Vamos a La Playa

Last Friday was the Day of the Virgin in Mexico. Thursday night was a big fiesta that drew cowboys in from the surrounding villages, and was remarkably similar to the Camden Show. Although apparently people bring guns here. We ate some churros and didn´t stay very late. Friday was an endless stream of parades and an ecstatic vibe throughout the town - the climax to twelve days of celebrations. Friday night was another round of farewell drinks and now I´ve got one less English-speaking friend here. Over the weekend I went with my housemates to the beach - Boca del Cielo ("mouth of the sky"). In theory it´s about five hours by bus. In reality it took us eight hours to get there, and at midnight we were dropped at an abandoned car park surrounded by dark restaurants/homes, where we made enough noise to wake someone up who could take us in his boat across to the island strip where the actual beach is. We bought two cartons of beer (dos equis, or "two X"), set up a table on the sand and drank under the full moon until four in the morning, maintaining a very smoky bonfire with dry palm fronds. It was a beautiful night, warm, with noone else on the beach, and enough moonlight to watch the waves. However, in the morning I was sick as a dog. We went to sit on the sand. The others went into the water. I went to follow, but as soon as I entered the movement of the ocean had me vomiting uncontrollably into the water around me, and then laughing uncontrollably at how tragic it was. So I sat and sweated in the sun with a t-shirt draped over my head. Boca del Cielo is a popular beach at other times of the year but there were only a few tourists scattered throughout while we were there. A beautiful location with some typically Mexican establishments: hammocks, pumping salsa music, and resident parrots... We had a fantastic seafood brunch (which I was thankfully able to keep down) and left for San Cristobal soon after midday. At Tonala we planned to catch a bus to Tuxtla but first we had to find an ATM and get some cash out. Every ATM in Tonala (and the surrounding towns) was out of order, and the bus company didn´t accept credits cards. So hours later, after a few taxis, colectivos, and attempts to hitch-hike... we arranged for a relative to buy tickets at the other end. And we finally rolled back into San Cristobal after midnight - twelve hours after leaving the beach. Everyone tired and shitty. All in all a fun weekend. Last week I bought a pirate copy of the Australian heroin movie Candy at the mercado publico (in a triple-set with two B-grade horror movies) and last night the household gathered around to watch it. I didn´t know what the Mexicans would make of it, but the verdict was triste pero bonita (sad but beautiful). I was glad... Meanwhile, Baz Luhrman´s Australia has been released locally and I´m dying to go and cringe through that one day soon. But it can´t be tomorrow night because WE ARE GOING TO LUCHA LIBRE!!! I´ve never been so excited about a sporting event.

esta es la vida

It´s been another week of heavy drinking in San Cristobal, but I´m still doing my homework and speaking a little more Spanish every day. Wednesday night began innocently enough, seeing a French gypsy jazz band play in a little venue. But we switched from beer to whiskey, later switched from sophisticated jazz club to trashy dance dive, and eventually switched to some strange colourful creamy cocktails that left us all messy. The next day at school my teachers had their patience tested so I made a point of sleeping well on Thursday night and redeemed myself on Friday. Friday night it was time to move houses so I said a slightly awkward adios to my temporary host mum. When I arrived with my backpack my new housemates had a little welcoming party laid out (they´re so damn lovely...). So we had beer and vodka and tostitos. Later we all went to meet my fellow students for another night of farewell drinks, a really nice night that also ended in stupid dancing all round. Yesterday morning we went via colectivo (public minibus transport) to some kind of fundraising fete. We sat in the sun and watched an incredibly charismatic Mexican party band try their best to rouse the sleepy crowd. The two young guys they had dancing on either side of the stage had amazing stamina. In the afternoon I was invited to a little family lunch with my new housemates. We drove to some kind of drinking hall, where a guy in cartoonish Mexican garb and a great big sombrero sauntered around singing traditional heartbreakers that were bringing tears to some of the ladies´ eyes. We drank beers mixed with salsa and tomato juice, rimmed with salt and chilli - other variations include prawns. It was totally revolting, to me. I was the only non-Mexican in the place but it had all the hallmarks of a tacky tourist trap. A lot of fun. We continued drinking from about 4 o´clock onward, stopped to buy some tequila and more beer on the way home and made a night of it. I had arranged to meet other friends at 10 o´clock, by which time I was pretty much ready for bed. Nevertheless, we went to a private club where you need to ring a doorbell for entry, and I think I drank some bosch (local gut-rot). Today seems like another significant day in the lead-up to the Guadalupe festival (I find it hard to tell fiesta from vida in San Cristobal). The road up to the church is lined with market stalls selling Virgen de Guadalupe souvenirs, and I´m seeing infrequent little processions of pilgrims, often running behind a truck decorated with flowers, streamers and balloons. It´s very beautiful. This morning I bought the makings of an old-fashioned breakfast: cornflakes and milk with orange juice. Quite bland after weeks of hot breakfasts...

4am marching band

Friday night was responsible drinking at the same old revolution place, where children selling wrist-bands weave between the backpackers, and dogs wander under tables. Saturday we went on a school excursion - just six of us - to an area that is officially autonomous Z---tista territory. This means that they are disassociated from the Mexican government, receive no support, pay no taxes - they have their own privately-funded hospital and school. We all had to show our passports on entry and then submit to an interview about our nationalities, professions, membership of organisations, and reasons for visiting the zone. We actually went through this same process three times, in three separate sheds, with separate desks full of balaclava-clad men (and women, in the case of the final shed, which was the house of government). It was all very deliberately officious... We were given a speech in Spanish about the group, of which I could only understand very little. After sixty minutes or so the speaker asked if there were any questions, and all we could say was "can we take photos?" We were granted permission and then everyone took turns posing. Slightly perverse, but amazing really in all. We stopped at a festival in a nearby town on the way back to San Cristobal - a lively basketball game, carnival rides, and more marimba than you could poke a stick at. Saturday night I met with my new Mexican friends again for some boxes of beer, and spent the later hours in a reggae/ska club before a 3am roadside hamburger. It rained all Sunday so I hung around town with some fellow students, watching movies and eating big meals in comfortable places. This morning a marching band went past my door at 4am, while someone rang the doorbell (and then everyone else´s doorbell) repeatedly. This marks the start of the Festival de Guadalupe. Despite the rain today, there are more fireworks, more mariachi bands, and even more marimba than usual. And it´s going to get crazier every day until December 12 - the national holiday that is bigger than Christmas (according to a local source). Nuts...

Mixing with the locals...