Plaza Grande de Merida

A week full of strange ceremonies, beautiful  nature, artistic markets, textiles and history. 

I'll start with some of the strange ceremonies I attended to. On Sunday, i visited the church of the small village of Chamulla.  It is a hybridform  of Catholic Christianity and the traditional and pagan religions of the locals. When the Spanish exposed the population to the "correct" religion, the people accepted Christianity, but interpreted it in the light of their ingrained beliefs. The building looks like a church from the outside but inside there is no connection between the floor covered with grass, hundreds of burning candles and families holding a personal ritual of lighting candles, drinking coke and sacrificing live fowl to the Cat

holic churches I know. The candles are intended for blessings, the cola is intended for internal cleansing and the sacrifice of the birds symbol

izes the liberation from the demons that ha

ve accumulated in the believer. You asked why Coca Cola? In the 1930s, when Coca-Cola entered Mexico, the marketing people presented the Coke as a medicine. The campaign was so successful that the believers are sure that drinking the black drink produces graphs that help them remove toxins. In my opinion, and also according to science, the process is the opposite, but the faith here is stronger than ever. Traditionally, "detoxification" is done with posh pox, an alcoholic drink made from corn in a high concentration. Coke is of course much cheaper than Mexico is probably one if not the biggest consumer of Coca Cola. Unfortunately, it wasn't allowed to take pictures, so I'll just leave you with the image of a dark church, lit by thousands of candles, chickens, whole families across generations sitting on the grassy floor around candles and Coca Cola bottles, and a tame chicken on the floor. The second interesting ceremony I attended was a cocoa ceremony. Friday evening, a friend and I from the hostel took a bus to a small town near San Cristóbal. In a village that looked abandoned from the outside, we arrived at a warm and lively house. I met a lot of Mexican and Israeli tourist people there! One of the organizers was Israeli, and after the ceremony, which was particularly long, he held a magnificent Shabbat reception, with Jewish music, Israeli food, sweet challah, the Parsha of the week and all the explanations. The cocoa ceremony was an experience in itself. The audience sat in a circle, around a beautiful display of corn, cocoa beans, animal sculptures and musical instruments. The ceremony that started two hours late was rich in unfamiliar tunes and sounds. The brave among us could try a frappe, a kind of brain-melting tobacco snuff. It's not dangerous, should fax the thoughts. I don't think I will repeat the pleasure. The cocoa, which we arrived at at nine o'clock at night, was irresistible to me. A cocoa drink with an unreasonable concentration. Among the few times I don't finish my portion of chocolate. The spiritual weekend that started with the cocoa ceremony, developed on Saturday into the Temazcal ceremony. A tamazkal is a type of tipi made of wood, well covered with thick coverings. In the center of the tipi are hot stones that were heated in a fire a few hours before. Around the stones many people gather densely. The leader of the ceremony closes the window, so that inside is complete darkness, begins to sing while pouring water on the hot stones. The steam that accumulates in the tight teepee burns the skin and makes the participants sweat like they have never sweat before. At first I thought I was going to pass out, luckily I was told to bend down on the floor with the unbearable heat. That's how I survived the hour and a half in the boiling hot pot. Basically, the tamezkal is supposed to bleed back into the mother's womb. What is certain is that I collapsed like an Uber inside. The ceremony is divided into four parts, after each part the door is opened to rest. When the door opens and the light comes in you see everyone lying on the floor half tamed. Each door signifies a different blessing, for the family love, food and more. Unfortunately my Spanish was not enough to absorb everything. If I caused anyone concern, for the record this is a very safe ceremony and I went to very professional people. Anyway, I hope that among all the liters of water I sweated, I was able to get some toxins out. As amazing as the last period has been, I have accumulated a lot of toxins, especially related to my beloved country... San Cristóbal was a rich experience not only spiritually, but

 also many material experiences. Good food, excellent coffee, Teva teaches. I went to a crazy mall. The earth never ceases to amaze me. A deep fissure in the mountain that created a canyon over a kilometer high. We sailed the beautiful river in the middle of the canyon with a small boat. At the edge of the narrow river, we saw at least 10 crocodiles basking in the sun. This is the laziest animal I have ever seen. In addition to the mall which was an amazing experience, I took a horseback ride through the small villages surrounding San Cristóbal. My horse was named Canela (Cinnamon in Spanish). I hope we were friends while I sat on her back. During the week, I was joined by Wendy, my personal librarian and we are very close friends! Wendy has been a bit like a big sister for the last week and a half, we did almost everything together during the week. A fascinating free walking tour where we loaded up on posh pox, we learned a lot about the history and culture of San Cristóbal and the zappatistas movement. Zapate, was a general in the Mexican revolution at the beginning of the 20th century, and at the end of the century, a movement of the local ethnic group of Chiapas (the name of the region where I am located) arose in his name. This movement armed itself and started a war, yes, an army war and everything against the Mexican government. A kind of civil war between the local tribes and the Mexican government which still represents in an absolute majority the Spaniards who conquered Mexico a few centuries before. The wounds will never be closed, but only deepen. The tribal people do not enjoy access to clean water, work like slaves and live in poverty, and do not get access to adequate medicines. The most interesting thing to me was that Zeptistas was a movement in which the main force was women. They are simply tired of giving birth to children who will die of simple diseases. Beyond all the depression and difficulty that hides behind the beautiful city of San Cristóbal, in my tourist hut, the hostel where I lived was like an asylum. It is also called la isla. At the sweet hostel, there were free classes 4 times a week, the week I was there I went to almost all the classes. A little to connect with the body and relax from all the thrills included in my long trip. I met a lot of good people at the hostel who joined in a lot of experiences that I told about and the atmosphere was lovely. San Cristóbal was kind to me and after eight full days I went to Planca. I will write about her at the next opportunity, sending everyone kisses and longing 😘Baca lagi