dos meses en México

I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go… pushed back the thought of leaving a few times already but I have booked my bus ticket to Palenque this morning… I don’t wanna leave, I’m not gonna take that bus, I’m gonna stay forever…
Day trip to the Crazy Chicken Church… again, for the third time. I don’t think I ever explained what happens in that church, so this is dedicated to that.
The people who live in this region in Chiapas are probably more conservative and culturally different/Mayan than the ones I have met before in touristy regions such as Quintana Roo & Yucatán. The women almost all wear black skirts made out of sheep’s wool and traditional shirts tucked in their skirts, the all braid their hair so it doesn’t fly around and typically speak more of a mix between something indigenous and Spanish. The children beg on the street and for some reason nobody really smiles or is as friendly as I’m used to.
So, when you enter the church (you’re not allowed to take videos or pictures) the first thing you realize is the lit candles everywhere. Really everywhere. On the ground, in glasses on tables, on top of cupboards, in people’s hands, at the altar - I’m not good with guessing but something between 2000-1000 candles glow in the cloth hanged church. The second thing is weird looking grass or hay on the ground and people constantly brushing it off to the sides, bringing in new ones or taking old ones to the garbage. And then - last but not least - the third thing are the rituals.
For some - even to themselves - unknown reason the people act on a mix of spiritual, Mayan and Christian culture and religion. They come to the church, start praying to all the mannequins of sacred people showcased in around 60 boxes with glass windows pushed to the walls, then they change directions. All this time they sit on the floor, put between 20-300 candles in rows in front of them, lighten them up and murmuring their prayers. Some of them alone, some in big family groups. And now to the weird and honestly also disturbing part - not to air my opinion on this… some of them put Coca Cola bottles and Pox (it’s like Schnaps) in front of them, then they take a living, breathing chicken out of their many bags, take it and wave it over the candles while praying, eventually the sacrifice it by killing it inside the church. Then they drink the Coca Cola and alcohol and leave.
I could have articulated this with way more flowery expressions but the voice inside my head became stone cold and wanted to get rid of the sentences as fast as possible. So yeah, that is what happens inside the church… interesting isn’t it. Really another culture.
Anyways… that day there was live music and a bunch of people out and inside, they had fireworks and I was actually ducking to the floor, trying to cover my ears and eyes being frightened as hell - it started to rain so once we came home we just started drinking and playing games and I was just ignoring the fact of leaving that afternoon, just me being me - plus me being drunk. So when Daniel came to pick me up to go to the bus station together I was totally into the game of Charade we were playing and still hadn’t packed my bag…
we got the bus even though I really didn’t want to leave… didn’t have a good nights sleep but told the fairy tale of Hansel and Gretel… good morning in Palenque.Weiterlesen