Heading into the dark
It’s a dark night and raining heavily as the bus careens around a bend high up in the Sierra Madre Mountains leaving Oaxaca and heading to Tuxtla Gutierrez. The bus is in the middle of the two lane road, driving on top of the center line, a common practice for buses driving at night in Mexico. A semi-trailer truck appears from nowhere and is coming in the opposite direction, also driving in the middle of the road. I’m sitting behind the driver’s seat and the oncoming bright lights blind me for a moment. I feel the bus jerk and swerve to the right at the last second as the truck goes by a foot to the left of the bus. I sense a strong vibration of wind as the truck passes. I’m thinking how do the drivers even see the road? How do they see the edge of the mountain? The bus driver’s eyes are as big as silver dollars and popping out of his head. There’s a fine bead of sweat on his forehead, and his lower arm muscles connected to his wrist are taunt with contraction. He is gripping the steering wheel for his (and our) life.
Most people on the bus are sleeping. I’m now wide awake. It’s 3:00 AM and the bus pulls into an all night taco stand in the middle of nowhere. There are a number of semi trucks and private vehicles parked and a few customers eating food. The bus driver stops the bus, gets out, and stands under the awning of the taco stand. I follow suit. He lights a cigarette as I approach and ask him why we’ve stopped. He says “to stretch” and for a much needed “smoke”. I tell him that his “very brave” to drive the bus in these conditions at night. I also say “you’re muy mucho”, and that I could not do what his doing. He blows out some smoke, smiles, looks proud, thanks me and responds that the worst part of driving the mountain is coming up and will be dangerous for the next thirty kilometers. I almost asked him for a cigarette, and I don’t smoke.
We arrive safely in Tuxtla at 6:00 AM. I’ve not slept since the taco stand. I feel like I’ve been driving the bus. I’m totally physically and mentally drained. When I get off the bus, I profusely thank the bus driver for safely delivering me to our destination. I tell him my wife thanks him. He laughs loudly, wishes me safe journey, and says it’s an honor to serve me. He’s a curious mixture of machismo, humility, and good humor. I like him.
Tuxtla Gutierrez is referred to in my travel book as a working class town, with an agricultural industry, and little of interest for a foreign tourist. My book recommends to continue for the next sixty miles to San Cristobal de Las Casas, a town that I’ve visited and enjoyed in the past. I found it inundated with foreigners all wanting to speak English. I decide to stop and visit Tuxtla. After my visit, I thought about why the guidebook classifies Tuxtla as “little of interest” and discovered it’s because there is little to no “English speaking” facilities or infrastructure support system for foreign travelers. Everything is geared towards local people, or Mexican tourist. On the other hand, in San Cristobal because so many foreigners stop there the consumer market offers food, entertainment, accommodations, sights and sounds to cater to their needs. Visiting Tuxtla requires a working knowledge of Spanish. Everything is in Spanish, and no one I encountered spoke English. I found Tuxtla represented the real Mexico -- only Mexicans promenading in the plazas, real authentic Mexican food, consumer goods and activities for the local populace.
Tuxtla is a typical working class Mexican city
To get a real sense of a place and its people, requires that one move away from the familiar. Why travel to foreign destinations, like Mexico, if one is going to seek out the same kind of people, language, food, lifestyle that exists back home? One will miss opportunities to experience authentic, genuine ever day life and people, who are not just interested in selling a product or service that’s been developed for foreign tourist.
There’s value in visiting places like San Cristobal with it’s heavy foreign influence. On the other hand, if one truly wants to experience a place like the residents, and have unique, sincere interactions with local people, one needs to challenge oneself and make an effort to get off the “gringo trail” at least once in a journey. In seeking out off the beaten path pueblos, cities, communities not on the “recommended” list, or elaborated in travel guides one finds genuine people, authentic cultural practices, and unexpected insights into a society, a country, and its population. You might just discover something new and profound about a place, its inhabitants, and yourself.
Tuxtla Gutierrez
It’s Saturday night and I’m at the central plaza and business district. The area is crowded with local residents. No foreigners here. I’m one to two feet taller than most people. They exhibit strong Mayan physical traits. They are short, stocky, broad noses, long noses, dark skin and hair, and large brown eyes. They look like the Mayan statues and glyphs depicted in ruins like Tikal, Palenque, and Copan. The Mayans are alive and I’ve entered their domain.
This fellow is about the height of most of the men of Tuxtla
I think I saw this face on a Mayan pyramid
Modern Mayan woman working in Chiapas, Mexico
Men and women are dressed in modern attire, both wearing blue jeans, though not super tight as in Chihuahua. Most people are wearing sneakers or comfortable athletic walking shoes. A few women have on flats, sandals, or flip flops. I see no sexy stilettos with four inch heels. They’re dressed comfortable, informally, and conservatively. No cowboy boots or hat. The men sport baseball type caps, if they wear something on their head. Many have on soccer jerseys of their favorite team from Tuxtla.
I notice individuals carrying cell phones, but not checking them constantly or having conversations on them. These people are not addicted to cell phones. Instead they’re having conversations with each other, sharing experiences, gossip, events, laughing, pointing at merchandize in store windows and making comments like, “I want to have a new flat screen television like that one”. They look comfortable being with their friends and family. I observe many people walking and holding hands - mothers and daughters, teenage women friends, sisters, men and their female partners, fathers and their young sons and daughters.
A father with three young boys (maybe ten, twelve, fourteen years old) who look like his sons, walk by each carrying a shoe shin box and ask me if I need my leather hiking boots shined. I say no, but regret it when they walk away. It’s a father mentoring his sons, or heading the family business. What’s the future for the young boys in the family shoe shin business? There probably are not many or any other opportunities. At least they’re working for a living, and not begging for money. I don’t see many people wearing leather shoes that need shining. Even they are wearing cloth or fabric sneakers that don’t require shining.
It starts to lightly drizzle and no one seems to be bothered. No umbrellas. People continue to walk, window shop, go about their business, and ignore the light rain. People get in line and patiently wait for new, modern metro buses. No one cuts the line or complains. They are well behaved, tolerant, and respectful. No cars cruising by playing loud music. These folks police each other and follow local social mores that value courtesy, civility, and honor to each other.
Tuxtla's Central Plaza and business district
I walk the downtown area, also window shopping. There are many small alleyways with little compact stores selling disposable cell phones, cosmetics, optical shops, vast assortments of brightly colored daypacks, musical CD’s, religious icons and trinkets, jewelry, women’s clothing, soccer balls, uniforms, and team banners. I pass an internet and computer store selling internet access. There are mostly teenagers working on older, big tower PC’s, no flat screens or laptops. These young people are all updating their Facebook pages and socially networking with others through Facebook.
On the sidewalk bordering the central plaza there are vendors selling handcrafts like leather wallets, belts, purses, wooden carvings of animals, rosaries, beaded necklaces and bracelets, souvenir T-shirts, and woven blankets. There is also the ubiquitous roasting of corn on the cob stand emulating it’s power smell that stimulates my hunger.
Everywhere in Mexico you smell roasting corn on the cob
A typical portable food stand selling the food of the Americas
I slip into a restaurant packed with people. The radio is on loud tuned to a station playing Spanish ranchera music. I decide to sit in the outdoor area under an awning. I ask the waiter “what’s a popular dish.” He recommends the “tortas especial” or tacos. I order one of each, a pulled pork torta and chicken taco. A torta is a sandwich served on a homemade wheat baguette like bun, with pork, lean ham, tomatoes, yellow Mexican cheese, onions, avocado, and a mild red chile sauce. The corn tortilla taco is filled with stewed chicken, tomatoes, avocado, onions, white Mexican cheese, shredded lettuce and green chile sauce. They both satisfy my spicy taste buds and my hunger.
Pulled pork torta and chicken taco
As I’m eating, a thirtyish, fellow with his wife and two kids of nine and ten years old stops and asks me “do you know where they sell paletas?” I have to think about that for a moment. Oh yea, a paleta is a Latin American popsicle usually made with fresh fruit. No, I tell him, but if you find a store selling them, please let me know. He laughs and says OK. Do I have the look of authority, like I know what I’m doing and where to find things in this town? Or, are people here not use to seeing foreigners and assume everyone is local? Anyway, I feel complimented that someone is asking me for direction and assistance. I wished I could have helped.
I decide to go to bed to visit the Sumidero Canyon early Sunday morning. It is one the reasons I’m passing through Chiapas, Mexico. Through the Canyon walls flow the headwaters of the Rio Grijalva. Yes, my last name is “Grijalva”. I’ve been looking forward to exploring this river ever since I saw the Rio Grijalva on a map thirty years ago in my college History of Mexico class.
Tuxtla's huevos rancheros: the best, have a layer of lean ham under the eggs,
and platanos (banana like fruit) on top and side of beans
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