Chiapas

We were sad to leave Oaxaca and the friends we’d made there. For the short time we stayed it felt like we were almost living within the community rather than just visiting. San Cristobal de las Casas, in Chiapas State, felt very different for a number of reasons. Firstly, although this is a town renowned for its beautiful buildings and picturesque setting, we didn’t expect it to be quite so over-run by tourists. In Northern and Central Mexico we saw few other travellers and, selfishly, had got used to this splendid isolation – perhaps because we felt we were experiencing a more ‘authentic’ side of Mexico (and yes I am aware how pretentious that sounds).

Anyhow, San Cristobal is home to a melting pot of permanent and transient residents from across the globe. In part, this may be due to its reputation for creative arts and radical politics. The notice board in the local supermarket advertised a range of services including beginner’s Tibetan yoga classes, French-Spanish translation, traditional weaving lessons, and astrological alignment.

San Cristobal was one of the key centres from which the Zapatista political movement burst onto the scene in 1994. Despite being one of the richest states in Mexico, huge social inequalities existed at this time and the indigenous population of the area were plagued by institutional discrimination. Many indigenous villages had no clean water or electricity, infant and mother mortality rates were unforgivably high, and access to education was almost non-existent (only 72 out of 100 children completed first grade). In addition, land right laws made it impossible for villagers to become landowners.

The Ejercito Zapatista de Liberacion National (EZLN) demanded “social justice, indigenous people’s rights, democracy at all levels of Mexican politics, an end to government corruption and land reform for the peasantry”. This guerrilla movement briefly took over several administrative centres in Chiapas before the national army moved in.

To cut a long and bloody saga short, the EZLN received huge national support (at one point the leaders of the movement marched to Mexico City and thousands of people turned out to give them a hero’s welcome in the Zocalo), and as a result the Mexican government felt obliged to at least look like they were doing something to address the issues. Peace talks with the EZLN were started several times, but the Mexican government always seemed to renege on their promises. In addition, the government secretly enlisted the services of paramilitary groups who carried out a number of massacres in villages on their behalf, displacing large numbers of people.

However, the indigenous people refused to be pacified and showed huge resistance to army and paramilitary attempts at control. The following image became synonymous with the Zapatista movement: a line of unarmed women and children in traditional dress, with the addition of a bandana tied around their lower faces, resolutely linking arms and yelling hostile chants (“fuck off soldiers”) to prevent personnel and tanks from entering their villages.

A decade and a half on, things have improved a little for the indigenous population of Chiapas, but times remain very hard. Understandably, many villagers are extremely wary of outsiders. In the area around San Cristobal there have been assaults on ‘insensitive’ tourists and enterprises that were perceived as exploitative of the local population have been shut down. Out of respect, we therefore chose not to visit these places, instead contenting ourselves with catching up on some sleep and soaking up the hippie vibe of San Cristobal. We also drank some very good Mexican coffee and some equally good Mexican red wine – really not a bad way to spend a couple of days.

Our other destination in Chiapas was the Mayan ruins at Palenque. We drove for a thoroughly sweaty five hours into the heart of jungle country, naturally stopping at a couple of waterfalls along the way (note to self – have now seen enough for a lifetime). The army roadblocks and Zapatista graffiti we encountered were definitely more intriguing than the water features. The ruins themselves were interesting, but the heat was unbelievable and we wore ourselves out schlepping around all the temples…can we be at the ‘ruined’ stage already?

We stayed the night in Palenque town, a scruffy, friendly kind of place where every building seemed to be in a state of perpetual development. We had the good fortune to eat in a restaurant opposite a gym, thereby having a perfect view of an aerobics class – Mexican style. With music turned up to eye-watering levels (of course), ladies of all ages shimmied and salsa-ed their way through an hour’s worth of exercise and dance hits. In Britain, this would surely entail much flailing of limbs and general en-masse uncoordination. In contrast, this lovely lot looked like they might be in training for an Olympic synchronised dance-off. How did we manage to do so badly in the rhythm stakes?

Susie and Phil xxx