Since my last post...travelled north about 4 hours from Oaxaca to Puebla for a weekend with my host sister. She is a recent graduate of the law school there, and needed to sign her diploma... and party with her friends.

We went to a futbol game between Puebla and some other team I don't know, the teams were both terrible in the league this year so it was quite cheap. Afterwords we sang karaoke and danced. I just couldn't explain how it would be impossible to participate in karaoke with songs I don't know and in Spanish... And then there was much embarrassment.

We also went to the national observatory, electronics and optics lab for an open house. The lawyers (my host sister and friends) were bored senseless, I really liked it. Puebla is a little higher and a bit colder than Oaxaca. It is also flanked by two active volcanoes which are pretty impressive on the skyline. Popocatepotl is the main one, cannot remember the other right now, ixtaxicuatl?... My Wikipedia is not functioning currently so please feel free to either research it independently or settle for my own version of "Ask an American who didn't read the travel brochure"

Following Puebla, I returned to Oaxaca where I sent a package for the family back to the states. It cost about 16$.
I am not aware of anything we can do in the states for 16$, so I will be pretty impressed if it arrives anywhere much beyond the US border. Perhaps the Mexican pony express saves considerably on the lack of sleet and snow.

Left Oaxaca for the northern sierras. After missing the highway turnoff three times I eventually made it to teotitlan. This is a small mountain village of about 8000. The town center was full of people when I pulled in and it was dark, so i decided to stay. After making several large walking loops in the town I asked some teenagers sitting on the church steps what there was to do in this town.

Look for novias they said and nodded at the Central Park.

Those girls are all 16 yrs old I said...

They nodded as if to say "annnnd?"

So I went to a bar. It was all guys too, but cruz azul vs Leon was on the big screen, and these were very good soccer teams vying for the cup... Not like those stinkers in Puebla. So I stayed and watched. I was eventually joined by one of the bartenders who's day off it was. He was drunk and friendly so we chatted.

He had broken his hand in a motorcycle accident earlier that week. It was wrapped in soft bandage and he was attempting to drink away the pain. it wasn't working. He was in essence a relatively non threatening individual, although it would not surprise me one bit if he wasn't entirely motivated by friendliness, but also a natural instinct to case a gringo. The other bartender in the place was wearing a backpack as he waited on the tables.

I told my new friend that usually in the states an out of place backpack (not at a school) usually meant drugs...

"Tambien" he said. "Cocaine!, tu quieres?"

"Mil gracias, pero, no."

Cruz azul won, and we left for a different bar. There were still tons of people out in the square milling about, and despite the evidence against it there wasn't really any danger feel.

He asked if I wanted to go to a bar with girls, I said sure but not the kind you pay for... He said fine, and took me to a nearby bar with exactly the kind of girls you have to pay for.

There is sort of a casualness to prostitution in Mexico, most bars in the non tourist areas have working girls hanging around. They dress the part work their way around table to table, vending there services like the candy kids. Even though this bar was pretty much a lean-to tent, with a dirt floor, the crowd was Actually pretty normal looking, it wasn't the incredibly seedy w****house type place you may be imagining.

He had 4 friends who were already there... One was passed out with his face pressed on the table, there was a grade school teacher, there was a young collectivo driver (Nissan truck you can fit about 12 people into the back of) and another younger guy, also with a broken arm, this one in a hard cast. The kind from shoulder to wrist in the shape of an "L" so he always looked liked his hand was raised. They were a jovial bunch and again, to spite the evidence against it, I got the feeling I was just basically hanging around a mountain truck stop. The speedy drugs and women were aimed at the traileros, it wasnt the sort of bandito town it may sound like.

We drank a few beers, And watched a 300 lb woman in her late 40s dance spiritedly to banda music with one of the girls who was "working".

What in the world Is going on there?" I asked.
There was also an older man and another large woman sitting at the dancing woman's table. I thought maybe they were the girls family.

"No no, for money they told me. Seguro"

Some type of strange obese family mountain homosexual loneliness I guess. If you are wanton for an explanation beyond that... I haven't got one.

We capped off the night with tortas and a green hot sauce designed to interest Mexican traileros... In other words, this stuff could hurt you. The cast guy was very drunk at this point and was going 1 part hot sauce and 1 part torta. In a final show of bravado he took the rest of the green lava on a very small last bite of torta. Then, arm raised he closed his eyes, put his head back and just moaned. And thus ended one of the stranger evenings I have had down here.

Huatla de jimenez,

This is the hometown of Maria sabina, a famed medicine woman who is typically seen by Americans on underground t shirts, taking a drag off of a joint. She was known for her use and prescription of niños santos, which are psychedelic mushrooms that grow like weeds in the mountains.

There is a very good wiki article on Gordon wasson regarding this place. He was a JP Morgan VP and amateur ethnomycologist, who originally visited the place and despite being sworn to secrecy published a paper on it in life magazine in 1957. The ensuing rush of hippies including John Lennon, seeking consciousness expansion was viewed negatively by the locals who eventually murdered Sabinas son and drove her out of town where she died destitute in 1985.
Of coarse Now she is the poster child for the tourist trade, and is once again revered as a marvelous medicine woman, and many local people make a living and feed there children by selling her t shirts...

And so we go round and round, like wildfires through the Forests.

My room was moldy and damp, so i paid 30 p more to change to a non moldy room with a view... Pretty good deal I think.

I do not think I will go back to huatla though. The locals run big hotels and sell there wares to tourists, and behind the scenes a much smaller community goes about its traditional business, but its really more like an over steroided chicken who has outgrown its own feet, or a dog in a clown costume, who's look seems to say,
"This is what you want? Really? Well... Ok I'll do it I guess"

Its the smoldering remnants in the crater of a recent hippie-bomb.

Normally the right is blamed for this type of thing. (Interesting that JP Morgan kicked off this catastrophe too) but I would say all sides had a hand in this evil.

The place just made me a little sad.

On my way out of town I saw a burro who had broken his tether and was being casually chased down the carretera by a stray dog, and then I passed a roadside wooden shack where three men were standing around a 2000 lb completely skinned cow, It's four legs sticking straight up. It was as wide as the walkway, not more than 1ft between it and the house.

" take the cow onto the patio and kill it" someone must have said at some point.

It made me happy to be back as a stranger in a world less inflated.

I haven't decided if I am going to publish my findings on the fountain of youth yet, but I am relatively secure in my belief that my wassonesque skinned cow description will not cause another american pop culture rape stampede in mountains of huatla.

For any detractors I may have as a result of my inherent hypocracy (American hippy looking for consciousness expansion in foreign land, complete with Internet publication.)

The changes we inflict on one another as a result of our interactions really cannot be Helped. I cannot believe that locking the doors and staying inside for fear of trampling the grass is the correct approach. Coca cola sold the Mexican the beverage, but the mexican threw the empty bottle out the back of a collectivo into the road (see this constantly)

We're all in this one together.

At one point in my travels I met an english forensic accountant. (Yeah yeah, he couldn't take it any more either and took a year to travel...same old story)

He, like most professionals you meet in any field, could write a book on how to get away with it.

One case they had in London involved a VP of accounting for a major company and also the head of HR. they became involved in a romantic affair, (both were married) and also began to hire non existent employees. The affair is relevant here because typically, accounting keeps HR In check... Penny pinchers versus payroll expanders. In other words their math needs to agree. In year one they had 3 new employees, year two 6 more, then 9 more, and in year 5, 100 new employees.

The company had something like 30,000 employees, and never would have noticed even 10 extras.

"Moderation is key" he told me.
"They could have gone on forever if they hadn't gotten so greedy. We were called in around year 6."

The investigation was a bit of a slam dunk. All of the fake employees were maxed out on benefits, at the top of there pay grades, didn't take vacations, and most telling all had the same bank account number. The company lost something like 15 M pounds... 30M$ I think... It was gone too, multiple secret houses, cars, vacations...the two conspirators had complete double lives.

Interesting note: typically the cases do not involve the justice system. The companies don't want the bad press and don't want to spend the court fees, they just want the embezzling stopped. These two went to jail, but quite often the offenders are just fired. As a side note: the private investigative companies are law bound to report there findings if they concern fraud and the public interest. Fraud in the public sector embroils both the private investigative firm it's client, and the national justice system in a major typically highly publicized court battle that is downright bad for business in all respects. For this reason the best and brightest investigative firms won't touch anything close to the public sector when it comes to fraud and cheating the public... Brilliant legislation at work.

Between huatla and palenque I hit several industrial towns. Minatitlan, villahermosa... They are all based around the petrochemical industry, are dirty, and expensive. I also heard the cartel is heavily present along this stretch, although they do not become dangerous until the northern section of beaches above Veracruz. The area is also where the ruins start to begin, but it was an overall ugly drive.

Palenque:

The cast in palenque:

Klaus: please imagine the voice of Werner hertzog. He is driving an imported land river defender 110 with an old camper in tow. He is somewhere in his 60s, German, and has been living on the road for 22 years. Quite knowledgable, although his Honduras knowledge was a bit dated. He had been blackmailed by a crooked cop in Honduras, whose scam involved paying kids to sell large amounts of pot to viajeros, the viajeros would then be faced with the choice of paying the cop off or facing a very meaningful drug charge in Honduras. Claus marked the bills though, and got the cop thrown off the force. The cop swore revenge, and claus firmly believes that a trip back to Honduras would be death sentence.

Karlos: his name is Carl, but he wishes to be called Carlos. The name Carlos does not fit him, however the desire to be called Carlos really does fit him. He is probably in his forties, and has been living in the woods around Shasta for the last two years. Two sleeping bags and a poncho wrapped around his face under the stars. A few weeks ago he was actually sleeping at his moms house when the sounds of flutes awoke him in the night. The next day he bought a one way ticket to Mexico, he is recollecting himself in palenque, and also waiting for his rainbow family to arrive. There is a prevalent buzz of hippy activity related to the mayan end of the world, rainbows and such. Carl felt he was called to palenque because his moon sign is a water sign, I was obviously there because Scorpio is a water sign, and ill be damned if there isn't a s*** load if water in palenque.

Palenque is a major archeological mayan site.) it was a principle mayan metropolis from around 600 to 800 AD.
It is a bit heartbreaking in the same way Yosemite is... In that you come to what is supposed to be this incredible setting in nature, and instead you end up viewing a bunch of old european asses in bright shorts and white bucket hats busily snapping away while waving off the local vendors (actual Mayans).
Nevertheless the shear Beauty and power of the place compensates and it is still well worth a visit. I recommend staying at the Maya bell. It is backed up right to the jungle and is cheap with very good company and a restaurant. Bungalows, camping, whatever you feel like, carling (ill get to this)... Is not allowed though.

Klause:
"Last night I heard a rattling noise outside. I looked and found my cooler door open. I closed it. I heard the noise again. I looked. The lid was open again.
A dog cannot do this, so I put it back and I watch. And I see its a monkey. And he got all of my very good pot brownies.
So today...somewhere out there is a monkey who is out of his mind....

Of course I am very sad that my brownies are gone,

but I have not heard any howling at all today. If he tries to come back tonight, I think he will just float down from the trees to check my cooler."

When I first arrived I found myself just sitting in my chair facing the open jungle sort of in awe... I have never really been so absorbed by the sound of a place before, or truly in awe of a place until I came here. It is layers upon layers of sounds you have never quite heard, listening in is Like eavesdropping on an alien market place. The whole production is underlined by a very rich buzzing of insects... As in billions buzzing, so that every now and then when a million of them hit the buzz just right, it resonates louder, then quiter, and on and on.

My favorite jungle sound by far, was that of the howler monkeys though. It is a roar more terrifying than any lion or tiger, incredibly loud and seemingly unnatural. There will be only the calm buzz of the grillos and then all of a sudden one of the howlers rips a roar out and you say "what in gods na..." but before you can finish, what sounds like hundreds more howlers answer him back In what becomes the most calamitous shouting match on earth.

In Spanish they are called aulladores, which still makes me laugh a little because it sounds as if they are trabajadores, or stevedores, like howling is there job. As if at 5 pm one monkeys alarm goes off, he rolls out of bed and goes to howlin along with rest of em, just grinding away.

On my first afternoon As I was sitting there staring at la selva, I was joined by a Mexican girl from Campeche. She and I were of the same mind on the jungles allure, and I had a stove and she had chai tea, and that was that. Zero English too, which I was very happy about.

At this same time Carl passed by us in the distance, on his way to the bathroom, Wearing a very loose hippy v neck with very loose stringy hippy pants, and a very long purple smock with white floral print, a grand purple shaman mother man.
"Mira! C-c-Carl" she said and pointed as we both fell apart in hushed laughter.

Sorry Carl.

Carling: this would be the act of being run out of the jungle and into an rv park by the locals for vagrancy. Carl was making his way down the road bindle in hand when he decided to make a sudden left into la selva. He bushwhacked away, found a stream and tried to spend the night there. He was returned to civilization by the police, and told to stay on the paths, and that he was not allowed in the jungle.

I liked carl a lot actually, he came from a good place spiritually and was extremely knowledgable on the california rivers and steams, and also the benefits of living in a geodesic dome. He has had two domes, a 16 footer and a really nice 24 footer in arizona that his now ex wife made him abandon because SHE wanted to go back to the woods. A true babe of nature this carl. To spite my respect for him, I did find that i observed him much of the day without his knowledge and for my own enjoyment. Shameful, I am aware. It would not surprise me one bit if he wasn't howling away with the aulladores every night. And how can you miss that? There was one time when they seemed to be extremely close to camp, and one was doing a lot more grunting, than howling...

My New Mexican friend missed her bus home, so I gave her a ride up to Campeche, where I stayed with her family for two days. Our parting was actually quite sad. I couldn't explain in Spanish very well that I was a rambling man and the road beckoned, and it didn't really make sense anyway. I only knew her for 4 days but it had felt like a lifetime. She gave me three kinds of chai tea and a clay mug to take with me. It is a strange brew of happy and sad all at once.

Under the spell of my recent heart ache I suppose, I bought a very poor representation of a cocodrillo from a small girl who approached me in the coffee shop today. The funny part was when the clerk nearly drop kicked her out of the shop when he realized I was taking the money out of his tip, which was still just my change lying on the table. She got 10p, he got 7. I also purchased a shirt I shouldn't have, but could not resist. (I am still haunted by the yellow Cartel shirt I passed up in Michoacan.)

Hanging in San cristobal now, making plans for Guatemala next.

Still having the time of my life here, stay tuned mis amigos y familia. Much love.

Joe