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Published: July 22nd 2006
28th June to 7th July 2006
I promised culture and a decent blog this time round and the real Mexico (outside of watching Football) proved the perfect foil for such an entry, providing me with much material. The CONTENT of this entry may cause offence to some but, please remember these journals are just a reflection on my experiences. It is not my intention to offend anyone, these are just my opinions which I am perfectly entitled to, just as everyone is. The QUALITY is also a matter of taste but, personally, I think it's fantastic!
Shamefully, I didn't make time to investigate or explore Mexico's mixed heritage as much as I would have liked or, indeed, as fully as I promised myself I would. However, the one tour I did take before leaving Mexico City was full, fascinating and, as you will see, somewhat fraught with thoughts of how our world works.
First stop was "Plaza de la tres Culturas," so named due to the presence of Aztec ruins, a Spanish conquistador's church and the concrete clad edifices of Mexico's foreign ministry. Three cultures, seperated by time but, supposedly co-existing harmoniously in one locality. You see I
find harmony and co-existance profoundly ironic words to use considering what transpired here in 1968. I was horrified to learn from our guide that, in the year of my birth, prior to the Olympics Games being held in the city, over twenty thousand people were massacred in and around the area.
Protests, mainly by students had been organised to bring the World's attention to the then government's abuses of its people. They were well organised and publisised and, perhaps, this was the plans fatal flaw. The government were well aware of the format, time, date and place, proceeded to draw up their own plans and executed them....literally. Over a period of more than twenty-four hours, the protestors in the plaza and adjacent streets were systematically gunned down by soldiers and police who had occupied the buildings surrounding it. At the time, some of these buildings were residences and, for no better reason than to give the shooters a better vantage point, the occupants were murdered too, protesters or no.
When the killing was over and the plaza cleared of bodies (the victims were bulldozed in to a mass grave forming a gruesome foundation for one of the nearby
office blocks), what followed was, possibly, more sickening than the act itself. When the blood-stained, crimson concrete had been hosed clean, the government washed away all evidence of the atrocity too. They even managed to persuade other countries ruling parties not to take action against Mexico. World powers knew what had transpired and did nothing. Documentary evidence has been found proving that this was the case. One can only assume that the event was swept under the carpet to preserve the prestige of the Olympics. The fact that this is could actually happen sickens me further. The individuals with the most influence in the world decided that it was better not to spoil the games and it was best to hide the truth from their prospective peoples (the people who gave them the power and influence in the first place). These people were deemed unworthy of being told what actually occurs on their planet. A trend which, I am positive, continues to this day. Wouldn't it be refreshing if a government actually told you the truth and let you make up your own mind as to whether you could handle it or not? After all, it's knowing the truth, however
hard it may be, being able to deal with it and do something about it that makes us stronger individuals. Here's a thought- maybe THAT is what the powers-that-be are scared of? Wouldn't it be good to test the theory. How about, come the next election day, instead of trapsing like sheep in to the booth and placing a cross in a box, we all write "No more lies!!" in bloody great letters across the ballot paper and see if they get the message. Somehow, I doubt they would. I don't see that degree of change coming any time soon and, sadly, horrifically, for the victims of the Mexico City massacre, it is already my lifetime too late.
Enough of politics, let's move on to religion. For someone who doesn't believe or have much faith in either I seem to have some pretty opinionated opinions on both, mmmmm! Our second port of call on this three-teired trip was the churches of "Our Lady of Guadalupe." These celebrate a "miracle" from times past when the virgin Mary appeared atop a nearby hill in front of one of the earliest Indian converts to the faith. See, that's the word that gets
me, faith. I have faith in Human nature even though I know we're not perfect and, therefore, it is not a blind faith. It is the blind faith afforded to the Catholic church by some of it's followers in this part of the world that I have trouble with. The way I see it, much of the "faith" in these parts is still rooted in conversion (for which, read brainwashing) where un-educated people were told by far more intelligent ones- "follow our path and don't stray from it or you'll go to hell." It's like telling a small child a scary story to get it to do what you want it to do. Oh, hang on, isn't that what they do to this very day? I rest my case your honour!
The other thing that gets me about the Catholic church is its double standards as evidenced by the slendour of it's places of worship. It seems to see no harm in allowing its followers (as, apparrently happens with great frequency here) to make a family pilgrimage to these churches to donate the equivalent of a months wages when, said family hasn't eaten for a week. Don't get me
wrong, I know, as with most religions, they invest a lot of time and money in very worthy projects around the globe (and the people that carry out this work have a true faith in what they are doing as far as I'm concerned), making a real difference to a great number of people. But, I am also sure that if the Catholic church, somehow, donated it's immense wealth (and I'm going by what I have seen diplayed here and at the Vatican City) then the vast sums raised from its "priceless" treasures could prove to be truly priceless to the entire planet.
Maybe religeous truth is similar to political truth in this vein. It'll all be allright if we do what we're told and not what we can think. This dogma keeps the rich, rich and the poor, poor, the intelligent clever and the un-educated, stupid. Some day, for the sake of all Human Beings these things will change and we must take the oppertunity when it comes. Revoloution and evoloution sound like similar words to me. Power to the people!
Ian "Che" Carmichael.
Enough opinionation, l'sav' sum kultcha 'n' 'ist'ry!
Third and final stop
of the day was Teotihuacan, ancient city of the Aztecs. This is a massive site (the original city spanned more than twenty-four square kilometers). It is home to the third largest pyramid on earth, "The Temple of The Sun." This took two hundred years to build and just had to be climbed. I'd love to tell you how many steps there were but, I was concentrating too much on keeping my burning thighs moving to count them. Impressive as the views from the top were, a much better perspective of the lay out of the city was to be had from "The Temple of The Moon." So, much to the disgust of my aching lower limbs, I climbed that too. The Panorama below, including the larger pyramid and "The Avenue of The Dead", spread out before me like an Eagle's wings in flight. Taking a quiet moment to absorb the energy of the place, I got a sense of the civilisation that had once resided here. They were obviously intelligent and industrious but, it was their ideals and belief system that I found myself in communion with. From what I had observed and learnt throughout the day from our guide,
Two Temples
One way of lifeI felt a connection with the Aztec way of thinking. Their faith in the circle of life, the emphasis on the four elements naturally balancing existence and their acceptance and celebration of the duality of man struck a cord with me. However, I drew a line in agreeing with the Aztec way of life when the subject of Human sacrifice came up. That's a part of the duality I don't condone.
From one type of Mexican culture to another. I left the capital on an overnight bus and, after a restless night, arrived less than refreshed in Chihuahua (where the wee dugs cum fi), north, central Mexico. I wasn't exactly wide awake at the time, having managed to sleep for only a couple of hours, so I checked in to the first "decent" hotel I could find (for the right money, of course). "Decent" being another one of those subjective words depending on the situation and your personal view....... I spent two out of the three nights I stayed at Hotel San Juan (remember the name if you're ever planning a trip there) sharing it's hallowed halls with the prostitutes that plied their trade there! It wouldn't have been
The Sun From The Moon
With very tired legs! quite so bad if I hadn't been able to hear all the nocturnal goings on. But alas, the central air-con vent that linked my room with the one across the hall made it difficult to ignore all the feigned "ay-yi-yis" of false fornication throughout the early hours and this left me, unsurprisingly, somewhat deprived of dream time.
I'd gone to Chihuahua chiefly to catch the "Chepe" train to Creel in northern Mexico's central mountain range. Once there, I discovered that the trips I wanted to take weren't likely to happen due to the distinct lack of tourists in town. Despite the abscence of other gringos in Creel at this time of year I, eventually, managed to catch a couple of tours..... Big four-wheel-drive forrays in to the forests and mountains of Mexico. Over two days we visited indigenous Indian cave dwellings, various valleys featuring fascinating rock formations and Mexico's highest and most scenic waterfalls. The latter was viewd from the peak of an adjacent mountain after a three-quarter of an hour trapse and scramble along a rough, rocky trail amidst a voilent storm. Why do I alwys seem to be climbing mountains in inclement weather? The lashing rain partially
The Chepe Train,
Leaving Chihuahua obscured the vista but, the tempest, with its lightening illuminating cliff faces and thunder creating a cacophony of sound in the canyons below, did make for a dramatic day.
Equally dramatic was the remainder of the train journey through The Copper Canyon to Los Mochis on the Pacific coast. I'm not too sure what the difference is (as you are still sitting in a seat for too many hours, staring out of a window) but, travelling by train is so much more pleasant than getting around by bus. This realisation hit home when I swapped tracks for tarmac at Los Mochis and, after eleven hours on each, I know which one I prefer to be aboard as I watch the world go by.
Without really doing the country the justice it deserves, I had sat and watched Mexico go by. Now, at Nogales on the US border, after nearly five months I was finally leaving Latin America and about to start my Stateside sortie.
See yawl der!
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Mitch
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POWER TO THE PEOPLE!!!