The last 3 weeks have been almost non stop travel. After leaving Guadalajara, we headed straight for the coast of Michaocan. After a few days of hitching and hiking, we land ourselves in La Ticla with the intention of finding contacts for Xayakalan.
La Ticla is one of the larger villages on the coast of Michaocan with a population pushing 200. I immediately get good vibes. Moises, an old man who gives us a ride the 3 miles from the highway into town takes us into his house and lets us try all of the fruit from his numerous fruit trees. Mangos, coconut, tamarind, plums, it was amazing! Moises whole family shares the house where he lives. They tell us to look for Trino for permission to enter Xayakalan.
We wander around the village. There are so many fruit trees everywhere and everyone is friendly and tries to help us find Trino. Evenutally, around sunset, we arrive at his home. Trino is one of the village eldes of Xayakalan. He is also part of a council of elders that represents the Ostula people of the surrounding area. He is excited about the radio project, and invites us to go to the village with him the next day. His son, Freddie, invites us to camp at his cabanas for free.
The next day, we finally make it to Xayakalan. It is surprisingly laid back, considering it's history of conflict. There are 20 houses and about 40 people. The houses are simple 8'X16' mud and brick structures with one light bulb each and a wood burning stove outside. The land is covered by orchards of papaya, coconut palms, tamarind, and mangos, which lead into a pristine stretch of white sand beach. After lunch and a siesta, Trino calls a town assembly to discuss the radio project.
The town assembly is held under a large palapa. Nearly all 40 members of the town attend: men, women, old, young, all to have a voice in the decision. After about an hour of working out logistics and talking abut the risks of having a radio station, a consensus is reached: the town unanimously agrees that they want it!
To celebrate, Pedro, one of the locals, takes us down to the beach to go fishing for dinner. Josh, Trino, Pedro's wife, their child, and I stroll down the beach at sunset as Pedro casts his net into the shallow waters. The full moon rises behind the mountains. It has been a truly magical day.
The next few days we relaxed in Xayakalan and got to know the people there. Josh was pretty ill and slept through a lot of it. After meeting with Xayakalan´s lawyer to discuss the final details, we head back for La Ticla and start on our next mission: heading to Oaxaca to find an antannae.
Actually, we didn't start it right away. Not before hiking more of the beautiful Michoacan Coast, spotting giant sea turtles laying their eggs at night, crashing a Mexican wedding, enjoying some spectacular beaches, and hiking to the pools of a deserted hot spring. Somewhere along there our cameras got stolen, and I lost the pictures from my favorite part of this trip which I'm pretty devastaed about. Now, after 4 long hot slow days of hitching, we are finally in Puerto Escondido, Oaxaca!
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Detective Work in Guadalajara
Last week, armed with our contacts from the cultural tienguis, we headed out on a search for groups that could offer us help with our radio project. It has been rather arduous, and although we have met some pretty cool radicals here, we seem to be hitting a wall in terms of our larger goal.
On Monday, we set out with a card for what appeared to be a communist radio station. To our surprise, it turned out to be a gay/lesbian/trans rights organization/support space/HIV testing clinic. The friendly guy we met there told us of one indigenous rights group on their contact list. When we arrived at the given address, it turned out to be a missionary: the group had switched locations. Luckily, the missionaries there had their new address. We decided to stop by an Anarchist library that was recommended to us, but it was closed.
On Tuesday, we stopped by the new address of the indigenous rights group. We were led through a beautiful colonial era building full of posters and banners for various leftist political groups, it seemed as if we were on the right track. On the second floor was the office of Alma Rose. Alma explained more about the group and the various areas where the worked. There was only one catch: they're jesuits. But after days of searching, this was the best we had found. And maybe working with a religious group would offer us more security as far as transportation of our equipment. And anyway a lot of the indigenous groups in Mexico are heavily Catholic. So we agreed to come back on Thursday to meet some of the crew.
On Wednesday, the Anarchist Library was finally open. We were met there by a friendly group of radicals who had maybe sort of friends of friends who might not be in Guadalajara right now contacts with Xayakalan. We also learned why the library was so under the radar, and why the radical scene in Guadalajara is so small: They are all scared shitless. Apparently a large protest took place there in 2004 against the Third Summit of Latin America, the Caribbean, and the European Union. In short, during the demonstrations, tons of kids got brutally beaten and a few were taken as prisoners for years on some pretty gnarly felonies. Cops came down hard on the anarchist scene, nearly squashing it completely. In 2007, the radical scene started to gain momentum again, only to be crushed again by a heavy hand from the cops in 2008: more brutal beatings, more political prisoners, all radical spaces shut down. And now the are scared and tired and radical culture "almost doesn't exist anymore."
Of course we were crushed to receive the information, but there still may be some hope in finding contacts here, and the people who were at the space seemed pretty down if not a little cautious.
On Thursday, we headed back to the indigenous rights group. They weren't there. The secretary wouldn't even let us through the door. We got stood up by the Jesuits. Seriously, who gets stood up by Jesuits?
And Friday, we headed back to the Anarchist Library for a discussion group which didn't actually happen. But we did meet some other pretty cool people there, and we are starting to feel really good about this group. Unfortunately, we still have no contacts involved in radio or with Xayakalan, and we are starting to get pretty frustrated.
After another week with little progress, we decided its time to move on. We are about to leave for the coast of Michoacan to do some hiking down the beaches and [hopefully) visit Xayakalan. Time permitting, we will then head for Oaxaca, where there seems to be a way stronger radical movement. Everyone keeps hooking us up with more and more contacts there, maybe it would be a better space to start.
On Monday, we set out with a card for what appeared to be a communist radio station. To our surprise, it turned out to be a gay/lesbian/trans rights organization/support space/HIV testing clinic. The friendly guy we met there told us of one indigenous rights group on their contact list. When we arrived at the given address, it turned out to be a missionary: the group had switched locations. Luckily, the missionaries there had their new address. We decided to stop by an Anarchist library that was recommended to us, but it was closed.
On Tuesday, we stopped by the new address of the indigenous rights group. We were led through a beautiful colonial era building full of posters and banners for various leftist political groups, it seemed as if we were on the right track. On the second floor was the office of Alma Rose. Alma explained more about the group and the various areas where the worked. There was only one catch: they're jesuits. But after days of searching, this was the best we had found. And maybe working with a religious group would offer us more security as far as transportation of our equipment. And anyway a lot of the indigenous groups in Mexico are heavily Catholic. So we agreed to come back on Thursday to meet some of the crew.
On Wednesday, the Anarchist Library was finally open. We were met there by a friendly group of radicals who had maybe sort of friends of friends who might not be in Guadalajara right now contacts with Xayakalan. We also learned why the library was so under the radar, and why the radical scene in Guadalajara is so small: They are all scared shitless. Apparently a large protest took place there in 2004 against the Third Summit of Latin America, the Caribbean, and the European Union. In short, during the demonstrations, tons of kids got brutally beaten and a few were taken as prisoners for years on some pretty gnarly felonies. Cops came down hard on the anarchist scene, nearly squashing it completely. In 2007, the radical scene started to gain momentum again, only to be crushed again by a heavy hand from the cops in 2008: more brutal beatings, more political prisoners, all radical spaces shut down. And now the are scared and tired and radical culture "almost doesn't exist anymore."
Of course we were crushed to receive the information, but there still may be some hope in finding contacts here, and the people who were at the space seemed pretty down if not a little cautious.
On Thursday, we headed back to the indigenous rights group. They weren't there. The secretary wouldn't even let us through the door. We got stood up by the Jesuits. Seriously, who gets stood up by Jesuits?
And Friday, we headed back to the Anarchist Library for a discussion group which didn't actually happen. But we did meet some other pretty cool people there, and we are starting to feel really good about this group. Unfortunately, we still have no contacts involved in radio or with Xayakalan, and we are starting to get pretty frustrated.
After another week with little progress, we decided its time to move on. We are about to leave for the coast of Michoacan to do some hiking down the beaches and [hopefully) visit Xayakalan. Time permitting, we will then head for Oaxaca, where there seems to be a way stronger radical movement. Everyone keeps hooking us up with more and more contacts there, maybe it would be a better space to start.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Bye Bye Maza!
After just over a month of relaxation in Mazatlan, I felt recharged, refreshed, and ready to get moving again. So on Wednesday, we left our little apartment there and hit the road Guadalajara bound. A man with a Pulmonia (little golf cart taxi) gave us a ride to the Junction on the highway, where he drove us around the small town to show us off to all his friends and hooked us up with delicious cold juices.
After another short ride into in countryside of Sinaloa, we were picked up by a man and his family driving a pick up truck and trailer all the way to Mexico city. We got in the trailer where the heat was so intense that I was feeling pretty delirious. We took pieces of ice from the cooler back there and melted them on our heads to help with the heat. Finally, the sun started to go down and we stopped at a restaurant where the man treated us to dinner. After the meal, the man ordered a coffee and Josh joined him. Our waitress brought to cups each with a small cup of milky looking liquid on the side. As Josh was about to dump its contents into his coffee, the man stopped him and explained that in fact it was not milk, but a very light dose of peyote cactus juice! Supposedly its not potent enough to make you hallucinate, it just mellows you out (Ideal for the speeding truck drivers that come through).
The man dropped us off in the outskirts of town where a drunk guy at a gas station picked us up and gave us a ride to the city center. Now we are settled in with a few friends from couch surfing.
Before we left, our friend Camila explained the scene in Guadalajara as being, "Fresa (literally meaning 'strawberry,' but used to describe yuppies), but not like regular fresas... They are fresas that are into music and art and bikes." Oh, hipsters! And having spent an embarrassingly long time in Brooklyn, I was actually a little excited to check out this hipster capitol of Mexico.
Needless to say, I was sorely disappointed. With the exception of the rampant international student scene, Guadalajara, like everywhere else in Mexico, lacks the cultural pluralism which defines my generation in the the United States. Cyclists are cyclists, Punks are punks, communists are communists; there is little or no social overlap and it makes me sad to see the segregation of people with many shared goals.
But we are getting around, we are connecting, and we seem to be making progress on one of our larger projects: putting together radio transmitters to create community radio stations for indigenous communities here. Our first night, we rented bikes from Al Teatro en Bici (a local bike collective) and joined them on a group ride. There, one guy pointed us towards the Saturday afternoon Cultural Tienguys, an open air market which feature several zine stands and booths of radical groups. There we learned about a new Anarchist book store, as well as the actions planned for today (May Day!). Although the demonstrations were small and largely syndicalist, we did meet some pretty cool radicals there who hooked us up with more info about the local movement. We are getting there slowly, unpeeling the layers of the onion, and hopefully this week we can get working on our transmitters!
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Shacking up in Mazatlan
Josh and I are going on one week in our little apartment in Mazatlan. We found a one bedroom on top of a little restaurant across the street from the Pacifico brewing factory for about 100 USD per month. Our block also features a really awesome bakery, some small convenience stores, and a motorcycle shop run by a Mexican guy and an old guy from the states. Everyone in the neighborhood has been friendly and helpful to us.
Unfortunately, when we moved into the place we expected to be living with Luis. The first few days we were there he acted very strangely, and then one morning he was gone with none of his things but some of ours (Luckily nothing too valuable). I should mention that Luis was only 3 days sober from a pretty serious drug addiction when we met him, so it's likely that he relapsed from the pressure of being back in a big city. It's a bummer since we had so much fun together riding trains for the last couple weeks, but ultimately we've had to let go of that friendship.
On a brighter note, I've been incredibly successful hawking aluminum can flowers here, and I started making some ashtrays and hairclips, too. One woman from a gallery loved my crafts so much that she offered to buy a large amount off me to sell in their gift shop. After 3 days of cutting cans literally until my fingers bled, I had my whole month of expenses paid. Awesome!
Mazatlan is proving to be a great place to relax. The city is big enough that I never get bored, but small enough to never feel overwhelmed. It offers all of the intersting culture of Mexico with a few creature comforts (like great coffee!) to cater to the Western community here (mostly retirees). People are friendly and laid back, and I am never too far from the beach. We have paid for 2 weeks on our apartment here, and after next week we'll decide if we want to stay longer or not.
Unfortunately, when we moved into the place we expected to be living with Luis. The first few days we were there he acted very strangely, and then one morning he was gone with none of his things but some of ours (Luckily nothing too valuable). I should mention that Luis was only 3 days sober from a pretty serious drug addiction when we met him, so it's likely that he relapsed from the pressure of being back in a big city. It's a bummer since we had so much fun together riding trains for the last couple weeks, but ultimately we've had to let go of that friendship.
On a brighter note, I've been incredibly successful hawking aluminum can flowers here, and I started making some ashtrays and hairclips, too. One woman from a gallery loved my crafts so much that she offered to buy a large amount off me to sell in their gift shop. After 3 days of cutting cans literally until my fingers bled, I had my whole month of expenses paid. Awesome!
Mazatlan is proving to be a great place to relax. The city is big enough that I never get bored, but small enough to never feel overwhelmed. It offers all of the intersting culture of Mexico with a few creature comforts (like great coffee!) to cater to the Western community here (mostly retirees). People are friendly and laid back, and I am never too far from the beach. We have paid for 2 weeks on our apartment here, and after next week we'll decide if we want to stay longer or not.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Tramps
After a rather awkward stay in Mexicali, we headed to the trainyard to (finally) go south. Soon after we got there we met Luis, another train hopper. He was headed south to Mexico City, so the 3 of us decided to stick together.
Mexicali was my first experience hopping a freight train in any country. Luckily, the train was going pretty slow when we got on and Josh and Luis described to me very thoroghly how to board a moving car. Although my entrance wasn't at all graceful, it was successful. Unfortunately, neither of them gave me detailed directions on how to get off a moving train, and I ate shit twice before they finally explained to me that you have to run with the train. Duh!
I´ve been finding riding freight trains to be surprisingly comfortable and really fun. Compared with passenger trains, there´s way more space to move around and you get better views because you can climb on top of the cars. Because freight train riding is legal here, the crew in the yards have been really helpful to us, and they often let us get on the train in the yard before it starts moving.
It took us 3 days to get to Serfragio, where we took another train north into Chihuahua through Copper Canyon. From the yard, we hitch hiked back to Creel, a small town in the canyon which serves as a center for the tourism industry there. Somewhere between the train and the cold ride through the mountains, I started to feel incredibly ill. By the time we got off in Creel, I was so sick I could barely move. Josh and Luis started asking around for places to stay, and quickly found an old drunk named Jesus who offered us a small house for free. That night, we slept in a warm bed in a cabin with a wood burning stove. What a nice surprise!
I spent the next day in bed feeling only slightly better. It turned out that Jesus´s generosity was in some ways too good to be true. Although he told us that he used the cabin only for drinking and had another house he stayed at, his sister stopped by that afternoon and asked us why he wasn´t staying there: it was his house. Later, his tweaker wife saw us there, freaked out, and took the bed out of the cabin. That night Jesus squeezed in with us on top of about 8 blankets. We were happy to have a place to stay, but decided it would be best to leave the next morning.
So, we hitch hiked to Rikowata, where we hiked down into the canyon to some hot springs. Actually, the springs were more just warm, but they flowed so much water into the river there that it was really comfortable to swim. We camped out and swam and hiked the next day, too. After checking out the amazing views of the canyon at Divisadero, we headed back to San Rafael to catch the train again.
Last night, after another 24 hours of train hopping, we arrived in Mazatlan. We are now trying to find a small house to rent for a few weeks so we can relax and recharge. I am really exhausted to be honest, and I´m excited to have a home base, if only for a short time. Also, finally got around to uploading some more photos!
Mexicali was my first experience hopping a freight train in any country. Luckily, the train was going pretty slow when we got on and Josh and Luis described to me very thoroghly how to board a moving car. Although my entrance wasn't at all graceful, it was successful. Unfortunately, neither of them gave me detailed directions on how to get off a moving train, and I ate shit twice before they finally explained to me that you have to run with the train. Duh!
I´ve been finding riding freight trains to be surprisingly comfortable and really fun. Compared with passenger trains, there´s way more space to move around and you get better views because you can climb on top of the cars. Because freight train riding is legal here, the crew in the yards have been really helpful to us, and they often let us get on the train in the yard before it starts moving.
It took us 3 days to get to Serfragio, where we took another train north into Chihuahua through Copper Canyon. From the yard, we hitch hiked back to Creel, a small town in the canyon which serves as a center for the tourism industry there. Somewhere between the train and the cold ride through the mountains, I started to feel incredibly ill. By the time we got off in Creel, I was so sick I could barely move. Josh and Luis started asking around for places to stay, and quickly found an old drunk named Jesus who offered us a small house for free. That night, we slept in a warm bed in a cabin with a wood burning stove. What a nice surprise!
I spent the next day in bed feeling only slightly better. It turned out that Jesus´s generosity was in some ways too good to be true. Although he told us that he used the cabin only for drinking and had another house he stayed at, his sister stopped by that afternoon and asked us why he wasn´t staying there: it was his house. Later, his tweaker wife saw us there, freaked out, and took the bed out of the cabin. That night Jesus squeezed in with us on top of about 8 blankets. We were happy to have a place to stay, but decided it would be best to leave the next morning.
So, we hitch hiked to Rikowata, where we hiked down into the canyon to some hot springs. Actually, the springs were more just warm, but they flowed so much water into the river there that it was really comfortable to swim. We camped out and swam and hiked the next day, too. After checking out the amazing views of the canyon at Divisadero, we headed back to San Rafael to catch the train again.
Last night, after another 24 hours of train hopping, we arrived in Mazatlan. We are now trying to find a small house to rent for a few weeks so we can relax and recharge. I am really exhausted to be honest, and I´m excited to have a home base, if only for a short time. Also, finally got around to uploading some more photos!
Friday, March 18, 2011
Hitch Hiking/ Hitch Biking/ Bitch Biking
Leaving Ensenada marked the end of our vigorous bike touring. After climbing 10 miles out of town with no end in sight, we finally said "fuck it" and stuck our thumbs out. Hitching a ride with our bikes was surprisingly easy. More than half of the vehicles on the road were pick up trucks, many of which had empty beds. We caught a ride from a Mexican guy in a cowboy hat who was headed for San Matias, about halfway between Ensenada and San Felipe and near the top of the mountains.
The next morning after a very cold night, we bombed down through the beautiful high desert to the Gulf of California. When we interesected with route 5 (the main road between Mexicali and San Felipe), we were still about 50 miles from San Felipe, all of which was through flat hot desert. We decided to get another ride, this time from some guys in a Corona truck delivering a load of beer. After a couple hours of relaxing at the beach, we headed further south to Puertecitos.
The ride to Puertecitos was probably the best hitch hiking experience I've ever had. We left San Felipe with less than an hour of daylight and had resigned to camping out in the desert if we were unsuccessful. On the contrary, the third car that passed us picked us up. A group of fisherman towing a boat to Puerticitos threw are bikes in the boat and we hopped in after them. The whole 2 hour ride we sat in the boat under the stars and the fisherman continually passed us beer, cigarettes, snacks, and blankets to stay warm. At a few points, they hopped into the back to talk to us. I've never experienced such genrosity and kindness in a ride!
There are a few stories that Josh tells over and over again, partially because of his enthusiasm for them and partially because of his memory. One of those stories that I've heard about a dozen times is of sitting in the hot springs in Puerticitos with whales going by just a rock's throw away. Needless to say, I had very high expectations for this place. It turned out that there were a few difficulties there: First of all, when Josh lived there he lived inside the hot springs complex. He wasn't aware that people who don't live there have to pay to use the hot springs and pay even more to camp there. We managed to haggle the gate keeper from $10 down to $1.50 with a promise that we would not spend the night there. Then we had to find a place to camp. The only sandy beach in the area is in the hot springs complex, and the rest of the shore is jagged rock. We finally found an abandoned property with a concrete foundation to sleep on.
The next morning, slightly disapointed, we headed up to the one store in town to try and find hot water for coffee. At the store, a woman picking up water invited us to her house where she would boil us some water. Her house was a decently sized concrete box with another concrete box with a kitchen in it. She lived there with her husband and 5 kids. They were all incredibly friendly and welcoming, and on top of making us a huge pot of coffee she cooked us a pretty hefty breakfast. She also pointed us towards a more comfortable place to camp. The shoreline on the other side of town was still rocky, but featured some flat slabs to sleep on.
That night, we successfully snuck into the hot springs where we ran into Josh's friends from Ensenada. They invited us to there camp where we drank beer and relaxed by the fire. The next morning, we hung out with them more, stopped by the family's house for lunch, and headed back up to San Felipe.
We stayed in San Felipe for 3 nights, with nothing too exciting to speak of. The town is mostly old Americans who lived in mobile home communities there. We stayed longer mostly because I was doing so well selling crafts. We did meet one American named Steven who was staying there in his camper. He made us dinner and coffee the next morning and told us stories about his travels in India and the Sinai.
2 days ago we headed up to Mexicali to ride trains south. We are staying with a couch surfing connection of Josh's in an orphanage/Korean Christian mission. It's our first time sleeping in beds in nearly 2 months. We are pretty comfortable, but we'll probably be heading south in a couple days to see Copper Canyon!
The next morning after a very cold night, we bombed down through the beautiful high desert to the Gulf of California. When we interesected with route 5 (the main road between Mexicali and San Felipe), we were still about 50 miles from San Felipe, all of which was through flat hot desert. We decided to get another ride, this time from some guys in a Corona truck delivering a load of beer. After a couple hours of relaxing at the beach, we headed further south to Puertecitos.
The ride to Puertecitos was probably the best hitch hiking experience I've ever had. We left San Felipe with less than an hour of daylight and had resigned to camping out in the desert if we were unsuccessful. On the contrary, the third car that passed us picked us up. A group of fisherman towing a boat to Puerticitos threw are bikes in the boat and we hopped in after them. The whole 2 hour ride we sat in the boat under the stars and the fisherman continually passed us beer, cigarettes, snacks, and blankets to stay warm. At a few points, they hopped into the back to talk to us. I've never experienced such genrosity and kindness in a ride!
There are a few stories that Josh tells over and over again, partially because of his enthusiasm for them and partially because of his memory. One of those stories that I've heard about a dozen times is of sitting in the hot springs in Puerticitos with whales going by just a rock's throw away. Needless to say, I had very high expectations for this place. It turned out that there were a few difficulties there: First of all, when Josh lived there he lived inside the hot springs complex. He wasn't aware that people who don't live there have to pay to use the hot springs and pay even more to camp there. We managed to haggle the gate keeper from $10 down to $1.50 with a promise that we would not spend the night there. Then we had to find a place to camp. The only sandy beach in the area is in the hot springs complex, and the rest of the shore is jagged rock. We finally found an abandoned property with a concrete foundation to sleep on.
The next morning, slightly disapointed, we headed up to the one store in town to try and find hot water for coffee. At the store, a woman picking up water invited us to her house where she would boil us some water. Her house was a decently sized concrete box with another concrete box with a kitchen in it. She lived there with her husband and 5 kids. They were all incredibly friendly and welcoming, and on top of making us a huge pot of coffee she cooked us a pretty hefty breakfast. She also pointed us towards a more comfortable place to camp. The shoreline on the other side of town was still rocky, but featured some flat slabs to sleep on.
That night, we successfully snuck into the hot springs where we ran into Josh's friends from Ensenada. They invited us to there camp where we drank beer and relaxed by the fire. The next morning, we hung out with them more, stopped by the family's house for lunch, and headed back up to San Felipe.
We stayed in San Felipe for 3 nights, with nothing too exciting to speak of. The town is mostly old Americans who lived in mobile home communities there. We stayed longer mostly because I was doing so well selling crafts. We did meet one American named Steven who was staying there in his camper. He made us dinner and coffee the next morning and told us stories about his travels in India and the Sinai.
2 days ago we headed up to Mexicali to ride trains south. We are staying with a couch surfing connection of Josh's in an orphanage/Korean Christian mission. It's our first time sleeping in beds in nearly 2 months. We are pretty comfortable, but we'll probably be heading south in a couple days to see Copper Canyon!
Monday, March 7, 2011
Ensenada
Josh and I have been in Ensenada for just over a week now. Although we have had some adventures, a lot of this time has been spent resting up, watching movies, and generally being lazy. Ana's house is up in the hills on the outskirts of town, and she is rarely around. After a month of biking, camping, and staying at wacky punk houses, it's nice to have a quiet place to relax.
But we have been out and about a bit. On one of our first days, we biked into town to check it out. On our way, we met a guy named Bestia (Beast) who was on his way to go busk. Unlike the states, the best way to make money here is to work an intersection. He and Josh traded off stoplights and made a fair amount of cash for only working about 20 minutes.
Afterwards, Bestia took us on a tour of Ensenada. First, he took us to the center of town to meet his friends, the local street kids. His friend Montagne showed me how to make beautiful little flowers out of aluminum cans to pedel to people in parks. Although less lucrative than busking, this skill has allowed me to make a little spending money over the last few days. After relaxing in the park and getting to know each other a bit, Bestia took us to Las Globos, the market area.
On a side note, it seemed Josh had met his match for dumpstering and over eating. The hours that we walked together were largely spent digging through trash for food and soliciting stands for leftovers. Even when we were stuffed, Bestia continued to dig and eat plate after plate of food. The dumpster tour was much appreciated, although it became a little excessive after a while.
At Las Globos, we managed to accumulate a huge box of fruits and vegetables that would feed us over the next week up at Ana's. This was a huge relief after being told time and time again how difficult being freegan in Mexico would be. Maybe it's still easy because we're still near the border, or maybe it's just that where there are tourists there is always wastefulness.
After Las Globos, we walked all the way back downtown to meet Bestia's friends again. They told us about their squat, "El Trailer," and insisted that we come check it out. However, that night we didn't bring our sleeping bags and Ana came to pick us up and return to her house.
Although we spent more time with the trailer kids throughout the week, it wasn't until two nights ago that we actually stayed there. A few strange things happened that night. We met the gang downtown late in the afternoon. It was the second night of Carnival, so the streets were all blocked off and loaded with games, food vendors, and tons of alcoholic beverages. Our friends were at their usual spot selling aluminum can flowers and drinking cheap agave liqour.
In a horrifying display of authority, a parade of thousands of cops took the streets of the carnival. Throughout the evening, they stopped by our group a few times to hassal people. Most of their comments were aggravating but harmless: "It is illegal to have those piercings/that stupid mustache, etc," but mostly they would make some snarky remarks and then leave. Around midnight, one friend took out his camera for a photo as a group of cops were passing by. For seemingly no reason at all, one cop tackled him to the ground and started beating him. A few people asked what he had done wrong and were promptly tackled and beaten too. Bloody and battered, the four were handcuffed and taken to jail for the night. What the fuck? I was shocked and disgusted. Bestia told us that this sort of thing happened all the time and that they would be released in the morning. With all the warnings of gangs and bandits in Mexico, it was the police who were most violent.
After the chaos, the group disbanded. Josh and I headed on bike for the trailer, which turned out to be pretty far into the outskirts of town. We received very detailed directions to the area where it was, but on a block of trailer after trailer, we had no idea which one was "the" trailer. After nearly an hour of wandering in circles in the dark and knocking on a random guys door, we were finally pointed to the right lot.
The trailer was slightly disappointing. It was basically just a crash spot for 12 punks to squeeze into. After spending nearly a year in Oakland helping out with fixing up and establish long term free housing, I guess we were expeting a little more from a spot that had been inhabited for several years. The fairly large lot was overgrown and unmaintained. The bathroom was a small building with a bathtub full of shit. Most of the kids just went there to crash at night and then left for town early the next morning. It seems the revolving door of travellers inhibited any long term projects, and the distance from downtown didn't make it an ideal spot to spend a lot of time.
The next morning, after hanging out a bit, we headed back into town. On our way back, I was hit with sharp stomach pains and a rumbling gut, uh oh... So while Josh went to hang out, I headed back up to Ana's where I could be near a bathroom. Bummer. And I can't help but feel that after years of travelling in almost 10 different developing countries, shouldn't I be exempt from this or something? But of course, bacteria is different everywhere, and every new place brings a new bout of traveller's diarhea. Grrrr.
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