South to Chiapas

I suppose we felt ready to leave Merida, with its many parks, attractions and conveniences. Peter has a great cohort of colleagues there, and it felt as if we could be comfortable in such an agreeable city for a long time, despite the heat. But on Friday that time was up, and it was time to head south.

Over the last three days we have logged more than 12 hours in the car as we wound our way south to Chiapas. First we drove along the western coast of the Yucatan peninsula in the state of Campeche. Cattle ranching is prevalent and palm plantations dominate the landscape. The air remained hot and thick until we could finally make out the shadow of the mountains on the horizon. We made it to the tourist town of Palenque after dark. On Friday night the town was thrumming with activity. We found a hotel right on the main Zucalo, or town square. We ate dinner on the balcony while we watched an old man play a synthesizer for couples dancing the Marimba.

The next morning we left at 7 am knowing we had a long journey to San Cristobal ahead of us, and many sites to see in between. We stopped first at the waterfall Misol-Ha and had breakfast at the restaurant in the park before exploring the falls, which were particularly robust after the heavy rains of the night before. We were among very few other tourists, all of them Mexican. Then we headed on to the falls of Agua Azul, another hour or so down the road. This park is more developed and teeming with tourists, restaurants and vendors. But you are able to swim at several points in the falls, and we were delighted to find the water cold, clear and reminiscent of New England. Before we left, Jasper bought his first machete (a gaudy specimen with a Jaguar carved out of resin on the handle and his African name, “boudilou”, which means machete, engraved in the sheath), and ate a dozen fresh empanadas.

Our third destination of the day was the ruin of Tonina, just east of the town of Ococingo. It is part of the “Ruta Maya” but slightly off the beaten tourist path, so generally less crowded and more obscure, despite the fact that it contains the tallest of all the Mayan pyramids. Our guide at Chichen-Itza advised us to go after seeing how hot, miserable and disinterested our kids were in ruins that they could not physically explore. “You must go,” he assured us. “They can climb to the top.” We didn’t reach the turn off until after 3 pm, and had planned to continue two more hours south that evening to San Cristobal. The kids protested with threats and complaints. Josie going so far as to declare, “I HATE Mayan ruins.” We assured them that they had no control over the situation and were going anyway. And we did.

We reached the park at 3:45 and were thrilled when they didn’t charge us for entry. A caballero offered the kids a horseback ride to the ruins, which we gladly accepted. Tonina did not disappoint. It rises right out the jungle, built partially out of the mountain on which is stands, taller than any other peak in the near vicinity. The children were free to climb and explore as they wished, getting lost in maze like dwellings, scrambling up steep stairways and over short walls. Josie quickly admitted that these were “awesome ruins,” and that her parents were right. Unlike the structures of the Yucatan, which were built from an unlimited supply of limestone, this pyramid was constructed of river stones. The French only began studying this one in 1983, so there is still much left to uncover and reconstruct; it is easy to imagine for a moment that you are an explorer uncovering a ruin for the first time.

As we approached the fourth terrace (there are seven), a guard declared the ruin closed for the evening.  Jasper and Josie were happy to continue scrambling back down, and Peter convinced them he could run to the top for a quick look and picture, so only I was disappointed by this lost opportunity. However, the view even from this vantage was stunning, and the night calm and cool, so I could hardly claim hardship.

We decided to go with the flow of the evening and stay the night in an ecotourism cabana next to the ruin. We were the only guests there for the night. After settling into our one room cabin, we were the only patrons at the little restaurant. We watched the sun descend over the mountains while enjoying beers and a home cooked meal of carne asada. After dinner we joined the family who runs the lodge as they attempted to feed an errant pelican who had showed up on their property the night before (we were a six hour drive through an impressive mountain range from the ocean; we had fun exchanging theories of how he had arrived at their rancho). I offered a can of tuna fish for the cause. Sadly, the passive creature would accept no alms, as he floated listlessly in the neighbor’s flooded temazcal bath (or sauna). The exercise afforded us the opportunity to get to know our hosts, however. And one of the boys taught Jasper to use his machete. This was perhaps the best evening in Mexico yet.

This morning we left before breakfast once again, this time determined to stop in San Cristobal for a reasonable visit, and reach our destination before dinner. The drive was nothing short of stunning. The mountains are close, intimate and dramatic. Jasper commented, “Now I can say I have seen the jungle.” It is slow going along the mountain roads because they are steep and winding, but mostly because they are riddled with “topes,” or speed bumps at any place where there is a dwelling (which is in most places). But it is difficult to feel in a hurry amongst these lush, cool mountains. We spent only a few hours in San Cristobal, where we should have spent days wandering the streets, sampling the coffee and chocolate, perusing the amber and embroidered textiles. This is one city to which I would love to return.

Tonight we are staying in Tuxtla Gutierrez, the large and more modern industrial capital of Chiapas. Tomorrow morning we head further south to the small town of Villa Flores. I still have not been able to find it on the map, even though Peter insists it is there. And we have stayed the night here because Peter’s homologue is concerned that we would not find the town on our own unless he takes us there personally. The next few days will be a far cry from our time in cosmopolitan Merida, or our weekend journey along the tourist route. But we are up for the next, and perhaps most difficult, leg of the adventure.