Playa del carmen or (Hell on Earth)

Playa del Carmen

I recently landed on planet Playa Del Carmen, Wow! what changes have taken place in the 12 years since I was here last...
I have been protected on this trip and within my bubble.
In so many ways, this is the opposite to a small, colonial indigenous, Guatemalan village, this is like hell on earth- or Shinjuku, or Kao Sahn Road, or Las Vegas.
All the glitter and emptiness of a western consumerist megalopolis.
I am a bit embarrassed, or ashamed, of the place.
Kind of like stumbling into a brothel; embarrassed with realizing why everyone is there, and not wanting to take part in it.
Especially after the wonder of living in close community in Colosio, during a land rush (and there arent too many of those around) where folks would rather the cheerful "pay me tomorrow" if you didnt have the change for your avocados, papayas and bananas. Than let you go away empty handed...
We all lived in small huts, everyone was excited for the future.

Now its an endless mall, advertising all the things you dont need and cant have.
I forget that there are enclaves like this, Acapulco, Mazatlan, "...insert tourism blighted city here"...
Who would choose to go to them, with nothing cultural or sustainable about them...?

Playa del Carmen could be called a success story, with the fastest growing city in North America and lowest unemployment. But what a vacuum of spiritual emptiness, so immediately evident after the sincerity of highland Chiapas and Guatemala. I must have had 5 church groups on my street...
Maybe I am only whining since I didnt stay all those years ago, and wandered on, away from the smell of money...


L

pop corn cough

A most unusual day...

Well after only a few hours sleep on a itchy, sandy, bed (it was a cheap hostel in the very colonial part of Santiago) we traversed the dark morning streets to the police station. I could hardly believe the conversation we had with the chief the night before.
The armour wearing, European descendent cop, told us without an argument, that he would assign 2 young cops to climb the volcano with us.
The cop-shop was on the main square and they had a cell full, of pot heads, awaiting their bribes I suppose.
Naturally I had some reservations about traveling with police. The Dutch mountain climber I was going with insisted. He read the consulate reports, and after all the bad reports of hikers on those volcanoes, (I admit I had heard a few myself) we thought it prudent to ask.

The police were there in the morning awaiting us, drove us in the comfy truck to the base on the far side, drove as far up the volcano as they could actually.

Good exercise, great views, no trouble. My legs were shaking on the way down. We peaked about 3500 meters, I dont know what "lake level" is at...
The only thing that I would have liked differently is having to listen to the constant, scatter-chatter of police radio squawk, got to be a bit much.
But... even cops get robbed up on those mountains.

While we climbed one of the nearby volcanoes was erupting in faraway popcorn coughs. We later saw the ash plume.

After our lovely hike up, descending the other side, riding the roof of a little logging truck, the police called in and had us picked up, with a ride back into town.

It will go down on the count of rides I have had in cop vehicles where I wasnt arrested, I think the tally is still far too unbalanced...

On my way to the boat launch, I bought a baby squirrel... yes, it was an impulse buy.
But the salesman really knew what he was doing.
Alas, the little bugger didnt last long, "Too cute for this world..." as some have said.

I always love the boat rides around the lake, but then when I got home (to the house sit) with our adventurous couch surfers WorldOnaBike.com , I chipped my tooth on some freaking rock left in the lentil soup!

Thats almost as bad as having the best sex in ones life, finishing with a champagne enema and then finding out it was "Babyduck"...

Fashion victim...

Well I cant say that I have much of an excuse for not blogging so often.

I know of all the good reasons for writing. T'would be easy to blame Tribe.net in its many dysfunctions, but...

One thing that has been coming up again and again in my growth and reevaluation of things, is something so basic, so simple and perhaps so odd to me, is simply, clothes, my attachment to them and having to reassess my attitudes about them.

Here in Guatemala (although I was in Costa Rica, that is another story) clothes can be found in the market for sometimes 10 cents, I am not talking about handwoven colourful Guatemalan fabrics, but end of the road, North American capitalist systems cast away clothes.

Some American (and Canadian) church groups in their large-heartedness and large sizes, think to themselves, "Why wouldnt it be charitable to send these winter clothes and extra large shoes to the little brown tropical people in the south." "It would give me a chance to clear out my middle class North American closet".

So on it goes, in a grand container, perhaps from Vancouver's and Seattle's very ports.
What the generous and simple folks up north havent thought of, is the that those clothes will be sold to raise money for various endeavors, charitable or otherwise.
Clothing the country? Or undermining domestic economies...?

Where I come in is; visiting various local markets where the block loads of clothes are pushed out into large bargain booths, unsorted, piled and cheap.
Some for as little as 10 cents.
Great stuff, some designer and some new, some from consolidators, shoes too!
So much in sizes (and fashions)"the little folk" would never be able to wear.

Funny to see so many hobbit people wearing retro "Pioneer Gowns".

Ah' reevaluating...

When I was a boy, I dont feel like I was given many clothes. More that I had a favorite shirt, or only one pair of pants, and wore them until they ripped and fell off.

Certainly not many pairs of shoes.

This attitude extended into adulthood, with little extra cash for middle class prices (I had internalized my adolescent attitude of dislike of shopping, perhaps from fear of not looking like I knew what I was doing) and I hadnt discovered the joys of thrift stores. Although I would say, its not that joyful with shitty Value Village prices. At 10$ a shirt, I am still not going to buy many, but at 10 cents!?

So one can play "costumes" with many different outfits, and shopping (swimming and digging through great mounds of clothes) is half the fun.

Still this situation has left me a bit stunned, one can buy new clothes, cheaper than the cost of a washing service. It baffles me!

And the used shoe stores here are pretty amusing, all the extra large shoes come here to rest, or be bought by the odd foreigners. (I can be pretty odd).

And so I would wear clothes and shoes I never thought to wear before, try on the many guises and personalities of humanity- mix and match.
It is quite amazing to try on different shoes for different purposes, something I had never done before.

Slip into others clothes, try to walk a mile in their shoes.

Playing the fashion explorer... although it may sound like I have turned into a girly man, I am still seldom out of Basic functional clothes.
Also, tropical countries dont lend themselves to wearing a lot of clothes -less is more.

So now as a traveler, I need to learn how to get rid of things, since I can only carry so much.

L

www.youtube.com/watch

Last night I dreamt ....

Last night I dreamt I visited my dead friend. I had used a time machine (although I didnt see the machinery). I moved back 2 days before he was going to die.

He had moved, to a new place; some symbolism there.

Unlike his demeanor when he had told me of his suicide plan last fall,

He was more moody, stuborn, unreasonable and melancholic than ever, I suppose my mind painted him such, as I never saw him that way in living life.

No, this time he acted like he didnt think I would understand, and was offended that I would try and interupt his plan.

I argued with him to reconsider, pointing out what a bad idea I thought it was. I impressed upon him how difficult and unusual it was to visit him from the future.

So it was from the back of my mind,
that I was able to cast the illusion,
that he was still alive,
for those few seconds
as I awoke....

You 've got to hide your love away...

I forget sometimes, surrounded by my selected group of liberal, free, spiritual, left, green, progressive friends what its like to live amongst the conservative religious insecure, fearful folks of this world.
So here I am reminded again. Cant you just hear John Lennons "Hey you've got to hide your love away"?
And so I changed Hostals, with that little pinch in my heart...
Only to find, the other end of the spectrum at another hostal, a kind of juvenile, adolescent, immature, attitudinal "pacheco" atmosphere, (btw thats stoner for you anglophones). Who can say whether chronic pot usage doesnt stunt ones emotional or social growth...
But, yet another swing state.
Generally I have been enjoying cool, colonial, highland indigenous San Christobal de Los Casas. "The founding fathers" have packaged tourism up real nice (although the town shuts quite early)- that may have something to do with the temperatures and conservative view points...
I remarked, that I dont know how many towns there are quite like it in the world...
Yet if you had asked me if this is where I would want to be spending my time I probably would have said, no. Its a conservative, religious, catholic place. But it is scenic, clean, cheap and safe. And really, the safety part, maybe being associated with the old fashioned or religious aspects, is important to me. I can walk home at night...I dont have to suspect every scheming, conniving person on a daily interaction.

Hmmm, heading over to Comintan tomorrow, visiting with the couchsurf hosts...

L

Pizza...

Here, I thought this dserved a rant... only in Mexico... I dont know.
But Shiraz was there, he will testify...
We went to have pizza in Tepic Nayarit.
I cautioned, that it looked like a cheap commercial kind of pizzaria and Mexico is better for tacos, but we decided to give it a try, it had a balcony and was next to the Zocalo.
They came to us and apologized, "sorry, we have no tomotoes, is that still o.k. you want your pizza"? "Its been a busy day we ran out".
I asked, you have tomoto sauce... and here is where the communication breakdown begins...
They then brought us a vegetrian pizza with no pasta suace, they did have ketchup on the tables, hence the "idea" of tomato sauce.
But what surprises me, is that they didnt send someone out to buy more, or close shop, since a pizza without tomato sauce simply isnt a pizza. And the cheese wasnt even real, some white substitute...

urineurosis

I really dont understand and am getting fed up with this kind of neurotic, double standard of Mexico not supplying bathrooms
Not providing bathrooms in all sorts of places. One would think with restaurants and cafes, there would be an obligation, we paid them for the food, they could provide us with a working bathroom. What do the workers use? Why the penalizing of a common bodily function? Is Mexican culture really that backwards?
And then to pay, in so many places for the use of some dirty broken bathroom. 5 pesos. Are not gas station able to provide wages for these workers, PeMex, rakes in Billions of $, you mean there wasnt enough in the budget for the toilet? Mexico is so good for politeness and service. How or why would it stop at the bathroom..."Sorry man, you are on your own there"- every man and woman for himself!".
And then these huge, turnstile, high-security, cage apparatus clicking away, like the Toronto TTC entrance.
Why Mexico, why!?

Here in Mexico, and I believe in the 75 countries I have visited, it may be the worst in the manners of:
1. not providing bathrooms, in restaurants, cafes, internet cafes, offices... whatever!
2. then living with the Mexican shame of urine- or perhaps its any affects of the body, and the body in general. i.e. Nude bodies...
Catholicism really did a number on these people...
3. then the corrupt cops, running around extorting money out of people for the bodies necessity.


Smart municipal governments, provide public services- not pass the buck. Often when governments cant or wont decide on public homelessness in western countries, they can at least provide public bathrooms FREE of charge. For the public health, we are all part of the solution.

L

once upon a voyage...

Upon passing through one of Mexicos many military check points, we experienced a search. The soldiers were casual enough, and even a little comical in their inane questioning, "!¿Que es esta?!", as they point to a jar with a teabag in it. They didnt try very hard to find anything, (but neither did my pacheco travel mates try and hide their chronic) and it was the first time I had seen them search inside a vehicle. Just before leaving, neglecting the painted over cabinets, we also couldnt open, they looked at last in the drivers bag. Finding a jar of hippie grass and pipe.
A hush fell on the vehicle.
I wondered how bad things could get, (I spend a lot of time in that mode).
Grateful at having a chance to practice their English the officer slurred, "Joo like to smoke dee ´acheese?
They then asked about the kilo or kilos.
Looking back at all the crap stuffed into the vagabond school bus, perhaps they felt tired at the thought of having to go through it all or saw the simplicity of taking a bribe. Maybe they felt some reluctance to persecute the pregnant woman, and the folks with the easy attitudes...
looking about the soldiers fixated on some of my carabiner, camouflage, traveler gizmos. The officer wanted to exchange the jar of Pacheco fluff, thrusting it into my hands. I tried to deny ownership of that hot potato, but was happy to facilitate the "gift" of gizmos. We were polite with each other, it was a good gift for him, after all the telescope matched his uniform.

P.s. Oh I forgot to mention. At every military check there are visible explosives rigged with a wire across the road. The soldier hides in a sand bagged bunker on the other side. I suppose it puts a lar4ge hole in the road or simply explodes those who fail to stop.

I realize the idea of guilt by association, and the hazards of "pacheco syndrome"
Beware!
Some of the recognizable symptoms include:
red eyes, disorientation, dry mouth, memory loss, APATHY! ennui, and confusion.
A typical dialogue may proceed thus, "I am not sure what I am doing, what are going to do? I dont know, maybe smoke some more... ad infinitum.
Victims may find themselves unable to escape the gravitational pull of the pacheco pipe, finding ones life revolving around obtaining more "chronic" and getting high, over again...

L

hammering one out... and concussed by falling peccaries...

Oh, travelling south ward. Pregnancy and Pacheco syndrome slowing the bus down. Arriving in yet another sea side paradise, creeping further through southern Mexico.
We drove past a burning police truck- in full bloom!
Had just arrived for the big bloom of fire. My travel mates doubted we could pass and numerous Mexican vehicles fled the scene, pulling back in sloppy 5 point turns, to go another way.
I encouraged our driver to go for it. Before the emergency vehicles blocked what was likely the only route from Acapulco south.
Our friend claimed he saw a burning body within, but I saw nothing but the inferno. The heat was so intense as we drove by at about 60 kl, that I could feel the heat through the wall of the bus to other side where I sat. My friend driving with the window open... I could only imagine the heat he felt in passing...
How did the fire start, was it maliciously motivated...
This is one of the few little bites of adventure we have been sharing over the last few weeks...

P.S. ahh, thought to tell about one of my many long walks into the high hills about Tulan Nayarit. When I reached the upper canyon a dead end of a dry, steep river bed. Branches and rocks cascaded down upon me, I heard loud sounds above, and what sounded like a small avalanche. My self preservation instinct kicked in and I took refuge near the hillside to avoid what was coming. It turned out that I had spooked 2 large wild peccaries/ or wild tusked pigs. They had no where to come but down at full run, and then as I was there at the bottom of the valley, and with their inertia, they went up the other side... Boy, was I surprised!
That reminds me of the time when I was walking...
...
...


L

lost and found

Seemed like I was missing "Soul Train" all my life and was bornin the wrong generation and the wrong colour...
You tube re-runs for dance inspiration. Gahd, I luv dem afros...

Lately on some walks around the retreat center we found, many near by blessings.

Wow, what a euphoric day we shared.
I could ever count on a hike turning out so grand...

L