The Epic Journey Continues: Days 26-32. San Juan Chamula, Palenque, Edzna

Day 26: San Cristobal de Las Casas, San Juan Chamula

This is an intensive trip. I'm traveling faster than I can write, no time to see or digest it all. I'm on the run from 6 a.m. to midnight. It's good for my health. I don't snack and I sleep better.

Today I signed up for a half-day tour, a visit to Chamula, which has become a Mecca due to its blend of pagan and Catholic rites. Victor, our guide, knew as much as any anthropologist about the people. He even spent 2 years with subcomandante Marcos, not living with him, but providing assistance and liaison to the Spanish newspaper correspondent Valentino Diaz.

Chamula is 6 miles and centuries apart from San Cristobal. At the edge of town, we stopped at a cemetery silhouetted by a burned out shell of a church that stood silent in back of the graveyard. Many graves were brown, covered with pine needles. Victor said, "Pine needles connect people with the earth. In homes needles are spread on the floor."

Victor explained why the church was a forlorn skeleton. He said, "Too many pine needles, too many candles, and too much liquor."

He pointed out the crosses in the cemetery, "White for innocent children, blue or green are for adults, black signifies old age, and the ones with rounded tops, those identify a Mayan."

I mentioned syncretism. Victor took offense and said, "Son Catholicos! Con sus propios gustos. (They are Catholics! With their own preferences.)"

We drove into Chamula and parked near Templo San Juan. We entered the church. It was brilliantly lit with thousands of candles. Photographs were forbidden.

There were large pictures of saints around the church and many groups seated on the floor were clustered here and there, conducting their own services. Shamans and healers had replaced priests.

It was a special province. A resident priest was not allowed. Victor said, "Only visiting priests are allowed to come for baptisms." Here John the Baptist and saints were venerated.

Believers sat crossed legged on the floor and were staring and self-confessing into mirrors. Shamans conducted rituals with live chickens. Evil spirits were coaxed from the ill and suffering into a chicken, as a scapegoat. Later the chicken is strangled. There were traditional herbs, Mayan medicines, and psychic cures.

Coca Cola bottles stood out incongruently. Victor said, "Worshipers drink Coke and Tequila and bring food. The food and drink nourishes the gods and saints. Mayans believe in reincarnation and the gods passing through need energy for their long journeys. Coke helps the believer to burp out, to purify himself from evil spirits."

We left the church. Victor said, "Take a walk through the open-air market. It's very colorful. We'll meet at the van in 30 minutes. Then drive to Zincanta for lunch."

Expenses: Tour: Chamula, Zincanta $15, Meals $24, Hotel La Noria $30, Total: $69.

Day 27: Agua Azul, Misol-Ha, Palenque

There was a winding mountainous, jungle highway, between San Cristobal and Palenque, where Nature had created two spectacular water cascades, Agua Azul (Blue Water) and Misol-Ha (Water Falls).

These two wonderlands, white water churning over boulders, with torrents falling, spray rising, are missed if one takes a bus. You need to stop and make a side trip to enjoy the nature trails that follow the rivers in the forest shade that lead to calm, still water pools with sandy beaches. It's a paradise that entices swimmers, mostly stoic Europeans determined to ignore the chilly water for the memory and a beautiful photo framed by green jungle flora, broad leafed plants, a mix of tall and spreading trees, with a background of a cascading white water curtain.

The bright, cheerful young clerk at the Tourist Office in Tuxtla suggested Tratamundo (Globetrotters) Tours and Travel. She said, "They will take you to Agua Azul, Misol-Ha and Palenque, and if you wish they will drop you off in Palenque." That sounded like "two birds one stone."

The cost of a direct bus ticket from Tuxtla to Palenque was $12. The traveler would still have to taxi out to Palenque's Mayan ruins and miss Agua Azul and Misol-Ha. Tratamundo offered all three sites and a drop off in the town of Palenque for $28.

I signed up with Tratamundo. Rafael, the driver, said, "It will be a long day, 210 kilometers and 210 topes (speed bumps that slow traffic passing through villages)."

Palenque, once lost and buried in jungle overgrowth, was excavated in the '40s. In 1952, Alberto Ruz Lhuillie, an archeologist, was curious about a slab floor inside the Temple of Inscriptions atop the pyramid. He removed the floor and discovered a corbelled arched tunnel. The tunnel led from the top of the pyramid to below a ground level tomb. Here he found the Tomb of Pakal sealed in a massive richly carved stone sarcophagus.

A photo of Pakal's sarcophagus lid was used on the cover of Erich von Daniken's book, Chariots of the Gods. Von Daniken hypothesized that ancient astronauts helped build the pyramids.

Inspired by Von Daniken's description, I took my family to Palenque in June 1975. We boarded a train in Mexico City and jostled to Palenque on a train filled with soldiers. It was a 24-hour ride. We were privileged to ride in old Pullman sleeper cars. The soldiers had to sleep on non-reclining wooden slatted seats. Now the roads are better, buses excellent, and there are no more passenger trains.

On the day of our visit in 1975, my family of 6 accounted for most of the visitors who came to see and explore Palenque. My children, then ages 8 and 6, and I climbed the pyramid and descended the narrow, slippery, seeping-water staircase to Pakal tomb.

Carelessly, as I opened my camera bag, a battery dropped out and bounced passed the protective grating, landing next to Pakal sarcophagus, out of reach.

Temples and courtyards were adorned with Mayan bas-reliefs, which were telling stories and giving evidence to their greatness. The Palace, with a square top, looked like a Spanish church tower without a bell.

Today, I was surprised to find Palenque well maintained, a visitor's center, but sections roped off. The pyramid is off limits to climbers, and the entrance to Pakal's tomb is once again sealed.

Tratamundo dropped me off in the town of Palenque. I was happy to avoid the three-hour ride back to Tuxtla. It was late, but there was still light. In the main square they were preparing for the celebration of the Virgin of Guadalupe.

Expenses: Taxi $2, tour bus $28, meals $20, Hotel Cathedral $17, entrances fees $4. Total: $71.

Day 28: Yaxchilán and Bonampak

STP (Servicios Turisticos de Palenque) picked me up at 6 a.m. for a trip back in time, to a Lost World. We had a long day ahead. Our destinations: Yaxchilán and Bonampak.

This was European backpack country, few Americans, but today my seatmate was Deborah, a health benefits administrator from Wisconsin, who was traveling alone. We were a mixed group, English, Spanish, Italian, Mexican, and a German, mostly couples. Europeans seek cultural adventures, and Mexico is "land exotic" to them.

STP headed out of town. Our first stop would be breakfast. I mentioned to the driver, "Looks like a new road." "It's the Marcos Highway," he said. "The government built this road after Marcos led the Chiapas uprising. And the highway opened up tourism to Bonampak, which was only accessible by light plane before. There are still no paved roads to Yaxchilán. We have to take a river launch, 14 miles up the Usumacinta River (River of Monkeys)."

We stopped for breakfast. It was now light, the sky a brilliant blue, the jungle a rich emerald green. It was humid but not hot. We got back into our van for a short drive to Mexico's most voluminous river and looked across the river at Guatemala. Slender launches, more like bullets than boats, maybe 4 feet wide and 20 feet long with outboard motors, were tied up to an improvised wharf. We were given life vests, and we sat on benches facing each other. A palm-arched canopy protected us from the sun.

Our pilot started the engine and we raced full throttle west, gliding over the smooth flowing river.

We passed a Guatemalan military camp. The river snaked, but our pilot straightened his course by cutting across the river's centerline, so we zigzagged back and forth across Mexico and Guatemala's frontier.

I didn't know what to expect of Yaxchilán. It was new to me. I asked our guide, "What does Yaxchilán mean?" "Place of the green stones, jadeite," he said. "Precious stones."

The pilot slowed and turned. He pointed out a crocodile and then revved the engine again. He cut the engine and we could see our landing site. He let the nose of the launch glide into the soft sandy riverbank and we entered a Lost World.

Other Mayan complexes, temples, ball courts appear nearly new, having been renovated by archeologists, but as I walked the trail to the Yaxchilán complex I felt like a member of the scouting party in the original King Kong movie entering a forgotten world.

Everywhere, I stepped on stones held tight by roots. I looked at the jungle flora, large leafed plants, vines, everything green and shaded. There was a racket of unseen howler monkeys in the distance, but near the temples and stone monuments with irregular stone steps, 5 spider monkeys fretted overhead and dropped leaves on our group.

We were explorers. There was not a tourist bus or road in sight.

I climbed the highest pyramid. The steps were uneven, irregular and slick. A hill rose beyond the top of the temple. I suspected archeologists have more work ahead.

I looked down over the ball court, ruins, and a stele, the tallest in Mexico. Except for the immediate area, all was jungle canopy. I wondered if once the jungle was slashed and burned and planted in corn, beans and squash.

We left this Lost World, retraced the river route and headed for Bonampak.

Bonampak was now open to the casual traveler. The airfield was a strip cleared in the jungle, where an abandoned, derelict light plane marks the old landing field. I asked the guide about the plane. "The motor. No good. And flights aren't profitable since the highway. So when it broke, they left it."

"Sounds like United Airlines," I said. But he didn't laugh.

Colorful murals attract visitors. "The best in Mexico," said my guide. "No flash. They will take your camera. No accidents accepted." Two guards watched over us and we were not permitted to carry our backpacks or shoulder bags inside the small temples. Although there were protective barriers, they did not wish to risk accidental careless scratches from eager visitors.

I looked at the murals' bright colors. They told a story. There was a parade of lords and prisoners, bloodletting, torture and sacrifice.

Expenses: Tour, meals included, $60, fees $4, Hotel Cathedral $17. Total: $81.

Day 29: Campeche: The New is Old

Days are hot and humid outside. But the mornings are cool. Getting dressed, I debated whether to wear both a t-shirt and a long sleeve shirt on the bus. I arrived a at the bus station a little late, but just in time to grab one of the last 3 seats at 7 a.m. on the ADO bus for Campeche, a 6-hour ride. Great luck, there was a window seat, snagged it, then dozed nearly the whole way, missing the scenery.

Once aboard the bus, the driver revved the engine, on came the air-conditioning and I had to get my sweater out of my luggage. And for added symbolism, the movie on the bus was the March of the Penguins.

Campeche is not the dreary port town I visited 31 years ago when the ocean frontage was merely beachside rubble and grey was the dominant city color.

Mexico has discovered its architectural heritage and the beauty of illumination. Restoration is an industry: archeological, Spanish Colonial, Porfiato haciendas. Campeche, state and city, has invested much capital in restoration projects.

Campeche is now graced with an attractive 3-mile malecon, wide curving, walking, skating, bicycling and jogging path that follows the natural shoreline. Modern sculptures, rest stops and miramars are attractively placed along the strip.

Campeche is a UNESCO World Heritage City. The original fortress colonial city was completely walled, protected by massive stone ramparts, towers and cannons to shield Campeche from pirates.

Much of the original wall, six sided, in the form of a boat with two bows, still stands guard, cupping Campeche's colonial center. Arched entrances are an attractive feature.

You can walk a section of the ramparts. A gatekeeper charges a fee, locks you in and says, "There is a bell over the entrance, when you're ready, ring the bell." From the ramparts, you view the city, and amazingly you're looking over and behind the city street walls, and so much terrain is abandoned and neglected. There are acres within the old city ready for renewal and development.

When UNESCO added Campeche to its World Heritage list in 1999, the city was reborn in the past. It took two years to remove all telephone poles, overhead lines and cables and bury them underground. Building facades were painted pastel blues, greens, rose, yellow and white and the original decorative elements were emphasized. The library, once the City Hall, was completely restored and the portales illuminated.

Street lamps hung from wrought iron supports attached to stone walls. Signs no longer protruded out into the streets. Buildings' facades were easy to see and appreciate.

The cathedral was also cleaned and illuminated and the central park restored. A new kiosk was built in the center of the square. Outdoor tables and service are offered under its protective roof.

Bordering the central park, Casa Numero 6, once a splendid house with arabesque arches, had fallen into decay. Over the years it had served a variety of commercial uses, including a cantina and a furniture store. It is now the Centro Cultural. Pre-restoration photos look more like a Mayan ruin than a city mansion. Today artists perform here and downstairs rooms display period furniture.

What's new in Campeche is, "The Old." Restorations stand out. Fortifications that once protected the city with cannons are now museums with Mayan artifacts.

Thirty years ago, Uxmal, Chichen Itza and Palenque were the featured archeological sites. Now the Yucatan is peppered with "new" sites and Edzna, which I had never heard of, has a sound and light program on Friday nights. Haciendas have been restored and converted into luxury hotels, and colonial churches are being refurbished. The old is becoming the new.

In 1975 we stayed at El Señorial Hotel, originally the Carvajal Family Mansion. Now it is government owned. Our spacious bedrooms have been subdivided into offices. But the arabesque arches, curling stairway with wrought iron banisters and patio, are present and cared for.

I recall a hostile reception in Yucatan 30 years ago, a lady gratuitously mocking me on the street as a tourist said, "Usted es un tonto (You're stupid)." And my reply, "Porqué? (Why?)," and her swift rebuttal, "Porqué es (Because you are)." But now friendliness defines this trip.

In 1975, on the weekend, it was near impossible to exchange $50 in Campeche, and of course no ATMs, and little acceptance of credit cards.

My family walked the beach, not a paved malecon with bike and jogging trails with decorative monumental art.

What's hasn't changed? Humidity.

I arrived December 12, Day of the Virgin of Guadalupe, and paid my respects. Flowers and candles overwhelmed the Virgin's altar. But my arrival was also in the midst of the Book Fair and the International Music Festival. There were multiple events to choose from: poets and ballet, romance singers, painters, pianist, outdoor theater and indoor drama. Spain was the featured honored guest.

Where am I staying? Hotel Lopez. I'm the first guest in a newly renovated, newly tiled floor, new bath, tile and fixtures, fresh paint, and I'd forgotten how nice it is to slip between brand new crisp sheets. All the room lacks are pictures for the wall.

I'm traveling faster than I can write! And I'm on my way to Federico García Lorca's "La Casa de la Senora Alba."

Expenses: Taxi $5, Bus $20, Meals $19, Hotel Lopez $38, Total: $82.

Day 30: Campeche International Festival

The dawn-to-dusk excursions, bus rides and tours took some zap out of me. I was glad to spend a few days in Campeche.

Posters advertised the 10th International Festival. Spain was the invited guest of honor and presented Garcia Lorca's "Casa de la Señora Alba." Admission was free.

The drama of a tyrannical mother stifling her 5 daughters' romantic lives relied too much on shouting sisters to convince me that they were intimidated. I thought, "Couldn't their repression be calm and subtle?" The housekeeper provided comedy relief. Her best line was, "Two weeks after the wedding, the husband abandons the bed for the dining table."

The commentary about the play said it was an antigovernment metaphor for physical, mental and spiritual repression. But the sisters' romantic frustration seemed less political than a statement of Lorca's personal conflicts, repression and desire. Since the drama was written in early 1936, before Franco ruled Spain, I wondered if Lorca's metaphor and target were more aptly the Catholic Mother Church.

I took an evening walk. The city glowed, illuminated. There were dancing water fountains in a rainbow of colors. The central plaza was an open stage crowded with spectators watching a folk ballet. Crafts and art were on display. There was a humorous art show, both educational and cartoonist.

Best exhibit: satiric caricatures of pirates, not Blackbeard or Captain Blood of the past, but commercial CD, music and intellectual property pirates. I wanted to take photos of the best jabs at the pirate vendors, but then I would be a pirate. They were good, so clever, ethically instructive, and satirically funny without falling into nasty finger pointing.

Concerts were free. Raul Simon, the Argentine romantic ballad singer, preformed in one of the rooms at the Casa Cultural where a book fair was also in progress. I had never heard of Raul Simon, but when he sang he encouraged his audience to sing along, and to my surprise, he had a very supporting choir. His songs were popular.

I visited the Immaculate Conception cathedral. Its treasure is a silver ark showing in detail, step-by-step, the crucifixion of Christ. I walked around the ark as if it were the Stations of the Cross. Here was the story of Christ's last suffering from the 30 pieces of silver to the cock that crowed three times.

Expenses: Walking free, Meals $17, Hotel Lopez $38. Total: $55.

Day 31: Campeche, Edzna and Slapstick Comedy

It could have been a set-up by the Keystone Cops. Today started with slapstick comedy, a whirl of confusion and everyone wanted to help, but all pointed in different directions!

Last night I asked about a tour to Edzna, a Mayan city spread over 5 square miles with a huge ball court, a monument decorated with two colorful carved masks and a stone staircase leading to a high temple overlooking a sea-green canopy of jungle trees.

Mary, the bright helpful receptionist at Hotel Lopez, phoned Xtampak Tours. "It's a 4-hour tour. They leave at 9 a.m., the price is 150 pesos ($15), but the minimum is two tourists. Would you pay 300?"

I said, "Maybe by 9 a.m. tomorrow they will have another passenger." I let it go.

I really wanted to leave earlier and the Central Terminal had a bus leaving at 8 a.m. for 120 pesos, round trip. Course, I'd have to get myself to the terminal.

Up at 6.30, coffee for breakfast and with a map in hand, I walked, headed for the Central Terminal.

I came to a glorieta (traffic circle) with multiple spokes. As I perused my map, a young man came over and asked where I wanted to go. "Camionero Central," I said. He waved his hand, pointing beyond the glorieta and said, "Detras, detras (behind, behind)." I crossed the street and there was no access to "behind." I had walked a block east, now I had to retrace my steps and go 2 blocks west where I found "behind," a city bus stop that would take me to the Central Terminal.

I arrived in plenty of time, 20 minutes before 8 a.m. I went over to ADO First Class and asked for a round trip ticket for Edzna. "Sorry, that bus has been canceled today. You'll have to go to South Terminal, Second Class."

I asked directions. The clerk looked at my map, saw a bus icon, and pointed, "Here." It wasn't too far. I caught a second city bus and told the driver I wanted to go to "South Terminal." He said I'd have to transfer. "Here" was not South Terminal!

Then I mentioned that I was trying to go to Edzna. A man, with some English, volunteered, "You want to get off at the Mercado and take a colectivo (minivan)." The Mercado was also the transfer point.

I got off the bus and started to look for a colectivo. A nicely dressed lady on her way to work, a government social service worker, overheard that I wanted to go to South Terminal. She said, "Let me take you, it's on my way." I said, "I want to go to Edzna. The man said, 'Take a colectivo.'" She insisted that South Terminal was where I should buy a ticket. I didn't want to appear rude, so I followed her, and we got on the next bus to South Terminal.

She left for her office and I went to the ADO Second Class window. I was told, "No, you have to take a colectivo." Another lady stepped forward and spoke in English. "You need ticket bus." That phrase sounded strange to me. She said, "Take a taxi to ticket bus." I wrote it down on the same paper that said Central Terminal. I asked her, "Is ticket bus the right word in Spanish?" "Yes, yes, ticket bus."

In front of the bus terminal a taxi driver was anxious for a fare. I asked if he could take me to "ticket bus." That confused him. My request and accent made no sense to him. I tried to explain about Edzna, the colectivo. He saw my note, took it and spoke with another driver. "Yes, I can take you."

I got in the taxi, and he started to drive to Central Terminal. I jabbered, not very coherently, about the Mercado where I had transferred and maybe there would be colectivos. Finally, I pointed the way and took my chances.

At the Mercado, I left the taxi, and a few questions later I found the colectivos. But the Edzna colectivo would not leave until 10 a.m. It was only 8:25 a.m.

All the buses and taxis and help and mistakes were so efficient that I hadn't lost much time. I was 10 blocks from Hotel Lopez, plenty of time to walk back and hope for a tour to Edzna.

At five to nine, I asked Mary if I could still catch a tour to Edzna. She phoned Xtampak Tours. "You're the only one; would you pay 250 pesos?" she asked. "Fine, " I said. "The guide will pick you up in 15 to 20 minutes," she said.

That was great, just enough time for a quick scrambled egg breakfast and coffee in the hotel's cafeteria. I ordered and said, "Rush, please." The coffee came instantly, but it was too hot to drink. I could hear the cook scrambling the eggs when Mary came into the cafe and said, "The driver has arrived." It hadn't been 5 minutes since Mary hung up the phone.

"Could he wait?" I asked. Mary said, "He can't park. He'll have to go around the block." I rushed back to the waitress and asked for my eggs to go. No problem. The tour guide made a quick circle around the block. I entered his car holding a Styrofoam box with eggs, beans and toast, but no coffee. It was still scalding, and thinking of McDonald's, I didn't want to spill the hot coffee, so I left it.

It was a 40-minute drive on a good two-lane road with hardly any traffic to Edzna. My guide was really only a driver. He would wait for 2 hours while I visited the site. I paid the 33 pesos entry and found myself nearly alone in Edzna. There were only 3 other visitors and a gardener riding a lawnmower, trimming the football sized grass field in front of the main temple. I did not tarry. I read each description and climbed the steep staircase, and photographed the chromatic masks carved in the monument.

Included in the description of the Mayans, their culture and achievements, was the disclaimer, "The Maya were never helped by extraterrestrial beings." Someone was concerned that Erich Von Daniken's bestselling book, "Chariots of the Gods" and his hypothesis that astronauts built the pyramids would discredit Mayan achievement.

I finished my self-guided tour in an hour, and my driver Juan was pleased to return early to Campeche.

Expenses: Taxi $3, City buses $1, Meals $29, Tour Edzna $30, Hotel Lopez $38, Total: $101