Out and About

Taking the opportunity to bumble around the town in the heat of the day (I`m not due to start the TEFL course until Monday) was a wonderful assault on the senses and my poor, travel tired brain. The hustle and bustle of the weekend market pushed me past stalls purveying a range of fabrics, clothing, food and fantastic tat on to the long, shallow steps that fronted the west facing facade of the huge, colonial church, resplendent in a coat of white paint, edged by a deep terracotta red.
Standing on the steps shaded by a large tree whose fallen blossoms littered the steps, I was overwhelmed by their fragrance combined with the smell drifting over from the stalls cooking meats, nuts and sweet breads. All of this, combined with the insistent warmth on my shoulders and back brought memories flooding back of previous travels in central America and Asia.


Wandering down the steps, I came upon the banks of the river that we`d crossed earlier, furnished with a range of restaurants, or "cantinas". In the true spirit of opportunism , each one of these establishments had seized upon the realization that providing a trio of marimba musicians (a drummer and two keyboard players, both installed on the same huge wooden instrument) to furnish the patrons with music would bring more business. Any of these musical groups playing alone would have been a delight, as all the musicians were clearly very skilled, but unfortunately every single establishment had its own group, each of which were sometimes no further than ten feet of one another. The net result of this phenomenon was akin to the drawn out collision of two, marching band carrying, flatbed lorries. Hilariously, every single diner refused to acknowledge the hideous jumbled racket that ensued, and incredibly each separate ensemble managed to maintain perfect timing on its respective tune.

As I walked back from the river, I glimpsed a wonderful range of enterprises and activities through the multitude of open doors and windows of the back streets, fling wide to counter the heat of the day; a man cutting beams to length beside intricate carvings of Jesus; racks of coffins shrink wrapped and presumably awaiting owners; a room full of men sitting beside broken televisions, staring into space, a wedding with two hundred people dressed in their finery, green ribbons wrapped around tables and decorating the hall. At each of these, I glanced briefly and hurried past, feeling somewhat alienated by my surroundings and the acknowledgement of my inability to communicate and achieve a deeper understanding with these people.

Just before I reached my doorway, I noticed two small girls, no greater in age than six or seven. They were perched on a doorstep; one was playing with a mobile phone and the other was methodically removing matches from the box in her hand, striking them and flicking them into the street.

Chiapa de Corzo
Sunday 4th January 2009