Palenque

We left Veracruz mid morning refreshed by doing nothing and soaking in the view form the gulf. I had a slight feeling of trepidation because of the unknown road ahead. Mexico has thrown us a few curve balls, none more wicked than the near winter conditions we experience on the road to Jalapa. While I was fairly confident we had driven through any possibility of cold weather we knew we had more mountains ahead. Mexico can you surprise minute by minute, mile by mile.

Cruising past tropical palms and banana trees put me at ease and I settled in to enjoy the ride. I love the flowering tropical trees. Yellows, reds and oranges pop out beside the road. Sometimes I try to concentrate on my peripheral vision. The result is, the flowers smear their colors together with the green leaves to create an impressionists painting on real life canvas.

Not long into the ride we had to stop to pay a quota (toll road). It was only a few pesos. A welcomed change from the quotas in the North which seemed to average 180 pesos ($18). I was in the lead and watched Alfred in my mirror. A medium sized white dog (which Alfred later described as a pit bull but which looked to me like your average Mexican mutt) ran in front of Alfred´s bike. He slowed to avoid hitting the dog and to thank Alfred, the dog lurched at him and attempted to take a chunk out of Alfred´s leg. When he caught up with me he indicated that he did in deed get get bit.

I spied a waterfall on the map which intrigued me. We haven´t yet seen a tropical waterfall so when I saw the road sign for it I signalled to Alfred to follow me. To reach the falls we travelled about 10 km off the main road through a thoroughly rustic old village and up a large peak. The village by the way looked as if the 21st century forgot about it with the exception that every house had TV antennas and the occasional new car. The Mexicans love TV, they seem to watch it whenever they can. While climbing the peak we past men on horseback, men and women with machetes in hand. Some carrying firewood, while others carried banana leaves. The firewood for cooking and the banana leaves for tamales. Pulling into the parking lot to the falls we were met by a curious site. It was clear that at some point in the 50´s or 60´s someone (most likely the government) spent a lot of money to try to make this place a resort destination. There were concrete cabins and a spot for a communal palpapa entertainment shelter, which had long ago been abandoned and the jungle was taking it´s rightful place back from the concrete intruders. Not far from the parking lot was the one building in good order. It sold cold bottled water, sodas and beer. Next to it a pool filled with water diverted from the falls. Other than us there was a woman and two men apparently together as well as several attendants. The threesome were enjoying the cool waters of the pool while we struggled to take off as much riding gear as we could as fast as we could. To say it was hot would be redundant. To say it was humid would be an understatement. Alfred requested the first aid kit and to our relief it appeared that the dog had bit him, but did not break through his riding pants. The dog bite from the quota booth left a good mark which bled a little but with a little antiseptic and a band aid, Alfred would be fine. We left our bikes in the competant hands of a one eye old man who assured us that our bikes would be safe.

As we approached the pool area, en route to the falls one of the men leaped from the pool wearing nothing but a black banana hammock waving excitedly like a cast member from La Cage aux Folles. I thought it a little odd but Alfred immediately saw it for what it was. My gaydar is often broke, I just think people are friendlier than they really are. Our friend immediately dashed to the tienda and picked up a six pack of beer. He signalled for us to join him. We in turned signalled we would after we had seen the falls.

Climbing staircase after staircase in search of a good photo op of the falls left me drenched in sweat. I´m a Northerner, fairly out of shape and clearly not cut out for the tropics. The thought of sharing a beer with banana hammock man (BHM) was sounding better with every pint of water squeezed out of my body.

The falls, by the way, were beautiful. They fell from a steep angle down the mountain cut through pure jungle. There was no long drop that I saw just the white water tumbling over smooth rocks pooling occasionally before tumbling once more.

We had no choice but to traverse the pool where we knew he (BHM) would be waiting. Just a note, I am not a ¨homo-phobe¨ many of my friends are gay or lesbian. It´s just that to be stalked and to be made to feel uncomfortable by an odd foreign man wearing less material than I floss with, is a little unnerving. I think I know a little, how a deer feels during hunting season or how a pretty girl feels on an Army base. That said we met BHM for the promised beer. He introduced himself as ¨George¨we said, ¨a Jorge¨, ¨no¨, he said in a dramatic tone, ¨George¨. BHM, became ¨George¨ (it must be said dramatically). George was from Monterry, a naturalist on vacation with his two friends in what he called ¨paradiso¨. I´ll admit the falls were beautiful but the rest of the place could use a makeover. ¨Did somebody say ¨Makeover?¨we could start with some drapes over there and a cabana over there¨. Sorry about that, it couldn´t be helped. George was very attentive, leaning in uncomfortably close and touching my arm when speaking. One beer was all we were to have. George would not hear of it, insisting we have more with him. But George, we´re on bikes and even one beer is not a good idea when descending a mountain on a motorcycle. George kept insisting, actually putting beers in our hands. Somewhere in the back of my mind I saw this as a possible ¨Mexican, Deliverance¨. I don´t speak the language well but I think I heard someone say ¨You got a perty mouth there boy¨. It was time to go. Sorry George, I couldn´t be turned, not interested, later.

We put back on our riding gear, paid the one eyed guard 5 pesos for in fact our bikes and belongings were still there and headed down the road.

From the falls to Palenque is only an hour or so. On the way Alfred was stung by some hideous jungle insect which left a welt still visible after a week. We pulled into the town of Palenque in mid afternoon, stopped for lunch and because the town offered little for us, decided to head towards the ruins where we read were some interesting places to stay. We past some promising spots and decided to check out Posada Margerita. We pulled into a small lovely homestead with a manicured lawn, beautiful plants and flowering trees and a refreshing looking pool. We checked out the room and decided we would look no more. The room was neat and clean. It also had two important elements, an air conditioner and hold your breath, a toilet seat! Seriously, many of the lower end hotels don´t offer toilet seats. If you spend a little more, the same hotel may offer a room with a toilet seat. I guess it passes for luxury down here. Our new home was only 300 pesos (about $30) a night. Still a little above our range but come on, a pool and a toilet seat? We deserved to live a little.

After unloading the bikes and while still in my grunders (don´t know why I call my underwear that, I just do), I jumped into the pool. Ahhh, cool sweet water and almost like taking a bath, bonus. We don´t necessarily bath everyday. Usually it´s due to where we are staying or time or because all our clothes are filthy. In the tropical heat bathing seems pointless. You walk outside, put on your riding (which is covered in 3000 miles of road grime) gear which seems to cook you like a rotisserie chicken and in minutes you could never tell whether you´ve bathed or not. Now once we´ve settled into a town for a few days we take our clothes to the lavenderia and yes, we bath.

After cleaning up we headed in to check out our new town. There´s not much to the town of Palenque. Two or three long streets running parallel ending near the town square. The streets are filled with restaurants and all the goods needed by the locals and all the crap needed by the tourists. There is some neat stuff for sale but most is crap.

The town square is interesting. It´s ringed with local indigenous peoples of Mayan descent selling for the most part handmade crafts. Here you will find jewelry made with amber (I think most was fake), some jade and turquoise. Leather with Mayan images burned into it and painted (rather tacky, I´m not the king of good taste but even I know better than to bring that home and put it on the living room wall) and some manufactured stuff like t-shirts and cds. It was a Thursday night and the square was full of people shopping, eating from the food stands on the outer ring and watching a clown juggle.

That night we resolved to rise early and get a cool start while heading to the ruins at Palenque. I did my part by waking at 7:00am. Looking outside, the jungle was covered in a thick mist which left a dampness on every surface. It was exceptionally beautiful so I sat outside in my grunders watching the exotic birds call and dance in the trees. I left the door open to let the cool, damp jungle air into the room, carrying with it the songs of the birds as a reminder to Alfred that we needed to get an early start. This subtle hint didn´t seem to work. Sarcasm had a slightly better effect. Alfred´s defense about sleeping in went something like this ¨I saw you sitting in your underwear on the front porch and you looked so comfortable I didn´t want to disturb you¨. Now my wife and daughter know that one of my life´s dreams is to live or cabin in a place so remote that ¨I can sit on the front porch in my grunders and talk to the squirrels and no one can bother me¨, but Alfred doesn´t know that. So his argument doesn´t hold much water.

We ate breakfast at a restaurant closer to the ruins. There are several hotels in the same small area. You take the same road which is the driveway to these hotels and restaurant and they seem to co mingle. With the jungle all around you, it´s quite beautiful. On to the ruins.

While the ruins at Teotiuacan were impressive, the ruins at Palenque are remarkable. They don´t have quite the same scale of Teo but they have style and sophistication which Teo lacks. For whatever dumb reason we decided not to hire a guide, at $52 they´re quite expensive especially compared to everything else in Mexico. We stumbled around our first couple of buildings without really understanding much when an English speaking guide, asked if we would like to share his services with another English speaking couple. Splitting the cost made good sense to us and off we went.

Over the past couple of years I´ve become fascinated with Meso-American cultures and the Mayan in particular. I´m reading a great book about the Mayan and for me this day was a day to soak in all that I´ve read and all that the guide shared.

Midway through our guided tour we adopted a lovely 6 foot blonde dutch girl into our group(Very much like my wife Sandy. Don´t worry Sandy, I wasn´t auditioning a replacement.) We were more than halfway through so we agreed to let her join at no cost. At each major building the guide filled in the blanks and took questions. Each of us in our group were equally impressed by these brilliant people who did not have the advantage of sharing knowledge like the other ancient civilizations. The Egyptians for example had the advantage of sharing knowledge with the whole of the known world. The Mayan were isolated but somehow formed incredibly complex systems that in some cases took Europeans many more years to figure out.

We ended our tour with the five of us on top of a great pyramid shielding ourselves from the midday sun in the shade of the it´s huge stone ledges. We talked and shared bits of ourselves with one another. The couple from Chicago were on different ends of the political spectrum with 2 very successful kids. The dutch girl was on a long sabbatical and had been volunteering in Guatemala teaching grade school children basic skills.

We ended up spending three nights in our jungle Shangri La. We did some basic maintenance on the bikes, met another couple staying at the hotel, cruised the town and outlying area, swam (in our grunders) and in general thoroughly enjoyed our time. We didn´t do much else or make nay new friends but one guy in particular did stand out, though. There are a lot of hippy types attracted to Palenque. ¨It´s the energy of the ruins, man¨. No it´s the easy availability of ¨magic mushrooms, man¨. Don´t kid yourself hippy, just tell it for what it is. You´ll garner more respect that way. Anyway, this guy you couldn´t classify as your classic hippy. He was most likely in his late 40´s or early 50´s. He corned Alfred outside of a restaurant while we were waiting for our food. Now I´m only paraphrasing because I couldn´t hear the whole story but it went something like this. He was a member of a secret organization dedicated to fighting the ¨Illuminati¨a small group which actually runs the world. He has proof that the alien crash at Roswell was real because a dude he knows was told by someone who was there and my personal favorite, he had a subpoena to arrest President George W. Bush for crimes committed. The subpoena was authorized by the 11 elders and he planned to execute the subpoena as soon as he can get back to the US which at the moment was a problem because the government had cut off his disability because he no longer lives in the US. The nerve of such countries to cut off someone just because they no longer live there! Rock on, dude!

If you go to Palenque check our hotel. Unless you have impossibly high standards, you won´t regret it. The couple we toured the ruins with were paying $160 a night for a 4 star hotel, but I bet they didn´t enjoy theirs as much as we enjoyed ours.

This adventure keeps getting better. Next on the tour is San Cristobal de las Casas, reknown for it´s indigenous people and their craft. It´s also the town that the Zapatistas took over in 1994 during a popular mostly non-violent (on their part) revolt. Sounds interesting, stay tuned.

One last note. I realized while writing this blog that it wasn´t ¨PC¨ and in this ¨ultra-PC¨ time we´re living in that someone might be offended. For this reason I apologize. Not because of what I wrote, but for you, the offended. I am sorry that in your Orwellian world we are not able to speak of a humorous episode, tell the truth and not have to worry about upsetting your tender senseabilities. So please do not leave comments about your offense. If you are truley offended look at yourself and the situation and come to a better understanding.