Homeward Bound

Well, the day has finally come. Today is my last day in Mexico. I spent a little more than 10 weeks here, and I can definitely say that it wasn't enough. At the beginning of my trip I had planned on visiting Guatemala and Nicaragua also, but I ended up enjoying every place I visited in Mexico so much that I stayed much longer than I intended. And I still didn't get to see everything I wanted to see. But there's always the next trip! I really am going to miss traveling. I'm going to miss the food, the music, the adventure. I'm going to miss not knowing where I might end up the next day. I'm going to miss that feeling of arriving in a new place and knowing nothing about it, except that I am eager to explore. But most of all I'm going to miss the people. Locals and other travelers alike have been the real highlight of my trip. For me, one of the blessings of traveling is realizing that wherever you go in this life, people are all the same. I've made some really great friends in this trip, some in the least likely of places. Some I never even knew their names.

Rinus Hartsujker, wherever you are... good luck with all those troubled teens. Roan and Jens, what can I say, except: Lucha Libre and the golden lustre of the Dorado! In Guadalajara, Mike and Claudia were my cohorts in the tequila tour. Emilia, you know how much I appreciate everything you and your family has done for me. My stays in Baja wouldn't have been the same without all of you. And I can't forget to mention Tim from El Patron who was something of a mix of an older brother and a cool uncle to me. And Nate and Matthew, when I started this trip I never imagined our paths would cross, but it was awesome to spend time with you guys as always. In Guanajuato, I'll always have my "otra familia" with Sra. Hernandez, Hugo, Cynthia, Juan, Dafne and Osvaldo. Not to mention my friends from the school, Jeff, Katy and Laurie. I still owe you one Jeff, and I'll pay you back even if I have to fly out to Salem. Laurie and I met up again in Oaxaca and she showed me around a bit, including taking me to a Mexican League baseball game. Good times. In Chiapas, I grouped up with Mauro from Switzerland and Kayo from Japan on our jungle trek. They both humbled me with their deft spanish speaking skills. In Morelia, Patzcuaro and later Mexico City I crossed paths with Trevor, a medical student from Tennessee. We were able to enjoy a cool evening of live music in Patzcuaro with a local trobador. In Paracho, I sampled some hand made guitars with a cool fellow from Australia. I never got his name. And finally, I spent my last evening in Mexico City hanging out with a firecracker named Yesbelin, from Venezuela, who swears there are 6 girls for every guy in Venezuela. I wonder if I can change my return flight from Chicago to Caracas??

Although they may not always appear in the blog or the pictures, these are the real stories behind my trip. Meeting all these people is what makes it possible to bear being so long away from friends and family. But they are more than surrogates for the people I miss; some become good friends in their own right, and the rest make up the beautiful collage of memories that I will always have of my time in Mexico.

Chocolate and Civil Unrest in Oaxaca

It was sort of a last minute decision to head to Oaxaca after I had finished my time in Chiapas. I had considered heading to the Yucatan, but the word from other travelers who had just come from that way was that it was even hotter than Palenque. That was enough to convince me to skip it (for this trip). So I decided to head to Oaxaca, home of the mole (that's "mo-lay" like the sauce, not the blind, burrowing rodent). The bus ride from Palenque to Oaxaca was an 18 hour tour de force that included a 2 hour stopover in San Cristobal (which I wisely utilized to get some more shopping done in SCC's fantastic shops). I arrived in Oaxaca at around 8am, and after the long bus ride and long walk to my hostel, I rewarded myself with a shower, followed by a lazy stroll around the Zocalo and the surrounding streets. I was tempted to take a nap as I hadn't really slept on the bus, but nothing beats travel weariness like hitting the pavement and becoming absorbed in a newly found market. Luckily I managed to find quite a bustling market just south of the Zocalo. At this point, I still hadn't found the tourist office, so I was without a map which made my find even more fortuitous. Although it wasn't a large market, it was vibrant and alive, even on a Thursday morning. The first vendors to greet me as I stepped in were trying to get me to by some Chapulines. Ah, finally! I had heard so much about Oaxaca's delicacy: grasshoppers fried with chili, lime and salt. I declined to break my fast on roast grasshopper but vowed to return. I settled into a comfortable booth at a breakfast vendor and had a nice quesadilla made with local quesillo, Oaxaca's version of string cheese, and flor de calabasa (yes, really pumpkin flowers). I can't say it was that good, but it wasn't bad either. The pumpkin flowers didn't add much taste to the quesadilla, but that might have been because I used alot of salsa. I washed down my food with a drink called atole. And this wasn't just any atole, it was chocolate atole, and it was awesome! Atole is a traditional drink found in many parts of mexico. It is basically made by cooking corn meal, brown sugar, cinnamon, vanilla and sometimes chocolate. I've had it served thickly, almost like porridge, but in this case, it was pretty thin, and it's often served in a bowl. This became my morning ritual in Oaxaca: meander down to some street vendor and have a bowl (or three) of atole and a honking big quesadilla. (In the picture you can see the comales that they use to heat the tortillas and quesadillas, and on the table, the dark green ceramic vase is the container for the atole)


My first day trip in Oaxaca was to visit the Zapotec ruins of Monte Alban. From the perspective of the structures themselves, the ruins were not that impressive. It was the location of the ruins atop a large hill overlooking the valleys in Oaxaca that was the real highlight. Monte Alban was the capital of the Zapotec region which domintated the Oaxacan highlands, and was inhabited from approximately 400BC to 900AD. The site includes several pyramid like structures, an astronomical observatory and a ball court, which is a common feature to almost all pre-Columbian cities (although the exact nature of the game changes from culture to culture, it's interesting that the games between locations are more similar than they are different, an indication of how much interaction there was between all the cultures of Mesoamerica).


While I was in Oaxaca, other than visiting Monte Alban, I neglected most of my tourist duties and didn't see many of the sites that are listed in guidebooks. But I happily filled three full days with little more than urban hiking and exploring the city's impressive markets. The Mercado Abastos located just to the southwest of the city center must be the largest market I've ever seen. Supposedly, Saturday is the biggest day for the market, which was when I went. When I arrived, I found a cluster of vendors that had some items for sale that I was interested in. But I decided to wait since I didn't want to buy anything before I had really had a chance to look around. After about 2 hours of looking around, I decided to go back to those original vendors for my purchase. But it took me 2 more hours just to find them! That's how big the market is. It didn't help that they aisles between stalls are no more than 4 feet wide and packed with so many people that you can't see more thatn 30 feet in any one direction. What a dizzying array of leather goods, kitchen utensils, pirated music, unknown fruits of grotesque shape and shocking colors (including no less than 5 varieties of mango), shoes, meat, live animals... whatever you can imagine, it was there. I wish I had had the guts to take pictures, but I felt a little wierd about snapping photos there. The whole four hours I was there, I was one of only two gringos amid the thousands of vendors and patrons. I felt that if I took pictures it would be like I was making a spectacle of the people and I didn't want to show any disrespect. I'm sure most people would not have had a problem with it, but in those kind of situations I prefer to tread lightly.



So there is this one street south of the Zocalo, Avenida 20 de Noviembre, which has more than half a dozen chocolate shops where you can witness them make the chocolate right in front of you. In fact, they make it to order. You select how much vanilla, cinnamon, almonds, and sugar you want. Then they weigh out the ingredients and grind it into a silky, heavenly paste right in front of you. Wow. It really was like heaven. Of course there are tons of free samples. I've never had fresh chocolate before, and all I can say is... I think I skipped lunch that day, I had so many samples. Many of the people buying the chocolate will use it for use in the mole sauce, or for making atole. They also had packed chocolate of different varieties that is best used for hot chocolate. Don't worry, I am bringing plenty home. Almost 4 kilos worth! I wish I could have brought some of the fresh chocolate home, but I doubt it would get through customs.




My last day in Oaxaca I witnessed something that needs a little backstory. The most important tourism festival in Oaxaca every year is the Guelaguetza, which is a festival celebrating the folk dance and music of the region over a several day period. It's a big deal, and it's big money for the city. However, there have been complaints over the recent years that it's really only the rich people in Oaxaca that benefit from the festival, which isn't really true, but it is true that the tickets are expensive, about $40 US, which is prohibitively expensive for many working class Mexicans. Also, from what I've heard, none of the revenue from the festival goes to any of the indigenous communities around Oaxaca, from which these dances and music largely come. All this has led to a tense situation lately. Maybe you remember last year there were riots in Oaxaca when more than 100,000 school teachers went on strike and the government used police force to quell the demonstrations. Violence broke out and I think 5 people died. I'm not sure exactly how this is related to the protests over the Guelaguetza, but I think the organization APPO (La Asamblea Popular de los Pueblos de Oaxaca) had organized much of the protests last year, and APPO seemed to be behind the Guelaguetza protest this year, but it's hard for me to be sure. Anyway, the government sponsored Guelaguetza is scheduled to be performed this coming weekend. Not to be outdone, an alternative populist Guelaguetza was also organized by the activists and was peformed this past weekend, while I was in Oaxaca. I stumbled onto the Zocalo on Monday morning just as the opening dances were winding down. Shortly thereafter, all the musicians, dancers and spectators marched through the downtown and were headed for the Cerro del Fortin where there is an ampitheatre where the real production was going to be held. All in all, I would estimate that there were 10,000 people or more marching through the streets, music and political chants blaring. I decided it would be fun to tag along, so I joined the marching throng. When the march was close to the destination, they were forbidden passage through the final street by the police. This didn't bode well, but I hung around for a while anyway, because I wanted to see the dancing. I got bored after about 30 minutes of waiting around, and I could tell the crowd was getting restless. I later found out that it was in that exact location where trouble broke out. Three city buses were set on fire, and the police tear gassed the crowd. Although no one was killed from what I heard, it sounded like a scary situation. In a way, I wish I would have stayed. It would have made some great pictures. In that last picture you can see the procession all the way back to the Zocalo where the trees are in the distance. This was only about half of the people in the streets. It was an impressive site.


Before I left town, I couldn't resist the urge to purchase some textiles. I went to a shop called MARO (for Mujeres Artesanas de las Regiones de Oaxaca, which means Women Artisans of the Regions of Oaxaca). It is a cooperative store in which women from the surrounding villages can come and sell their artisan crafts directly to shoppers. This is a better system for them, because they can cut out the costs of the middleman. The prices won't be any cheaper for the consumer, in fact they might be a little more expensive because they are less willing to bargain at this store (as opposed to the street vendors and vendors in the markets, where haggling is fully expected). But the upside for the consumer is the knowledge all the money is going directly to the artesans themselves, and in my case, I got to meet the woman who actually wove the textiles I was admiring. I went into the store with steadfast determination to only buy a single small rug. Anyone who knows me though, knows how hard it is for me to make a decision, especially one that involves money. The short of it is, I walked out with two rugs, both larger than I originally wanted. I just couldn't pass them up, they were both so beautiful. It was really special to talk to the woman who made them, and she even gave me a nice little discount because I couldn't decide between the two. She even offered to show me how she uses the loom (called a Telar) to work her magic. She was so cute. After I took the picture she asked me if I could send her a copy. I said sure and asked for her email, but she just looked at me puzzled and said she didn't have email. So she gave me her rural address in her village. I'm sure it won't be cheap to send her a photo, but she was so eager to see herself in the picture on my digital camera, it will be so worth it to send it to her.

Jungle Boogie

After the fresh highland climate of San Cristobal, I decided to head into the fringe of the jungle to see some Mayan ruins. Palenque was my first stop, and is considered one of the most important archeological sites in the Mayan world. The first thing that one notices when getting off the bus in Palenque town is how freaking hot it is. Whew. Even though it was about 10pm when I arrived, I immediately burst into a full body sweat. Somehow I managed to get a good night's sleep in a dank hotel room that had no AC. There was a fan that had only one speed - scary fast - which sounded like a Cesna engine. But it did the job. Early the next morning I checked into a hotel in the jungle (Maya Bell) and hit the ruins early. The first thing I noticed when I arrived at Maya Bell was the jungle sounds. Birds were screeching, cicadas were chirping, but above it all was the roar of Howler Monkeys. They were so loud it sounded like they were right overhead, though their calls can carry for more than a mile.



The ruins at Palenque are expansive and impressive. The grounds are beautifully landscaped and you have the sense that the excavated sites were literally carved out of the jungle canopy. The Temple of Inscriptions is the largest excavated structure on the grounds and dominates the main plaza. It is the burial site of Pakal, Palenque's most powerful ruler. It is also unfortunately the only structure that we couldn't climb. One thing to keep in mind when viewing the pictures of the ruins is that when they were constructed, they were covered in a white limestone plaster and intricate and ornate patterns were painted in red all over the exterior of the structures.



Later that day, I booked a trip to visit two other Mayan sites deep in the jungle, Yaxchilan and Bonampak. The first site Yaxchilan is particularly impressive because of its location. We had to take a 45 minute boat ride to reach the site. The Usumacinta River is a natural border between Guatemala and Mexico and Yaxchilan is located right on the river's bank. Like Palenque it is a fairly large site, and only a fraction has been excavated. Yaxchilan stands out as a Mayan site due to the impressive roof combs many of the structures had, including the main temple at the Grand Acropolis. Many of the building have fantastically preserved stellae and bas-relief carvings. While exploring the Grand Acropolis, I even caught a glimpse of some spider monkeys eating some fruit in a nearby tree. Yaxchilan was a center of power in the Usumacinta Province for almost 400 years before was abandoned sometime around 900 AD.



Our final stop for the day was Bonampak, a smaller site than the previous two, but important for the murals that have been preserved inside some of the buildings. Like Yaxchilan, the location of the ruins are as impressive as the ruins themselves. It's hard not to feel a little like Indiana Jones as you are walking among towering trees, hanging vines and come upon a crumbling temple, half-buried by jungle growth. Bonampak is notable because of the size of many of the stellae found on the site. Stellae are carved pieces of limestone which depict important events in a the city's history, or the ruler's life. Much of what is known about Mayan history has been uncovered through careful reading of the stellae. Some of the stellae located at Bonampak are over 20 feet tall and contain richly carved depictions of Mayan kings.



My final day in the jungle included a guided hike through the jungle to observe wildlife. The most impressive of all the trees in the jungle is the Ceiba tree. The Ceiba was particularly important to the Mayan religion as it symbolized the link between the three worlds, the underworld, the middle earth and the land of the gods. The tree in the picture is estimated to be about 700 years old. While on our hike, we saw countless waterfalls and crossed several streams on rickety "fallen log" bridges. As a welcome reward for our arduous hike, we stopped at a beatiful stream, in between a series of cascades and had a nice long swim. Although we didn't spot any monkeys as I had hoped, it was a very worthwhile hike. Several times I heard the distinctive clatter of the toucan, but we never caught a glimpse. Part of the problem is that the jungle canopy is so dense, it's hard to see for any great distance.

Natural Wonders of Chiapas

I feel like I say this about every place I write about, but... I really love this place. No really. Chiapas is different than any other state I've visited in Mexico so far, environmentally and culturally. Although there are indigenous populations throughout Mexico, Chiapas is probably the heart of Mexico´s indigenous people. It was in Chiapas (in San Cristobal in fact) that the Zapatista rebellion started in 1994. The indigenous people organized and formed armed guerilla groups that took control of some of the towns in this state, including San Cristobal. They were fighting for more freedom, better representation and basic human rights like access to health care and education. The central issue to the EZLN (the Zapatista National Liberation Army) though was that they wanted more autonomy, more control over the land they live on, and the ability to govern themselves according to their own beliefs and customs.


The indigenous people here are of Mayan descent, and in culture and appearance are very similiar to the indigenous people of Guatemala. In fact, to me they are almost indistinguishable. One of the key points the Zapatista leaders made was that the colonization and subjugation of the indigenous people of Mexico began 500 years ago with the arrival of the Spanish, but for them it is still happening. They face constant pressure to give up their values, beliefs and traditional way of life as they become ever marginalized and left behind in modern Mexico. The Zapatista uprising brought these issues to the international stage. I only remember a little bit from when it was making news; since I was in college at the time, I was probably a little too self absorbed to really pay much attention to it though. The armed conflict between the Mexican government and the Zapatistas came to a close in about 2002, when various peace accords were finally ratified, giving the indigenous people much more autonomy within their own communities. It should be mentioned though, that after the initial year of uprising, by far the majority of the armed conflict was waged on the part of the Mexican government. The EZLN always strived the achieve a dignified peace through dissemintaion of information and involvement of the civil international community. After the accords in 2001, however the governments plans did little or nothing to address the staggering poverty and poor services that these communities continue to struggle with. I'm writing about this because I visited two of these indigenous villages this week, and their stories really made an impression on me.

First we visited the town of San Juan Chamula, which is inhabited by the indigenous Tzotzil Maya people. The town enjoys unique autonomous status within Mexico, which means the Mexican government must ask permission to meddle in their affairs. No outside police or military are allowed in the village. When we arrived, we were given strict instructions about when and how we are permitted to take pictures. Like many indigenous people, they believe that having their picture taken results in them losing part of their soul. As such, we were told not to take pictures of anyone close up without asking permission, and no pictures are allowed under any circumstances inside buildings of religious or political importance.



We visited a church, where they practiced a very unique blend of Catholicism and Mayan religions. When Chamula gained it's autonomy, the local priest (who was not indigenous) was kicked out, and they have since ran the church themselves. There aren't priests as we would think of them, but citizens take yearly turns to act as caretakers of the church and perform basic services for the people. There are no scheduled masses, but rather the church is a place on constant religious practice. From the outside, the church resembled a typical colonial church, but inside, it couldn't have been more different. The entire floor was covered with fresh pine needles, which gave it a fantastic fresh smell. Three of the walls were lined with glass altars containing various Saints in the Catholic tradition. When we visited there there about 30 people spread throughout the church kneeling on the floor (there are no pews or tables to speak of) praying at the various altars, or receiving medical and/or spiritual care. The holy men were attending the people, giving out candles, which the people burn on the floor (always in multiples of 3) according to their needs and prayers. Some of them brought eggs and even a chicken. These are used in healing ceremonies which the healers perform right there. I'm sure you can guess what happens to the chicken. Well, the priest (for lack of a better word) takes the chicken by the legs and passes it over the body of the person with the ailment. From what I understand, usually the chicken is used to treat injuries from accidents or ailments with sudden onset. As the chicken passes over the body, it is said to be absorbing the bad energies or spirits that are afflicting the person. When the procedure is complete, the priest breaks the neck of the bird, and then will bury it at the site that the injury or illness first occurred. In addition to this metaphysical sort of healing, the healers also administer more traditional methods, including application of poulstices of herbs, salts, fats and lemon juice for a cold for example. One of the other strange things I noticed while in the church was that all of the parishioners had a carbonated beverage of some sort. For some reason (no one seems to know exactly why, for sure), carbonated beverages, especially Coca-Cola and Pepsi, are believed to be help the cleansing of the spirit. (From what I could tell, this wasn't just an evil marketing ploy on the part of the softdrink makers). I really wish I could have taken some pictures inside the church, because my feeble words can't begin to describe what it was like. I felt very priviledged to have been allowed to witness it.




The second village we visited was Zinacantan. In Zinacantan, we also visited the town church, which was strikingly different. There were no pine needles on the floor, and it resembled a more traditional catholic church, though with the same abundance of altars and candles. After the church, we visited a family of textile weavers to see how a typical family lives. In many indigenous communities, women hold a position of prestige and power that is surprising. In most of the indigenous Mayan world, the communities each have a distinct identity, which is in part represented by the traditional clothes they wear. Each community has a specific pattern that identifies them as being from that particular community. For example, the women of Zinacantan all wear black cotton skirts with modest floral patterns embroidered near the waist. Their shirts are of a simple pattern (sometimes striped, sometimes plain with flowers), but most of the women adorn themselves with beautifully embroidered shawls of black, purple, green and iridescent blue. The women who maintain the traditional arts of weaving their unique intricate fabrics are especially revered. We were able to observe the matron of the family preparing fresh tortillas, which we were able to sample with a paste made from dried pumpkin seeds and homemade salsa. It was so good. I never would have thought a tortilla with pumpkin seeds would be so delicious. As a snack, we were served what appeared to be small black toasted seeds. Turned out they were huge ants that had been toasted on the 'comal' (used to cook the tortillas). I tried one, and I have to admit it was pretty good. It had a unique nutty taste, and was very crunchy. We washed our food down with posh, a sort of moonshine made from corn. Not so good. After, we were able to observe one of the young girls working the handloom and purchase some of their handiwork. It's so amazing to see the end product and see how little technology goes into their fabrication. And that they are using the same methods and traditions passed down over hundreds if not thousands of years.




After we arrived back in San Cristobal, I was left with such a sense of pride the people have. They live relatively simple lives, and they want to keep it that way. Sure, their lives are polluted by the inevitable machinations of modernity (many people in the towns have cars and cellphones), but for the most part they want to live in their communities, care for their families, live off the land, and hold on to their heritage. After seeing it all upclose, the bloody rebellion that took place not even 20 years ago, seemed to make a whole lot more sense. These are people who just want to be left alone to live their lives as they see fit, and in many ways they are no more Mexican than I am.

Moved on.... to Chiapas

It was with heavy heart that I left Guanajuato. I became really close to alot of people there, including the Mexican family I stayed with, other students in La Escuela Mexicana (my language school) and several of the teachers there as well. (Photo included of my favorite teachers and some of my classmates, as well as me and Jeff posing in front of our family's house) It seems that no matter how long I stay somewhere, I always end up leaving without having done everything I wanted to do. I guess that is all the more reason to go back someday. I definitely plan on returning to Guanajuato in the future. But it was time to move on.

My next desination was to be San Cristobal de las Casas, the cultural heart of Chiapas, in the south of Mexico. But getting there from Guanajuato was not so easy. So as to avoid a hellishly long bus trip (about 20 hours from Guanajuato), I took a bus to Mexico City where I booked a cheap flight into Tuxtla Guiterrez, about an hour outside of San Cristobal
I ended up staying overnight in Mexico City in order to take the early flight on Sunday morning. I ended up oversleeping a little on Sunday and was in a bit of a rush to catch my flight. If everything went smoothly, I'd arrive at the airport about 50 minutes before my flight (but when does everything go smoothly when you need it to?). I grabbed a quick shower, scarfed the complimentary breakfast and hoofed it to the nearest metro station (but not before making a quick stop at an ATM, which would prove to be a fateful decision).


For a Sunday morning, the subway was surprisingly busy, and my route to the airport would require me to take four different lines. The first time I switched subway lines, I was waiting with a crowd of people to get on the green line. The usual mad rush ensued when the train came to a stop and the doors to the train car opened. Right when I stepped onto the subway car, a middle aged guy sort of stopped right in front of me, rather than continue to the opposite (open part) of the car. I thought this odd at the time, especially since he was blocking my way (me being much encumbered with my large backpack and my smaller one slung over the front of me) and everyone was pushing me from behind to get on the train before the doors closed.
Even stranger, he didn't seem to be bothered that me and everyone else was pushing him from behind. After three or four seconds of this, he finally gave way and I slid past and took a position a little further away. I was a little stressed because I was worried about not making my flight. As I got off three stops later to switch to another line, I went to reach into my pocket to check the time on my cell phone. I discovered that my shorts pocket was unzipped, which was a bit surprising, since I -always- keep it zipped to protect my cell phone and loose change. When I reached in to get my cell phone, I realized that my wallet was gone. Ugghh! I panicked, not really knowing what happened. Then I realized, that the commotion when I boarded the last train was just a diversion to occupy me for a few seconds while some deft thief unzipped my shorts pocket and took the wallet. I was cursing myself for not having returned my wallet to my backpack (after having just taken cash out from the ATM), as I usually do, but in my rush I had put it off. I was so disappointed with myself for being careless and allowing myself to be taken advantage of. So I was faced with a decision: do I continue with my trip and go to the airport, or do I stay in Mexico City and try to sort everything out? My cavalier side got the better of me and I decided to forge ahead and have faith that everything would work out. I was able to get a hold of Matthew, who saved me and canceled my two credit cards that I lost, but I was still without a means to get any more cash (since I had lost my debit card... which in my haste, I hadn't returned to my passport wallet which I keep buried in my small backpack). I have to admit I did have a little trepidation to get on a flight with only 22 pesos (2 bucks) in my pocket and no real way to get any more cash. But it has all worked out (or is working itself out as we speak). When I arrived in Tuxtla Guiterrez, I bummed a ride to San Cristobal in a taxi with two other travelers (thanks Dave and Stacey!). When I arrived, I pleaded with the owner of a hostel to have mercy on me and let me have a room on credit until I could get my situation straightened out. I was starting to get nervous when I had visited my 10th ATM machine in town, none of which would accept my single remaining credit card, and American Express (curse you Amex!).
I finally found a bank that had a Western Union office within, and what's more, it was open on a Sunday afternoon. I was able to get a hold of my parents, who of course graciously bailed their precious son out of trouble (thanks Mom and Dad!). So all is well for the moment, and now I'm just anticipating the arrival of my replacement ATM card. It will probably be a minor miracle if it arrives to such a remote destination, but if you're an unweary traveler, sometimes you have to believe in minor miracles to make it through tough times without getting too stressed out. I'd like to close this entry by saying that this incident of being robbed on the metro -in no way- has changed my feeling of safety while traveling in Mexico. It happened because I was careless and made a mistake, not because traveling in Mexico is unsafe. The same scene could have happened (and I'm sure has happened) in New York, Los Angeles, or London. Although, with my newly honed mad language skillz, I feel the need to rant in spanish: ¡Pinche chilango! En serio, aquel chavo me hacía güey, pero a menos no me metió chingadazos... (sorry for the foul language)

So far, I really like San Cristobal. It's a beautiful colonial city, and reminds me alot of Antigua, Guatemala with the exception that San Cristobal is a bit less polished and much bigger. Like Antigua, it's laid out on a perfect grid pattern, with cobblestone streets. One or two story shops, painted in vibrant colors make up the central part of the city, which is ringed by lush, verdant mountains. There's even a heavy afternoon downpour everyday. All it lacks is the shadow of a huge volcano looming over the city, and it would be Antigua. I should be here most of the week, so stay tuned.