Mexico 6 – San Cristobal de Las Casas. Developing Daily Patterns

Today I went to see a huesero or a bone man, recommended to me by Georgina. I have got nothing to lose. I present my MRI paper scan report for him to read, and survey the small room. Two Budhas sitting cross legged on the window ledge, the sound of trickling water from a corner fountain. A picture of a crucifixion scene on the other wall. there seems to be some confusion here. Two chairs, old school style, facing each other, next to a few lit candles on the side. “It will take three sessions to fix you ” he says handing me back my Scan report (he clearly doesn’t know what it is). A session being a twenty-minute manipulation of my shoulder and arm, including having hot glasses warmed over a candle suctioned on my skin ( quite effective really); he also manhandles me into positions I haven’t been in 10 months!  With a few yelps from me, I leave twenty minutes later. It cost me 100 pesos. Not sure whether I am grateful to him or not. No questions asked, see you again on Friday! There’s a queue of Indigenous people sitting on the benches outside. We shall see?

We are loving being here, enjoying the daily patterns of our lives, living in this beautiful interesting town. We are developing routines and getting to know a few of the locals, the woman selling corn on the streets, for after school snacks, orange juice from the cart on the corner of the square by Millie’s school, Patricia makes us our favourite Mexican food, on demand, a little less spicy for the kids today if you please. Mole or Cochinito Pibil for Lunch tomorrow?

Many of the parents of kids at Millie’s school are incredibly open and friendly, though Mark and I seem a lot older and much much more conservative than any of them. For starters we have no tattoos, or multiple body piercings, and no dreads. Many of the foreigners living here are anti-American, anti-Conglomerates, anti-American trade policies, almost anti-everything for that matter. They came here to sympathise with the Zappatistas Movement  and stayed…. they are an interesting bunch! The majority of people we have met here are convinced that it was the Americans (CIA) who were responsible for 9/11. Mark and I are not so sure, though little seeds of doubt are creeping in.

Millie and I set off at 9 am for our walk through the town, Millie chatting, a long monologue the whole way. We choose the left side of the street on the way there, so the sun can warm the backs of our necks. It takes us half an hour, past the market, down the steps. The Local villagers  are coming into town, with their burden of shawls draped across their shoulders, colourfully dressed in their village colours, babies strapped to their backs and fronts too in some cases. The orange juices are being squeezed, mango and pineapples are being cut on street stall barrows. We pop into the bakers to pick up some hot bread to eat along the way, then we arrive at her little school at the Arco de Carmen. The door is opened and kisses all round. I feel like I have been here forever.

Then after dropping her at her Montessori class, I climb the stairs to an open airy breezy room around the corner, with open verandah over looking the square in front of Sta Lucia Church for a “Latin Dance Exercise Class”. It’s a continuous hour long dance class,  in which we pace through the rhythms, from salsa, meringue, and Zumba. Llorina is the happiest looking teacher – she sets the pace and we follow her, the music blasting slightly too loud through the open doors to the church square opposite. The shine boys lean against the railings  to get a glimpse of us as we shimmy across the floor. It’s a feel good hour, though I do feel slightly lop sided with my one arm.

The children have discovered the magic of an aerial dance class. This entails being dangled from swathes of brightly coloured lycra material from which they acrobatically climb and do gymnastics. Gabriel approaches it with more athleticism, while Jemima uses it to practice her ballet. Millie is just too young. They take classes together in a little room with incredibly high wooden beam ceilings and Lolisa guides them through the moves. Millie and I look on, wishing it was us flying through the air and I wish I was twenty years younger.

Amongst all this excitement, Mark tries to get them to do some daily maths, which they dread. Neither of them have that natural propensity. I am inclined towards the belief that they will catch up once back home; Mark thinks they will be disillusioned at being so far behind their peers when we are back. Mark wins the argument.  As maths was never my forte, I am leaving him to cope with that task.

Anshu and Ramadatta, our neighbours in House No 1,  are becoming firm friends and become the children’s surrogate grandparents. Tomorrow they are taking the children off for the day.  Heavenly Bliss. A Day to ourselves.