Thoughts in Motion

The sun is blasting her way out of the heavy mist as we travel south from San Cristobel towards Guatemala. It is 7:30 am and the van that is taking us is packed with travellers. Backpacks and luggage are piled on the roof. Paul and I are the only ones for whom English is the first language and, we are, by far, the oldest.

There is a young family from Germany travelling with us in the van. Two little boys, Ammon 4 years old and Noah, 5, remind me of our grandchildren, Stella and Oscar. We immediately make a tight connection. In fact, Ammon sits on my lap almost the entire 9-hour ride, and I realize he thinks of me as a grandmother. I am in heaven! It could be my Oscar!!! The family is travelling for 11 months. They started in New York in September and drove across the United States in to Mexico.  They intend to spend the next few months in Guatemala, learning Spanish and having the kids mingle with Guatemalan children in a pre school environment.

In fact, to all of the travellers in the van Paul and I could be the parents. I wonder what they are seeking as they travel. What drives them to explore like this? How long will they be wandering? What will they do when their travels are done? How will their lives unfold? They are so young.

I am loving travelling and thriving on the excitement and wonder of the unfamiliar world that is before me. I feel so deeply as I connect with others, sometimes from afar, sometimes face to face, and sometimes in more profound ways. I am loving learning through living and partaking in the life of different civilizations and cultures around the world. I realize how much there is to learn and to do as I travel through cities and villages and towns. I will never have enough time in my life to do all that I want to do. There are so many places where I have I been that I want to return to. There are so many people with whom I have connected that I want to see again. But what about Thailand, and South America, and Viet Nam and Europe? How will I fit in all the places I’ve read or heard about and never experienced?

Sometimes I think that if I were going to live again, knowingly, I might figure out some way to have everything I already have (all my children and Paul and my work) and just travel. I love the freedom and flexibility and adventure. It could be a good life for bringing up kids in this world.

And then, ultimately, I know that everything happens in the right time!

I am so grateful for how my life has unfolded. I have worked hard and developed a solid career. I have the most amazing kids in the world (forgive me for being so exclusive) I have a fairy tale marriage with the love of my life and my best friend with whom I share common dreams and hopes and family. I have worked, learned, parented, played, and even travelled while doing it all! I did it all joyfully (for the most part), responsibly (always) and I can actually say, “I’ve done a good job of it.” I’m happy I had my life the way I did! Now…. onward to Guatemala!

San Cristobal De Las Casas

There is music playing in the courtyard. It is joyful and loud. The cathedral is packed and the crowd of young people dressed in white gowns and wearing flower corsages are lined up outside the cathedral doors.

First communion (an interesting
blend of Catholic and Mayan culture)

At first we thought it was a wedding. Somehow Paul and I seem to happen upon weddings wherever we are, but after some explanation I learn that it is actually a ceremony for first communion.

In San Cristobal, it is challenging to find people who speak English. My Spanish is very weak, but with some Spanish and some English I begin to understand what’s going on. The priest comes out to invite all the participants in to the church. As the music continues, families, extended families and friends of the 14 year olds enter the church for the ceremony.  I don’t know a lot about communion but I do know it’s for children and in order to receive communion one must be free of sin. The concept of ‘sin’ perplexes me even in the simplest idea. Of course children are free of sin! Does communion protect them forever? Or maybe it just supports them to as they learn how to prevent themselves from giving in to sin as they grow up, grounding them to the idea of being (and doing) good. It seems that becomes more challenging as we grow, and, of course, depends on where we live and the influences around us.

Carless streets of San Cristobal

Paul and I refrain from entering, choosing to experience the warmth of the sun as it moves in and out during the rest of the afternoon.  It is quite cool in San Cristobal, mostly because we are over 2000 metres above sea level. That’s pretty high up and the air is quite thin.

It is a different vibe from any other place I’ve been in Mexico. There are many artisans here and a large population of Mayan residents. The artistic contribution from the Mayan culture enhances the presence of art products that are for sale in the many vibrant and busy markets that occupy the streets in San Cristobal.

That's me and Franscico

People here are simply genuine. I spent a long time with Francisco this morning as he meticulously connected the broken chains of my Indian ankle bracelet that needed repair. As he handed it back to me I asked “Cuanto?” (How much?) Francisco waved his hand making it clear that he didn’t want anything for his labour. Instead I purchased one of his hand made silver bracelets for my little cousin in Los Angeles.

The markets in San Cristobal are what enrich the area. Handmade items can be found at almost every stall crammed into the market aisles. Colourful Mayan weaves are meticulously created into handbags, shawls, jackets, blankets and clothing. Colour is everywhere. Young children walk around selling small items of braided bracelets and woven cloths beseeching travellers to buy their goods. Anywhere I look is bursting with colour.  I am amazed at how people survive. Each merchant sells the same things. How do they maintain income?

A great way to travel!

Paul and I decide to experience horseback riding one morning. We enter the village of Chamula on horseback. Chamula is a small village centred on the San Juan church. I’ve heard that it is one of the oldest churches in all of Mexico and was reclaimed by the indigenous community in 1968.  Ritual ceremonies, involving sacrificial chickens and eggs happen daily. The mix of Christian and Mayan ideology is translated into practice with the help of shamans. Pine needles covering the grounds of the church reinforce the Mayan belief that nature is energy and energy is nature. The balance between the two determines ultimate health. With shaman support, sick people are guided towards a place of health.

The oldest church in Mexico

Paul and I didn’t enter the cathedral, but if we had, there is a possibility we would have witnessed various families in different parts of the pew-less cathedral floor, experiencing ceremonial practices for healing and creating a more balanced energy for each family member. Passing a live whole chicken and chicken eggs over the ailing person’s body is said to remove the curses and dispel bad spirits that are causing the disease. The patient is then advised to take the chicken home where it will die in time. Sometimes the shaman even suggests that the patient cook the chicken and feed it to someone who he or she does not like.

  

I bought a gorgeous woolen
Poncho for my friend Jill
from these women

What is interesting to me is the mix of Mayan and Christian practice and the attempt for a people to reclaim practice and theology after being indoctrinated and manipulated into other ways. I am loving learning more about indigenous practice and experiencing new ways of connecting to a spiritual world. San Cristobal is an ideal place for that!

The Palenque Jungles

Palenque…here we are immersed in Mexican culture. It’s 10:30 am and we’ve just been walking the streets looking for a café con café ey wifi. Small shops line the streets displaying goods overflowing out of windows onto the street. Small tables, covered with fresh fruits, vegetables, and newly slaughtered chickens occupy corners. Residents wander purchasing their food. People, busy in the streets, carry on their daily routines.

Music blares throughout the village. It’s loud. Spanish is a loud language even when it’s spoken quietly. I’m learning to speak some. I’m hoping by the time I return to Canada I will be fluent. My formal lessons really start once I get to Guatemala. For now I am learning by trying to speak with people on the street. Ironically I am realizing how much French I know. Too often my ‘Spanish’ comes out in ‘French’. I usually rely on the universal language of communication. I can often make myself understood. But there is nothing like speaking the language of the people. I am trying hard to get there.

I am noticing how different I feel in the Mexican culture. It’s heavy. People speak loudly. There is not much subtlety here. Joyful Latin music blares everywhere. There is no attempt to try to please travellers by playing popular music from the west. There is a simple pride here. I feel it everywhere I go. Mexicans demonstrate their cultural presence just by being who they are. There is no sign of pretence, just a natural way of being. It’s comfortable for me, and yet, I don’t feel ‘home’. I am a visitor.

Military presence is evident throughout the state of Chiapis. Checkpoints occur often on the main roads and security stops are regular occurrences. There is societal unrest, due, mostly, to the oppressive attitudes towards the Native locals here. Like our Native community in Canada, there is fear of losing cultural identification and of being eradicated as a civilization. The culture is strong now, due, I suppose to the cooperative efforts of Mayan people throughout Central America.

As we travel I am very aware of the difference between being a tourist and being a traveller. As a traveller, I feel relaxed. Paul and I wake up where ever we are and say, “What do you want to do today?” Sometimes it’s just about hanging out at a café and experiencing Mexican life around us.

Our accommodation is called The Jungle Palace. It really is in the middle of the jungle. Our room is basic. Fortunately we have our own washroom, and a simple balcony with a chair for sitting. There, I find myself lost in the wild.

I have been practising Yoga daily and loving the experience of laying my mat down on the wet dirt of the jungle. As I smell the wet dirt I make friends with the palm tree that receives my touch with each sun salutation I complete. I get to listen to the sounds of the jungle mingled with the rumble of cars in the background and local builders using chain saws and other construction machinery. It is all a part of what is around here. Yoga reinforces that presence of the whole for me.

As I travel further south in Guatemala I am open to embracing more and learning about this interesting and rich people!

Exploring the Mayan Past

I am sitting cross-legged and alone on the summit of a small hill. I am overlooking the grounds of an ancient Mayan village in Palenque. Surrounding me are five distinct mounds. Atop each elevation stand remains of temples left over from Mayan civilization from over 1400 years ago! Each hill, each temple, exudes an ancient historical energy from its time.

The scene is intensified because the village is in the midst of the jungle. The growling of monkeys, heard clearly through the trees reminds me that this is their home now. The absence of human life is evident by the emptiness of the architecture. Travellers come to visit, but the activity of life that once existed here no longer dominates.

I am reminded of the book Chariots of the Gods that I read when I was a teenager. The premise is that ancient architecture is a unique example of geometric perfection without the technology or machinery available today. Who made these buildings… so perfect and strong that they are still standing today? How, after 1500 years do the solid walls remain erect and usable with even the sculptures carved into the walls surviving?

The green grass and variety of trees, some of them old and wise-looking, keep me grounded. It is hard for me to relate to a life in the sixth century. What did people do back then? What did they think about? How did they find joy? Where did they seek out meaning to their lives? How did they relate to one another?

Mayan culture is so rich in religious and political expression. It seems to be inspired by the perception of close connections between human behaviour and the Gods. It seems that so much of the Mayan activity focuses on making sense of life through death. Much of the art and jewellery concentrates on helping individuals pass comfortably into the other world. Samples of individuals’ lives are placed in the tombs of the dead as a gift to the Gods and a promise for good things in the afterlife.

In the art, there is only a slight differentiation between human and Godly characteristics. Most of the artefacts that have been found in Palenque reflect the very close relationship between the two. Grotesque faces combined with weird flying figures and wild animals come together to accentuate the possibilities of nature’s expression. Complex masks, ornate jewellery and clay representations of the gods reinforce the close relationship. The culture thrives here in Palenque as well as in other regions in the area. The strength of Mayan influence dominates primarily from countries in this part of Central America: Honduras, Guatemala, El Salvador, Mexico and Belize.

The spirituality that is the expression of the culture is unique for me. It is different from that which I find so easily in India, which is evident in the streets and in the minute to minute living of the people. I suppose that is true here too, and as I learn more about the Mayan civilization I seek a better understanding of how religion, culture and day-to-day life translate into their spiritual expression.

Underwater in Cancun

I am a certified scuba diver. That means that I took the course that teaches me what to do in case of emergency when I am scuba diving. Usually when Paul and I travel, we try to scuba dive at least once. It’s been a while since we’ve gone. We hope to get some scuba in during our trip.

Snorkelling is just as good in Mexico. Paul and I and three of our kids got on an early bus to Akumal. There is a beautiful beach there and snorkelling equipment for rent. We gathered some gear to venture out into the ocean. There was promise of colourful and interesting coral structures, all sorts of fish and giant turtles.

I am happy floating around in the underwater world. For me it’s a way to experience our world in another way. There’s such life going on in places where I am so unfamiliar. I excite at the gentle movement of the leaves and the presence of the coral on the ocean floor. It’s an underwater breeze that causes the motion, a breeze that I don’t understand, and a breeze that is constant. - it never ceases. The sounds underwater are muffled and clear all at the same time. I can hear my own breathing and, if I make small sounds, it is as if I am the sound.

The various fish are home here. They know where to find sustenance. They travel together, and sometimes alone. They remain aware to stay safe from predators and struggle to gather what they need to survive. I wonder why we call groups of fish ‘schools’ and I feel awkwardly comfortable knowing that they do.

During my floating time, I saw several of those turtles. They are gigantic with colours in soft natural shades of brown, beige, green and tan. The few with whom I made contact had surprisingly big eyes. They saw me I’m sure, even though I am very careful to swim with as little movement as possible. The last time Paul and I were in Mexico, we spent several days with Jorge who taught me to swim inconspicuously. I like that. I am in an others’ world. I want to observe but I don’t want to affect any change for them. I am a visitor in their domain.

After our snorkelling and a scrumptious lunch of burritos and beer, we hopped another bus further west to Tulum. There we visited a giant cenote. We arrived just as the sun was setting and the air was becoming cool. A cenote is an enclosed pool of fresh, spring fed water, surrounded by surrealistic looking stalactites and stalagmites.

I love swimming in the fresh waters, navigating my way through the natural caves. With the evening approaching, bats are waking. Intently flying around and preparing for their awake time, it is exciting to be there during their activity. I remembered reading a novel when I was young. The heroine of the story was attacked by bats that flew into her hair. I wasn’t really frightened, but I sure am relieved that it didn’t happen to me.

Swimming in the cool fresh waters is invigorating. As the darkness falls, I carefully follow the lights of a group of scuba divers until they swim so far into the underwater caves that I’m afraid I’ll not find my way out. It is dark. The waters are calm and silent as I manoeuvre my way to land. Small turtles are doing the same.

The waters in Mexico are special. The colours are brilliant and the feel of the warm waves on my skin is healing. Soon we will be away from the ocean, heading inland.

Traveling 'Differently'

Paul and I travel differently than we used to. When our kids were growing up, we both had full time jobs (sometimes more than one at a time) and we maintained a huge house in the suburbs of Toronto. We provided our kids with programmes and lessons and ‘stuff’, and we made sure they had all the advantages that life had to offer. Money was essential. We worked hard.

During those times, we’d send our kids off to camp in the summer and take off. We enjoyed vacationing in all-inclusive resorts. There, we had the chance to unwind from our hectic lives before we would rent a car and take off exploring on our own. We both love travelling. In those days I used to say “One day we won’t spend thousands of dollars on an all-inclusive resort for a week, but the same amount of money for a months staying in less expensive places.” That’s what we do now.

The place we’ve rented in Cancun immediately gives me a sense of home. It ‘s a simple and quaint place, umbrellad in palm leaves, bamboo stalks, orange blossoms and mango trees. The tree trunks winding around each other also caress the structures that provide rest for travellers. Many of the walls are round.

Patricia and Abigail’s B&B/hostel is in the heart of Cancun city. The streets rumble with music, and the voices of people speaking Spanish and inviting conversation. “Come and have a tequila with me,” storekeepers shout, trying to enhance us to come and buy their wares.

It’s simple and inexpensive. That is how we are able to invite our children for the week here. We were invited to a wedding in a massive, all-inclusive resort. We wanted to be at the wedding of our cousins, Jeff and Rachel from New York, but we knew we could not afford the resort. We found this option as a viable and wonderful alternative.

The wedding was beautiful. It took place at a magnificent place called La Amada. The ceremony was on the beach under the blue sky just as the sun set into her orange-pink mode. The vision of the bride and groom embraced by the natural surroundings was almost breathtaking. Being there with our extended family was priceless.

Rachel made it possible for all of us to spend the night by letting the hotel know that we would be sleeping in the bridal suite. The suite was a three-bedroom apartment overlooking the Playa Mujeres aqua sea. The white sand flowed from the building’s entrance right to the water’s edge. Paul and I slept on a beautiful mattress outside on the balcony with a wild and comforting breeze cooling us throughout the night. Even Lindsay dragged a mattress outside to experience the expanse of the night sky, the cool breeze and the outdoor energy. We rocked the party, dancing, drinking and eating delicious food and celebrating a marriage of our family members. What more could we ask for?

In the morning, we hugged and kissed everyone, thanked our hosts, and travelled back to our comfort zone…back to Cancun proper.

I think about that big hotel sometimes now. We felt badly leaving our family the morning after the wedding. We agreed as a family that the cost for the day pass was exorbitant and it didn’t even allow us to stay through dinner. We felt the exclusivity of the resort, and we felt excluded. We chose to say our goodbyes and thanks and to spend the day on a public beach,

I am happy with the simplicity of our accommodations. I like the familiarity of the residents in the neighbourhood. I appreciate the feeling of living in Cancun and communing with the people who live here. The local grocer knows us already. And the corner storeowner finally realizes that we don’t want to buy sombreros or the handmade luchador masks that he sells. We do want to smile and wave and say buenos dias, and find out how his night was and what his plans are for the day. And we do want to ask him advice about what we should do today and which public bus will help us get to where we want to go.

We love having our dinners together with others in the house, and often prepare a conglomeration of dishes to satisfy all of our appetites. And we do want to stay up late under the stars, sharing tequila and beer and juice and talking in so many languages, laughing and learning and planning together.

Now the week is over. Three of our children have gone home. Tonight we make our way to Palenque with Josh. More wonders await us, no doubt! It doesn’t get any better than this!

Ooops!!!

I suppose we could have been put in jail! But we weren’t!

Instead we created an hour of laughs and camaraderie. We made friends and partied with the U.S. Customs and New York Police Department.

I didn’t know my chopping knife was still in the carry on bag that I recently took to India. It was neatly wrapped in a decorated envelope where I had written, “Let’s cook together!” That was the knife I had prepared to give to my friends Iris and Alan. I brought it back for them from India. But I didn’t see them during my brief landing in Toronto. So the knife was still in my bag.

I was a bit surprised that my bags were taking so long to be processed. And I was even more surprised when the security officer said to me with squinting eyes and a firm stance “Why are you carrying a knife in your bag?” But when I allowed myself to recreate what I call “the movie in my head’, I remembered the knife. There was no use denying it. I had to face the music. At this point I was less afraid of the NYPD than I was about dealing with Paul!

“Oooops!” I thought. “Oooops!” I said out loud. The chief security officer was not impressed with my giggle or my story. I had nothing to hide, and, I was even open to them taking my knife. There was no question though, this guy meant business!

“Don’t move away from here.” He ordered. “Stay away from your husband and don’t touch.” “Have you put your hands inside his bags at any time?” “What were you thinking?” were some of the questions he threw at me while we waited for the policewoman to come and interrogate me.

“What were you thinking?” asked Geraldina, the female police officer that came to interrogate me. I wasn’t allowed to touch the knife. I was ordered to stand still. There were photographs and photocopies and measurements and diagrams. I was expecting a full body search!

I told her the story…. how I had forgotten about the knife…..how I recently travelled to India…..how I love to cook with my friends back in Toronto…..how I love to travel and meet new people….how I’m a teacher and try to find places to share my skills and knowledge….how I practise Yoga and look for ways of spreading universal love and compassion to others. She wasn’t impressed, but she did believe me and after some photographs, and photocopies of my passport, and measurements of the knife, and information input into the computers, they let me go.

By the end, the people involved, 3 New York police officers, 5 security guards and me were all good friends. We laughed and hugged as we said good-bye. It was actually fun…. in a weird sort of way.

I’m not sure Paul felt that way. He kept his distance during the ordeal. The others thought he was mad at me as they witnessed him sitting quietly away from the spotlight. But I knew different! He sat quietly thinking about how lucky he is to have me in his life and how exciting my presence makes his days. He was thinking about how alive his life is with me and how he wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world. How else would he have so much fun!!! Ya think????