Tag Archives: chiapas

The people’ s car. For Love, Peace and War.

6 Feb

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The Beetle is probably the most popular car in the world. Actually, it is the most produced car of a single design platform with more than 200,000,000 models sold.

Its production lasted more than 60 years, starting in Germany in the early 30’s, when Adolf Hitler ordered the designer Ferdinand Porsche to develop “a car for everybody” and change the idea of the car as a privilege. He wanted to give a shape to an idea of a Volkswagen – ” the people’s car”, from German volks (people) and wagen (car).

The production of this car ended up in 2003 in Puebla, Mexico, being this city home to one of the biggest VolksVagen factories in the world after the german one in Woflsburg.

The Beetle has been used in so many different contexts, countless are the times it has been utilized in leisure as in movies scenes and commercials; who doesnt’ remember Herbie, featured in several Disney motion pictures starting in 1969 with Love Bug?

During the Second World War, its production was mostly aimed for military objectives and even became the symbol of the economic rebirth after the war, but at the same time it is now considered an icon for “peace and love” hippie movement during the 60’s.

There is a model called ” escape from Berlin”.   AS all of you may already know, from 13th August 1961 to 9th November 1989 a 155 kilometers wall divided East Berlin from the West. This special model with a wider coffer so to hide people  must have been very much appreciated from lovers or families divided by the wall. My innate romanticism makes me  imagine romantic scenes such as a blonde tall  girl  getting anxious seeing that  funny curved car to arrive , and that coffer to get opened and finally hug and kiss a tired out – but happy – tall and blonde, auburn-bearded guy.

The Beetle must have been a very reliable vehicle , being the car which has been most used as a Police car.

And you might not know that it won the first prize in different rallys, the one in Montecarlo in 1954 above all.

Many peculiar features charachterize this amazing car, but the fact that it is the only car able to float, it’s absolutely amazing. Probably not even his designer Porsche meant to, but must been a great satisfaction when two italian Beetle fans crossed the 7 miles of sea of the Strait of Messina that connects Sicily from the Calabrian coast. And not only in Italy, because some other brave fans reached the English coast from the Isle of Man with a Beetle, as well as in the bay of Hong Kong, in Lake Michigan and the Strait of Singapore.

The Beetle has thousands and thousands of passionates and fans who prefer to call this iconic car differently in their country. Please find hereby some, but it would be great if any of you reader could add any other one commenting below!

  • Maggiolino or Maggiolone in Italy
  • Beetle or Bug in United Kingdom and United States
  • Vocho or Sedan in Mexico
  • Escarabajo in Spain
  • Bubbla in Sweden
  • Fusca in Brazil
  • Carosca in Portugal
  • Kever in Belgium and Netherlands
  • Käfer in Germany, Switzerland and Austria
  • Coccinelle in France
  • Buba in the ex Jugoslavia

If in Europe it is more a vintage object just used sometimes to have a nostalgic ride, or used to attend the many Beetle gatherings across the continent, in Southamerica it is absolutely normal to use it on a daily basis as a mean of transport. I saw many of them during my trip to Argentina, but I am sure that I saw more Vochos in Mexico in a week than in all my life. Red, fuchsia, yellow, spotted or with the typical Mexico city taxi colors: golden and red. Zipping through the busy Mexico City avenues or parked in a tranquil colonial street in Chiapas and Oaxaca. Once in Oaxaca city I saw 3 beetles in a row: one was red, the second white and the last one green: the tricolours of the two flags of my current favourite countries in the world: my native Italy and my adored Mexico.

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Welcome to the jungle. Palenque

1 Dec

29th November 2012

As for the last night in San Cristobal we went to our favourite restaurant for dinner and went to buy tickets to Palenque for the day after at 7.30 am. 


We would have all gone to bed early, but the guys decided to go for few beers. 
I put my alarm at 6 am, but when I woke up I found out that none of my travels mate was there. I had no idea where they were, but at 8 am, when we were supposed to be already on the bus to Palenque, I started to get worried. 
The hostel owner was also worried as he had heard of a fight with  locals so he called the police and a hospital, but no report of four young foreigners arrested or injured was recorded. Thank God. They all finally arrived around 11 am; I’d better not specify their shapes and the reasons of their no show. 
The good thing is that at least we were able to take the bus to Palenque at 12.30 for a five hours ride during wind the wind streets typical of  that area. We stop for a break on the road, I bought some water and a delicious corn on the cob, my favourite snack lately. The journey was much shorter than others but it was probably the worst one because of the bad route. Finally we arrived at Palenque town and took a taxi to reach El Panchan: a magical place situated on the edge of the Palenque Ruins National Park, literally in the middle of the jungle, very wild but very popular destination for backpackers. 


As usual we had not booked any accommodation but we wandered around asking availability in few cabanas, and asked also to restaurant and bars.  I love to leave it as an adventure itself also the research for a bed where to sleep, but it was very late, humid and I was so tired. That night I remember to feel really tired and needing home, but luckily it only lasted for few hours. We took look at a proper accommodation on the top of a tree but it was overbooked. El Panchan is a unique place, they usually do hippy festivals there, is situated in the middle of nature, with no roads, just few small wooden bridges to cross from a piece of land to another. 
Our tiny wooden cabana was quite wild but at least you could feel really far away from modernity  even more than how I had felt in Mazunte. There were no windows, only a mosquito rack, which was pleasant somehow because it was like sleeping  outdoors, both for the fresh air coming in and the slightly thunderous noise of birds, crickets and some other animal’s call. We had dinner at a place called Don Mucho,  with a surprising half Mexican half Italian menu. In the desserts menu there was an even more surprising option: bread with nutella that of course I ordered. One of the little things you appreciate more when abroad cause they make you feel closer to the roots, which in the end is not bad.  After dinner we assisted to a nice live band playing cumbia, a genre of music that I started to appreciate in this trip.  They even played one of my  trip soundtrack from a popular Mexican singer called Lila Downs “cumbia del mole” which reminded me of the first time I listened to it on the beach of Mazunte. The concert was followed by an amazing fire-poi show accompanied by drums. Amazing night, amazing farewell night for my travel companions and me, we sipped few mojitos and went to sleep. I had enjoyed the animals calls few hours before, but when I tried to sleep I found it impossible with that sound even if enjoying that real feeling of being in a jungle. 


The morning after we all woke up early to go to one of the most popular Mayan ruins: Palenque, the capital city of a powerful dynasty that ruled most of the areas now called Chiapas and Tabasco. 
As in other Maya areas, back in the day there was a vigorous development in religion and civil architecture and sculpture: It was impressive, huge and emotional. On one of the temples there was a girl practicing yoga, I have that picture in my mind of that girl practising in such a mystic place. Must have been amazing. 
We visited the arqueological site’s interesting museum where to see most of the object that were found in the area. It was worth to see it, and I would recommend it to you all. Afterwards we took a collectivo to get to the town and after a quick lunch we headed to the popular waterfalls of Chiapas, called Agua Azul, which means “blue waters” in Spanish. We walked up to the top of the waterfall for about 30 minutes in order to admire the waterfalls from different point of views. They were actually amazing, when you stop to gaze at them you feel so alive but also powerless towards nature. It is incredible! 
We left that amazing place cause it was time to leave Chiapas and go to our next destinations, which were all different among each other. Actually, I had tickets for a 900 kilometres night bus to reach Tulum; Jonas would go to Campeche and the two Aussies would head to Guatemala instead. We all took different routes but I am sure we would have missed each other a lot. We had spent more than a week together 24 hours a day, living and sharing  unforgettable adventures. But the show must go on, travels are made of this: meetings and leavings, and somehow I was also happy to be on my own again for a while. I hugged them all at the bus terminal and promised we would have met again one day.

No matter what, it is impossible to describe how close you feel to nice persons during a trip. You meet random people and cross their lives for a while sharing funny memories and experience you would ever forget in life.

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Sacred and Profane in San Juan Chamula

30 Nov

The ride from Oventic to San Juan Chamula was quite bizarre. There was no taxi coming up there and we found a guy who offered to give us a ride for free but that afterwards pretended to be paid like a taxi. He even got quite aggressive and I am glad I was with three macho men, which unfortunately didn’t really understood what he was saying in his thick Spanish. It was probably the first time I felt a little bit nervous and uncomfortable in that area.
We arrived to this peculiar small town inhabited by indigenous Tzotzil Maya people. We walked to the church crossing a street full of handcrafts shops, especially blankets and clothing; I bought a lovely chiapaneca belt with brown leather and colored textile, and as I was a little bit hungry I had and a corn on the cob at one of the many vendors of this popular product.
The entrance of the white church was beautiful, a big antique wooden door with blue and green decorations all around a wide arch.
A seven years old kid charged us a 20 pesos admission while he was doing his homework. His book was nearly bigger than himself.
We already knew this town was more strict than usual towards photographers.
A man outside warned us not to take any pictures otherwise we would be fined with 8000 pesos and 72 hours in jail.
San Juan Chamula belongs to a different type of Catholic called “Word of God” Catholics. These would shun the “traditionalist” Catholic practice mixed with indigenous rituals and beliefs, a perfect kind of religious syncretism.
Inside the church there are hundreds of Saints statues with the peculiar detail of having a mirror hanged on their neck as a pagan symbol to deflect devil.
There are no chairs nor benches, the ground is covered by pine needles, straw and thousand of colorful candles; people lay in front of their favorite saint surrounded by eggs and soda bottles, apparently because it would help to burp and get rid of the bad energies, as per a Mayan tradition.
Most of the people who come to this church come here to ask to be cured themselves or ask for some beloved to be cured, singing incomprehensible archaic tzotzil chants. Sometimes you can see some Curanderos, a kind of shamans that are supposed to help curing sacrificing even chickens.
I loved this place because I had never seen something similar, the atmosphere was unique, and you can’t miss a visit there when in Chiapas.

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Scent of tradition and resistance. The Zapatistas

29 Nov

A quiet afternoon of the past 27th November we decided to follow our politically active mate, Kevin, at his Spanish school where we could learn some more things about “Zapatismo” movement through a documentary.
I am not a big fan of politics, but during my stay in Chiapas I have to admit I got quite curious about it. I met few people who actually travelled to Chiapas just to study its indigenous communities and support their activities.
Around the end of the 70s, representatives from different Mexican indigenous groups such as Tzeltal, Tzotzil created the Indian Congress with the goal of uniting the indigenous peoples politically. Activism and resentment continued to the 1990s.
This small guerrilla band led by a man called Subcomandante Marcos called the Zapatista Army of National Liberation (Ejercito Zapatista de Liberacion Nacional, EZLN), came to the world’s attention when on January 1, 1994, the day the NAFTA, (North American free trade agreement) went into effect, they occupied the San Cristobal city hall and proclaimed their self revolting to the world.
We watched the documentary and we shared our opinion afterwards in a beautiful terrace with stunning views on the town. Two large wooden benches connected to a central rectangular table, which would be just perfect for a ginger tea. But we head to the hostel instead.
The following morning we woke up relatively early with the aim to get to Oventic, a place popular for hosting a big Zapatista community.
We took a taxi from the main market; fifty minutes’ drive through the foggy and wind mountains around San Cristobal.
The unfriendly taxi driver left us in front of a half black half red gate with on its right a cartel saying:” halt, drivers must wait for a responsible to open the gate, those who not respect it will be punished for 24 hours. No matter who”.
of course we stopped, we were aware that this people is not the most welcoming and friendly, so we waited until two short men with balaclavas came to ask who we were and why we were there. These people want to be unrecognizable to the strangers this is why they cover their faces; we told them we came from abroad and sincerely told them the reason for the visit: we were curious and wanted to learn more about their reality so far from our Italian, Australian and German one.
They asked for our names and few more details, writing it on a quite damaged paper with hands proved by some manual work, I noticed black nails. I wondered if they had just been working on the soil.
While they looked extremely focused on taking our names, we heard a persisting horn coming from a “tortillero”‘, a guy onboard an old motorcycle selling tortillas in the area. An old lady with the face covered came out and bought some.
The process taking our name took quite a long time, but we were not in a rush, if it was not for the unpleasant cold we would have been even more patient.
I took a look at the cartels outside the gate and one was saying: “you are in a Zapatista area; we are in an open rebellion. Here the people rules and the government obeys” and another one saying “everything for everybody, nothing for us”. Explicit grudge.
We had to wait out there about 20 minutes, until one of the two guys came to open the locked gate and took us to an old lady house. She didn’t look so unfriendly but she was of few words and before taking us around she warned us not to take picture to the people as we already know. These indigenous think that taking a picture to them might steal their soul. But it won’t be difficult to find some of them asking for few pesos in exchange for a photo. Would people sell their soul just for necessity? I am sure most of them wouldn’t.
To any of the questions I asked, the lady would reply: I don’t know.
I was expecting this kind of attitude; these people want to live in their reality and don’t spread out too much their tradition. Mostly here in Oventic, but in general in all Chiapas, people is very protective of their culture, and regardless the huge rest of the world advanced modernity, here you can smell the scent of their tradition and their devotion to culture. By any means, with a resistance attitude of people who are not going to surrender easily to what goes against their beliefs. This was eventually the part I most appreciated of them.
We walked through the beautiful and colorful murals and I surprisingly bumped into a big green tarpaulin covering old stuff. The bizarre thing is that it was from a brand I know very well since it is a popular Italian leather goods company based in my hometown and whose owners are friends of mine: Carpisa. I wondered how it ended up there.
We stopped at the few handcraft shops that had opened just for us, and we bought something in sign of gratitude for letting us have a look around their places. This town is not how you would imagine a town; there is no paved road, few people around, an old school with some students playing and many cattle wandering around.
Looks like most of these communities are based on autarchic systems, being self-sufficient and never giving up their traditional ways of food, clothing and tools gathering and making. Some of them have no jobs and make no salaries though.
We stopped at a little shop who would also serve food. On the shelves many Zapatista souvenirs, cd, posters and books. On its beside there were Zapatista movement photos hanged on the walls and few wooden tables with colorful tablecloths. There was a lovely little girl outside playing with a tuna can with soap inside, playing bubbles. It was so sweet to see how kids can still play and have fun with no means. I tried to do some bubbles but I didn’t succeed, there must have been a trick I was not aware of.
That cute little girl reminded me so much of my little niece, both for her lively character and for her aspect. Her mother worked at that kind of convenient store and would keep her daughter there while working. She drayed on my notebook her house and wrote her name since I had misspelled it.
I started to speak to her by name: Xalani, she gave me such an unexpected and naughty answers; for example when I asked her if she had any special “friend” at school, she replied she had actually four boyfriends, and that even though she liked all of them she couldn’t remember all of their names. She also told me secretly she liked one of my travels mates, pointing out the beautiful Bieber (Justin), saying she liked him because he was the “whitest “.
I am sure it was not for discrimination against the darker ones, but you all may know that we always like what we find unusual. In Italy we say; “l erba del vicino e sempre piu verde”- the grass is always greener on the other side.
In Sweden guys would ignore blonde girls more than everywhere else in the world, opposite to Latin Americans or southern Europeans, which would find blond exotic instead.
We spent a couple of hours in that kind of bistro/shop playing with the most energetic girl ever; she even played football with the guys while waiting for food. We were all astonished by this little girl intelligence and naughtiness. I even asked her if she wanted to come with me to Italy and she surprisingly replied “no grazie” in Italian, (where did she learn it?) because she had family and school here. The best answer.
However reluctantly, we left Oventic directed towards San Juan Chomula, a little town half way towards San Cristobal. We did not get so much information about these people, but at least we could see a little bit of their ordinary day, and spent few unforgettable hours in company of members of their community.

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Food, tattoos and whatever makes you happy in Chiapas

27 Nov

On our first day in San Cristobal we had breakfast in a nice colonial place and reached the Zocalo, the main square of the town with gardens and a big Kiosk in the middle.
The historic center of San Cristobal has a Spanish colonial layout, with Baroque to Neoclassical style, beautiful buildings painted in various colours with Moorish hints.

The majestic yellow Baroque Cathedral with its red ledges and the big white building as the City Hall are the main attractions of this square.
I loved that fresh mountainous air of San Cristobal and the fact that wherever you are you will notice to be surrounded by hills.
Even if it is situated in a tropical zone, its climate is temperate and humid due to the altitude thus you need to carry some winter clothes, which I didn’t really have. I felt like when walking in February in Barcelona, when it is pretty cold there, I looked at the North European tourists walking with Havaianas and other flip-flops. nd I used to find it ridiculous.

Well, I am sure somebody has thought the same of me when walking the street with spring clothes with 7 degrees. What goes around comes around, no?
That morning we walked through the large open-air crafts market, with colourful and nice stalls mostly of textiles, amber and food and I saw many “sabrosas” – macadamia nuts vendors.
I had fun taking pictures of Dora with the ” Marcos”, little dolls representing the Zapatista activists with their typical black dresses and also a nice photo with a bunch of artisanal dolls that would be considered new little friends for her.
Paul and I noticed a tattoo shop, walked in and we both decide to have one. All happened so fast! I change my mind often but I surprise of myself that I never regret things. That’s why I love tattoos. I will always consider special regardless what could happen “tomorrow”.
I finally had a tattoo I was about to do in London few weeks before to leave, ” Fernweh “, a German noun that means, “crave for travelling, homesickness from a place you have never been”. I had always loved that word which apparently has never been properly translated with the same meaning.

Some would translate it as ” wanderlust” but that did not convince me. So I decided to keep it as the original noun.
Paul wanted to write on his arms “whatever makes you happy” but he finally had it in Spanish so to give more value to it being in Mexico. His tattoo was finally “lo que te hace feliz”. One has always to do whatever makes us happy. And I have probably chased this need all my life.
We were both happy and satisfied for our new inscriptions on the body and went back to the hostel for some rest.
At the Iguana hostel we met nice people, we first had some beers and then went for a walk and to a popular “Tacos” place. We talked about random things and even played cards, Asso. I don’t like cards but enjoyed it anyway.
We were a group of people from Italy, Australia, Germany, Holland, Canada, Usa and Israel.
That night I started to feel my cough was getting worse, and since I didn’t feel in shape I decided to stay at the hostel writing the blog and having a nice conversation with a nice Dutch guy who perfectly spoke Italian.
Of course he reminded me of my lovely other half and friend Sandrine and I imagined her to be fluent in Italian soon after the big efforts and Italian classes she is taking.
The day after we decided to move to another hostel; we had seen it just in photo when we had arrived at the bus terminal: Puerta Vieja hostel, and actually it turned to be an incredible place! We loved it immediately.

It had opened since few days, you could smell the brand new flavour everywhere, the dorms were amazing, rustic, country-style with colourful blankets.
We had a huge room for us and slept in mattresses that had never been used before. It was like being on a family trip, and I loved laying on the clean, fresh and comfortable bed and listening to Paul or Kevin playing the guitar just outside the room.
The kitchen was amazing and I was glad I could cook a little bit since I was missing it.
I cooked for two nights in row pasta for dinner for the five of us and a lovely German girl friend of the guys called Greta.

She had just been in Brazil for an interchange and was now travelling Central America. She had such a sweet smile, incredibly funny and looked really smart too.
In the morning I prepared often breakfast with my (modestly) delicious scrambled eggs.
I was happy to taking care of the guys in terms of food and I was also the official guide of the tour. But they were taking care of me so bad. I like the fact that I am independent from any human being, and I learnt to live on my own and do things despite the fact you have company or not. But I love good company, I love to forget how good I can stay alone when there’s good people to protect me and taking care of me. They were always taking care of me and never let me alone especially at night.

They started to call me Mamita thinking that it was a name for a mum but on their side they were
I felt so protected and safe at all times. It was nice to notice that if I ever stopped to see a shop or taking a picture, one of the guys was always waiting for me with a smiley face.

One day I woke up later than usual and I found the breakfast done by all of them for me with wonderful croque madames. I felt lucky! They said I deserved it J
That hostel helped our experience in Chiapas to be even more magical. It was supreme, with wide common space, a huge and functional kitchen and many bathrooms. There is about a bathroom every 2 people with great and warm showers, which is not to be given for granted in hostels.
Its majestic patio with long white arches and beautiful pictures on the wall, the big large wooden table where to have a nice breakfast while listening to music, is just few of the great aspect place where everybody can feel a home.
There is also a bar on the top of the house, it is still under construction but I can assure you that it was already beautiful like that, with stunning 360 degrees views on the town.
There is a soul at Puerta Vieja hostel; it is a beautiful project of few young entrepreneurs with the help of a great young architect called Daniela.

I wish them all, especially Dani Fernando and another lovely guy (who helped me not to freak out when none of my travel companion came back to the hostel a morning after partying) the best of luck for this project and that they will be able to fill all the 50 people capacity hostel.
Puerta vieja location is great, being situated on one of the main street called Diego de Mazariegos: full of shops, a big supermarket and a couple of minutes walk from the Zocalo.
In the back of the hostel there is a big garden where every night people would gather and sit all around a bonfire, with an external sauna made of stone and a beautiful antique door hanged on the walls increasing the magic atmosphere of the place.
At night we had a lot of fun at the hostel especially for Daniela – the architect – it was her birthday, and the guys organized a surprise party with usual bonfire, a piñata and a lot of food and drinks.

There were people from different part of the world; I enjoyed talking to a sweet and easy-going nice guy from Israel called Itamar. He had beautiful, kind of grey eyes.

There were also 2 nice hippy girls from New Zealand and a vegan Australian who were sat in circle meditating and after that all of them jumped on the fire in order to “leave the past behind”.
Meantime Justin and me prepared delicious jacket potatoes that took about 3 hours to cook. But it was worth to wait! Patience is golden !
One day, wandering through the town we found a lovely cultural center called ‘Tierradentro’ and it would become our favourite spot in San Cristobal: a large patio with autonomous “Zapatista” cooperatives in inside.

I loved the giant world map at the entrance, I probably never saw such a big one and we had fun taking pictures kissing Mexico and the Aussies indicating their so far away country.
We would go there on a daily basis, sometimes up to 3 times a day delighting its amazing coffees, salads, meat and a delicious authentic pizza with Nutella, which would be my little daily whim.
In San Cristobal there is a great food choice; many foreign residents have opened up restaurants with specially Italian and French meals.

There is an amazing French bakery on Calle Guadalupe called Oh-la-la where I strongly suggest you to go and feel like you are in a patisserie of Les Marais in Paris.

In terms of shops there is a good variety going from the basic cheap artisan things to the most sophisticated handcrafts of a beautiful shop called Eklektic.
I was very sick during the entire stay at San Cris, taking antibiotics and syrups instead of the rivers of alcohol the guys were consuming all day long. But it was special anyway.
More than once I was told by locals to drink tequila and all the pain would leave, or at least it would help to forget about it for some hours.
It is so bad but frequent while traveling getting sick, maybe for the change temperature, the sometimes cold showers in the hostels, travel stress (yes, it exist), tiredness and the long rides in buses with air conditioning and no open windows, with easy access to viruses.
In Chiapas lives a large indigenous population, made up of mostly Tzotzils and Tzeltals, the most important ethnic groups. It was bizarre to find out that the two languages are pretty different and they don’t understand each other.
We were so comfortable at the hostel that we all turned into lazy, even more for me, as I was feeling pretty sick.

There’s a nice garden inside the Casa de la Cultura de Chiapas. It is worth a walk inside with big handlooms on a side, and big colourful Mexican canvas on the other.
It is very close to San Cristobal Church, situated atop a long staircase up the hill: 300 steep stairs. About its half way there’s a sign ” no tirar basura,” do not trash bins and on its right a little hut made of recycled bottles and its tops and corks: very original.

Also, we bumped into many chickens on the stairs and a lovely about 2-year-old kid that, as soon as Paul said “hola” started to scream and cry, as you would see in a candid camera show.
The church was closed but the panoramic views of the city were amazing.
Plus, we had fun among the vintage yellow gym tools in the backyard.
As during the previous day we had been quite lazy we decided to make a double effort and walk all the way to the Guadalupe Church on the Guadalupe hills. Quite a long walk but less stairs though.
We walked by many shops during the long walk; especially a winery called Proyecto 25, then a marqesita shop where I had one filled with Nutella, a nice “casa de te” called Lum and different homemade chocolate shops.
While walking by the cathedral I met again Lena, a young German girl I had first met at Cielo rojo hostel in Oaxaca and after few days by chance at Posada del arquitecto in Mazunte. Many many km away.

Again incredible to meet randomly travellers met before.
At night we made a rendez vous with her at another favourite spot: la Vina de Bacco, a kind of tapas concept bar, where you receive some little dish whenever you buy a bottle of wine. Its owners are Italian.
We had a lot of fun, and met other people from the hostel; we enjoyed some minutes of live music from a smiley and funny Romanian traveller.
I got a bizarre proposal from an American murals artist who offered me consultancy for my blog in change of some afternoons to spend together. He said he was also an editor. He might have been useful for my blog but he was a little bit awkward, I didn’t give him my email on purpose but he gave me his. I never wrote him back. I thought: I would never meet him again. But puff…. I didn’t know that I would bump into him face to face a week later in the streets of Palenque, 6 hours bus away.

The world is little, I felt a little bit guilty but I acted as I had not seen him.

And Chiapas is a place I would strongly recommend you all to visit.

 

 

 

 

 

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