We bade farewell to the city of Oaxaca and headed south on route 175. It runs south along the valley floor and then climbs high into the mountains, serpentine and lush.
At San Jose Pacifico, we found a rare gem of a community with fresh-brewed kombucha from a quick-footed local bruja, international travelers, rich local coffee, vegan food options, and a 30 peso mountain-water shower which left us invigorated and fresh.
As we descended to the coast, the jungle overwhelmed us. After mile upon mile of twisting road and one breathtaking vista after another, we descended to the hot, humid shore. Puerto Angel and Zipolite. Pristine beaches to camp on. Clothing optional. Cheap. Friggin paradise.
We spent a day in Huatulco (where I once spent some months escaping Babylon), reconnected with friends, and then set off again for Chiapas. After passing Tehuantepec, we were in uncharted territory for me, and that felt liberating, as it always does.
The land bridge which connects north and central America is relatively flat, and extremely windy. We saw massive electrical towers inexplicably twisted and bent to the ground. Did dinosaurs escape from the park? Was there a hurricane? Baffled, we drove on through brief, powerful rain, dodged topes (deviously hard-to-see, axle-breaking speedbumps that pepper all Mexican highways), and found cheap accommodations in Tuxla Gutierrez.
This morning we passed through San Cristobal de Las Casas and stopped only long enough to wander the narrow cobblestone streets, admire some amber, and then got back on the road. It’s yet another place we’d love to really soak in if we only had the budget or time for it. We reminded ourselves that this is not a vacation. That’s been a hard lesson to learn, driving through this country, where history, beauty, and potential memories beckon from each pueblo.
San Cristobal is one of a handful of cities which was, for a brief time, wrested from the control of the Mexican government by the Zapatistas in the mid 1990s. If you’re not familiar with them, I’ll do my best to summarize neutrally, despite my sympathetic stance.
The Zapatistas are a group of insurgents indigenous to Chiapas, mostly of Mayan heritage, who could by described as anarcho-socialist. They reject globalization and neo-liberal capitalism, seeing it as a system of exploitation resulting in modern, racially prejudiced fiefdoms. They also believe that representative democracy is inherently disconnected from the people, and further disenfranchises the common worker by giving them the illusion of political power.
When a lengthy crusade of peaceful protest failed to generate results within Mexico’s political establishment, they took up arms, and on the day that NAFTA was ratified in 1994, they seized several towns in their homeland, burning police stations and liberating prisoners from jails. Their victory, however, was short-lived, and they were quickly driven back into the jungle by the Mexican army. Armed conflict ended with a truce brokered by the Catholic church, and now, the Zapatistas live in a group of relatively autonomous communities in the region. They continue their struggle for indigenous rights to this day, but with perhaps less global attention.
With regards to their grievances and methods, I won’t jump into that debate online… BUT, I’d be happy to discuss it over a coffee. Let’s just make sure whoever grew said coffee was paid properly for it.
Tomorrow we head deeper into Chiapas, eager to trade our motel room for a tent. We’ll explore the waterfalls, pyramids, and endangered wildlife preserve. Provided we don’t wind up as a jaguar’s lunch, we’ll catch you again in Guatemala…