|~DayBlog~| Account of the Day of the Dead in Alamos, Mexico (www.chrisengholm.com)

October 26–Here we begin an account of getting to, seeing, and being a part of the Day of the Dead events and ceremonies that happen annually in the colonial Mexican town of Alamos, which is in the state of Sonora. This state is known mainly for its lucrative mines, history of antagonism with the US, and lawless roads. Anyone remember the famous novelist who wrote a hilarious account of his travels in Mexico called, “The Lawless Roads?” (We’ll get to him later in this story.) I saw an article recently in The Economist called “Lawless Roads” about the border between Chiapas and Guatemala near Tapachula, one I crossed without incident two months ago. There, the so-called Zetas, or Mexican gangs of drug thugs and former paramilitary land pirahna, are victimizing undocumented aliens trying to cross between the countries. My hope is that by taking a bus out of Phoenix straight to Navajoa, I can avoid this element. However, the bus leaves at 4pm and will travel through most of the state under a moonless sky. I need to check into the latest assaults and incidents that have affected tourists on this run, as flying into Navajoa from TJ, Phoenix or LAX is also an option. The bus trip is 11 hours long. You have to grab a collectivo or taxi in Navajoa for the hour jaunt over to Alamos.

I don’t know anything about Alamos other than what Lonely Planet tells me. It’s a quaint colonial town with a plaza and church and a cementario where an all-night vigil is held on November 2nd. I’m not trusting of guidebooks about exact dates of fiestas, so I want to arrive on the 31st of October to see everything related to the Day of the Dead event. The bus costs about $50 each way, which makes it a nice alternative to taking one’s car and hassling with insurance and the other legal potholes. I suppose most fly in, but frankly I’m an addict to Mexican bus trips. I find them relaxing and safe (silly me), especially at night. All the mystery of the land passing by in the wee hours and interesting conversations with folks heading home or fleeing home with a hundred tales to tell. The buses are ultra-modern now and the bus stations immaculate. They even show movies on them and the reading lights usually work. I think I get more work done on a Mexican bus than in any other setting. There is a great scene of Jack Kerouac’s in On the Road I think (though it could be Big Sur or Tristessa) where he sits down in a bus for a long ride, it might have even been in Mexico, and next to him is a quiet and shy Latina. They ride and ride and say nothing for hours, but then, in their mutual silent existential brooding sadness…he rests his hand on hers and they hold hands, never speaking, only riding along in the night. There’s a constant rolling poignancy to bus rides, in fact I think more so than train rides, at least in Mexico.

Train rides in Mexico are God-awful experiences generally. But I’m rambling along like an old Mexican train myself…

More to come soon about this journey to the Day of the Dead in Alamos !

Adios, Chris

[~dayBlog~] Equinox Celebration at Chichen Itza, Yucatan Mexico (www.chrisengholm.com)

Just had a wonderful vinaigrette salad with chicken and a Maya cream soup…listening to Ambient Lounge on the iPod…candle-lit tables all around…the twittering masses now gone back to Cancun aboard cattle buses, hundreds of ‘em, and the jungle is silent again.
I think I had a new age experience today. I was running late outta Izamal due to map reading mishap and after tour of the Caribbean I arrived at the hotel (after begging the police who had the area cordoned off)…unloaded, checked in, made a dinner reservation for 8pm, and headed for the back entrance to the ruins. It was 4:40 so I thought it was pointless in terms of equinox viewing. But the crowds dressed in white Panama shirts and skirts egged me on, and the woman at the entrance said it was free to enter…so I did…Throngs shopped at a billion trinket tables. I heard flutes and chanting in the distance. The sky was dark with cumulus, my soul still rumbling around 20-wheelers on Yucatan route 11 (I didn’t want to pay the $15 quota for the fast road).
The Castillo looked gray and less than animated with a sun and shadow serpent ascending its back as was advertised in my travel brochure. But the crowds were actively engaged in photographing themselves, one French photog shooting a model holding a length of Mayan fabric blowing in the breeze, fortunately obscuring her face. White was the fashion statement of the day. I wore khaki, always bucking the trend. Damn, I forgot my candle and incense. No matter, the smell of dope was in the air, or at least, a very dreamy group attitude. And it was good, as few of the European women sport bras at an equinox and dreadlocks are very low maintenance. I thought to pass out Bic disposable razors to help those with uncontrolled armpit hair, and Yahni CDs for the overstressed. I edged into the sea of good souls, accepting all the smiles personally. “Sorry, I’m late, thank you, really.” The Pangaea of people suddenly broke into chant and I looked up.
Yes, the sun was cooperating suddenly after a long day of gloom. In fact, now there was harmony in whooping and…yes…tears of joy. I turned on the tape recorder because the guy behind me was saying things like, “Kulkukan is giving us a sign, brothers!” I clicked away as the snake shape appeared in the suddenly hard yet warm tropical sunlight, slithering up the pyramid. Shit, just as advertised! “And look man, it’s a rainbow!” He was right. A rainbow arched from the sacred cenote to Castillo and the light was ocher with the foreboding clouds above an ornery blue. Snap. Snap. Hands waved. Lots of oooohs and awwwwwwes. Yes, I thought, “Road of Awwwwwwwe….. (my new website) — ALL TOGETHER NOW” All hands aloft for the snake’s arrival. Then big sultry drops of rain – abruptly and mysteriously I must admit — began to pelt raised enlightened heads, dread locks sagged, impermanent tattoos ran, and cameras vanished into nylon bags. People headed for cover and cappuccinos. As if on cue, guards took the opportunity to stretch out thick ropes and herd the leftovers from the sacred ground. “Closing time!” Some clutches of earthy folks from Brazil or Uruguay or Berkeley danced in crazy circles, kissed sloppily, and enjoyed being videotaped. Lightening and thunder over Witz Mountain in the dark distance. 2012 only three years away. Calling my tailor on Monday for something cool…and White.

Photos of Na Bolom Hotel in San Cristobal de las Casas (www.chrisengholm.com)

Here is an unedited slide show of the famous Na Bolom Hotel in San Cristobal de las Casas, for any considering staying there. The pictures were shot in September, 2008 for a book to be published in 2009. 

http://www.chrisengholm.com/roadofawe/nabolom/web/index.htm

Thanks for looking…

Chris Engholm

“Day of the Dead” Mayan Celebration in Santiago de Atitlan in Guatemala (www.chrisengholm.com)

This is a marvelous photo-story from the “Day of the Dead” celebration in Santiago de Atitlan last week, a Tz’utujil Mayan town on the shores of Lago Atitlan in the highlands of Guatemala. My friend, Tara Porter, was there and made some moving observations and photos.  Hope you enjoy the tour!

 

After both ceremonies were completed, it was as if someone sent out a “town” email for everyone to come to Santiago’s cemetery.  People just started coming and coming and coming, in droves–many thousands, all carrying flowers, bags of pine needles, bundles of candles to do their own grave-site ceremonies with.  This procession of people arriving went on for 6 hours and then throughout the night and into the next day.  There are 40,000 people who live in the town, and I think they all managed to make there way to the Cemetery at one time or another! 




The more that came, the more alive the cemetery became . . . alive with people, color, flowers, candles, music, and aroma!

 




 

This is Jose. His wife passed a year ago from illness. I bought a candle to put on her grave and to give him my blessings. In return, he sang a song to me about her and his sadness in living without her with him here on Earth. He poured his heart and emotions into his song. It was in Tz’utujil, so needless to say I didn’t understand a word of it, but the energy behind his words touched my heart, and brought a tear to my eye! 




 

It didn’t take but a matter of minutes for Jose to transform his sadness over the loss of his wife into joy and celebration with the other people at the Cemetery. He and the younger shaman amused crowds of people as they sang to one another–making up lines of the song along the way! They entertained everyone, bringing laughter and good cheer to all who stopped to listen. 

 

And then . . . the celebrating began! The children played all day in the Cemetery. This is a photo of them playing on Nicolas’ tomb (for future use, of course).

Mayan “Break-time” at the Cemetery (story-telling time, which last 1-2 hours each break)


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Hope you enjoyed my little “photo-story” of my experience of the Day of the Dead, and that someday you can experience it firsthand. It’s such a different perspective on life and living, death, and emergence, and how connected it all is–all the time, every day of the year!

-Tara

Dispatches from Lake Atitlan, Guatemala ~ Mayan Shaman’s Altar (www.chrisengholm.com)

MAYA SHAMAN’S ALTAR NEAR LAKE ATITLAN

 

During my shoot for the “Sacred Sites” book in Guatemala last month, I had the pleasure of viewing this wonderful altar used by a well-respected Mayan priest, or shaman.  Notice the Black Christ originally from Esquipulas and the red coral beans used for divining.