Carlos will remember my tales of the disturbing town of San Juan Chamula, Chiapas. The misshapen crosses, the angry children, the dirty market, the uprooted tree, the church in the plaza, the candles, and the offerings of the holy Coca-Cola to the water god.
You do not want to go there. Go infiltrate the FARC instead.
Mérida, Yucatán, is several hundred miles away, and a very pleasant town. Or so I thought when I last visited the place, which must of been 2000 or thereabouts. I mean, ritual decapitations by death-worshipping criminal gangs?
Maybe I should have watched the X-Files more closely.
Creepiest thing I ever learned about Mexico was when a Latin Americanist acquaintance of mine told me about Santa Muerte.
*shudder*
Posted by: Andrew R. | September 03, 2008 at 12:19 PM