazy colors, navigated through ancient canals by men with poles, filled with everything from mariachi bands to tamales and buckets of beer) pure spectacle. Our plans for the future are more openend than they have been in a long time. We still want to check out Chiapas in the south and Guatemala as well. I have faith that we will be guided in what ever direction we need to go.

Some girls aren´t crazy (this is proof)

So these pictures mostly corespond to the last post... You will find the following: wild Italian shorts straight from 1987, a beautifull sunset from the ending point of the San Andres fault, a magical wedding (and procession) I just happend to crash, a happy camp of wonderfully random individuals living in harmony on the beach, our co-workers on the farm, and a typical day at the office.

A fuera de la sarten...

Last Wednesday we cleaned out the space we inhabited for a month in Puerto Escondido, and said goodbye to the places, faces, dogs, and smells we had become familiar with during our stay. We finished our last day of work on the farm, and left with a feeling of peace, happy to have had the experience and to have helped in the organic movement in Mexico. As with any expierence one has to reflect on the whole, not just parts... There were many sweaty, filthy, frusterating moments. It was a challenge to get up that early and work six days a week. I found some perspective this last day talking to my co-worker, Lazaro, a native Chatino man who works six days a week. He tells me he gets paid 140 pesos a day, thats about $10 US. He asks how much people get paid in the states, and its hard for me to tell him that the wages are ten times as much . In this moment I clearly see the desire and necesity of Mexicans to work in the US, who would´t want to? I digress.
So, we leave the farm and go to meet up with our cyclist friend, Josh (whom you may remember from previous blogs), who is camping on a nearby beach. The beach is a beautifull cove called Playa Aragon. We spent the next few days meeting the beautifull people who have created a small camp. Musicians from Spain, people treking on foot across Mexico, and many more shared their food, stories, music, warmth and good times with us. We had a really hard time leaving. But after four days we needed to head out. The next part of the saga requires a blog to itself so I will save it for later. Don´t worry we are fine, and it will be a good story someday. Please send good energy to our car, she needs it.