When we crossed into Mexico on December 28th last year I was not expecting to get any further south than Zihuatanejo but life intervened and now we find ourselves in a city I have heard much about and had never seen.
Decades ago Chiapas was in a state of ferment as the Zapatista movement led a revolt against the Federal government. This city was the heart of a protest against government abandonment not without merit. The Zapatistas took over communities and ran alternative governments.
Times have changed, Chiapas is firmly part of the Mexican state and sub commandants Marcos is alive and well and retired with his movement nominally in existence but not an armed uprising.
San Cristobal is no longer a mysterious mountain redoubt but a modern hipster destination and hang out for young people from abroad in which to find themselves. Auto Zone Walmart and fast food have taken root.
This modern city of 200,000 set at 7300 feet has a well preserved and clean old town, a grid of cross streets paved with modern cobbles largely Tope ( speed bump) free and packed with automobiles lining the ancient streets.
Despite the beauty and historic preservation I found San Cristobal to be largely a disappointment. I have no doubt the squads of young people spending their ample inheritances in the fashionable sushi bars and hot spots around town would disagree but we found the town unlivable.
The traffic is insane and I try to use that word judiciously. Cars drove far too fast in narrow streets packed with people. Sidewalks are narrow and hopelessly uneven and totally inadequate which makes walking, my favorite way to meander totally impractical. My photos reflect this because we found ourselves forced onto side streets in an effort to avoid the dodging crowds of people and cars.
It’s a mountain town so the casual outdoor seating we enjoy is absent. There are eateries with courtyards but buildings present blank faces to the world and street life is a kaleidoscope of rushing vehicles and people. The back streets though pretty are largely lifeless.
There is furthermore an absence of warmth. The atmosphere reminds me of the sullen resentment of a local population forced to put up with gentrification in order to live off the visitors who make it all possible. I’d like to think it’s part of the process of self confidence created by the Zapatista revolt carried over into non violent daily life, a phenomenon I noted in Nicaragua 20 years ago even as the Sandinista revolt was imploding into corruption and the cult of personality.
In the midst of this stew of tourist lethargy, social agitation and Disney-esque prettification there are interesting oases we have found. Our campsite has been filled largely with European vehicles and a leavening of Canadian travelers. US travelers are largely absent as the social protests put the fear of Armageddon into rugged individualists.
I shocked our French Canadian neighbor who came by and tested us by greeting us in French when I replied in the same language and we had an extended conversation for a while about traveling Chiapas. I noted we were the sole American registered vehicle and we laughed about the perception of danger that animated every US conversation about these places.
There was a large contingent of French speakers with children who kept to themselves but we got to know a young Swiss couple (German speakers) who left home under parental protest two years ago and drove Eastern Europe (stark poverty) Turkey and now Mexico and Central America. Never did we mention danger. It’s a different mentality.
The employees managing the campground are cheerful and friendly as you might imagine and the showers have abundant hot water so we do have our oasis. WiFi has been strong but died suddenly so this post may be delayed a while until I can find a strong phone signal to upload it! The reality of this kind of travel is that nothing is certain and what we find today, as simple as phone signal, may be gone tomorrow!
As of this writing we didn’t get to the market or textile museum, both on our list but we did see the Na Bolom exhibits in a beautiful house of two unusual characters who discovered San Cristobal in the 1950s. He got a street named after him; she didn’t!
Frans Blom was from Denmark but fell in love with the Maya in this area and devoted his life to the exploration ( as he put it) of their world.
Gertrude Duby was Swiss and emigrated to Mexico after an anti-Fascist youth in Europe when President Lazaro Cardenas opened Mexico to Europeans in need of a new home.
Na Bolom means ‘House of the Jaguar’ in Mayan and they bough the sprawling home after his father died and left him some money. In life it was an in and a research center, in death ( she died in 1993 long after him) it’s still a research center and museum.
They are worth reading about if you are interested in the Maya and this early explorers of Mexico as the 20th century took hold in Mexico.
Gertrude took the pictures and often failed to take notes or even develop them so there are tens of thousands of images, particularly of women with no identification. He explored and uncovered archaeological sites and between them they lived half in the modern world and half in the ancient.
The recurring Mayan theme of humans and wild cats is seen everywhere including among the many wild murals of this town.
And yes, water as art. We bought 15 gallons of the purified stuff in a moment of practicality.
I shall leave San Cristobal glad to have finally seen the place but not anxious to return. Our plans are to drive the winding mountain road down the border with Guatemala without crossing and we have heard rumors of some interesting mountain lakes to swim in.
In the spirit of Blom and Duby we cannot leave all this beauty to the Europeans. Can you imagine how dangerous Chiapas must have looked in 1953? For those seeking danger and drama Ukraine is the correct destination, not Chiapas, land of the extenuating irritations.
