Killing Time in Chiapas

We have landed in a small municipality by the name of Villaflores in southern Chiapas, with a population of about 100,000. There are a handful of hotels, and the typical bodegas, taquerias and talleres on every corner. On our first day here we took a walk to the Centro to see what we could see. Every time I explained our situation (“My husband is working here with an environmental NGO for a week and I need to find things to do with my kids to pass the time.”) I was met with a sympathetic smile and shake of the head, “Ohhhh, well, there’s not much to do here in Villaflores.” After two days of hunting for diversions, I can safely confirm that they are correct. More or less.

So we are officially no longer tourists. There will be no sightseeing this week. Unfortunately, nor are we residents, since we will only be here until the weekend. There will be no fully settling in and getting into a routine. It is therefore my duty and challenge to drum up whatever activities will keep my children (and more importantly myself) sane over the next four days.

Of course, there is plenty to “see” and “do” here. I could pass many happy hours wandering into small shops and chatting in Spanish with the folks who run them, sitting in the Centro and writing, reading, taking photographs, listening to the cacophony of cows, roosters, dogs, motortaxis, and blaring radio advertisements that make up the music of any small city. But my children have not lived long enough to realize the beauty and intrigue of the small details of exploring a new place. Josie keeps saying, “I want to do something ACTIVE.” They are not content to just observe.

On Monday we passed the time setting up our hotel room, making a forest of origami bugs and flowers, and watching cartoons in Spanish on the TV. After an extended siesta we headed to the Centro, just three blocks away. As we sat in a cafeteria drinking Frescas, we noticed a woman setting up a trampoline in the main square. When we inquired about the trampoline she told us for 10 pesos the kids could jump for 15 minutes. I paid, the kids jumped, and by the end of the 15 minutes Jasper had made friends with the woman’s son, also eight years old. I pledged to bring the kids back every night, as long as they wanted. That’s 15 minutes of the day I won’t have to kill.

Yesterday we went on three “outings,” as Josie calls them. First we walked four blocks to La Quinta activity center which we had discovered while wandering around in an EcoTaxi (a rickshaw with a motorcycle on the front) the evening before. We expected to be able to play on their playground and paint some pottery in a little art workshop they have for a small fee, but nothing was open. No one was there, despite assurance from a woman the night before that we could come any time in the evening. We waited for an hour, playing War and exploring the property a bit, and then gave up.

We then hopped in another EcoTaxi and went in search of a swimming pool we had heard about at a place called El Recreo. When we got there we learned it was a restaurant with a pool, but closed for the day. The workmen told us about another pool at another restaurant further out of town, so the cab driver shuttled us there. We arrived to find a clean restaurant with a small and slightly strange smelling but charming pool surrounded by cow fields and mountains. We ordered drinks and dove right in. After bringing the aguas frescas (mineral water with fresh juice), the waiter delivered a full meal of fried fish, shrimp soup, empanadas and pickled pigs feet, none of which I had ordered. When I protested, he explained that the drinks come with a meal. Still a little confused, we enjoyed the food and hoped we wouldn’t be charged an arm and a leg. I panicked for a moment when I looked over and Josie had devoured her lettuce and tomatoes, which we were supposed to be avoiding. When the bill came, the waiter was correct: the food was included with the cost of the drinks. I left a large tip before heading home to the hotel. All in all a successful outing (as long as no one gets heinously sick from the lettuce; we avoided the pigs feet for a variety of reasons).

After a siesta, we headed out to La Quinta to try to paint pottery again. Once again we found the place deserted and waited for an hour and a half. I taught the kids Solitaire. We sat and watched the road. The kids took pictures and videos with Jasper’s iPod. More sitting and watching. Finally, Josie declared we had waited long enough and we set out for the Centro to find the trampoline lady. When we stopped off at our hotel to drop off our things, the evening downpour arrived and we were trapped. Determined to get outside, the kids put on their raincoats and headed straight for the roof. They spent the better part of an hour singing and dancing in the storm, soaked to the bone and perfectly content.

This morning our big outing was to retrieve our laundry from the lavanderia. The kids wanted to head directly back to the hotel to play, but I lured them to the Mercado with the promise of buying something. We found the post office, and a place to recharge our cell phone with minutes, and a place that sells machetes (a source of great fascination for Jasper), and place to buy bowls and spoons for our morning cereal, and a place to buy little cokes in glass bottles, and suddenly it was an hour and a half later. First outing achieved.

When we are not out wandering, Jasper and Josie are content to just hang out in our hotel room and play. They have become much better at playing imagination games together (the origami bugs had many adventures before dissolving into litter). I make them write in their journals every day (or almost). Jasper is reading up a storm and plowing through chapter books faster than I can supply them (we’ve picked up a few at the rare English language book store). Josie is satisfied with the handful of early readers we brought, finding more joy in rereading them once they have been mastered. Jasper has been assigned the role of photo-documentarian, and is becoming adept at capturing images of our daily lives here.

And so we pass the hours in Mexico. Without pyramids to climb or beaches to enjoy, Villaflores is a good place to be. The streets are clean and the people are kind. There is more to “see” and “do” in this little city, I am sure. And we will take it all in slowly, while Peter works from 8 am until midnight most days, until the weekend when we take our leave.