Chiapas with the Rents

We’ve been enjoying showing Mum and Dad round Mexico, starting with St Cristobal. They arrived Saturday afternoon, after very gamely managing a night in Mexico airport and an internal transfer without any Spanish to help them on their way.

We started with a harmless trip to the Zocalo and a quiet introduction to Mexican food, then showed them the graveyard. The graveyard is the only place to be on a Sunday, with locals buying ice cream, snacks and mangos on sticks to take with them while they visit their ancestors. An arch over the entrance says something like “life is only temporary, welcome to the real world”, which is cheery. Many of the tombs are like huge brightly painted houses, with some relatives leaving gifts for the dead such as Coca Cola and alcohol, as well as the more traditional flowers.













We took a trip down the Sumidero Canyon, but failed to visit the Eco Park again (too windy – my prediction is that it will close down before the end of the year since getting there is a quest akin to the search for the Holy Grail). We tried to show Mum and Dad the real Mexico by getting a second class bus down to Tuxtla, but the driver failed to stop in the right place so the real Mexico included a slightly hairy walk down the edge of the motorway, stepping over the corpse of a (very) dead dog.









On the canyon we saw crocs, pelicans and a huge iguana, and we finished off our day of wildlife with a trip to Tuxtla Zoo. The Zoo only contains animals from the state, with the result that there are as many animals to see out of the cages as there are in them. A group of howler monkeys has taken up residence in the trees, while large rodent like animals hop around everywhere and deer feed in the ground. The puma (in a cage, thankfully) took an unhealthy interest in Daisy and kept jumping up in an attempt to reach her.












Mum and Dad also participated in St Cristobal life with a trip to Mariet and Enrique’s house for tacos al pastor (the best local takeaway option). Not normally on any tour itineraries, but they coped well with the usual chaos. Daisy tearfully said goodbye to Pablo and Itamar. We also had a final coffee time with Eneas, Mari and family, where they were particularly interested in Dad’s lack of hair (not many bald people here).














We also took the traditional pilgrimage to Chamula, the local indigenous town, to see how Mayan culture and Catholicism mix. Paul stayed at home to pack the bags so I did my first guided tour. The Chamulans are a fierce bunch who don’t like photos taken of their traditional practices. I only just managed to stop Dad taking a shot of some traditionally dressed town grandees. They do dress just like Morris Dancers so it is difficult to believe that they don’t put it on for the tourists.














We did our final shopping, said our last goodbyes, and prepared to leave St Cristobal for the jungle. The night before we left we finally got round to booking our transport for the first leg, to Ocosingo – which is how we ended up leaving town in a giant minibus big enough for at least twelve people. We know how to make an exit.











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The first stop on our Mexico tour is Palenque, the Mayan site deep in the jungle. We chose to do the five-hour journey in two legs, with a stop for lunch in Ocosingo – a cheese-making town that sees few tourists, despite some excellent Mayan ruins.

We were clearly the talk of the town in Ocosingo when we arrived in our bus with enough luggage for an army. Ocosingo is cowboy country, and all the caballeros were out on the terrace drinking strong coffee when we rolled into town. Having a baby with you opens every door in Mexico, however, so we were made thoroughly welcome.













We went to see the tianguis, the local indigenous market, where we were more stared at than the women in their colourful costumes. Ocosingo was the site of the bloodiest battles in the Zapatista uprising in 1994, but the town is mostly quiet, with any struggles between the indigenous people and local Spanish descendant landowners being limited to Zapatistas seizing ranches in the middle of the night.












Our bus from Ocosingo was a stomach-churning ride through the jungle, passing Zapatista controlled areas, waterfalls, and children selling mangos, sugarcane and drinks by the side of the road. The kids dozed through it while the rest of us kept our eyes grimly on the road. We were all glad to arrive at Palenque for a three-night stay.

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Palenque, although the site of some of the most impressive Mayan ruins in Mexico, is nothing to write home about as a town, which is why we decided to stay in the jungle. We also chose an uncharacteristically posh hotel thanks to a good discount. They seemed to be more used to tour groups than they were to kids, but soon adapted to Daisy’s desire to wander around with her dolly over breakfast while Clover ate more bread than they could possibly imagine.











Paul and I have been to Palenque many times, but Daisy’s presence enhanced the trip in all sorts of ways. I had never noticed how good ceremonial pyramids are for playing houses, for example. Her highlight of the trip was when we stopped for lunch at a restaurant where the proprietors had two little girls. We didn’t see her all lunchtime as she was too busy playing tea parties and eating chips out of the kitchen.












Even the poshest of hotels can’t be entirely sure of all of their guests. We were leaving for a restaurant by taxi one evening when we drove past an enormous snake on the path. It was so large (one and a half metres long) that we assumed it was a constrictor, but later found out it was one of the most venomous snakes in Chiapas (which is well known for snakes) with a reputation for unpredictability and irritability. The staff killed it while we were out but we were still a little nervous of the long grass.













On a nicer note, Mum and Dad also saw howler monkeys in the trees around the site (we were too busy with our howler baby, who was teething) as well as kingfishers and egrets. We swam in the river, which was pretty warm, as well as in the hotel pool.













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Our next stop was Mexico City, for a quick trip to the urban jungle. We flew from Villahermosa up to Mexico and then stayed in a B&B called Chillout Flat – a fantastic place just a few blocks from the absolute centre square. They’d never had children staying before but were very warm and welcoming. We had time for a quick trip to the Zocalo in the morning to see the Diego Rivera murals (fantastic) and the leaning cathedral. We also had time for an ice-cream (Daisy has the best ideas) before nearly missing our bus for the five-hour trip to Acapulco.

Cookery class

As our time in St Cristobal draws to a close, we realise we still have to teach Mariet how to use the present we gave her (a blackbird pie funnel). That means holding a cooking class.












We even got the kids involved. Daisy, Itamar and Pablo made biscuits while I prepared some pastry, and Mariet taught me how to make empanadas, which are a sort of deep fried cornish pasty (healthy!). Mariet's Mum Conche made cheese straws from my spare pastry, and looked after Clover while we cooked.














While we were there, we got a text to say that Mum and Dad had arrived in Mexico City and were at their hotel. This was a great relief considering they don't speak Spanish and had to clear customs and find a taxi. They are staying with us here for nearly a week before we go on a road trip and finally fly home.

Chozita

It's slightly embarrassing to realise that none of my blogging has actually mentioned the children's project that we support out here. We have been busy, honest, both seeing the kids again and having meetings with people running other projects out here who might be able to help out.












La Chozita is a small group of secondary age children who come several afternoons a week (they have school in the mornings) to an education centre to get help with homework and extra teaching in various subjects. Without the project, nearly all of the students would have left school at primary level, and as it is three of them have gone on to university.

The charity currently pays a beca, or scholarship, to the children. It's not a vast amount of money, but for some of them it pays the rent on the family house, and keeps them in school. If it wasn't for this money, some of these children would be spending their days selling craft items or snacks on the street rather than going to school.














The students are indigenous, mainly Tzotzil speaking, in a state where the average indigenous wage is a third that of the general average, because of lack of education and opportunity. We hope that they will grow up to become leaders in their communities and fulfil their own potential thanks to the help Chozita has given them.










Like many small charities, Chozita has a tendency to lurch from crisis to crisis. It's been hard to run the project from London, and this has never been our intention, but sometimes we've lacked people on the ground. Enrique is now in charge in St Cristobal, and though this is a bit strange for us, he seems to have an excellent bond with the students and is spending a lot of time with them.












Mexico can be a hard country to fundraise for. On the surface, it's quite a developed nation, and the students we're working with are not starving. They have shoes on their feet and clothes on their backs, which means the need they are in can go unnoticed. But when you scratch the surface you realise some have health problems due to malnutrition, some are suffering violence within their families and communities. Without projects like Chozita, there would be little hope for their future.

As it is, we met up with one of the ex students this week who is now at university in St Cristobal. Her sister is at university in Tuxtla. It was good to hear how she is doing, even though the work is tough for her. We've also visited the project to see how the remaining Chozitos are doing, and found them working on their maths and making traditional numeracy games.












Seeing the project and hearing some of their stories has made us all the more aware that what Chozita is doing is crucial. We'd like to grow what it is doing, and the meetings we've had have helped us to realise that the project occupies a unique space in a city where there are plenty of other projects going on. And we've found some people who might be able to help out too - so that feels like a positive thing.

http://www.lachozita.org/ (copy and paste into your browser to view)

Beach bumming

Puerto Arista is not counted among the great coastal resorts of Mexico - and that's why we love it so much. It's on the Chiapas coast, and until recently it was a five or six hour trip from St Cristobal. Now, thanks to a new motorway carved through great swathes of rock, it's a minimum of two and a half hours away.. I suspect that might change its curious and sleepy charm pretty soon.




















We set off on public transport for the coast on Sunday morning, and had to change vehicles several times before we finally made it. Every time we changed it got hotter and the kids got crosser. We were all (including Enrique, Mariet and family) crammed into one taxi for much of the journey.












Once we arrived at the beach though, the stickiness seemed worth it. There is nothing to do at Puerto Arista except swim, eat fish and order cold drinks. That was enough to make us all very happy.












We stayed in some cabañas in a coconut and mango grove, which were basic but clean. At night, the grove was magical, lit by the stars and the moon. Daisy was very taken with her 'moon shadow' and her tent (mosquito net) over her bed. Clover, unfortunately, has been teething for a few nights and found the night away somewhat trying. I fed her several times out on the porch in the middle of the night, listening to the waves and feeling a million miles from anywhere.



















Out of season, Puerta Arista doesn't see much tourism and we had the beach pretty much to ourselves, apart from local families who came to exclaim over Clover's blue eyes and our general paleness. We set ourselves up under large palapas (shaded open thatched buildings) and ordered fish in various guises. The kids spent almost the entire day in the water, stopping only for tortilla breaks and large glasses of jamaica (hibiscus tea).




















On the way home, the taxi driver was kind enough to stop so we could buy mangos by the roadside, sold by ladies who cut them into strips and put them in bags for convenience. They were seriously good. Then the tired kids dozed on our laps all the way back home, grubby with sand and mango juice.



















Despite their grubbiness, Daisy and Clover caused the usual sensation at St Cristobal bus station. The girl in front of us looked at our grubby eldest daughter and said to her friend " How wonderfully beautiful she is - and oh look there is another one behind her". To which her friend replied: "Don't say anything, you'll give her the (evil) eye".

It's a constant concern for people here that children who get too many compliments will attract a malinfluence, which can only be averted by wearing an amber bracelet. Daisy would love an excuse for some jewellery, but I would have thought her general grubbiness would have put most people off.










This morning, Daisy's first words to me were. "Can I go back to the beach today"... so I think the trip was an unqualified success.

Living the local life

As the days slip by in St Cristobal, our lives become more and more in sync with the rest of the population. Lunch comes at four o clock, and dinner is a snack after the kids have gone to bed. A good day involves a trip down the walking street, a drink in a cafe and at least one visit to a friend that stretches to epic proportions.

I have given up trying to manage what's going on (hard for a control freak like me). I barely intervene when Clover is offered a lollipop or two (she has no teeth, it's hardly going to ruin them) or when Daisy is given yet another sugary soft drink - though I do draw the line at Coca Cola. We have a whole set of photos that I should label 'not for NCT' as I feel I will be ostracised forever if the local mums ever get hold of them.




















I save my protests for really important occasions, such as when Daisy is seated on a wobbly chair balanced on another chair above a fire, or when Clover is given a chilli. I suspect I probably come across as 'overprotective mum' but really I feel I am being quite lax.




















The kids seem to be thriving on it. Daisy is becoming more Mexican by the day, especially now Mari has given her a rather drastic haircut. She resembles a Lacandon Indian (albeit a very pale one). The Lacandones come from deep in the jungle, and were the last of the Mayan tribes to remain untouched by civilisation. Daisy also remains untouched by civilisation, so perhaps the haircut is a good clue. Clover's 'mummy's girl' phase seems to be ending, so she's now spending plenty of time touring round other people's kitchens, serving in Mari's shop, etc.

Today Daisy learnt to tortillear, and I learnt that there really is a verb that means 'to make tortillas'. We were visiting a family from church. They're an indigenous family that live in the city, and the Mum was making tortillas by hand over a fire when we got to the house (we arrived at one, for lunch, but it was 4:30 before we actually ate). It was impressive to see the tortillas being made, and they tasted fantastic. Daisy's efforts were a bit doughy, but she had lots of fun.














Meanwhile, I've been stretching my Spanish to the limit, at a special Valentine's themed women's evening at the Baptist church. I'm not good at biblical anagrams at the best of times, and when Adam is spelt ADAN, and Jerusalem ends in an 'N' I don't stand a chance.

I also fell down on my choice of gift. We all had to bring a cup with some sweets in it as a present for another lady in the group. I didn't realise that this was a special Valentine's thing, which is why the poor girl who got my gift ended up with a Christmas cup by mistake (well, I thought it looked nice). I comfort myself with the fact that cultural confusion is inevitable - Paul once brought our friend Mariet a large armful of the special flowers they use for the dead here. She was quite startled.













We're off to the beach tomorrow morning, for Clover's first taste of sun, sand and prawn empanadas. I'll be keeping the coconut and gin cocktails away from her though. Even I'm not that laid back.

Playpark of fear: reprise

There I was thinking that the Parque Infantil in St Cristobal was as scary as you could get, but it turns out that it cannot hold a candle (or even a broken, sharpened candlestick) to its rival in Chiapas' capital city, Tuxtla Gutierrez.












We had a grand day out with our friends Mariet and Enrique and their kids. Even though we had gone down to the 'hot land' at the bottom of the mountains it was still a little too chilly to spend all day in the unheated swimming pool drinking beer and eating fish tacos. That's where the playpark of terror came in.












We were greeted with what looked like a lot of rather nice playground equipment. Daisy and Itamar made their way up the slides at once, but then found their way obstructed when they tried to get down again with the sort of yellow tape they use at a police incident. What's more it said 'Peligroso' - 'Dangerous' all over it.














This scene was repeated several times before we could find a slide they could actually go down. Even then, I wasn't convinced that the tape hadn't simply been removed.













To add to the fun, the playpark had been embellished with a series' of charming 'tableaux' of popular fairy tales and stories. I particularly enjoyed the statues of Guilliver and the Lilliputians, most of whom appeared to be missing a nose or one of their ears.














Still, the kids don't seem to have had any nightmares. They went on a number of rides (we picked the least scary looking) and generally had a good time. Afterwards we went for pizza in St Cristobal's version of Pizza Express. Daisy, Pablo and Itamar got to make their own pizzas (well, arrange the toppings anyway), and then got to work with the crayons provided on their placemats. I think they must have put off any other possible clientele since we were the only people in there. We left a good tip, at least.














Back home, Daisy is still missing Larry the neighbour. His nonappearance on the balcony totally nonplusses her. She is convinced he is simply hiding in his flat and keeps bellowing "larry, are you there?". She also spends a lot of time peering over the railings 'looking for Larry'. I fear he will never return.

El Dia de Amor

Valentine's Day, and obviously there are few things more romantic to do than go on a trip to a pine forest with a Baptist Church. Beats a candlelit dinner anytime.
Picnics in Mexico are a somewhat different experience than at home, although the weather on Sunday was somewhat like a spring day in the UK. For a start you don't want to bother packing sandwiches. Oh no, what you need is an entire chicken or two, a big pot of beans and a couple of kilos of tortillas. Oh, and some refrescos (fizzy drinks) of course... and a big bag of crisps, and another big bag of crisps, and a huge load of mayonnaise.




















Anything else you might be missing (more refrescos, even more crisps and mangos on sticks) can be bought on site.













After the death-defying play equipment in the Parque Infantil I was delighted to see a huge concrete slide at our picnic destination. It came with an ominous warning sign "children, please ride in the middle" - the assumption being that they would probably fall off if they went on the edges. Daisy loved it. The only problem was that it didn't go fast enough.













Clover had fun too. I looked away for a moment and she had stolen an entire chicken leg using her amazing extendable arm. She ate the lot, as well. Then she was passed around the entire church. Daisy spent some quality time duelling with a complete stranger using the roasted sweetcorn on a stick we'd bought for her.















All in all, a good day. Possibly the best mango I've ever eaten, as well.