Los Lagos De Montebello, 01-02-1990. Together with our canadian lady-friend Anne, we visited another indigena village called Chamula. we had to pay 1000 Peso to be allowed into the local church, funny i always thought the housae of God is open to any-one who cares to enter! Still the money was well spent! Allthough the church's interior had the appearance of a normal catholic church i could see huge differences like no benches to sit on but a concrete floor covered in lush green grass. Obviously freshly cut. I could see some loclas, mostly young women sitting around in what seemed private contemplation. Some crucifified Jesus images, nailed to a huge cross hanging over the middle of the curch was Jesus himself made of gipsen or whatever and black like a native papua from the former dutch Indies. The black Jesus Crist worshipped in some small indigena village somewhere in Mexico. If God only knew!!!
We looked at each other there and then but I don't seem to remember where and when.
Lost between worlds, lost between cultures, lost between people, religious feelings forcing an endless narrative inside my Farang skull, feeling best when on the road with my greasy old faded jeans, my sweaty T-shirt, my bulky backpack containing my woldly possessions.
Sleeping in third world rock bottom hotels, drinking cheap liqour with the locals, always in searching for a spiritual answer to my quest for peach and understanding.
Shunning away from camara hung tourists but having no problemo with th... full info