Thursday, April 26, 2012
There is of the world in the restaurant "La Selva". I had forgotten that there is no time here, to eat. The Mexicans often say "eat when thou hast hunger". At the bottom, a Tablée of seven people, six men and a woman who wears a held "official" , kind employee of the government. Has our left, a type all
alone, sit. On the side of the large table, the beers are falling at a rapid pace. Ca speaks spanish, not the language rocky and hache maya. The hair is short, not of long
white tunic. I wonder if they are Lacandons or not. Soon I will have the answer.
The woman with them, attack, rigolarde:
- Well, if you want to another woman and observe the custom of the Lacandons, tu te left push the hair and you leave it for the tunic, that is all!
Ca burst out laughing in response. I am tired also. And the type only to my left is "put just as much, the head diving in his flat. A guy at the table looking at me and I quote:
- Hey, you understand what is said?
I acquiesced. It is lifted as soon and comes to our table. He asked if he can sit down. Of course!
Frankly, I cannot quite tell, that would be too long, but is in are followed by three quarter hours of laughter to tears, and discussions. One of them is gone thread the tunic Lacandon jungle
and it has taken to install a photo with me.
A little plug burned in the sun, the daughter. But also died of laughter since
half an hour.
I have learned as well as the Lacandons are currently divided. If they want to benefit from the schooling for their children, they must draw a line on their centuries-old traditions. Cut the
hair of the nappies (to avoid the "piojos", the lice) and their remove the traditional tunic. But according to our new friend (another Chambor), the "must accept the
civilization". Other Lacandons refuse and do therefore not educate their children. They are about 600 in all, I am entrusted Chambor number 2. The whole discussion is punctuated with
laughter, and the most serious events are set forth in the derision the more total. Chambor 2 is fairly packed with apparently. It takes me to party:
- Thou art not Mexican, isn't it?
- And thou wish to this that we should respect the tradition, not true? The Mexicans, themselves, are ashamed of us. They do not like to be has the long hair and that door is the tunic. They are
Then he adds:
- But you, what you came here looking for, it is the tradition, isn't it? It welcomes you in white, long hair, on our canoes.
Massive Yes in response. Chambor 2, takes a air canaille, and casts then:
- Therefore, if I summarizes, you want to have it followed the tradition. This means that you understand that we have several women. Because the Lacandon tradition, it is seven women for a
Re of laughter around. The type only, at the next table, is involved in the conversation and rit openly. It is "tourist guide ", Mexican, and acquiesced to the comments of the Lacandon.
The wife of Chambor 2 just join us, delivering the passage a fish soup delicious! It is the stove of the restaurant. We present all the world: they are all
brothers or half-brothers because Papa Lacandon, the top of his seventy years, has three wives! And we clarify that in good Lacandon, it feeds exclusively on spider monkeys, toads
and eagle! However, the problem - follow a little, that devil! - Is that eldest son, the husband of the stove, which is the short hair and is dressed up as we, was put in head,
after seventeen years of marriage "normal", to follow the example and paternal to take another wife. OF or the lively discussion in which we are witnessing. The wife
"legitimate" answers him:
- I am a free woman, and I think first of my pleasure. Thou hast a wife wanted longings, not a Lacandon jungle, so me, thy traditions, they are not mine, and so far, ca
t has arranged because i was brave. Then, not to worry, take another wife, but thou me left the restaurant and you're gonna live elsewhere. You do not put myself out. Now, if it is
just for the sex that you want to another woman, I also agree, i te provided just the condoms that thou shouldest not not the Freemasonry to have another child. And if it is of love, you
are going with it, and thou me sheets peace.
In my intention, she added:
- You see, it does not bother me if the reason was to love. But all of it is an excuse to kiss with another. Because, when thou beholdest around thee, here, of the love thou do
not see many of them. The people give thee leave die like a dog, it is not their problem…
The other woman, the holding of the government, told in turn:
- I think it is for ca that i have never wanted to marry and have children. Because, of a sudden, it takes them the whim of the tradition and to deceive thee with another. And we, the women, he
should be accepted and that is the closed? Me, it is not. I want to kiss with who I want, when I want to…
The men of the table are shouting derisively: "with me", "with me "… she continues:
- Of the coup, rather than to ask questions, they prefer to treat me lesbian, it suits them… I don't care.
I emphasize that all this exchange is absolute in the laughter. We are being taken to party. I am wonderfully among them, and have no desire to go away. The type to side we talked about. We
recommended the night route to go in Comitán. He says he is better return on Palenque and go sleep in the hotel Misión. It is more wise, according to him. We listen to, and the time has come
to bid farewell to our, by promising that we will be back to stay for several days with them. I note that they have a small dog, perfect mirror of my Chipie Special Edition. Really everything has made me love this time,
and I dream about all the next night, with the nostalgia of them. Thank You the Lacandons.
The guide was right, the route to Palenque, in the dark of the night, has been difficult, trees in the middle of the road, the torrential rain, but finally we arrived at good
port. The Greeks had command a group of mariachis. We took advantage of the show. This morning, we are heading to San Cristobal de las Casas (we already know, and have widely
visit San Juan Chamula and Zinacantan), passing through Ocosingo, on the traces of Traven (i would like to check whether or not, the village was renamed Ocosingo to Traven, following the statement
at the time of his death). Stop at the Agua Clara (the photo shows you that it is a little false, side "agua Clara "! ), Zapatista village.
We must give the money to return home in the village. The kids, on the road, blocking the cars (they get up a rope on the road, when one goes, and are squarely across,
it is dangerous, they could crush as a nothing), and want of pesos or candies. I give them all that I can. They are of tens, cling to the car by crying, and se
are dragging if you do not stop. It is terrible! Poverty is everywhere. The road way, literally. HAS Ocosingo, there is an event on the Zapatista place. Ca sang
"el pueblo, UNIDO, jamas vencido will "… Observation: The village is called Ocosingo, point. No trace of Traven.
The evening, arrived in the pouring rain in San Cristobal. I take this opportunity to record in my book the notes of this amazing trip. End (for this time).
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Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Our first Lacandon in held, in charge of the reception of tourists, is called Chambor (i will not delay to me to realize that they are many to wear this name). It is proposed to be
our guide and we accept. Especially "to leave "a little bit of money to the community of which we know that it needs it.
The contact with him is excellent. I played a time with his son (approximately ten years, the long hair, the long white tunic, it looks like a daughter, laughter, but it is very nice) to
cache-cache. Their language, a very ancient Mayan, is chopped, but at the same time very beautiful. I would love to learn. They use their idiom between them, but all speak (children and adults) a
spanish spotless. We will come back to that later, because it is part of the standardization that is imposed on them and killed to small fire. Chambor teaches us of the first rudiments of the
daily life of the Lacandons formerly, and their legends. By looking at a "wall", he explains to us that in the past, he told himself that the royal eagle kidnappait babies to feed its
own nestled, and that the Lacandons have invented the canasta (rattan woven) bell-shaped particularly, to protect their babies. They also believed in a monster of the Selva, very hairy, with
the feet to the upside down, and without a face. If it fell on him, the only outcome was to undress and to dance. It was twist of laugh at the monster and allowed its potential prey to
Chambor also shows us the mortuary rituals of its ancestors, and how they were burying the wise in their hammock, hands crossed, knees bent.
Some traditions have persisted. Even today, women are responsible for the crafts while the men hunted and cultivate (including the but, the frijoles and mispa).
On the path to the pyramid, Chambor tells us that Bonampak was a city of scholars (astronomers, architects, writers, painters) and that here were forms the future rulers of the country.
Close links as much as the commercial ties to the caciques of Teotihuacan. The scholars of Bonampak were called to Cuernavaca and journeyed on foot ( !!!!) and . In return, their guide is
deceived and they arrived by error in Puebla, where the painter showed them the techniques of reproduction used down there (to where the similarity of the paintings found in Puebla and Bonampak). The
Lacandons were a very advanced civilization for several centuries. Chambor explained to us that its end, outside of the hazy theories on the extra-terrestrial, would be due to the lack of water,
necessary for the particular constructions, but especially to the rebellion of the people in front of the growing number of sacrifices demanded by the wise men to satisfy the gods of nature. Chambor
concluded with a smile: "all the elite has disappeared and we believe that it was reincarnated in the animals, jaguar, spider monkeys, eagles), while we descend from the small
people winner. "It is also on the ancient Mayan calendar and the fact that we would be at "la quinta sol" (5Th Sun), and on the history of December 21, 2012. It
is not a question of the "end of the world", he says, but of profound change primarily because of the unrest that climate we provoke debate.
Arrived at the pyramid, we detailed all the drawings. Having been made, there is 1300 years ago, they suffer from the time and are corrupted, therefore the explanation is done outside, and at the end, we
are entering a few moments admiring the originals. In return, I request to Chambor how he has assimilated so many things on his people. He responds with a smile: "the student". In
fact, it is party for four years (to the vigil) and is income in 2007. At the same time, a researcher of Cuernavaca is ripe - free - among the Lacandons and taught them everything
they needed to know about their origins and the history of Bonampak and Yaxchilán. The Lacandons have therefore made a request for accreditation to be official guides from the government.
The agreement was a long time (!!! ), but since February 2010, they are official guides. Even if the insignia are still not arrived (!!! )…
We papotons much with him. It is charming. What particularly interested, it is to know which animals of the jungle we crossed during our travels. It deplores: " Thou
think? Since the time that I live here, I have never seen a jaguar face. The traces, yes, but not the beast, pff… "It is really frustrating. I considered, for my part, that it
may be better that the meeting had not taken place? On the other hand, when I speak to him of coatis, it wins almost: " Above all, never take this animal with thee (Uh,
no, I did not intend), It is too facetious, ca stole all the food ". Thank you of the Council. We are also talking about Traven. He has no knowledge but knows his work.
He saw the film "The rebelion of los colgados". I speak to him about the cycle of La Caoba. It is all ears, and gave me his email (!!! ), for that i had told him to kiss more. To return to the camp,
i played again with his son. Chambor invites us to sleep with him, but the prospect of eating monkey does not convince me. On the other hand, I can promise him that we will be back and that then, yes,
I will be staying at home (but out of the question to go there without buying the present of thanks in advance, and without making the full of products anti-mosquitoes).
In any ca, taken by the enthusiasm of this discovery, we forgot to "lunch". It is 17 hours, and a small-big dip fact wincing the stomach. I have mark on the
edge of the road a "jacal "friendly, in San Javier, the restaurant "La Selva". We do not know yet, but a great moment we come to expect.
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Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Departure this morning of Coatzacoalcos (of better and better, the air conditioner had a gas leak, I saw the time or the house exploded), after a solid breakfast (has the huevos
mexicana, of porcupine quills, ca awakened! ). Direction Villahermosa. As the said "The Hitchhiker", "hermosa" is not especially well chosen. Upon arrival, 12h30 at the Park The
Venta. Dealing with a friendly guide which we passed plenty of good pipes for the suite, such as ca, culminates, because we "spoke good language". The coup, small change of
program: Campeche, this will be for another time. The type ensures that we must absolutely go see Palenque but particularly the Indians Lacandons (there are only 500). Before this, visit the
La Venta Park on foot. The huge Olmec heads are breathtaking.
They have been displaced up here, to be arranged in a real jungle, in the heart of the city. It is quite surprising. Leave the concrete, and find themselves there, with the Cree
of exotic birds, and these "statues" magic. In fact, the statues were located to the original oil on land, some weighed about 13 tons, and for the
preserve, they have all been moved here. Good and laudable initiative of backup pre-Hispanic, for once (the Mexicans being, in my view, the champions of the self-denigration
cultural, thank you the Spanish (Gachupines! ), thank you Cortes! ). In fact, another detail "local": the Tabasco sauce is from here, of Villahermosa, the true. But the Americans are
gone through it, have picnic the recipe, and have renamed Tabasco. Yet a flight manifest. Say, Traven, why thou kits?
That is, in the middle of this urban jungle that I discovered my first coatis (in Mexico, they are called either "coatil " or " tajon" ).
Of course, I cannot resist the pleasure of their filer my "nachos" and they are soon a good ten to strive their small tabs's clawing branches for me stealing the packet. It
really looks like they have the hands. Then, after two good hours of visit (i would strongly recommend to think to baste with a product anti-mosquitoes, because they are the
rampage! ), resumption of the route, direction Palenque, to 135 kms.
Evening - Palenque
I am punctured, i feel dirty. I imposed a "-like temazcal" (steam bath, ceremonial purification) to recover from all these miles. The daughter is a scenario in which is dressed in
traditional dress and psalmody a hint in Maya. She asked me my name and started to recite his text at the same time that it was happening a censer around me, filled with copal. It is
quite beautiful and moving, because it coats the skin of mud (Barro), by debiting his text to the beautiful inflections, outside in full nature. Then hop in the-like temazcal, a true, or he must take
care not to bump your head by entering and adorned with a huge head maya to the entry (the one where i'm going to Huatulco is far more ugly, kind sauna cabin, but in fact I am a fan
of-like temazcal, or that it is, therefore, no matter how). I had in hand a bouquet of herbs, with which he had to distribute the steam in the-like temazcal. I had to also pay the tea plants
on the volcanic rock to release the heat. In the middle, a small basin of cold water to the case or the heat would really be too unbearable. Simmer for twenty-five good minutes. Go out
and drink an infusion of sacred herbs. Cold Shower always outside. And then an hour of massage or i am asleep. The trick is that at no time, I have not seen the masseuse. Lying on the
belly, Indian music in the background, and a very energetic massage from head to feet. In outgoing, i was the zenitude incarnate (as the nail, yes good i stopped!) Ready for tomorrow face
the archaeological site of Palenque and its multitude of markets. My knee in protest in advance.
08/18 - Palenque
The night will have had reason for my zenitude. A hotel in the paper thin walls of cigarettes. On one side of the Mexicans bawlers, on the other the French EVEN MORE vociferous. And two huge
cucarachas in the bathroom. Not to mention the coffee (not included in the package breakfast, that should be done! ), invoice 27 pesos for a ridiculous bottom of a cup. Here, this is the
Mexico caught-cretins that I do not like, but then not at all. In the words of the great playwright Georges Marchais: did the suitcases ... and it will be broken (not to Paris) but illico.
Steering the archaeological site. Ok, that is beautiful. But good… very bad idea to go there in august! The French are everywhere! However, my experience has taught me that there are two styles of
French holidays in Mexico (the cons and the very cons? Ooops): the backpacks, island hoppers, small couples or Madam is jabbering two words of a bad spanish, Backpacker in
hand; and the groups! In other words: the absolute horror. The French collective is rude, arrogant, loud, stupid (he never takes the trouble to find out before on
the site that he will be visiting, what made him say nonsense bigger than him). So here, in the middle of wonderful archaeological site full of history, we hear this:
" HEYYYYYYYYYYY, expect moiiiiiiiii ", OR the comments of the kind: " The Aztecs were really a great people " (True, but it is among the
Mayas, there, coco! ") And even better, a young girl, vautree on the grass in the process of bronze instead of visiting and who is yelling: " I am broken, really too hot,
Thou hast reason, Cherie, I too am broken. Not enough "discreet" and wild to my humble taste. Direction Bonampak, and the Lacandons. Of the authenticity, pity!
Still 135 kilometers. This time not the lesser tourist in sight, otherwise the trucks "Chamboa" of Lacandons which font the shuttle with Palenque. Villages chiapaneques very poor, with
kids who are trying to stop the cars to "Topes de Collantes" (gendarmes layers to the input and output of the inhabited areas) to sell the fruit. The posters of the Zapatista movement EZLN
warn that we are in the rebel zone.
Finally San Javier and the territory Lacandon. Take direction Bonampak. It is too late to go to the dugout to Yaxchilán (i loved pronouncing the word, say "ya-ha-chi-laaaan", the whole
tone of the Lacandon language seems to be contained).
Follow up on the next episode with the highlight of this trip: a great moment in the company of the Lacandons, before the return ...
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Tuesday, April 24, 2012
San Andres Tuxtla
The Backpacker swore that they were cigars almost as good as the Cubans. Then the man wanted to go there. A sentence stations, a type sees that the man takes a cigar by hand. It
the apostrophe: "Hey, thou lovest cigars, thou art in the right place, the best cigars are here". I tell him that, "Yes, certainly, except that it is Sunday, that everything
is closed, and that this bled is fatally to the abandonment today". The old cannot be separated: "If, if, I know a guy that the manufactured home, if you want to, I
brought thee". In France, I would have chickened out of a psychopath, here the idea I do not even coming to the head. Hop, he comes into our car. Here we are parties. There is train station in a quiet cul-de-sac,
a little kind cut-throat, but I have said that I did not think ... Our new boyfriend sees my head a little bit worried, and I am assured that ca is not afraid at all. Clay, shacks in sheet metal,
dilapidated, and at the very end, in fact, a type whose family is of cigars for the "big fabricas" of the corner. A squirrel in a cage (ardilla), very boyfriend with a white rabbit. I
would look at for hours. There is a grandma kind, an old man deaf who rolled the cigars. He ends up in a and the tends to the man, who the patrons, and dropped his
verdict: "very good". Therefore, we purchased for 300 pesos (20 euros), or 5 pesos a cigar. And for me, the old Mr. in fact, a little to the vanilla. He dipped in the
liquid vanilla. It is magic, it would eat. Ca scented fingers. On the other hand, in the mouth, it is a little sickening. I have not succeeded in the smoke (limited vomit! ). Douglas Kennedy said
in his books that the vanilla is without flavor. He comes to San Andres Tuxtla, it will change the view!
The Venice mexican, finally! Listed as a Unesco world heritage site. A long road that runs along the lagoon, houses on stilts, before arriving in the city built by the
conquistadors. Beautiful! A mini Oaxaca. The lagoon and the mosquito in more. Very nice, really. A place outside of the time (this is due to the buildings of influence hispanic but also to the
fact that the lagoon isolated from the rest of the world).
This evening, a meal on the zocalo, and then see the old dancers of drumming. Too the class! White Shoes, white trousers, shirt embroidered mexican. Whaou. The women sit on a
bench, a sign that they will accept to dance. The men no longer have to go seek them, accept immediately. It looks like they are sliding on the ground. Their hips undulate. It is very
beautiful. I put myself in a corner, and cannot resist to try to reproduce the not. An old gentleman just then invite me to dance. I believe that I am ashamed badly. Delicious time,
guide it well, and explained to me that dancing every evening allows him to postpone death. He feels that he is living as long as it dance. I imagine that its days are that the expectations of the time to prepare,
the evening had come, to go dancing on the square. It will be necessary that i used as character in a novel, it's worth it.
The next morning, delicious breakfast with the server that did not stop to chat. A few drops of rain at the time of starting, which, on the following days have been transformed in deluge.
The city has had to be evacuated (more than a meter of water), its inhabitants rehoused to Veracruz. A lot of damage. What sadness. Or go dancing my old sir?
I was a feast, the city of arrival in Mexico of Cortes! Having done both of road to ca! At the end of two hours in this city any ugly, I preferred to go.
Just the time to buy a small dress to Frida (the small daughter of Pepe), of vanilla pods to report in France, and to drink a coffee to the Parroquia (the place not to miss according to
Pepe). Too expensive! The rain despite the 25 degrees. The horror of the place. Resumption of the route in the opposite direction to sleep tonight in Coatzacoalcos. Just as ugly but at least more hot.
Next step: Villahermosa-Palenque , followed by Bonampak and the encounter with the latest Lacandons ...
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Tuesday, April 24, 2012
There is a long time ago that i you promised, without me ever run (those who are my friends know that this is a little sadly hectic in my life at the moment). So,
with a year and a half late, I told you the grand voyage (series of several articles) of Coatzacalcos in Palenque. I you book my impressions as is, without modifying anything of my notes
taken on the spot and on the time.
14 August 2010
Just made the detour to know. It would be better spread quickly. The refineries in loss of view and a smell of gas which made judging with caution the lesser guy who tries to light a
cigarette… This is really very americanized. I do not like. The filthy lucre for Los Gringos and misery for the Mexicans, crammed in cages with rabbit wayward packing crates behind the brand at Malecón. Once
again, I am the note that Traven would have things to write about the subject. I am sorry for not being able to do (i will never have enough of a life for any say… ). I put one foot in
the Atlantic, not very clean, a little gray, history to say that I had changed to "side". Definitively, i preferred the Pacific.
It looks like a "Yes you can" on Obama, i laugh. Especially that "aca" in Mexico, ca wants to say "here". Evening very friendly in this small town. Tacos eaten
in the street, for almost nothing. Night at the Plaza hotel: very nice outside, all academy award winner Slumdog inside. I fell of the bed in the night! Morning, purchase of boots to ranchero and of a stetson for
man (he will never, you bet ? ).
1Era Step on the Malecón district. Very beautiful arrival on the lagoon. Refusal to go see the monkeys (tourist-trap) in lancha. Breakfast facing the lagoon, not expensive. Purchases of memories
stupid and funny. The car was parked a little no matter how. At the time, it has not understood why a Mexican we was signed to release. It was thought that he did not like the
tourists. Thou speakest! On our return, an hour after, have understood why: thousands of birds had craps on the car, it was covered with manure! The type of
"lava-carros" was a laugh. Apparently, it was not the first to be made by the birds have anti-tourists the corner! After washing, direction the center see
the witches and healers, specialty of the city. Too funny, that I am, I believe!
16H00 : i asked the type or we washed the car if there is something other than charlatans in the corner. He tells me that there is a great shaman to a street from there. I am going there. Arrival before, I have
a little scared, but the type sees me by far and it makes me sign to enter. Too late to turn back. It is a small, big, bad enough. I am waiting for a moment. The waiting room is filled
with images of death (the catrina) and waterfalls of the region. It makes me go into a dark room. To the left, of bondieuseries of everywhere, statues of Christ, of the Virgin, the cherubs.
##. A red star is painted on the ground. There are vials. A small office. He sits behind. Me on a small stool (position of inferiority in relation to the great wizard ? ).
To my right, a curtain is hiding something, what? He asks me what I come to pick. I say that my leg makes me suffer. He said that he will give me clean and see if there is another
"thing" to do. Price of the consultation: 300 pesos. He explained to me that his great-grandfather is the 1ER Shaman and since, they follow the tradition. I say to him that I
am interested in Maria Sabina, he acquiesces, impressed that a "white" have ever been to. For the moment, I feel like I start, I do not believe in it too. When I agreed to be
"cleaned", he explained to me that he worked the side "white" side and the "black". In speaking of the "black side ", it pulls the curtain which fueled my
curiosity, and I discover a part with the "catrinas", the dead everywhere. Lighted candles. He told me not to fear. I answer that, "No, I am not afraid of
everything" (wow, the liar! In fact i oscillates between the laughing and the apprehension). He asked which side I want to be careful. I take the side of the death. It amuses me.
The impression of playing with fire. As I have my swimsuit on me, he told me to remove my t-shirt, and my short. I sprayed over a hint which smells vaguely the eucalyptus. On the whole
body. It takes an egg in his hand, and I am the past all over the body. From head to feet. He explained to me that the egg must come from a black hen. It takes a great moment, as if it me savonnait
vigorously with the egg. I hold still for I am not sniggering. In the end, he puts me the egg in the right hand and will look for another. HAS hardly begun he telling me rub the
left side than the 2Th Egg is broken. The shaman is a rush to throw in a large glass of water ( ?? ). The other egg with my right hand, is recovered, struck softly against the four
edges of another glass. It the broken, it is a real omelet! Here, he looks at the result and said: " Before to be with your current companion, thou hast already been torque in a
very long time ago. It was a very bad man who has done you undergo a lot of violence. Thou hast taken of evil. A lot of trouble. He soiled. Look at all this evil that I have removed. Thou wast very
loaded. He put a bad fate, even if it goes back far in rear, thou art still in charge of this evil. It is te clean for not that thou receivedst today yet, because thy
current history is good. The one who has done you suffer is still in life, it is very black, it is the evil in him. Thou art when even very strong. It has not been able destroy thee. "
This is where things get complicated. He adds that it may me completely clean, he takes me in photo, fact of vigils for me for 15 days. In this moment, among the
lighted candles, I see that there is full of photos. I asked how much it costs, Pardi. He answers "4,000 pesos". I answer that I do not have. He said then that he can when even me
clean and protect me by giving me an amulet. How many? 1000 Pesos. Still too expensive for me. 700 ? Ok. It me revaporise of the product. And then is going to look for a kind of large bouquet of
basil ( ?) he sprayed also. And after, with the bouquet, it slapped or whipped my whole body, and rejects the "bad" in the air. It still rubs me with the grass. Then I
ground with a very odorous oil. It insists on the knee, and my leg. It hurts. He asked me my age. I am told that I am not (friendly finally this shaman). He has 44 years of age, he is treating
since the age of 15, and knew to 8 years that he would undertake on this track. In the end, it gives me an amulet to never leave away from me. Of the seeds in a square of fabric with a star
drawn above. I don't have enough money on me, therefore he is content to 670 pesos. Ah, I must not wash this evening. Shucks, i stinks!
PS: I added this today: a week after the visit to the shaman, the serious problems began. I have not made the link. My mexican friend, Ernesto him, swore
that this type has put me" the bad eye". I do not think, but that is to say that the approach gets a lot of reactions… I have not seen the other story on the web of visits to a
shaman, so I think that the latter has a double interest, for anyone who is interested in the subject. As I have done this approach in the context of the preparation of a novel (i not foregt to
confess to the type), it is obvious that i would definitely go see another shaman to Huautla of Jiménez, and pardoning the experience in the same way. One day…
PS 1: Follow up: San Andres Tuxtla, Tlacotalpan, Veracruz, without illustration but with story.
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