San Cristobal

When I was a kid, my Gran used to call me Christobel. She had a nickname for all of us kids and I liked mine...it sounded so damn sweet, sweeter than I ever was as a child a think.

So I am taking it as no coincidence that we are in a small colonial town in Mexico called San Cristobal. Its in the mountains in the heart of Mayan territory, where ancient culture has mashed up with modernity to make a nice enough town, tourist ready as it may be. There is not alot to do in the town so today we took a trip out to a small village outside of the town called San Juan Chamula.

The only thing to do in Chamula is to go to the Church. There is a market place that sells plenty of good food, jewellery, tapestries etc but the church is the main attraction. I love churches. I love the buildings, the stained glass, the tortured statues of Jesus, the heavy carved wood and their sombre quiet atmosphere. Always thought the worst thing about them was filling them with people and a priest and a bunch of bullshit rhetoric known as religious sermons. But churches I love.

This one was probably the most beautiful church I have ever seen. Its facade was covered in flowers and streamers and it was painted with bright colours. After we bought a ticket to enter (!) we went inside to see it filled with table after table of candles, glowing the most beautiful ambient light. Its walls were fillled with statues of Saints and local people worshipped their god, speaking in a low chant to Whoever. I noticed that in addition to the candles that they burnt in worship, were bottles of soft drink like Coke and Fanta, and found out that they drink this during prayer to cleanse themselves of evil. That and the addition of tour groups walking amongst the worshippers spoiled an incredibly beautiful place for me and I got out. I actually then felt like a complete voyeaur (spelling, sorry G) and wanted to get out of the village as soon as possible.

One of the things about undertaking a trip like this is sometimes I find sightseeing one of the most underwhelming experiences. Everythings been seen, everythings been done and everyone has been there before you. So the only thing unique for me are experiences with people, wether they be other travellers, local people, the shopkeepers, the beggers, the children, the friends you make for life...the rest is commercialised shit and a reflection of how far embedded into capitalism our world really is. When we were in Bolivia on Isla de Sol on Lake Titicaca, one of the girls we were travelling with asked a little girl in gorgeous traditional dress if she could take her photo. The girl, all of about 3 years old said ¨Yes but you have to pay´. She knew that she had what someone else wanted and she had become a comodity, even at her young age, in a place so remote and spookily isolated.

All I know is that when I finish this trip the things I will cherish will be the moments with the people I have met and fallen in love with. There are thousands of them. They cant be captured in any way except in my memory.

PS. Although this is a semi depressing post, I am sitting in the cosiest cafe ever. There is the smell of freshly brewed coffee, a guy singing and playing the most beautiful guitar in the background, Nikki is next to me and we are going to Antigua tomorrow.

I am so happy right now! And I am thinking of you, hoping that wherever you are, you are too...