6 San Cristobal

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Overnight bus takes us through the mist of dawn in the high mountains of Chiapas state. It's really cold when we arrive in San Cristobal at 8am so the 5 block walk from bus station to the hotel is most welcome to get the body functioning again. We pass a pretty white/blue church, its plaza strung with a cobweb of lacy bunting in yellow and white. I can just see in the cut designs 'Viva Santa Lucia' and a pair of eye shapes - yes she's the saint martyred by having her eyes gouged out! And this is her church so maybe the bunting was up for her saint day on 13 dec and has stayed?

The town streets are quite low-rise and our Hotel Palacio de Moctezuma is a labyrinth of passages around three pretty little courtyard gardens; my room is cold as a tomb and smells of damp but I don't notice it after a few minutes. When 18 of us arrive at once you can hear folk in the other rooms. We all try to warm up with hot showers. Mexican taps are not marked but the convention is cold on the right, so that makes the left... hot enough to be happy, cold, or anything inbetween, all depends on the time of day.

Our leader Aga (Agatha) walks us to a groovy breakfast place in a courtyard fringed with plants. As we eat, Hannah talks about her work in Lowestoft with teenagers in care. Sounds tough. The rest of the day is free so I sit on a sunny balcony to catch up with photo editing. Like a lizard I try and warm my back with the direct rays through a Tshirt, but soon my hair is too hot to touch. A scarf turban solves that. An hour later it has clouded over and I'm so cold I put all my layers back on again.

A walk up to the Artisan market is a must, the many white canopies contain vibrantly colourful stalls of handicrafts, all grouped around 2 churches with fancy facades. Many of the women retailers wear regional traditional clothes and seem to be the smallest people yet. Hairy black wooly skirts, secured firmly with kimono-style stiff belts, and a certain style of satin blouse on top, as well as a modern cardigan, but all with bare legs/sandals. Some have heavily embroidered ponchos too. Most are sat behind their stall busy at their creative work while they await trade: crocheting hats, weaving bracelets, knitting scarves. Others are minding small children and feeding babies. Any male stallholders are invariably on their phones. I negotiate for a beaded spectacle string, and a bright tablecloth, meaning I can justifiably take a photo of the ladies with their wares.

When I peek inside a dark church I find a side altar to a saint who is a monk holding a baby. But the Mexicans can't resist dressing the infant, and next to the simple dark habit of the friar, the knitted orange baby coat and bonnet look surreal. This state of Chiapas is where the Zapatista rebels are based, campaigning for indigenous rights. I have seen some graffiti and posters supporting them. There is a wonderful postcard of their founder Emilio Zapata wearing a black balaclava and also smoking a pipe, truly comical to my eyes.

After dark we dine at a place that serves brown rice and wholemeal bread, and has vegi options on the menu. Not intended for the locals then. A ponytailed Mexican busker all in denim stands near us playing his guitar to a song, but he really can't sing in tune so we are reluctant to tip him at the end. He needs to get another job I reckon.

I add 2 spare blankets to the bed tonight, and sleep in my hoodie.



For Wednesday's optional excursion I choose a boat down the Sumidero Canyon. I've read about this and am looking forward to it, at 9am a full minibus drives us through mountains with wide views of a plain below. At our destination we don lifejackets and board a 12man speed boat that zips along the river in the sunshine. I spy a few men sat on rocks fishing, but they have no rod, just holding a line in their hands. Fish can't be big then. The rocky banks have trees hung with a mauve flowered creeper. The sides get steeper and the waterway narrows as we enter the gorge proper. High above our heads big dark birds are wheeling. The boat pauses by a bank where a white egret stands on a rock; everyone takes a photo. A further bank is full of black vultures resting by the water's edge, some are perched on bushes with their wings spread out in the sunshine.

More photo-ops are made for crocodiles on the bank, huge iguanas on branches, a tribe of 7 spider monkeys swinging thru the treetops gripping with tail as well as hands to grab branches. The majestic limestone gorge is several kilometres tall at its highest point, we are told it is also mighty deep beneath us too. The rock is striped with black minerals leached out, we can see small cave mouths have stalactites hanging from them and pause by one shaped like a seahorse. Occasionally the rock protrudes in layers of frilly edges through calcifying of many drips over time. During the rainy season these become waterfalls, the most spectacular of these is known as The Christmas Tree due to the spectacular green moss growing over its constantly damp edges. All this is enchanting but I am equally fascinated by the middle-aged Mexican woman sat opposite me who literally has sideburns in addition to her neatly groomed grey head of hair!

There is one larger cave we can sail right into, where dripping minerals make some of the sheltered limestone naturally pink. A shrine to the Virgin has been created on a ledge here too. At length the gorge widens out to a large river and we go up to the dam at the end. Pelicans park on a line of buoys eyeing the water for fish. We are told this Chicoasen dam was made for power, and supplies a large part of Mexico and neighbouring Guatamala with electricity. At this furthest point of the trip the boatman passes his hat around for tips, as if our safe return depends on our generosity. We were warned about this so have some coins ready. Luckily it's enough to satisfy our skipper so we are swiftly whizzed back through the canyon to the quay.

The nearest town is Chiapa de Corzo where we are dropped to find lunch. There's a funfair setting up in the main square and colurful bunting fluttering along sidestreets. The town is preparing for its Fiesta Grande next week where men in special hats ribbons masks and costumes will perform traditional dances in celebration of the 3 saints days occurring at this time. Females have their own special dance and wear black 'senorita' dresses covered in colourful embroidery. I'm thrilled to see one of these ladies sat in the arcade along the square and she obligingly poses for me.

After dinner that night we sit with drinks in the back courtyard and play 'Celebrity Heads' where we each have a label on our forehead and have to ask questions to guess who we are. A lot of laughing ensues, it's a successful international game.



The following day turns out to be a highlight of the trip - we visit 2 villages where ancient traditions are still kept. First to San Juan Chamula, where Mayan descendants expelled the last Catholic priest in 1969 and now instead use the church building as a Mayan temple. We must not take photos, we must be respectful and just watch. The wide plaza in front of the church has a procession of musicians with harp guitar and accordian, and men letting off firework explosions. The men wear a shaggy wool poncho in white or black. Inside the 'church' there are no pews, the tiled floor is strewn with pine needles, clusters of people kneel by lit candles on the tiles, chanting 'prayers' and in the chancel a shaman is performing ceremonies involving a chicken and a pepsi bottle. Cabinets of saints line the walls, each strung about with a mirror round its neck (like the light of the sun) satin robes and ribbons. The place is warm with the heat of thousands of small candle flames, the building is dim but glowing, and the smell of copal incense and abundant fresh flowers add to the special atmosphere. Awesome.

We also visit the house of a 'spiritual leader' and sit around the edge of a long wooden thatched hut witnessing a man knelt before an elaborate inner shrine making incantations. Strings of dry crab apples and many tiny twinkling Christmas tree lights are strung around the shrine, the people like the lights, but they are made in China so come along with electronic Xmas tunes and the cacophony of Silent Night and Santa Claus Is Coming To Town all playing at once is bizarre.

On our way to the second village we see yards of drying concrete blocks - handmade from casts. Also loads of polytunnels surrounding the place, they excel in cultivating flowers here, even making use of steep hillsides. The people have a slightly different unique dress, women wear their hair in a topknot, not plaits, and the church is used as more of a blend of Catholic and Mayan with conventional baptisms confirmations weddings and funerals.

We are taken to a family business where the women do backstrap weaving in the old way, and we all try a freshly made tortilla filled with ground pumpkin seeds. Yummy! We are told the average life expectancy is 80 in this community, there is low crime and they are generally healthy with a natural diet and active way of life.

That evening we have a little party for the 3 of us with birthdays on the tour! Roses for each of us, fizzy wine for all, a birthday cake and a piñata to whack blindfolded. We dine Argentinian and finish in a cocktail bar with live music where we find out that Swiss Petra is an accomplished salsa dancer. Great fun!

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