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| Chiapis del Corzo |
The poverty of the indigenous peoples in this state, Chiapis, continues to unsettle us. Even in thick traffic on major roads, Maya children in ripped clothes will come begging at car windows. Our Mexican tour guide for the day, Eduardo, waggles his finger at them as if they are cheeky ruffians. That they may be, but it's hard for an outsider to not perceive a class system at work.
The drive to Sumidero Canyon is all picturesque forest and mountain cornfields. We ascend up into the cloud forest, fog clinging to the road so thickly that it's impossible to see the cars in front of us. Over and over we see the same sign telling drivers to overtake. There's no overtaking lane anyway, but Mexicans are so notorious for ignoring road rules and basic safety that they still need to be told in certain situations, "Okay guys, we know you normally ignore the rules, but on this particular road we are really being serious - do not drive into oncoming traffic!"
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| Note the people standing in the back of the ute in front. |
Our driver still overtakes.
And despite this sign all the drivers on the road continue to do the same. Many times, Eduardo overtakes on mountaintop corners in fog-blind situations, maintaining his cheerful and carefree disposition. I would worry about the huge ringworm-like cracks in his windscreen but nearly every Mexican taxi and van we have gotten into has had these.
Here are some guidelines for driving in Mexico based on what I have noticed the local drivers do:
- The indicator does not exist.
- Oncoming traffic will stop to let you overtake anywhere up to 3 vehicles.
- If you need to stop somewhere, even on a busy highway or one-way street, just do it and put your hazard lights on. Others drivers will wait or go around you.
- If you need to go down a one-way street in the wrong direction, just reverse down it.
- Seatbelts do not exist. Sometimes literally.
On today's bus ride I ask the Duck if she has her seatbelt on.
"Yep," she smiles.
I feel around her middle, "No. You don't".
"...My Mexican seatbelt!" she laughs.
Before we go to Sumidero Canyon our tour takes a previously unmentioned detour and stops at the city of Chiapis del Corzo. Eduardo doesn't speak English but one of the other tourists tells us we've been given an hour to look at the markets. I kind of begrudge this stop a little. I don't know anything about this place so I feel like I have no context for exploration. A nerdy gripe, I know, but hey, that's me. I want to use a toilet but the first two I try won't give me change for a 100 peso note, and this annoys me (specifically, my bladder). A lot of Mexican public toilets require payment to get in - a great system that prevents a lot of vandalism.
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| I'm not sure exactly what this procession was about. |
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| Police man just standing around with his gun. |
We talk to an Israeli tourist from our bus while we wait for our time in Chiapis del Corzo to end. He tells us he is 37 days into a 50 day tour of Central America and that he is ready to go home. To fill in the remaining time of his tour he has started taking salsa lessons and, aside from almost demonstrating some dance moves to us, this is the only time he doesn't seem bored out of his brain.
Trying to make conversation, I recommend that he takes a trip to Oaxaca to help fill in the remaining days and he sceptically asks what's worth seeing there. Both myself and the Duck start telling him about the Zapotec ruins but he cuts us off, "I've already seen three ruins. They are all the same". Conversation pretty much grinds to a halt after this. I think I hate backpackers.
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| Sumidero Canyon |
Our tour of Sumidero Canyon is a two hour boat trip through the guts of a massive canyon via river. I'm a little surprised that they insist we wear lifejackets, this being Mexico, although my surprise diminishes when the boat driver allows passengers to take the jackets off while they pose precariously on the prow of the boat for photos (and in crocodile-infested waters!) The colony of vultures along the shoreline at this point seems ominous. The boat gets up really close to the riverbank and the birds act as if we aren't even there. A crocodile stirs from the muddy edge and slides down the bank as we take pictures, disappearing underneath our boat when we get too close. As this happens, the idiot in a cowboy hat who's been standing up every time we see something noteworthy lets out a hysterical scream. It would have been a satisfying moment if he didn't continue to irritate us for the rest of the trip: refusing to tip the boat operator, refusing to help us hold up the tarp when we all started getting rained on, shooting me dirty looks when I would then deliberately drop said tarp in front of his camera, and rudely tossing his lifejacket onto the ground rather than hand it back to the waiting attendant. What a great guy.
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| This little shrine was carved into the side of the cliff face of the canyon, called Cueva de Colores. There's a religious statue in the alcove - the Virgin of Guadalope. |
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| In some points the river is quite polluted. |
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| An American Crocodile |
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| This was as far as the boat took us. This is the Chicoasen Dam, the massive statue is called 'State to the Workers at Chicoasen Dam'. |
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| Black Vultures |
On return to San Cristobal de las Casas the Duck and I continue to sightsee. We check out the Museum of Amber (which is in a partially restored convent) and the Museum of Historical Curiosities (which is hidden above a restaurant). The latter of these is a real non-event. The clerk downstairs indicates that we can go up and see it but the room is pitch black. We begin to look around with our mobile phone torches and by the time someone appears to turn the lights on for us we've finished looking at the single room full of early telephone and telegram devices.
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| Inside the Museum of Amber |
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| The courtyard outside the Museum of Amber |
In our wandering through the city we spy a church high up at the top of the city and remember Ricardo's recommendation that we check it out. After a long walk up through the hilly streets and laneways we come to the bottom of a long flight of steep steps that lead up to the church. The view from the top shows you the whole city; its labyrinthine network of laneways and multitude of colour-coded churches.
Ironically, after climbing these mountainous steps, we notice that there is a small ramp into the church for wheelchair access. I am baffled as to the real purpose of the ramp; as I look back down the stairs at the old woman hobbling and wheezing her way to the top it doesn't seem like a place with easy access for the disabled.
