A Mexican New Year's incident

A Mexican New Year’s Anecdote

On January 1^st of the new year, we left the house for a quick sprint to the supermarket. Once there, Sigrid went into the store, while Jose remained in the car which turned out to be a good thing, because another truck bumped into the rear end of our pick-up leaving a nice round dent. The author of the bump was a young man (19 years old, as we later learned). The first thing Jose noticed was that the car had no license plates, and when Jose asked the youngster for some documentation – driver license, registration and insurance papers – he intimated that he had none, and he went on to explain that his father had just sent him to the supermarket for meat for a carne asada - and in the hurry he did not take any papers along. So Jose decided to call the police patrol that came, but not right away. In the meantime, the father of the young man had arrived. He explained to Jose that he was a Tecate businessman, in fact, he was the owner of a junk yard and a garage where our car would be repaired in no time – no problem there, he told the policeman whom he knew, by the way. The police left, and did not even fine the young man for driving without documents.

We were left to sort things out with the father of the young man. Finally, we all decided that we would go right away to leave the car where it could be repaired. We followed father and son and arrived at their business where people had already started the new year celebration, among others four policemen in full uniform. We were greeted by the wife and of course invited to try their barbecue, which we accepted. The young man and his mother joined us, and we had a pleasant conversation. Upon leaving, Jose passed by the table of the four policemen, helped himself to a glass of Tequila and said an amicable good-bye to everybody, not without insisting again that we would need the car by next day, Saturday, in the afternoon. Lo and behold, they did return the pick-up by late afternoon, not fully repaired, but with the promise to come and get it on Monday morning for the final touches. (They did indeed send a tow truck to pick up the car, and we got it back, fully repaired the day after.)

No insults, no angry shouts were exchanged – really, we learned again, there is, in Mexico, nothing so serious that it cannot be solved with a smile and a handshake, even a hug and a tequila!

However, I should add that this incident is just another example of the absolute impunity “enjoyed” by the Mexicans – you can do whatever you want to do, nothing will happen to you, and if by chance the law catches up with you, there is always a way out through corruption from the bottom up. The young man in this story was indeed not afraid at all that “something” could happen to him by way of a fine or his presence at the police station. His “Papa” would know how to handle this unfortunate incident. Full stop!

A Mexcican Marriage

September 2009

Last weekend, we attended a quintessentially Mexican dinner – not only as regards the food, but also the time (invited for 9:00 PM, we arrived at 9:30 PM and dinner was ready at about 11:00 PM).

Among the guests was an elderly couple (we later learned that he was 68, she about five years younger). As the evening progressed, the conversation got livelier, helped by a glass or two of wine and we asked the couple – Jose and Josefina - how long and since when they were together.

Apparently, they had known each other “toda la vida” as long as they remembered, for at least 53 years. At the age of 11, Josefina worked in the store belonging to her grandmother in Mexicali, where 15-year old Jose also worked. One day, when they were left alone in the store, Jose happened to touch Josefina’s hand - to help with a load, a baby she was in charge of at that moment - and grandmother who watched them through a peep-hole in the door got very upset and scolded Josefina badly. Jose, behind the door heard all and got scared. Thus, he took the few things he owned and left for his own home - without saying a thing to anyone. However, they did not lose contact since there were other ties between the families. Jose even took Josefina to the cinema once- when she was 18! It was on that occasion that he casually said he would like to marry her and she said “really?”, and this was the end of the story for the time being. No kiss, no physical closeness...and we are in the 1960's !

When Jose was 25, he announced to his parents with whom he continued to live, that he was going to marry and when asked to whom, he told them that it was Josefina whom he had in mind. The parents did not object, and next day a delegation – the parents, Jose and a few others – went to see Josefina's parents. It was the 8th of August. They were politely received by them and after the initial small talk, Josefina’s father finally asked what the purpose of their visit was. “We have come to ask for the hand of your daughter”, they said “But which one? There are 4 of them.” So they told them that the chosen one was Josefina, the eldest. The father was surprised but agreeable to the deal, with one condition however: a one-year waiting period. After the visit he told Josefina she needed to acquire the necessary skills of a good wife, such as doing his laundry – the brother’s underwear, specifically – and all the cooking of the house! The father of Josefina did not want to have his daughter returned to him because of lacking household knowhow. Josefina was - again - completely unaware of what was going on because Jose had never again talked to her or asked her whether she would marry him. Josefina - again - got to know what was going on by listening ...behind the door.

Well, Jose’s committee was able to persuade Josefina’s father to reduce the waiting period. The marriage petition took place on August 8, and on August 28 they were legally married at the registry of the town hall. Josefina continued to live and get training in her parents’ house till November when they were married in church according to their Catholic faith and only then were pronounced husband and wife and recognized as such by the families. And they are still together!

Jose had been building a big house with lots of rooms for the ten children they decided to have. In fact, they have one son.

All this took place just 43 years ago, i.e. in the year 1966 in Mexicali, just south of the border that separates Baja California, Mexico and California, USA.

Mexico has changed a lot in the 40+ years.

Residencia en Mexico

Trámites para obtener el permiso de residencia en México

24 de agosto de 2005: Así que somos – en fin – inmigrados, o sea residentes permanentes legales en México, como se desprende de la última anotación en nuestro documento FM-2. Lo que nos ha costado, sin embargo – múltiples visitas a la oficina de Migración, la batalla con la muy cambiante Administración mexicana, montones de fotocopias, y dinero y mas dinero a pagar cada ano durante cinco anos – la ultima vez pagamos cerca de 8.000 Pesos – cada uno.

Se debe resaltar que entramos en México con un visado "de pareja" que decía en el caso de Sigrid "Inmigrante familiar para vivir en el país al lado y bajo la dependencia económica de su conyugue, Sr. José Ventura". Pagamos $3000 (US dólares) para esta visa. Sin embargo, a la hora de renovar, cada año durante cinco años, el permiso de residencia legal, ya no contamos como pareja, y Sigrid ya no es dependiente económicamente de su conyugue. Pues no, de repente cada uno es un individuo que tiene que pagar su deuda para con el Estado de México.

Otra cosa: Nuestros expedientes anuales son enviados al Instituto Nacional de Migración en el D.F. y durante todo el tiempo que este augusto establecimiento de la Administración nacional volvía a tener – cada año - nuestra "solicitud de tramite migratorio", no se nos permitió ausentarnos de Tecate, sin antes avisar a las autoridades aquí en Tecate y pagar, claro, para obtener el correspondiente permiso. Claro esta que al menos en lo que concierne ese ultimo permiso, nunca acatamos las reglas del juego. Por dos veces, al llegar en el aeropuerto de Tijuana con un vuelo nacional, los oficiales de inmigración me pararon a mí, no a José - para pedir mis papeles. La primera vez les enseñé mi tarjeta del DIF que aceptaron, la segunda vez no tuve el famoso FM-2 ya que mis papeles estaban en el D.F. desde hacia cinco meses y logre convencerles con una fotocopia del ultimo FM-2, ya caducado. Me consta que nunca podre pasar por una mexicana o guatemalteca.

Aparte del pago cada año para la petición de prorroga, se pide al futuro inmigrante avisar a las autoridades de cada mudanza dentro del perímetro de Tecate durante estos cinco años y pagar otro monto para este papeleo. Asimismo, se nos hizo pagar una penalidad calculado en el número de días de retraso con que sometimos nuestras solicitudes de renovación del famoso FM-2.

-

Con referencia a nuestra Visa de entrada, cuando nos fue en fin concedido, nos fue dado un mes para aprovecharla y hacer la mudanza desde NY a México. Tómalo o déjalo – os damos un mes, no más!

Asimismo, se nos pidieron extractos de las cuentas bancarias para demostrar que no estamos a la carga de la Administración mexicana.

Como "rentistas" tenemos que pagar si queremos trabajar. Sigrid pago 1.600 pesos cuando tenía el proyecto de ensenar en la Escuela de Idiomas. Este monto le daba el permiso de trabajar durante UN MES – del 1 al 24 diciembre. Lo mismo para José.

El 24 de agosto 2005 la oficina de Migración en Tecate entrego a Sigrid su documento de identificación mexicano, el dichoso FM-2, con la quinta, y ultima anotación haciendo constar, en una carta dirigida personalmente a Sigrid Elisabeth Prawdzik por la Secretaria de Gobernación, que

"con fundamento en la voluntad de los mexicanos, expresada en nuestra Constitución Política y en la Ley General de Población, y habida cuenta que usted ha cumplido con los requisitos que esta determina, el Gobierno de México le expresa su mas cordial felicitación con motivo de que hoy recibe el documento que le otorga su residencia definitiva en calidad de

INMIGRADO

Hoy, México es más grande, plural y afortunado, al quedar usted integrada a su población permanente. Reciba nuestros mejores deseos por su cabal bienestar y el de su familia."

Lic. Magdalena Carral Cuevas

Comisionada del Instituto Nacional de Migración"

Hemos hecho las cuentas: Pagamos – cada uno – directamente al gobierno mexicano el monto de 11.000 Pesos + 175 US Dólares al iniciar los trámites en Estados Unidos. Además al abogado Orduño $ 500 y no hizo nada- ni devolvio los últimos $90- sin contar los honorarios de abogados en México City (U S $ 3.000 dólares), las múltiples fotocopias, los montos pagados por varios permisos de trabajo para José y Sigrid, penalidades para retrasos en la presentación de algunos papeles mas, etc. PERO, hay que hacer constar que no pagamos ni un peso de mordida. No pagamos la mas mínima mordida. Si, di una pluma a cada una de las damas en la oficina - no lo considero un intento de mordida.

Trying to get a visa

Why a Mexican undocumented migrant – the infamous “illegal” - in the United States may decide not avail himself/ herself of the offer made by the Authorities to legalize his/her situation.

Why a Mexican would-be immigrant into the United States may decide to cross the border illegally (if he makes it) rather than apply for a work permit or a visa at a U.S. Consulate or Embassy in his country.

Illegal immigration into the United States by (mostly) Mexican citizens has been in the news for years and is now a weighty issue in the U.S. Presidential election campaign. In the higher spheres of Government – U.S. and Mexican – illegal immigration is a thorny issue and everybody agrees that “something must be done” to regulate this flow of people across the border from South to North, of course. The numbers are staggering, but on that level of officialdom they are just numbers, statistics devoid of a human face.

I would like to put my thoughts into perspective from the point of view of a German resident in Mexico, just South of the Californian border and as an impartial observer of the Mexican scene. I shall relate hereafter the trials and tribulations of a humble Mexican Señora, mother of four , who works as a cleaning woman in various houses here in Tecate, among others my house. Her youngest ten-year old daughter has a medical condition, and the local Rotary Club has arranged for her to have surgery in a Los Angeles hospital to straighten her legs – gratis. The operation is scheduled for later in the year.

Now, the problems start. First of all, neither the Señora nor her daughter had even a Mexican passport, but this hurdle was cleared quite rapidly. Then, she started the application process for a U.S. visa, hoping against the odds to receive priority treatment for her special case what with the appropriate letter from the Los Angeles hospital, but she was quickly disenchanted when she was advised that she had to proceed step by step like any other visa applicant.

After she had collected all the necessary documents – birth certificates, school attendance certificate, the letter from the hospital in Los Angeles, various forms to fill in and then, of course, having paid the corresponding fees – she made and got an appointment at the American Consulate in Tijuana. On the day of the appointment, she was at the Consulate’s gate at 7:00 in the morning to get a number for her interview. When she passed through security later, the X’ray machine detected an object in her bag – in fact, her cell phone - that was not supposed to pass through. She was told that she had infringed the security rules and was taken off the line as well as her daughter who was with her all the time. She had to hand in her number and was told to go to the end of the line that was forming already outside in the courtyard. She told me that there were at least 20 people, “punished” that way for such misdemeanors as carrying a cell phone, a lighter, a battery cable, and more. The wait there lasted until 3:00 PM – in the scorching July sun, no water, nothing to eat and nowhere to sit down. Yes, she said there were a couple of kiosks that sold water and some cookies, but at outrageous prices – private enterprise run by Mexicans.

When it was finally her turn for the interview, the first thing she was told by the female official of the Consulate that she had not paid all of the fees and that she owed right there and then an additional amount of more than 1,000 Pesos. Of course, she did not have such an amount and so told her interviewer. But the harsh verdict was “no money, no visa and if you don’t come back within two, three days, your application will be voided and you will have to start all over again”. In the meantime, it was so late that she was afraid to lose the last bus to Tecate. She got home by about 9:00 PM having achieved virtually nothing.

Somehow she scraped the money together and went back to the Consulate within a day or two. Her daughter was still so shaken she could hardly control her trembling hands. The second time around the same female official of the Consulate who now handled their application reprimanded her for having submitted the visa application so early, i.e. two months in advance, if it were not to visit the United States for a pleasure trip to Disneylandia? Our Señora protested that she just wanted to have her daughter operated and wanted to have everything ready for their trip to Los Angeles. To no avail. She was told that now and then she would only get a “permit” which would allow her to claim the visa “but don’t come back too early. We want to make sure that you don’t use the visa for a pleasure trip.” So our Señora still has no visa; she has to make a third appointment with the Consulate nearer to the date of the surgery in Los Angeles.

In any event, the visa she will be given will be a one-year visa stipulating the reason: Visit Los Angeles for surgery, and if the little girl is to have a follow-up procedure, this has to be done within a year. Now, one would think that a visa for medical purposes would waive certain fees payable for a normal multiple entry visa. But apparently no exceptions are applicable.
Just a footnote: When the Señora enquired how to proceed at a later stage to get a multiple-entry visa, she was told that she could only get one if her husband had already a visa. But, of course, he has not as of now. And consider this: Those officials on the lower rungs of the ladder are local people, Mexicans who, it would appear, use and abuse the little bit of authority they have.

This is just one example of a humble Mexican who wishes to visit the United States for a very specific reason, who has no desire to go and live there, but would of course very much like to show her little 11-year old daughter something else than just the hospital in Los Angeles, such as the zoo in San Diego, Seaworld and yes, of course Disneylandia. One has reason to ask oneself whether she has the desire and the will to go through the visa application process once more.

Trip to Chiapas and Yucatan

Over Christmas and into the new year, we travelled to the mostSouthern part of Mexico. This trip was planned to be and in fact was a cultural trip to get to know something about the ancient culture of the Maya. Chiapas, of Comandante Marcos fame, is the poorest state of the United States of Mexico (yes, that is what Mexico is officially called - losEstados Unidos de Mexico), but it is fascinating from various angles. First, there is the Spanish colonial town of San Cristobal de las Casas; then we have the large number of indigenous people - the Maya,who over the centuries have stuck to their customs and traditions, their language and songs, but also their poverty. In Chiapas at least there is little evidence of full-scale integration, and indeed the government is only now trying to remedy this situation.There are bilingual (Spanish and Maya) schools, and it's quite something to listen to a school choir singing the national anthem - in one of the Mayan languages.
The Maya appear almost as a parallel society next to the general Mexican population, and this is particularly evident in San Juan Chamula, a small town just South of San Cristobal which is a magnet and market place for the surrounding indigenous villages. When we visited, it was market day, and the square in front of the church was a bustling, colorful place where everything connected with food was sold - including live cocks (but they were intended for the ritual sacrifice in the church).
The spectacle in the church was otherworldly - dark, smoky and with a heavy smell of incense. Groups of people - families - were squatting on the floor, surrounded by burning candles. They had brought along bottles of Pepsi (or Coke) and of course Tequila and were chanting in low, monotonous voices. The Catholic saints, in glass cases along the church walls, were dressed the Indian way - a symbol of syncretism of the Catholic religion and the indigenous faith. Of course, it was strictly prohibited to take any photo.

This also is Mexico.

Then we spent a day in Palenque, with the spectacular archaeological site of the ruins of an ancient temple city. The huge pyramids seem to be a trademark of the Mayan architectural style, since we also found them at Uxmal and Chichen Itza in Yucatan.

From Palenque we took the bus (by the way, the bus network is extensive and service is acceptable to good) to Merida by way of Villahermosa, cradle of the Olmec culture represented by their colossal heads cut in stone, and Campeche, an almost entirely walled-in colonial city. Merida, the capital of the state of Yucatan, is a large tropical city, seemingly prosperous, though the traditional source of this prosperity was the sisal (hemp) plant which has been displaced by the synthetic fibers, and the striking mansions of the former plantation owners are now housing banks, boutiques, private schools etc., and many are up for sale.

From Merida, we visited the archaelogical sites of Uxmal and Chichen Itza, ruins of ancient Mayan cities. Again, there were the ubiquitous temple pyramids, the famous ball court with its stone ring at a height of about 7 feet. Two teams of seven players each played a game and the challenge was to shoot the heavy ball with the hip, and the hip alone, through the ring. The winner of the game had also won the honor of being sacrificed!

I really must try to catch up on Mayan history which is synonymous with the pre-colombian history of Mexico, and I don't think that Michener is the authority on this subject I need. But his book on Mexico makes for easy and entertaining reading.

The rest of the trip included the small colonial city of Valladolid, and the mangroves of Rio Lagarto where a colony of pink flamingos has taken up residence. We had a two-hour early-morning (7:00 AM) excursion by boat to see the birds and other creatures wake up. It was good to see nature after so many ancient stones. Upon our return from the open sea, we had breakfast there and then: coffee, an omelette and fresh lobster.

By the way, this was the first time on our trips within Mexico that I was a victim of Montezuma's revenge - I suppose you know what I mean (upset stomach and diarrhea). I did not eat for a full three days, but in the meantime I have recuperated the pounds I lost during the ordeal!

Deutschland/Mexiko - der Unterschied

Deutschland - der Klagenkatalog

Man darf sich fragen, ob man sich in der überorganisierten rechthaberischen Germanengesellschaft wohler fühlt, wo man schon angepöbelt wird, wenn man mit dem Auto verkehrt herum auf der anderen Strassenseite parkt oder angezeigt wird, wenn man den Schnee beim gegenüberwohnenden Nachbarn nicht rechtzeitig morgens vor 7 Uhr beseitigt, weil man bei Strassen mit nur einem Gehweg jeweils im ungeraden Jahr dazu verpflichtet ist, oder wo man zurechtgewiesen wird, wenn man auf der fahrradmarkierten Seite des Fussgängerweges läuft. Oder man wird beim Bezirksschornsteinfeger angezeigt, weil beim Anheizen des Holzofens zu starker Rauch aus dem Schornstein steigt, beim Kreisbauamt weil das Gartenhäuschen zu nahe an der Grundstücksgrenze aufgebaut haben, weil der Gartenzaun höher als 1,40 cm ist, weil einer der Vorgartenbegrenzungssteine inzwischen etwas schief steht und 2,5 cm zur Garageneinfahrt des Nachbarn ragt. Man wird verdächtigt, Regenwassertonnen vergraben zu haben, aus denen angeblich überlaufendes Wasser in das Nachbargrundstück fliesst und dort die zugewandte Kellerwand nass macht.

Und der mexikanische Klagenkatalog

Mit Recht kann man sich ueber taegliche Kleinigkeiten aergern , wie z.B. das laissez-aller in Sachen Geld, d.h. ausstehende Schulden werden einfach „vergessen“ in der Hoffnung, dass der Glaeubiger die Schuld ebenfalls vergisst. Dann Versprechungen, die, sobald gemacht, auch schon wieder vergessen sind. So haben wir einen Freund/Bekannten, der uns seit drei Wochen sagt, er kommt „ahorita“ mal eben vorbei zu einem Glas Tequila (er ist bis heute nicht gekommen), und der Tequila ist inzwischen fast verdunstet.

Natuerlich sei in diesem Zusammenhang auch erwaehnt, dass das Konzept „Zeit“ unter den Latinos aeusserst elastisch ist, und man kann sich einfach nicht daran gewoehnen, dass eine Einladung mit angegebener Zeit automatisch wenigstens 30 Minuten, wenn nicht sogar eine geschlagene Stunde hinausgezogen wird. Gerade gestern z.B. waren wir zum Dinner um 19 Uhr eingeladen. Um 19:45 Uhr, als wir ankamen, waren wir nicht nur die ersten, sondern die Gastgeberin war nicht einmal zu Hause; der Hausherr erklaerte uns, dass sie kurzfristig mal eben nach Tijuana fahren musste, und sie kam endlich gegen 21 Uhr zurueck; es war ihr nicht einmal peinlich, und entschuldigt hat sie sich auch nicht. Letztlich wurde das Dinner gegen 22 Uhr serviert! Das ist zwar ein extremer Fall, aber die Tatsache bleibt, dass der Begriff "Zeit" sehr verschiedene Auslegungen haben kann.

Es ist ebenfalls unverstaeandlich, warum die Mexikaner guten Rat verschmaehen. So haben wir in unserem Bekanntenkreis zwei junge Studentinnen, die fuer ein Semester oder auch zwei an einer der Universitaeten in Barcelona studieren wollen. Wir haben ihnen mehrmals nahe gelegt, einige Tips fuer das Leben in Barcelona bei uns einzuholen – weder die eine, noch die andere hat dieses Angebot wahrgenommen und sind inzwischen in Barcelona. Die Mexikaner wissen es halt besser!

Und reden wir schon gar nicht vom normalen Buergersinn (civismo) der Bevoelkerung – wo immer moeglich, wird versucht, das Gesetz oder die Anordnungen zu umgehen oder auszunutzen. Eine Anekdote? Hier: Im Nachgang zu den Braenden in Suedcalifornien wurden ueberall Unterkuenfte fuer die Opfer bereit gestellt, und das Rote Kreuz sowie viele gemeinnuetzliche Vereinigungen und freiwillige Helfer haben Nahrung, Wasser und sonstige Gebrauchsartikel gratis verteilt; und es hat anscheinend Leute gegeben, die ihr Auto vollgepackt und die Sachen dann in Tecate verkauft haben. Die Polizei hat zwei von ihnen ueberrascht und verhaftet – so erzaehlt man jedenfalls.

So haben wir doch in den fast sechs Jahren, die wir hier sind, gelernt, uns auch ueber wichtige Angelegenheiten nicht aufzuregen, wenn man die Politik aussen laesst. Da ist jedoch noch eine andere Sache, die in diesem mexikanischen Klagenkatalog wichtig erscheint – der Mexikaner mag etwas gegen „Ordnung muss sein“ haben, aber er ist ebenso tolerant denjenigen gegenueber, die so handeln wie er. Wie oft wundere ich mich, dass im Strassenverkehr nicht mehr gehupt wird; nein, die Dummheiten, die der Autofahrer vor oder neben mir macht, werden mit Geduld ausgewartet, und das naechste Mal bin ich dran und darf mit dem Verstaendnis der anderen Autofahrer rechnen.

All dies – und mehr – verblasst jedoch neben der angeborenen Freundlichkeit und Froehlichkeit „unserer“ Mexikaner. Neben all ihren Schwaechen haben sie eine grosse Tugend: sie lieben ihren Naechsten und muessen erst vom Gegenteil ueberzeugt werden, um ihre Meinung zu aendern.
Manchmal z.B. haben wir lauthals gegen irgend etwas protestiert, und was haben wir zur Antwort bekommen? Ein herzhaftes Lachen. Nun, sie moegen keine Konfrontationen oder grosse Proteste, und deshalb ist Mexiko wohl auch so stagnierend. Wir haben vor kurzem ein Buch des mexikanischen politischen Analysten Macario Schettino entdeckt, in dem er sogar meint, dass eine regelrechte Revolution in Mexiko nie stattgefunden hat. Interessant!

Unser Leben hier kann wohl als „pikant“ beschrieben werden, und wir koennen uns weder ueber Langeweile noch allzu grosse Routine zu beklagen haben. Natuerlich gibt es im Germanenland viele Dinge, die uns gefallen und die wir vielleicht sogar vermissen, und wir freuen uns natuerlich, wenn unsere mexikanischen Freunde voller Bewunderung und Begeisterung von einer Deutschlandreise zurueckkommen. Aber wuerden sie dort wohnen wollen?

Guatemala trip

Tijuana – Chetumal
We entered Guatemala through the back-door - Chetumal in the state of Quintana Roo, on the border with Belize. We discovered a lively little city that boasts one of the great museums on Maya culture which put us right into the past and present world of the Maya.

Chetumal - Belize City

on a rickety bus, that arrived a couple of hours late because it had broken down on the road and had had to wait for a replacement vehicle. Belize City is the run-down capital of the country of Belize (total population 700,000 mostly black people speaking a Creole language difficult if not impossible to understand.) Belize City offers little of the “natural wonders” so many people are raving about; those are to be found at the coast where a few resorts have sprung up. At the Mexico-Belize border everybody had to get off the bus for passport inspection and Customs. Interesting fact: Mexicans work in Belize because the pay is better!

Belize City – Flores

Again by bus, not quite as bad as the former one, but bad enough for a trip of five hours. At the border with Guatemala, again – everybody off the bus for passport inspection and to change Dollars into Quetzals. In the meantime, it was dark and the bus driver was getting nervous – apparently, he did not like to drive after dark being afraid of possible attacks.
Though we arrived late in Flores, we found a very nice hotel with a room that looked out on the lake and the hotel accepted credit cards (most hotels don’t). Dinner nearby at the Luna restaurant, and much to our surprise the owner was a German, well, a Bavarian married to a Spaniard. They had been in Guatemala for 11 years and were apparently quite successful.
Flores to Tikal and back to Flores

Excursion to Tikal, the ruins of the former Maya capital. The park is an enormous jungle-like expanse so that the monuments are often hidden behind a curtain of trees and bushes. At the entrance, there are a few stores with Mayan handiwork and artifacts, but no hawkers are allowed in the park, so that apart from monkeys and birds, the only noise you hear is your own voice.
Back to Flores by van into which the owner/driver had packed 15 or 16 passengers which made for a very “touching” ride.

Flores – Chiquimula - Copan

This was a seven-hour ride on one of the so-called chicken buses (and indeed there were live chickens stored on top of the vehicle), that made a stop only when the driver deemed it expedient, and only then so that he could have his cigarette. Requests from the passengers, one of whom was Jose, to stop for a natural emergency were ignored and it happened that Jose had gotten off, but the bus started again. Only at Sigrid’s indignant protests did the driver slow down and Jose made it onto the bus again.

We had had our seats reserved and did get them. However, the bus was oversold – for 45 available seats, the owner/driver had sold more than 60 tickets, and there were people – adults and kids - that were standing in the aisle and between the seats during all those seven hours. Sigrid was particularly incensed about the way the “bosses” were treating their own people, no consideration whatsoever for pregnant women or women carrying toddlers. Upon arrival – finally – at Chiquimula, a small town near the border with Honduras, it was dark, the bus had left us at a curbside downtown, indeed very much downtown; a couple of no confidence-inspiring taxis were asking astronomical prices to drive us to a hotel. So while debating what to do a police jeep approached, and to our surprise and relief they invited us into their car and drove us to a nearby decent hotel. (When we told a Guatemalan this story, he crossed himself adding that he would never have gotten into that police car.) Indeed, we found that people are still traumatized by their recent violent history.

Early next morning, the young man from the hotel guided us through the throngs at the local produce market towards a minibus that would get us, hopefully, to the border which it eventually did. Another wait at the border for yet another minivan to get us to the town of Copan Ruinas, where we arrived at about 11 in the morning, starving and finally getting our morning coffee and something to eat.

After having settled down in the hotel, we took a tuc-tuc to the archaeological park of Copan where we were greeted at the entrance by a bunch of strikingly colored, noisy macaws. As in the case of Tikal, the park is off-limits for hawkers so that it is possible to see the many monuments and stelae without any disturbance. Mention should be made of the excellent museum attached to the park.

We found the ubiquitous tuc-tucs in the smaller towns of Guatemala to be an excellent alternative to the normal taxi service – a cheap, quick and easy way to get around. HHH
Copan to Guatemala City

For once, we had procured seats on a luxury bus for the six-hour trip to Guatemala City. Even the border crossing was hassle-free, since the bus steward took care of the formalities. By the way, on the bus we met a German family – the husband/father being a development aid officer of the German government. They had been in various Latin American countries for the last 20 years, and Guatemala was their last venture. We visited them in Panajachel later on.
We had arrived, again, after dark. A taxi drove us to a nearby hotel where we got a very nice room, but no dinner – the restaurant was closed for the holiday (December 24). Even the pizza parlors were closed.

The hotel was located next to the American Embassy, and we discovered to our amazement that a good dozen guests (Americans, one Indian, one Israeli) were there waiting to take their newly adopted Guatemalan child home. Without going into details here, let me just state that the adoption procedure is arduous and lengthy. Those adoptive parents were, by the way, the last ones since a new law in Guatemala was putting a stop to adoption of Guatemalan babies by foreigners.

A friend in Tecate had given us the names and telephone numbers of relatives in Guatemala City. So we called them with greetings from Tecate, and much to our surprise and joy they offered to drive us to Antigua the next morning.

Guatemala City to Antigua

It was a beautiful one-hour ride, first through the center of Guatemala City and then the nice road to Antigua, Guatemala’s crown jewel – lunch in a former 17th century Benedictine convent, the hotel - another edifice going back to colonial times, the cobblestone streets, more churches and convents and secular buildings left by the Spaniards, and of course, the renowned textiles of the Maya people – bursts of color and imagination.

It was really in Antigua that we got into closer contact with the Maya population. More about them at the end of this travelogue.

After two delightful days in Antigua, we continued to
Chichicastenango

Again in an overbooked van, but the people are so accommodating that the driver does not even have to ask to move a bit, they are squeezing into the rows of the vehicle as best as they can.
Everybody who knows something about Guatemala, knows about Chichicastenango, the largest open-air market of Maya products – textiles, jade, silver, earthenware and the occasional butcher and bakery. Unfortunately, it seemed to us and especially to Jose who had visited years ago, that Chichi is fast becoming a tourist trap. Apart from the two white churches that border the market plaza and that still seem to belong entirely to the indigenous population, it was selling, selling, selling, and bargaining, and insistence that you buy.

We had briefly stopped at the Hotel Santo Tomas – another old convent, I suppose – for a coffee and were gratified that the lady owner of the hotel stopped by and sat down for a little chat. She had been in the business for about 30 years, and was very pessimistic about the future of the Maya population. They breed like rabbits, and since their life span is getting longer, the population is growing at alarming rates. Any effort by the Government to make their lives better through education and health care, is little when faced with the enormity of the problems involved – her opinion!

To Panajachel and Lago Atitlan

We found our van at the stipulated time, but it had the greatest difficulty to leave because of a huge traffic jam. But we finally made it and then started a breath-taking trip to Panajachel – a many-curved country road up in the mountains. The buses raced each other, trying to outdo each other, passing each other at great speed so that the next waiting passenger would be theirs. Definitely not a ride for the faint-hearted. It would seem amazing that there are not more road accidents (or maybe there are indeed), also given the lamentable condition of the vehicles. But we made it to Panajachel and were happy to find a nice hotel in the center of town (but no credit cards!).

Panajachel is a small town on Lake Atitlan, the deepest lake in Central America, volcanic in origin with three volcanoes on its Southern flank, and renowned as one of the most beautiful lakes in the world. Furthermore, it is surrounded by small towns and villages of the Maya people.
The town consists more or less of Main Street lined with kiosks and small eateries. It is a stop-over for the young rucksack crowd on their way into the interior of the Maya world. And it was not more than a stop-over for us, before taking a day-long excursion by boat to visit four Maya villages. Apart from the sheer beauty of the lake, the villages that we visited seemed a world apart. Of course, the population catered to the tourists, but it was still their world, their churches, their customs and traditions and their dress code. We witnessed a mourners’ procession complete with music and ritual, and we talked to our young tuc-tuc driver – 17 years, married, one child, living with his in-laws, who had never set foot outside his village.
In the middle of Guatemala, in this little town with a funny name, we visited with the German family that we had met on the bus. The table was set for Kaffee und Kuchen, an incongruous image for us who had just had a close look at the Maya and their world.

Panajachel – Quetzaltenango

Again by chicken bus that stopped frequently to pick up the odd waiting passenger, being careful not to let a competitor pass you. Chela, as the town is called by the Guatemalans, is an industrial town without much character, and we actually left a day earlier than we had planned.

Chela - Tapachula

in Chiapas, Mexico - it felt almost like home to us. What Tijuana or Laredo are for Mexican migration towards the United States, Tapachula is the border town in Mexico that Guatemalan migrants aim to reach. But contrary to the US-Mexican border which is heavily watched and secured, it is fairly easy to reach Mexico from Guatemala – just cross the border river wading or by boat, nobody will stop you. The trouble and the dangers start only when having reached Mexico, but that is quite another story.

Since Tapachula did not offer much to explore, we caught yet another van that ran along the “ruta del café” wishing to visit one of the coffee plantations higher up in the mountains. We did not actually get access to one of the haciendas which, today, are catering to overnight visitors, this being the last day of the year, the welcome mat had been pulled back. However, we gathered enough information about the rather interesting history of how those plantations came into being. The Mexican President Porfirio Diaz, with a view to securing the stretch of land recently incorporated into Mexico and, according to Guatemalans, “stolen” from them, invited German coffee planters to settle down in the mountains of Chiapas. That is why we have, till today, haciendas with names like Hamburgo and the restaurant Perleberg, for example. Sigrid met the young Harald Edermann, grandson of the owners of Finca Hamburgo. Asked whether he spoke German, he told her that the only sentence he knew was “Ich moechte ein Glas Wasser”. It would have been very interesting to have a talk with the Edermanns, but I guess this will have to wait until our next visit, if ever.

Tapachula – Tijuana

We arrived on time, our driver from Tecate was waiting for us – a miracle, and within an hour we were at home!

Die Maya-Bevoelkerung

Sie leben in Farben, was ganz besonders in der handwerklichen Weberei sowie auch in ihrer Kleidung (ihren Trachten) zum Ausdrck kommt. Die Menschen sind freundlich und froehlich. Doch, Armut gibt es - was wir aus unserer Sicht Armut nennen - aber wir hatten nicht den Eindruck, dass die Leute hungern; die Maerkte, von denen wir einige gesehen haben, bieten eine grosse Auswahl an Obst und Gemuese an, und lebendige Huehner haben wir mehr als einmal auf unseren Busreisen gesehen. Ob die Indianerbevoelkerng gluecklich ist, sei dahin gestellt; so lange sie nichts anderes kennen und keine Vergleiche anstellen koennen,.. ist wohl alles in bester Ordnung.

Die Mayas machen fast 60% der Bevoelkerung Guatemalas aus – ein Volk fuer sich, isoliert in abgelegenen Doerfern, viele sprechen nur ihre eigene Sprache und Spanisch duerftig. Am meisten haben mir die Kinder leid getan. Da siehst Du 4 oder 5-Jaehrige, die nicht nur Schuhe putzen wollen, sondern die auch Buendel schleppen, die fast groesser sind als sie selbst. Schule? Wir haben hier und da mit diesen Kindern geredet und sie ausgefragt; einige sagten stolz, dass sie in die Schule gehen und haben sich ueber einen (Reklame)Kugelschreiber gefreut, von denen wir ein paar mitgebracht hatten; andere wiederum gaben zu, dass sie nicht in die Schule gingen. Die Frauen, die das ambulante Gewerbe dominieren, koennen meistens weder lesen noch schreiben, aber wie eine uns lachend sagte sie koennen zaehlen.

Es gaebe noch viel zu kommentieren, wie z.B. die Maya-Hierarchie oder die Gesellschaftsordnnung. Die Frau hat keine Rechte, sie gebaert ein Kind nach dem andern, muss sich darum kuemmern, dass die Familie genug zu essen hat, aber hat kein Stimmrecht im Dorfrat, nicht einmal Zugang zu den Palabern.

Haben wir uns bedroht gefuehlt? Eigentlich nicht, obwohl wir ab und zu den lokalen Bus nehmen mussten, den sogenannten chicken bus, der ueberall haelt, um noch mehr Passagiere aufzunehmen. Eine dieser Fahrten dauerte sieben Stunden; der Bus war ueberfuellt - viele standen waehrend der ganzen Zeit, mit Babies in den Armen -, wir waren die einzigen Auslaender, aber wir hatten keine Angst, dass man uns ausrauben oder ueberfallen wuerde. Allerdings haben wir sehr aufgepasst, und sind nach Einfall der Dunkelheit schoen in unserem Hotel geblieben. In Chiquimula, wo wir bei Dunkelheit (nach eben diesen 7 Stunden) ankamen und nicht so recht wussten, wie wir ein Hotel finden wuerden, hat uns eine Polizeipatrouille in ihr Vehikel einsteigen lassen und uns in ein nahe gelegenes Hotel gebracht. Sie haben keine "Kommission" von uns erwartet, kamen aber 10 Minuten spaeter wieder am Hotel vorbei, um uns zu fragen, ob alles o.k. sei und - warum nicht – ihre Kommision vom Hotel zu kassieren.