Hugged by an Angel

It's times of trouble that call angels to our rescue

For 14 years and 1286 posts, I blogged.

Through too many deaths, too many losses, I blogged.

Through 3 states, 2 countries, 10 houses, 3 RVs, I blogged.

For the rest of 2023, I’m going to reflect on some of those blog memories.

September 23, 2014, San Cristóbal de Las Casas, Chiapas, Mexico

Wall Mural - San Cristóbal de las Casas

It was a dark night, and I was alone, lost, deep in the heart of the Mayan world in Chiapas, a state little known even within Mexico. Without language, phone or even anyone to call, I felt helpless, with fear and crazy gringo stories flashing through my head. 

I knew almost nothing about this place I was going to after the place where I had intended to spend three, cenote-filled weeks instantly turned out to be a place I didn’t want to be for even one day. Tossing reservations, and money, aside, I took flight  … actually two … from Cancun to Mexico City then to the tiny airport of Tuxla-Gutierrez, which was miles from anywhere and no one spoke English.

Aided by a woman who spoke some English and who generously offered to share her taxi to town (I hoped), I was dropped off in a now dark world at a tiny concrete building, where the kind woman hand-gestured for me to buy a ticket and wait. Awkwardly, gracelessly, I managed to get the ticket and into a tiny van going to my destination city, I hoped. 

An hour later, I was at a taxi stand, theoretically in the right city, hopefully getting closer to safety and bed. Sharing the address detailed paper with the driver, I relaxed into the back seat until we arrived at the address and a couple came out to meet me. Or, so I thought.

I could tell by the body language that the conversation with the driver wasn’t going well. The couple had no idea who I was and they didn’t have any rental spaces. Through a lot of pointing and eloquent body language, I realized the address was right, but something was wrong because it was not the right place.

It was dark and getting late. The taxi driver didn’t have a phone and it was clear he was tired and only wanted to get rid of this troublesome gringa woman. We stood around and looked at each other. We examined the paper again. The driver and the couple talked more. Nothing.

And then out of the dark, came a woman dressed all in white, including a white turban and white shoes. By then it was almost eleven and this was a dark, deserted street on the edge of a forest. No one was on the street except this ghost-like woman, who walked up to me and said, “May I help you?” In the most perfect English I had heard for days.

She talked to me. She talked to the driver and the couple. She looked at my paper. There was definitely a problem. She asked if I had a picture of the house I was trying to get to. I did, but it was buried in my laptop and would require internet to see it. Not a problem, she said and pulled me back down the street where there were only concrete buildings on each side. She stopped at one and knocked at the door. A boy of about nine answered. They talked and he let us in to what turned out to be a computer/internet store. He fired up a computer; I put in the info I had and a photo showed up. The woman in white said, “Oh, I know where that is.”

Turns out we were only a few houses away from the right place so in minutes, I was where I was supposed to be and the relieved driver was on his way. Appropriately, the woman in white’s name turned out to be: Blanca. We talked for a few minutes and made a plan to meet the next day. She became my first, real angel and my first friend in San Cristóbal de las Casas which became my second favorite of all the places I’ve been (Santa Barbara will always be my first favorite.)

Reflection: Wherever I’ve traveled (mainly in Mexico), I have found help when I needed it. While I have found the Mexican people to be generous and caring, I believe that it is not limited to Mexico. Basically, people everywhere tend to want to help and show kindness to strangers. However, too often too many things in too many ways sidetrack those generous impulses.

I planned to stay in SCLC for three weeks but wound up spending four months there, enchanted by the city, the people, the surrounding villages of indigenous peoples and their arts. When I decided to move to Mexico, I would have returned there but traveling there was a challenge and, at 7,000’ of elevation, it tends to get cold. I was seduced by the almost perfect weather of Lake Chapala, the art village of Ajijic, and the easy access to the Guadalajara airport. It’s not a decision I regret, however, I will always wonder what my life would have been like if I had stayed in San Cristóbal.

Of course, most of us have turning points where we will never know

what life would have been like had we turned the other way.

Return Visit: When I happened onto a 10-day “Women are Sacred” tour based in Chiapas, I jumped at the chance to join it. So, now I am staying at Vallescondido (hidden valley) a “finca” (ranch) near the Mayan archeological site of Piedras Negras, populated since the 7th century BC.

Yesterday was an “Indiana Jones” day … an adventure back in time.

Like a lot (or maybe most) of the archeological sites, there isn’t enough money to truly uncover the secrets here. The jungle grows faster than the money comes in. The stone above is an example. It clearly is a piece of a structure. It may or may not tell a story. It occurred to me that these stones are like bones of the buildings that were once here.

This trip added to my awe for the archeologists who have slowly unraveled a lot of the story of these ancient people. The jungle is a sweaty, tangly place. To get here we drove … in a tourist van … down a dirt path road which was often 4-wheel drive worthy, then scrambled down a steep and slippery bank to a boat that took us up a whirlpooled river that was the border between Mexico and Guatemala. When we landed, without passports, we were technically illegal aliens. Fortunately no one was around to care.

The internet here in this lovely, comfortable place where we are well cared for will probably go out any moment, so I’ll add more later.

Wikipedia: Piedras Negras is the modern name for a ruined city of the pre-Columbian Maya civilization located on the north bank of the Usumacinta River in the Petén department of northwestern Guatemala.