Kristian and I danced until 4:30 in the morning. At the door to my hotel, he kissed me softly on the lips and asked when he could see me again.
I had planned on staying in San Cristobal until Wednesday, and then traveling around Chiapas for another few days. Chiapas has so many gorgeous waterfalls, caves, and cultural ruins that I wanted to make sure I saw it all before I headed back to Puebla. Kristian had thrown a kink into my plans.
On Tuesday, we met for lunch and then he had 2 performances that night. I found him in a different cafe and listened blissfully to him for hours. Afterwards, we talked over dinner. I was completely comfortable with him and knew three days just wasn't enough. So, I asked him if he wanted to travel with me throughout Chiapas. He had 3 days free before he needed to return to Queretero to start his studies again and also had not yet seen some of the magical places I had on my to do list. So we started making plans.
I think it was John Lennon who said, "Life is what happens when you're busy making plans." Sometimes I think "Shit" would fit more accurately than "Life."
Wednesday, Mom found me somehow in the middle of Mexico to let me know Dad was badly injured. He had fallen over 20 feet off of a lift at work and broken nearly every bone in his body, including all of the bones in his face. His aorta had ruptured due to the stress of all the injuries, along with some arteries in his leg- he was in danger of bleeding to death. "Find a way home" was all my mom's message had said.
After holding me for a minute of chaotic sobbing in the bustling street, Kristian led me home and helped me pack; while I found a plan ticket from Mexico to Chicago, he worked on the much trickier plane ticket from Chiapas to Mexico City. I hugged him one last time before I got in my taxi to the airport. I would be home in 24 hours.
Friday, July 27, 2012
Instantes
I spent the last weeks of my Fulbright exchange traveling the western coast and southern border of Mexico. A friend from high school and her husband joined me in Oaxaca where we visited Monte Alban - the holy city of the Zapotecas and later Mixtecas, and ran into an impromptu parade with dancers in traditional dress of the Oaxacan indigenous people. One of my students from UTIM lives in Oaxaca and invited me to her birthday party. We sang and danced to the Oaxaca rhythms and drank the homemade Mezcal, the traditional drink of the state.
After 8 hours in a tiny, hot and stuffy van, swirving back and forth through the Oaxacan mountains, we managed to get to Puerto Escondido. Famous for its Mexican Pipeline, Puerto has the best surfing in Latin America. I attempted the sport, managing to stand for almost 10 seconds before the huge waves toppled me and sent a gallon of salty water up my nose. Watching the crashing waves at sunset from the gorgeous Zicatela beach was much more satisfying.
From Puerto Escondido, I traveled 12 hours to Tuxtla Gutierrez, the capital of Chiapas. Chiapas is known for its amazing landscapes and natural beauty as well as its super left-wing Zapatistas and alluring indigenous population where only about 30% speak Spanish; the rest speak various tribal languages thousands of years old, originating from the Mayan people.
After visiting the magnificent Cañon de Sumidero, I hopped on a minivan headed to San Cristobal de las Casas, named after Bartholome de las Casas who was one of the few Spanish priests who spoke out against the cruelty of the Spanish conquest and is seen as a hero to the country.
The first day, I settled into my modest hotel and met the person at the reception desk who also was a volunteer firefighter. He told me about the convenio they had with Wisconsin firefighters, showing me pictures of trainings, and donated trucks from Waunakee, Spring Green and McFarland. Faraway from the tourists, I managed to find the fire station and get some great pictures. Five of the men will be in Monroe, Wisconsin for the annual firefighter training in August.
San Cristobal is a hippie paradise. Backpacker hostels are sprinkled throughout the center where you can sign up for a mountain bike tour or volunteer in the local indigenous villages. Folk, jazz, and reggae can be heard from the cute cafes and classy winebars. I prefer trova, which is a popular genre in Puebla, acoustic guitar with a soft, folky voice singing romantic latin love songs. So of course, I am drawn to a small cafe as I hear a gorgeous voice backed up with a soft trova rhythm guitar.
The cafe is just as beautiful as the voice coming from the musician. I find a poem I teach to my upper level Spanish class on the ceiling; it's one of my favorites; the musings of an elderly man with regrets on not living life to the fullest. I return my stare at the guitarist's fingers, trying to memorize the chords for when I get back to my own guitar, and I realize he's staring at me, too. After his last song, he walks over to my table and introduces himself. I invite him to sit at my table; oddly, I find it easy to talk to him in Spanish. I learn not only is he a fabulous entertainer but also a medical student in Queretero - a colonial city a few hours north of Mexico City. He has been volunteering in the indigenous villages for the past few weeks around San Cristobal. He gives me a quick history of the Zapatista movement in Chiapas and then asks me, "Te gusta salsa?" It's only Monday, but here in San Cristobal, dancing is popular every day of the week and usually the party doesn't start until well past 11:00 pm. I have a tour early in the morning, not to mention going on a date late at night with a complete stranger is just plain crazy, so I start to shake my head no. But then I look up at the ceiling where the poem haunts me, and I agree to go dancing.
Instances - Jorge Luis Borges
If I could live my life again,
In the next, I would make more mistakes
I wouldn't try to be perfect.
I would be sillier than what I have been
I would be less hygenic
In fact, I would take very few things seriously.
I would take more risks
I would travel more
I would contemplate more sunsets
I would climb more mountains, swim more rivers
I would go more places where I'd never been
I would eat more ice cream and less beans
I would have more real problems and less imaginary ones.
I was one of those people who lived wisely and cautiously,
Every minute of their life.
Of course, I had moments of happiness,
But if I could do it again, I would try to have only good moments
Because, if you don't already realize it,
those moments are what life is made of
Only of those moments,
Don't lose yourself in the now.
I was one of those who always carried a thermometer,
a hot water bottle, an umbrella and a parachute.
If I could do it over, I'd travel more lightly.
If I could live my life again, I would walk barefoot at the beginning of spring
and continue until the end of autumn.
I would contemplate more sunrises,
I'd take another turn on the carousel,
play with more children,
if I had another life ahead of me.
but now I am 85 years old,
and I know that I am dying.
Instantes
Si pudiera vivir nuevamente mi vida,
en la próxima trataría de cometer más errores.
No intentaría ser tan perfecto, me relajaría más.
Sería más tonto de lo que he sido,
de hecho tomaría muy pocas cosas con seriedad.
Sería menos higiénico.
Correría más riesgos,
haría más viajes,
contemplaría más atardeceres,
subiría más montañas, nadaría más ríos.
Iría a más lugares adonde nunca he ido,
comería más helados y menos habas,
tendría más problemas reales y menos imaginarios.
Yo fui una de esas personas que vivió sensata
y prolíficamente cada minuto de su vida;
claro que tuve momentos de alegría.
Pero si pudiera volver atrás trataría
de tener solamente buenos momentos.
Por si no lo saben, de eso está hecha la vida,
sólo de momentos; no te pierdas el ahora.
Yo era uno de esos que nunca
iban a ninguna parte sin un termómetro,
una bolsa de agua caliente,
un paraguas y un paracaídas;
si pudiera volver a vivir, viajaría más liviano.
Si pudiera volver a vivir
comenzaría a andar descalzo a principios de la primavera
y seguiría descalzo hasta concluir el otoño.
Daría más vueltas en calesita,
contemplaría más amaneceres,
y jugaría con más niños,
si tuviera otra vez vida por delante.
Pero ya ven, tengo 85 años...
y sé que me estoy muriendo.
After 8 hours in a tiny, hot and stuffy van, swirving back and forth through the Oaxacan mountains, we managed to get to Puerto Escondido. Famous for its Mexican Pipeline, Puerto has the best surfing in Latin America. I attempted the sport, managing to stand for almost 10 seconds before the huge waves toppled me and sent a gallon of salty water up my nose. Watching the crashing waves at sunset from the gorgeous Zicatela beach was much more satisfying.
From Puerto Escondido, I traveled 12 hours to Tuxtla Gutierrez, the capital of Chiapas. Chiapas is known for its amazing landscapes and natural beauty as well as its super left-wing Zapatistas and alluring indigenous population where only about 30% speak Spanish; the rest speak various tribal languages thousands of years old, originating from the Mayan people.
After visiting the magnificent Cañon de Sumidero, I hopped on a minivan headed to San Cristobal de las Casas, named after Bartholome de las Casas who was one of the few Spanish priests who spoke out against the cruelty of the Spanish conquest and is seen as a hero to the country.
 |
| The gorgeous Cañon de Sumidero |
The cafe is just as beautiful as the voice coming from the musician. I find a poem I teach to my upper level Spanish class on the ceiling; it's one of my favorites; the musings of an elderly man with regrets on not living life to the fullest. I return my stare at the guitarist's fingers, trying to memorize the chords for when I get back to my own guitar, and I realize he's staring at me, too. After his last song, he walks over to my table and introduces himself. I invite him to sit at my table; oddly, I find it easy to talk to him in Spanish. I learn not only is he a fabulous entertainer but also a medical student in Queretero - a colonial city a few hours north of Mexico City. He has been volunteering in the indigenous villages for the past few weeks around San Cristobal. He gives me a quick history of the Zapatista movement in Chiapas and then asks me, "Te gusta salsa?" It's only Monday, but here in San Cristobal, dancing is popular every day of the week and usually the party doesn't start until well past 11:00 pm. I have a tour early in the morning, not to mention going on a date late at night with a complete stranger is just plain crazy, so I start to shake my head no. But then I look up at the ceiling where the poem haunts me, and I agree to go dancing.
Instances - Jorge Luis Borges
If I could live my life again,
In the next, I would make more mistakes
I wouldn't try to be perfect.
I would be sillier than what I have been
I would be less hygenic
In fact, I would take very few things seriously.
I would take more risks
I would travel more
I would contemplate more sunsets
I would climb more mountains, swim more rivers
I would go more places where I'd never been
I would eat more ice cream and less beans
I would have more real problems and less imaginary ones.
I was one of those people who lived wisely and cautiously,
Every minute of their life.
Of course, I had moments of happiness,
But if I could do it again, I would try to have only good moments
Because, if you don't already realize it,
those moments are what life is made of
Only of those moments,
Don't lose yourself in the now.
I was one of those who always carried a thermometer,
a hot water bottle, an umbrella and a parachute.
If I could do it over, I'd travel more lightly.
If I could live my life again, I would walk barefoot at the beginning of spring
and continue until the end of autumn.
I would contemplate more sunrises,
I'd take another turn on the carousel,
play with more children,
if I had another life ahead of me.
but now I am 85 years old,
and I know that I am dying.
Instantes
Si pudiera vivir nuevamente mi vida,
en la próxima trataría de cometer más errores.
No intentaría ser tan perfecto, me relajaría más.
Sería más tonto de lo que he sido,
de hecho tomaría muy pocas cosas con seriedad.
Sería menos higiénico.
Correría más riesgos,
haría más viajes,
contemplaría más atardeceres,
subiría más montañas, nadaría más ríos.
Iría a más lugares adonde nunca he ido,
comería más helados y menos habas,
tendría más problemas reales y menos imaginarios.
Yo fui una de esas personas que vivió sensata
y prolíficamente cada minuto de su vida;
claro que tuve momentos de alegría.
Pero si pudiera volver atrás trataría
de tener solamente buenos momentos.
Por si no lo saben, de eso está hecha la vida,
sólo de momentos; no te pierdas el ahora.
Yo era uno de esos que nunca
iban a ninguna parte sin un termómetro,
una bolsa de agua caliente,
un paraguas y un paracaídas;
si pudiera volver a vivir, viajaría más liviano.
Si pudiera volver a vivir
comenzaría a andar descalzo a principios de la primavera
y seguiría descalzo hasta concluir el otoño.
Daría más vueltas en calesita,
contemplaría más amaneceres,
y jugaría con más niños,
si tuviera otra vez vida por delante.
Pero ya ven, tengo 85 años...
y sé que me estoy muriendo.
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