Incipient Vagabond--Verily

Tuxtla Gutierrez, another big rolling city, but nothing like DF, with a massive mexican flag--a mainstay of patriotism for the nationals.  A fine home, of a dentist's wife and son, though I never saw the man, they had two stories, running water; Luis and Marco and I, we went down to the plazas and climbed a great pyramid, lit up and maintained, played drums and sought a stick to spin as a staff; I explored as usual, and found a pineapple, a couple candidates (a broomstick, a slightly imperfect stick and an imbalanced stick), and a big dog, as well as an abandoned building on the shadowy residential side of the pyramid--in mexico they have taken stones and built cells, casing up the hill but with wells of dirt and plants regularly in the form of yards; this one was bulging with the roots of the tree by the sidewalk, and the door was open and it was dusty but with evidence of scoundrels, tenative tenants, guests morelike, in this bit of untended territory, a ghostly window into what was, and what will be, the first of its kind but definitely not the last.

We went down and rejoined the crowds, danced mildly but with little real interest.  The next day we hung about, and the following, slow to go, we finally took off a bit before sunset with little enthusiasm--lethargy sets in quickly, because every adventure starts off with an investment, a risk, a loss of a great deal of comfort--a sacrifice with the hope that it germinates into fruit, always new birth is the result of a loss, a giving up of energies.  But we did it, and didn't find a good place to thumb before walking all the way to Chiapas de Corzo, fortunately only a few miles beyond; we walked and arrived at the edge where we saw a small hillside with a stand of trees and darkness, inviting in its openness and cover simultaneous.  But as we were scoping it out, a man walked by down on the sidewalk, when my friends had gone out too far into the vulnerable space under the street light, and asked what they were doing.  Obedient as any other i've met here, my friends answered honestly, that we were looking for a place to camp, and the man said it belonged to another, and that in the daytime it was a parking lot.  I tried to persuade my friends that it was a good place to stay, and that we would be out early and it would not bring us any trouble, but they resisted so we went into town.  We went to the centro, as always, where a show had ended and there were people strolling about and a stage being dismembered.
Camped in the palacio
walked up through the humid jungle to the highway
caught a ride quickly, up to san cristobal de las casas, the weather dropping dramatically and awesomely
we wandered town a bit, but as my friends were where they wanted to stay, and i was tired of towns and wanted to be in the jungle where I could express myself and find food without societal impositions (cash), and so i parted for the final time from my friends.  i walked to the edge of town (though not before having intense urges to clear my bowels (a running theme throughout my time there), and upon seeing a wide open gate, with untended growth at the back, ran with relief to drop some fertilizer in the corner.  But the gate having closed behind me (no doubt by the guy who had seen me cross the road and into the place, being unsure whether i was supposed to be there, at least contented himself with my being trapped, and thus in a position where i would have to make contact with somebody in the building and thus likely to meet justice for trespassing if that were the case).  But all was fine, when i cleaned myself up and went to the back of the nearest business, and upon informing them that i had come in looking for a bathroom, and yes i was aware that there was no bathroom there, but now i was stuck, the ladies chuckled and went around to open it back up.
Off i went, into the land of collectivos, camionetas, trucks that go 10-30 miles at a go, for 20 pesos each, but i wouldn't have it and held fast, getting rides slowly but surely.  I got a ride from a couple coming from tuxtla, with treats from a weekend getaway, home to ocotzingo; they fed me a good starchy vegetable, steamed and soft with a spiky but loose and flimsy skin and a flavor between potatoe and sweet potato (jicama, i believe) and then soon after, just before sunset, another couple who had hosted a swedish girl once but spoke no english, though were apparently upper middle class, took me into the humid jungle and city of palenque.  I was here, finally, but there were no gypsies, only tourists again.  Where were the wild, wonderful, goofy gypsies?  I had expected several hundred people were coming to this, but no one was to be seen.
I found an internet cafe, and with my last five dollars, was able to buy 45 minutes of internet, to get directions on what to do once in town; then to buy some grande y dulce bread, and take a cab to el panchan, where the rainbow voice had assured me i would be sure to encounter fellow rainbowers.  I arrived, and there was no one, and i was a little disappointed, for i felt i would be awkward sitting at the entrance to this hotel and restaurant (jungle style, but tourist nonetheless).  But fortunately there was a tour guide, drunk and bored as well, with whom i spoke at length and we decided to go back for one more beer, if i had any change.  i did, so we walked and he informed me of some of his travels, how he had a son by a spanish woman, neither of whom would now talk to him, and lived in spain and america, respectively.  he told me he had heard drums the night before in the forest across the road, but would not have me walk into the forest now because of poisonous snakes.  he said men from the ruins, or the businesses, it was not known, were starting to be vigilant and shoo out us visitors, because we were arriving in greater numbers and too close to the ruins.  So he convinces me to go hide under a palapa, we'll stay the night and they won't notice and we'll leave very early.  but a woman and her daughter arrive and tell us we need to pay 2 dollars each--he says we'll pay in the morning.  No, now, and of course we can't and I say so and that I'll leave, but he persists, and somehow we end up simply moving to one farther away, after the women leave (submissive to the end).  We stay and they arrive again, and the same thing occurs again.  Well, we get up and out right at daybreak, but when he has shown me the path, he says he'll be paying off his half of the night's cost, and if i want to go back, and i should anyway, but only if and when i can, to pay off my two dollars.  he then wishes me luck.  I go off, into the forest on the path, high in spirits and begin to ascend.  but the area is unfortunately small, and i reach the back quite soon, a field some asshole has cleared and which has tall grass and nothing else, and a high barbed wire fence, but which i enter anyway to get some perspective and possibly scope out a good gathering location, because i'm aware rainbow is largely ad hoc.  But I descend finally, a bit forlorn, but take a different path around, and come upon a man with a shaved head and robes, and i am glad.
We talk, I share a bit of bread, and we talk and walk back to el panchan.  He is from Colombia, but has spent time in the US, but has been in Mexico for about a year.  He is barefoot, but as the day progresses we come to follow a couple of leads and try desperately to piece it all together, but end up walking some dozen miles and arriving at much the wrong location and end up coming back to where we started, where we should have stayed from the start, to wait patiently as the instructions dictated, at the entrance to panchan.
But all is well, finally, when we meet friendly travelers, a group from Kansas in fact, Brady and Clay, then Troy, and Andrea, a fantastic serendipitous event, which, as I've encountered before, because I put myself out there, asking the universe for something I want, time and again, looking for those who share my interests and passions, i encounter people who are willing and able to help me try.  Little did I know, in this first encounter, that these would become great friends, and I would, three months from then, join them on their permaculture village experiment in Lawrence, KS.  But for now, they simply gave me hope, saying surely "we" could pay the collective fee to bus us there.

So off to Babylon we went, merrily.