Saint Christopher and the Tortilla Beggar

Saint Christopher and the Tortilla Beggar

"San Cristobal de Las Casas"

Before I get to the parable let me tell you about our journey there:

México City was completely exhausting. The 13 hour bus ride to the town named after me was even more so. Let me just rant for a second about the bus company we used. Before getting on the bus, the dummies at ADL-GO bus company, made us check all of our bags at the baggage check counter kind of like at an airport. Unlike an airport (and any other bus company for that matter) though, the bus was ten feet away from the baggage check counter. Every other bus company had let me take my guitar on board the bus for safe keeping with no problems. The jerks at ADO, however, made me walk through a metal detector (which doesn´t detect metal at all – I had a knife in my pocket) and then used a metal detector wand on me (all for show). They wouldn´t allow my guitar on board because of space restrictions and made me go five steps over to the baggage check window to check it. I wasn´t a very happy camper when seeing that the bus was almost empty. I did remember to grab the valium I had stashed in the case out before checking it which came in handy later (see Melanie´s blog). I also had a little upper respiratory thing going on that wasn´t exactly helping my mood. The bus ride was crazy so I hear. I actually slept through most of the scary parts. Melanie woke me up looking very worried and I could see why. The road visibility was about two feet and the driver was racing around corners, racing up on other vehicles and having to slam the breaks, and then passing them reclessly. I think he must have driven that route a million times before and was having fun with scaring the crap out of everyone. He probably could have driven it blindfolded. I gave Mel a valium and was able to relax as soon as she dozed off. It´s not so fun to see her pale-faced with a slightly greenish hue holding her stomach. I´ve seen that look before when I´ve been the driver (several people on several occasions actually). I tend to speed up and slow down without thinking about it when driving, so I wasn´t too bothered. I was bothered by the green boogers I was blowing out my nose though.

The Tortilla Beggar parable:

We finally arrived, starving, in San Cristobal. I did feel a little better as I had somehow, through the course of the bus ride, mostly overcome my illness. It was nice and cool compared to México City and was a beautiful sunny day. After following Melanie around in circles in and out of the bus station a few times, panicking about whether we were really in San Cristobal or not (we were), we settled in at a restaurant across the street for breakfast. In her defense she had just woken up from valium sleep and she was going off of my assurances that we were in the right place. I am directionally dislexic after all.

As soon as we sat down we started getting psychologically pummeled by elderly women selling bracelets, belts, rugs, blankets, etc… that they had presumedly woven. I say psychologically pummeled because they had gone through some kind of sales seminar that took not taking ¨no¨ for an answer to a whole nother level. It was unlike any begging experience we´d ever had before. I ended up buying a bracelet for a few pesos purely out of guilt and I am highly desensitized to guilt having been raised by a Catholic mother (only outdone by those of you with Jewish mothers). She looked at the Jesus statue behind us, looked at my breakfast I was eating, looked me in the eyes with the most pathetic look (indescribable), and asked me to buy one bracelt so she could buy some tortillas to eat -- she was starving. Melanie said I should have just given her my tortillas (obviously her guilt training being way more advanced). It was too much for me to endure being in the town called Saint Christopher and all. I think buying that poor old lady tortillas earns me some sainthood. Unfortunately though word got out that I was a sucker (or maybe it was the halo over my head) and I was accosted non-stop the rest of our time there. Just kidding, actually, It was Melanie who bore the brunt of the begging. It seems their sales training has shown them that women are more likely to have bleeding hearts than the men – they had it all wrong with us though. It got me off the hook though so what do I care.

Anyone that gets the meaning of the parable please feel free to post a comment and I will tell you if you are correct.

To continue...

Our hotel was, as Melanie said, run by some hick from Oklahoma (I resemble that remark) that didn´t speak a word of Spanish. We immediately bonded as soon as Melanie spilled the beans (Mexican pun not intended) about me being from cow country as well. I say bonded but I actually thought it was quite embarassing to have an unabashed redneck in the middle of Mexico putting his arm around me while calling the housecleaning dude ¨lil pork rinds¨ and talking to the Spanish speakers in slow exaggerated English to no avail. It was an interesting experience nonetheless.

We took a side trip to the ruins of Palenque halfway through our stint in Saint Christopher. Try to imagine running up two hundred steps in 105 degree heat, beating sun, and 100% humidity. It was truly a test of health and willpower. I can´t say that I wasn´t completely exhausted by the end of the day but I did ok. Before all that running up and down the pyramids we took a tour of the jungle and saw some great waterfalls, some monkeys (none of which came close enough for me to spank), and some tasty looking medicinal herbs (this pic´s for u pops). ----------------------------------------------->

We stayed at a cabana hut in the middle of the rainforrest that was cool (not temperature wise). There were lots of little animals running around including a deer named Bambi that gave away cute little deer kisses.

"Palenque"

Back to San Cristobal for a couple of more days to be beaten some more with guilt sticks. We mostly spent the next couple of days recooperating from the Palenque journey and writing in our hotel room (also to avoid being guilted into buying that 30´x 30´hand woven hemp rug). I did manage to sneak around and take a few pictures of the locals. Considering how beautiful San Cristobal was scenery-wise it was surprizing how few picture taking tourists there were. It seemed as though the locals really didn´t like having their pictures taken. I guess what they don´t know won´t hurt em right?... At least I hope I didn´t ruin a bunch of peoples souls or something. Hope that won't end my bid for sainthood. Wait that picture of me on the cross in my previous blog probably took care of that.

"Cute little girl in San Cristobal"

Well nothing more exciting to write about San Cristobal. We´re in Guatemala now having a blast. I´m enrolling in a Spanish school and salsa lessons. We are going to stay here probably for a few months. I´ll let you all know how things are going soon.

I bless anyone who reads this with the power vested in me,


Saint Cristopher