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Tale
Five - San Cristobal - by Malik
I had returned to the Bus Sation at Oaxaca and immediately I
ran into a couple I had met earlier. They had also planned to
now head to San Cristobal. It was a good omen and I would have
someone to talk to.
San Cristobal was about 480 km away from Oaxaca City. The road
first passed through grassy plains and then wound up through
terraced and wooded hills. The scenery became more mountainous
and the climate got cooler as we neared San Cristobal. We arrived
there in the early morning and I had shivers as I was feeling
rather cold. It could have been the high altitude (2,300 m)
or a mild fever due to the fast pace. Like in Oaxaca, I had
no idea of the lodging situation. The couple knew the ropes
and hailed a taxi. They asked me to come along to look for a
suitable place to stay. We settled for a nice and clean motel,
Posada Cerillo, at about US$11 per room. The taxi fare was paid
by the couple, perhaps it was too small to split up.
The moment I settled in my room, I got a call to join them for
breakfast. On their insistence, I tried yoghurt and granola
which was not only cheap, it was also good in my diet program.
Afterwards, we returned to the hotel and unfortunately, I never
saw them again after that.
In the evening, I went out for a stroll. My first priority was
to buy a woollen sweater. I browsed around and found that prices
of branded items were very high, around $60. I kept on looking
for a bargain and ended up in a tent-bazaar near a graceful
church. The vendors were mostly barefoot Tozotzil women in traditional
garb-embroidered blouses and tunics with long dark skirts. I
was lucky to find one willing to sell me a woollen poncho for
only four dollars!
With Poncho wrapped around my neck, I braced myself next morning
to climb up a hill to reach an old church, the Temple of Guadalupe.
The task was made rather easy by the seventy-nine steps. The
church was closed but it afforded me an opportunity to have
a magnificent view of the town from the hill-top. It was surrounded
by pine forest and mist-shrouded mountains. The town had many
Spanish-designed buildings, some with red-tiled roofs shimmering
in the sun-light.
I came down after about an hour and went to the market for breakfast.
The streets were packed with people. At a fruit stall, I was
fascinated to see an "alligator pear", an oval-shaped
fruit with leathery skin and yellowish-green flesh. There were
heaps of lime, tomatoes and other fruits & vegetables. Many
vendors were selling food in the open area. One urged me to
feel the freshness and the warmth of the tortillas before buying.
I did not fall for it. A little ahead, I saw a corn lady squatting
on a corner, selling charcoal broiled corn, rubbed with salt,
lime, and chilli powder. I ordered one with a moderate spray
of chili pepper but no salt as I had to stick to my no-cholesterol
diet.
The zocalo was covered by colonial buildings on the three sides
while a cathedral overlooked the fourth. A few blocks away was
the Santo Domingo with its gold leaf-covered interior.
Indeed, it was an enchanting city. It lay in the heart of the
"Chiapas Region" bordering with Guatemala. Chiapas
was the home to thousands of "indigenas" who had a
different language and altogether a different dress. They were
mingling well with their "modernised" counterparts,
the descendents of the invading "Ladinos". The latter
owned most of the real estate, trade and commerce. This had
led to tensions on a number of occasions but it seemed that
the Chiapas had cooled down and were refraining from an open
rebellion. I wish I could have stayed longer and seen places
like gushing waterfalls, mysterious jungles and Mayan ruins.
By the afternoon, it was time to bade a warm adios to the motel
staff and start off for my next destination, Palenque.
Hafeez ur Rahman Malik, Karachi-Pakistan.
Submitted: 26 September 2002
Next: Tale 6 - Palenque |
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Malik
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