So far, we haven't really experienced anything in our travels that's really unnerved us. There's been little road bumps - like an ATM eating Mez's credit card, and a few times we've stumbled into streets that we then realize we probably shouldn't be walking in. But that's all pretty standard expectations for travelling, and until today, Mexico has been a different culture for us, but not uncomfortable.
One little trip we took today has changed that! Since we're staying in San Cristobal for a month, we've decided to keep our weekends free for day trips to nearby sights and towns. We thought we'd start with a small town called San Juan Chamula, which is only about 10kms from where we're staying, and only takes one 9 peso van ride to arrive. So we rode in a combi van through some hilly countryside - it reminded me a bit of the road from Cockatoo to Gembrook. When we got close, the van had to stop before entering the town, as a beat up truck had been parked horizontally across the road, blocking all traffic.
We walked down the hill into town, already noticing that the place had a much different feel from everywhere else we've been in Mexico. It's nearly all Tzotil natives living there, and apparently they've seperated from the Mexican government, so they have their own police force, and no Mexican police or military are allowed to visit. Both sides of the road were lined with small stalls selling blankets and clothing, and little knitted figures of guerilla fighters with wooden guns. We've been warned to be careful about photography - it's banned inside the church here, and taking photos of people in religious dress can get you taken straight to jail. I don't know what their religious dress is, so I only hurredly snap a few quick shots. Better safe than sorry!
The main road in town leads straight to a big open square in front of the church. Today it's filled with a huge market, and lots of locals milling around. Most of the local guys are dressed in either a white shaggy looking poncho thing, or a black one. It's starting to feel less like the Mexico we know! Straight away, a little native girl attaches herself to Mez, and ties a bracelet around her wrist. Then she won't give up or let us go till we buy some junk off her. I know it's giving in, but in the end, it was easier just to buy it then get rid of her any other way.
Chamula has it's own weird mix of religion - the natives here mashed Catholism with Mayan beliefs. If a tourist wants to visit the church you've gotta get a ticket (20 pesos each). As we start approaching the tourism office to buy some of these tickets, all these guys dressed in white and black start running from a street around the corner into the town square, then run upstairs in the tourism office and stand in a straight line looking out from this balcony. We've got no idea what's going on, so walk into the office - only to get stared at by the guy at the counter. He says something to us in Spanish, I could only make out that it was something like "the other guy" or "the same guy". No idea what it's about, but he definitely didn't want us there. Eventually he gives us the tickets and makes me sign a paper saying I won't take photos of anything.
Walking back across the square to the church, more guys in costume are starting to let off these home made rockets. There's so many of them it becomes like a constant background noise the whole time we're there. By now, we're getting a little shaken up, not sure if what we're seeing is normal, or exactly what's happening.
Inside, the floor of the church is half-covered by a thick bed of pine needles. The other half is full of people on their knees scrubbing and scraping at the floor. There's no chairs or anything, the building is empty except for a line of alters along either side and at the back. Amongst the pine needles people sit setting up rows of candles (almost like dominoes). The alters are all glass cases with statues of saints inside - each statue has a mirror on it's chest (apparently a Mayan belief), and the cases are surrounded by candles also some christmas tree lights. We read afterwards that some of the saints were taken from another nearby church which burnt down, and since the saints couldn't save the church, they've since been scorned, and had their hands cut off. We feel so uncomfortable inside here - there's nothing welcoming about this place at all - we shuffle back outside.
But outside, things are just starting to heat up. There's now three different sets of people running in groups around the square - those dressed in black and white, and a new group dressed in colorful clothes with pointed hats and flags flying from wooden poles. The rockets are still flying into the air and exploding constantly. We're not sure exactly what's happening - it could be a re-enactment of something, a street parade, or a religious ritual. The whole thing seems downright creepy.
In fact, it vividly recalls two distinct feelings for me. The first is a time some friends and I sat down to watch the movie Stigmata. The movie starts off in a church in South America, and from the music and mood of it you can tell something bad's about to happen. One person there had seen the movie before, and during this time they kept telling us that we should turn the film off now and watch something else. As their pleas got more insistent, we took their advice and stopped it - I've never seen it since, so I'm not sure what happens in that scene, but at Chamula I'm reminded of that prickling sensation that "something bad's about to happen".
The other thing I'm reminded of is the feeling I got when I saw the original version of The Wicker Man. That film creeped me out so much that I could only watch pieces of it, having to change the channel frequently when the suspense got too much for me. Chamula reminded me so strongly of the creepy pagan island from that film.
So when we could get passed the masses of people standing around, we rushed back up the hill, and caught the first van back to nice, familiar San Cristobal. Forget driving up Mount Doonabuang at midnight, or getting lost in Gembrook forest at night, instead the scariest thing you could probably ever do is head back to San Juan Chamula after dark. There's no way in the world I would.
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