Life after Cuba

Culture shock set in as I landed back in Mexico, in the most tourist infected part of the country: Cancun. I stayed an hour away from Cancun in a place called Playa del Carmen which is what Cancun looked like maybe 10-15 years ago; a main pedestrian street lined with tourist trinket shops, cafes, restaurants, bars, tour companies and of course, a beach populated with chaises longues and aqua blue Caribbean sea. I met up with a friend who had just moved there and who managed to find a CS who happily accepted for both of us to stay with him. This CS is one of the most peculiar persons I have met to date, a character to say the least. He’s from Colorado but he has a Southern drawl, which he doesn’t loose when speaking Spanish. The conversations with him seem to develop into strange twists, often not obtaining the answer that you expect and not understanding how you’ve come to talk about e.g. what colour pen to use to write down a phone number. He talks a lot, to the point where you don’t even need to contribute anymore than an “uh-huh” from time-to-time. He also repeats everything several times, as if he believes you haven’t understood the first time around. But he does take an interest in people and things going on around him, asking curious questions such as “what has your experience been of dentists in Mexico?” or “what do Australians eat?”. Everyday he wakes up at 5.30am and goes for a run, returning around 7.00am and starting on his first beer for the day. Everyday he would say that he would come out with us and everynight he would pass out at approx. 7.00pm and not wake up till the next morning. He practices chiropractics as a hobby (self-taught) and uses anyone as a test dummy (I never dared to…!). He lives in a room with a bathroom attached. No need to say, it was a very small space for all three of us!

So I spent a week there with the intention to clear my head and figure out where to from here. But I wasn’t able to get any head space living there, as well as the fact that I spent the week going out every night as my friend was about to start working in a bar on the beach and we received free drinks (most of the time). The second week I moved out to a friends house (who I met on the beach the week before) and had a much more productive week working out what I wanted to do next. I decided that I wanted to travel down by land as much as possible and avoid flying. Therefore this meant that I would need to go by bus from country-to-country, travelling down Central America. My first stop would be El Salvador. It was decided and time to move on after two weeks in Playa.

On my way to El Salvador, I passed through San Cris one more time (fourth time!) to see a friend. While there I had once again, the best falafel roll I have ever tasted and of which I dreamed about when living in Palenque. I was also introduced to the best quesadillas I have ever tasted in a little eatery which has no name and only opens from 8pm to 10pm, 6 days a week. It’s owned by a young couple who are the most inviting two individuals I have ever met. And the food… ummm! They’re very adventurous with their fillings, changing them every night with such things as garlic prawns, tempeh in a peanut sauce, mushrooms with pumpkin flower…! Definitely not to be missed if you are there!

While in San Cris I also got to try peyote, a cactus found in central Mexico which is quite horrible to eat (even dry as I tried it!) but it does heighten your senses and sends you on a long journey inside your mind! It’s used by many indigenous tribes in the north of Mexico in traditional ceremonies, religious and also for healing purposes. We spent an incredible night camping in the wilderness, taking eery photos, full moon shining on our heads, speaking beauty to our eyes until the coldness seized me and shut me away from the brilliant world around me and made me shudder to the inside of the tent where I battled the cold along with fits of intensive moments. The next day we woke up to find that workmen had already started the day, breaking away the rock from the mountain beside us, smiling at us as we woke up from a dazed sleep. Two little kids giggled at the sight of us, as they played with the wheel barrow. Everything remained glowing. The trees held an amazing green about them, the sun shined on as if it diffused gold on the ground and I felt content but exhausted from so much activity inside my head!

I left Mexico feeling slight pains of melancholy but also ready to continue on my journey to new lands, cultures and adventures. I arrived in San Salvador after 24 hours of travel by bus, greeted by my beautiful friend Mar who is half French and half Salvadorian. I fell into good hands and was welcomed very warmly, into a colourful and relaxed home with two young girls. I was also received with open arms into Mar’s group of friends who are all lovely, interesting people with very mixed cultural backgrounds. I was reintroduced to meditation and took part in an amazing meditation on the beach with the sound of the waves breaking and gently helping us empty our minds. I was also taken out by a lovely Melvin (a CS/musician) who took time out of his days to show me his city, even while I was sick as dog from eating the curtido (fermented vegetables) that come with pupusas (a stuffed tortilla).

For the first time in many years I felt what I use to feel just before Christmas thanks to Mar and her daughters. The youngest one is eight years old and still believes in Santa. The excitement and belief she still has for Christmas made me remember what it felt like to look forward to this holiday. We also had a Christmas party at a finca located right on top of a mountain with a 360-degree view of mountains, volcanoes, San Salvador and out onto the Pacific. The day consisted of a large group of friends gathering with their kids, presents exchanged, a piniata battering and lollies playfully fought over, alcohol being swirled in glasses under a beautiful clear sky, mountains of fine dining food, an 80’s band playing in the late afternoon, everyone dancing and kids timidly looking on until loosing their inhibitions. To top it all off fire works were let off from the garden as we gazed over the amazing view that surrounded us.

El Salvador feels alike to Mexico in many ways. People have similar features although there seems to be a little greater mix of cultures here than in Mexico. The markets are chaotic places full to the brim (just like Mexico), people yelling out what goods they’re selling and for how much, the occasional comment in English as you walk past and a mishmash of clothes, food, kitchen items, hardware’s and sometimes even animals. After asking many passers-by I discovered that there really wasn’t a historical centre as I had imagined it. San Salvador’s city centre is more to the point, one big market that extends on for kilometres, covering the crumbling old buildings which were once vibrant places where people lived and worked. The cathedral marks the centre but even that is covered by market stalls and lacks the feeling that is required for the centre of a capital. Tired, a little lost and feeling once again like the odd one out, attracting comments because of my height and white skin, I felt a little home sick in the initial few days, but this time not from Australia but from Mexico! After five months of living there, I felt quite comfortable and at home, accustomed to the people, the accent, the customs and culture as well as the friends that I have made. I always find it hard to move on from a place and get use to a new land. But El Salvador is a beautiful country and with the help of Mar I quickly got over this home sickness. 20 volcanoes populate the small nation and good surfing beaches are also found to which many Australians flock to. During this time of the year it’s sunny everyday and reminds me of the clear, bright skies that Australia is renowned for. The violence and the maras (youth gangs in El Salvador) that everyone talks about was not visible to me while in San Salvador. But people who can afford it live in residencies, which are walled off communities that are lined with barbwire and hold guards at the entrance. Many people also have full time maids and nannies for the kids, which quite surprised me. There has been a change of government this year, for the first time since the end of the civil war in 1992, FMLN, the guerrilla who fought against the government for 20 years, has now taken power. People are hopeful that this left leaning government will be the change that they are hoping for. So far the government has sent military in conjunction with the police, to patrol the streets of San Salvador to combat the gangs. Although early to judge, people say that there has been a decrease in violence since this initiative.

In my last few days in El Salvador, Agus the Argentinean who I met in Cuba joined me to travel down Central America. We had been in contact after I had left Cuba and it was decided that we would adventure together! We went to visit a set of villages in the North-East of the country where the guerrillas held power during the civil war. We went to visit the cave, located in the mountains of El Salvador where the guerilla radio was located in secret, a huge cave that was the centre where the guerrillas worked out of and where many slept and hid out. We also saw remnants of bombs that had been dropped in these small villages, causing craters and killing many. Astounding to think that this was the government doing this to its own people.

And today… We're off to Honduras!

Cuba

Check out Cuba photos here!

“The shortest shorts parading the streets, stilettos worn by the sexiest girls imaginable walking down the street with postures of confidence, boys walking with pride, in singlets showing their golden brown skin or strutting with the flare of someone who knows how to move their body. “Hay muchos bonitos lugares aqui” (there are many beautiful places here) say many Cubans. They’re proud of their culture and the country that they live in, even if things aren’t perfect. People walk around with musical instruments, supposedly to their next gig, possibly to play for tourists. Cuban salsa oozes out onto the streets from many openings along the street; Cuban cigars are smelt out of holes in the wall or in plazas where many people hang out in the obscurity of the trees. During the day, you may be surprised to see many people walking around with cakes in their hands, uncovered, leaving the cake open to any sort of danger or splatter. If you walk away form the centre of the centre, you start to see the decaying buildings which populate Habana. It looks beautiful to the eye but in reality isn’t very safe to live in and would go down in a second if any natural forces were to hit this city. Walking along the streets at night, you might come across people singing on the streets, rapping to another persons beat or letting out large booming, colourful voices. Habana feels exactly as I imagined from the pictures that had seen and the few documentaries that I have watched. “Tenemos el sangre caliente” (we are hot blooded) is definitely true and summarises well what kind of people Cubans are. The people I’ve spoken to from here are very intelligent and knowledgeable people. They know a lot about their history and the history of other countries (which they aren’t able to visit very easily). They know much more about other countries than most people in Australia do even though we are able to travel with little difficulty. The education system is obviously working well in Cuba and most people seem to take advantage of the fact that education is encouraged and is free. There’s also a really strong health system here and people get treated well and for free. The backdrop of the classic American cars which can be anything from shining and well kept to falling apart at the seams, makes you feel as if you’ve stepped back in time in a 1950’s romantic movie. I have to keep on reminding myself that I’m in Cuba as it still feels surreal, having been a dream of mine to travel here for many years. An old man sitting next to me in the square has just bought me a rolled up piece of paper which I thought held a cigar in it but in fact has roasted peanuts. The piece of paper was a reused one with notes written on it from a class. A generous gesture from a stranger who I’m sure doesn’t have that much to give.”

Notes on Cuba:

Most people agree that Cuba has a low level of crime in comparison to other Latin American countries and corruption is quite minimal. This may be due to the high quality social system that is in existence here, as people have access to all the basics for free. This includes a comprehensive system of security at work,.good working conditions and care for people who are in need where it be poor health, disabled, old age, maternity, etc. I was told that everyday there´s morning exercises organised by the government for the elderly. People are respected and valued here and aren’t turned away from e.g. a hospital because they don’t have health insurance. Unemployment is also very low at 1.9%, the lowest in Latin America.

On saying that, people aren’t paid very much in Cuba and there seems to be discrepancies between certain careers. Doctors for example are paid 22 CUC a month and taxi drivers can earn double this. Generally people don’t earn very much at all (1 CUC equals $1.15 Aus) and things are very expensive in the shops, especially when you´re earning 22 CUC a month! For example a pen costs 1.50 CUC and shampoo costs from 3.00 CUC up and often these products can only be bought in CUC (which Cubans aren´t meant to earn but of course need). Therefore people can’t afford to buy much and many have converted to working in the hospitality trade as here they can earn tips undeclared. The thing that is astonishing is that everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, is owned by the government. It’s hard to absorb this fact when living in a country that is based on neo-liberal capitalist principles. The brand name shops (such as Adidas or Puma) that are operating in Cuba are a joint businesse with the government where the government owns 51% and the company 49%. From my understanding, if you have your own business than you must pay the government a huge amount before you are able to profit yourself and the business would be in the name of the government.

In medicine school, doctors learn about herbal and homeopathic medicine along with traditional medicine. Herbs used in certain remedies are not opposed in Cuba as they are in the west and there are several main pharmacies that sell herbs to the public. Cuba appears to be more ecological than most countries. They use everything to the maximum, serve street food in reusable containers, don’t have plastic bags available in shops, use limited machinery for farming duties and use permaculture /organic farming as the main approach to agriculture and horse and cart still being the main mode of transport in the country.

There’s only two sorts of accommodation here in Cuba. Hotels or rooms within homes (called Casas Particulares). I stayed with a lovely family in Habana. The grandmother made me a birthday cake and they all took good care of me. They had set up their Casa Particular illegally for the first 6 months, therefore weren’t registered with the government. Now they are registered and have to pay 175 CUC per month per room to the government before they are able to make any profit from the enterprise. I paid 15 CUC per night for my room and there weren’t always people in the second room while I was there.

The food in Cuba is definitely not as rich or varied as in Mexico. The street food (which you can only buy with cuban pesos) consists of greasy pizza, hot dogs, cheese sandwiches, dry tamales and boxed lunches (cajitas) consisting of rice with a few beans and meat. Most of it is very unhealthy. I guess that people eat mostly at home as it’s cheaper and would only eat out once in a while, therefore not being so affected by the unhealthy street food diet. But there is beautiful cane juice available in Habana which you can buy for 1 cuban peso (less than 5 cents), freshly squeezed in front of you which you drink on the spot and hand back the glass to be used again. Soooooooo good on a hot day!

There are so many varieties of people here from black to white to super tall to short and everything in between. There are many who don’t look like they are Cubans (my idea of Cuban) who are obviously Cubans by their accent and the general manner in which they behave on the streets (e.g. white blondes). I didn´t get hassled half as much in Cuba as I have been in Mexico for example, maybe due to the fact that there are people of all looks here. Generally people are lean and the mix between African and Spanish blood has created gorgeous people who have beautifully fit bodies who definitely have the right to flaunt it as they do. There are many young couples, exhibiting in the streets while they go for meanders, all looking stunning. People dress well here, especially for going out at night. Girls wear stilettos with almost nothing on their backs and the shortest shorts or skirts possible. Ed hardy t-shirts are on many males backs, along with the big brand names such as Nike, Dolce and Gabana, Versace, etc. I was genuinely surprised to see such expensive brands being carried by many young people in the streets. When asking a friend, I was told that these come in cheap from South America where I guess some of these clothes might be made.

I asked if there was discrimination here in Cuba and most people answered not within the Cubans themselves but there definitely is between the tourists and Cubans. Up until a few years ago, Cubans weren’t allowed to enter the tourist hotels. Tourists are kept as far away as possible from the Cubans. Starting from the two different currencies that are used (CUC which is for tourists and cuban pesos which is for the Cubans). The impact of the Fidel government on liberty and freedom is subtle to a tourist but when you start questioning Cubans they tell you in hushed voices that they’re not meant to talk against the government, that any opposition will be acted upon quite severely (loosing your job, imprisonment), that Cubans aren’t able to travel outside of Cuba unless they have a formal invitation and that all costs are covered by an outside source, they’re not meant to accept tourists in transport that is only meant for Cubans such as 3 wheeled bikes and machinas, that they’re not really allowed to interact with foreigners, that they’re not meant to have a relation with a foreigner and shouldn’t be seen in public together, that it’s illegal to host foreigners at home unless they have a permit to do so…the list goes on. Access to internet is also minimal as most Cubans can´t afford it and the internet available is censored (just as they´re trying to do in Australia!).

There’s a definite island air to the place which comes from the combination of Habana being right on the coast, how hot it is and how everyone is always out on the street. I love this. People live outside rather than indoors, hanging out, chatting, meeting up, watching, going for strolls, kids playing while old men play dominoes from morning to night, sometimes sipping rum while intensely concentrated on the game.

There are so many museums in Habana that I sincerely believe that it would win the Guinness book of records for the city with the most museums. Every building which the government is unsure what to do with, is converted into a museum. Therefore there are museums about absolutely everything such as the museum of numbers, copious amounts on the different aspects of the revolution, art museums, natural history museum, cigar museum, rum museum, victor hugo museum, and anything else that you can think of.

There are many holes in the wall in Habana which is where shops operate from (mainly who sell in cuban pesos) or eateries who sell take away food. Many are located in buildings that are falling apart, making the place look impoverished but still full of life. The markets that I visited had limited fruit and veges available, appearing desolate and a little lacking.

The Che is everywhere. Pictures, wall art, photos, paintings, within political propaganda and on everyone’s lips. I was travelling with an Argentinean, Agus, in the second week of my time in Cuba who I had met through my casa particular and when asked where we were from, I got a blank look when I told them Australia (after people guessed anything from Chile to Peru to Venezuela), whereas the Argentinean had people asking him to come to their house for a coffee and praising him for being from the same country that Che was from.

Political propaganda is also everywhere, especially along the highway, on big billboards saying things such as “Tenemos y siempre tendremos socialismo” (we have and will always have socialism), “Anniversario de 50 anos, la revolucion continua” (50^th Anniversary, the revolution continues), or anti-United States messages portraying the states as the evil force against the Cuban revolution that will be vanquished. Billboards are actually only used for political messages rather than for advertising as they are back home. The billboards picture anything from Fidel, his revolution team, the five prisoners who are imprisoned in the U.S. and of course the Che.

Agus and I thought it would be cheaper and more authentic to hitchhike with Cubans rather than take the tourist bus, which is the only option apart from taxis for tourists. It was difficult for us to work out where to do this from, how to get there, if it was easy for us to get picked up, etc as most people that we asked seemed to be part of the scheme to get us on the tourist bus – vague with their explanations and telling us that it wasn’t possible when we knew that it was. Finally we made it to the road leading to Vinales (the cigar making district) and were picked up by a big truck, which was already carrying 10 Cubans in the back. With the wind in our hair and oranges and lollies shared around, we ended up having to pay for the ride (as everyone else) but it ended up being 40 cuban pesos (a little under 2 CUC) instead of 12 CUC with the privilege of experiencing how Cubans travel. At times I felt like a refugee, hiding when we came across police as we were told that we weren’t really meant to travel this way. More and more people came on, sometimes there would be packs of people waiting for a ride under a bridge and the truck would drive straight past them as there were just too many to all fit in.

We arrived in Vinales at night and thanks to a woman in the same machina as us (a collective taxi), we found a Casa Particular straight away. We were asked for our passports and visas so that the owners of the Casa could note down our details in their records to give to the officials. We both had our passports but I hadn’t bought my visa with me having left my big backpack in Habana and not knowing that I needed to travel with it. The owners almost hit the roof with fear. At first they told us that we had to leave straight away but after some reflection they agreed that we could stay for the night as long as we didn’t tell anyone that I didn’t have my visa with me and that we would go straight back to Habana the next day. We agreed knowing very well that we wouldn’t be doing such a thing after travelling all day to get here and not seeing anything of Vinales. The owner a little later explaiend that all the Casas Particulares had been checked by the police apart from there’s. This explained why they had so much fear about us staying with no visa, the anticipation that the police could come at any moment. The next day we said our goodbyes to the Casa under the understanding that we would be heading back to Habana that day. We found another Casa Particular a little further on who also asked for my visa but when told that I didn’t have it with me she just said not tell anyone and left it at that.

In Vinales as we walked around the stunning hills covering the countryside, we met an old man on his horse who invited us to his house for a coffee, the coffee beans originating from his small coffee plantation on the side of his house. He showed us his coffee plants and also his tobacco plants that he used to sustain his life through selling the leaves to the government. He rolled a cigar with expert ability and proceeded to light it, passing it around to both of us as well as his 4-year-old grandson who had a few puffs with a nonchalant attitude. As we sat on his front porch, sipping our coffee and watching the grandson causing havoc with whatever he came across, I looked across the fields and felt a calmness and contentment at the beauty that encountered my eyes. The old man wasn’t living in luxury but he was based in such a beautiful part of the world which overruled any sort of lavishness he may have craved.

From Vinales we went to Trinidad which is a good 10 hours away from Vinales, having to return to Habana to get there. We stood out in the rain waiting for a return ride but as it was pouring so much, the few cars and trucks that appeared just screamed past with no hesitation of stopping. The machinas we came across didn’t want to take us at first for fear of the police and then said that they could but that they would have to charge almost as much as the tourist bus. We finally organised a ride on the local bus by being smuggled on first and sitting waiting on the bus for a good 20 minutes before other passengers were allowed on. We paid a little more for this privilege but were quite happy to finally get going, especially since we were completely soaked from the down pour. In Habana we paid a machina to take us all the way to Trinidad. Half of the way into the journey, we hit a storm (once again as it happened for my entire second week in Cuba caused by a nearby cyclone) which prevented us from seeing anything in front of us. It was night by this time and I became angrier and angrier with the machina driver for not wanting to stop. The storm ceased and I relaxed when I could see in front of our windscreen again. We arrived in one piece but completely exhausted after 12 hours of being on the road.

Trinidad is the oldest city in Cuba, with cute cobbled stone streets and old colonial houses as well as the beach nearby. One night when we were looking for a place to eat dinner, a woman stopped us and told us the menu that she had available in her home restaurant. As she was saying the menu she lowered her voice and said something in a hushed tone. We couldn’t hear what she said and asked her to repeat it. She did and finally on the fourth time we understood that she was saying that she had beef available. We asked her why she was whispering and she responded that beef was illegal to have in Cuba. Apparently that’s not the only thing that´s illegal. Lobster is also illegal. The only place that can sell these products is in big tourist hotels (government owned of course) as it is seen as a luxury that Cubans can´t afford and if you happen to have a cow, you should only sell it to the government. You can get more jail time killing a cow than killing a human, somewhere between 4 and 10 years.

So when I asked people if they were happy with the current government structure I got a mixed response. Some believed that the transfer of power from Fidel to Raul would create some changes in terms of more freedoms economically and personally. This hasn´t occurred so far and although people do feel that the social system is advantageous for Cubans, there´s still a sense that part of the system is discriminatory against Cubans. Finally, the CS I met in Habana admitted that Cuba has its positives and negatives but that he likes it here and he believes that all countries have their pros and cons, ¨who´s to say which system is better...?¨

Day of the dead/dia de los muertos

Check out day of the dead photos here.

This was my second time back in DF, the second biggest city in the world so they say. This time I stayed in the ritzy suburb of La Condesa which is the equivalent to Paddington (for those who know Sydney). Lots of café lates been sipped in over priced cafes/restaurants while BMW’s and Hummers are being driven around with taco stands still on many street corners (not so much like Paddington!). There’s some interesting places to go out to in these parts and I did take advantage of this, mainly with my friend Alex (my ex-flatmate from Sydney). In the second hostel I stayed at I encountered a guy in the dorm room I was staying in who sweared that he recognised me. I thought he was using this as a pick up line but it turns out that we met in Morelia 3 weeks ago with Jen, while we were eating quesadillas. He had tried to start a conversation with us and both Jen and I weren’t too responsive He remembered and said that we had ignored him, which is probably quite true. It’s funny how things come back and hit you in the face. On saying that he wasn’t the nicest person I’ve ever met and he definitely annoyed me a good deal for the 3 days that I stayed in the hostel, constantly complaining about everything and whinging copiously.

So after a week of staying in hostels, I decided to finally give the old hostel living a rest and go back to couch surfing. The first couple I stayed with had a loved one pass away and so had family engagements to attend to which meant that I had to leave. Kindly, the couple found me another couch surfer to stay with whom I got on with superbly, especially for the weekend of dia de los muertos (day of the dead) which we were both very obsessed about!

Days of the dead is celebrated profusely in Mexico and is when the souls of the dead come back to join their loved ones. It is celebrated officially on the 1st of November (dia de los inocentes) which is when the souls of the children are honoured and the 2nd of November (dia de los difuntos) when the souls of the adults are honoured. The two days are happy celebrations, joyful, colourful and full of life, with lots of food, sweets, drinks and humour in the air. The celebration dates back to the Aztecs, believing that death is a door to another existence and that on the days of the dead, the souls are reunited with the living. Calaveras (skulls or skeletons) are everywhere during this time, playfully acting out scenes from the living, from skeleton mariachis playing a tune, to skeletons enjoying a lavish dinner or dancing joyously together and wearing large grins on their faces with sombreros on their heads.

Our first stop with my CS David was the markets in DF where they sell absolutely everything you can think of including sugared or chocolate skulls which are colourfully decorated and given out to friends and family with their names written on them, Halloween costumes line the stalls, skeleton toys hang waiting for their chords to be pulled by kids, paper decorations of all colours picturing skeletons in various scenes are in abundance used to adorn home altars and offerings, zombie dolls, and there was even a witchcraft/voodoo section. It was the 31st of October, the day before the first official day of the dead and therefore the markets were jam-packed full of people buying their last minute day of the dead presents and decorations. The air was festive with little kids dressed up for Halloween and asking for trick or treats to passers by.

That night I went to a Halloween party with Mariana and her boyfriend. I dressed up as a witch (a last minute put together!) and Mariana’s mum, who’s starting out as a makeup artist did my makeup (luckily enough as I don’t think I would have looked much like a witch otherwise!). The party was chock-full to the brim but after some pushing, we managed to get in and see the efforts that everyone had put into their costumes. I’ve never been to a Halloween party where EVERYONE was dressed up and had really put lots of thought into their particular characters. I saw pirates, draculas, clowns, zombies, skeletons, devils, wrestlers, the scream, lord of the ring characters, genies, the works! And very typically Mexican, mariachis appeared at midnight and played for an hour to the weird and wonderful characters floating around the night.

The next day David and his other couch surfer (also David) and I went to Xochimilco, one of the remaining indigenous areas of DF and also where there’s canals, called the Venice of Mexico. Here they had offering after offering bordering the footpaths with traditional day of the dead bread (sweet bread which is prepared especially for the day of the dead as the belief is that the dead love sugar), candles, sugar skulls, brightly cut decorative paper, food (favourite of the dead), tequila, cigarettes, decorations, poems, photos and much more depending on the offering. Each offering can be either for one person who died, a group of people, a tragedy that occurred or an issue that is going on in the community. Poems called calaveras are written about people who are alive in a humorous manner, normally making references to a quality or a defect of the person. Kids write these about their friends as a part of day of the dead on the 2nd November and there are many calaveras also written about politicians and other well known personalities. The market in Xochimilco was full of day the dead flowers mainly Zempasuchitl flowers (marigold flowers), which are either yellow or orange and are used to line the floors to help the dead find their way and decorate the offerings.

We caught a collectivo trajineras (a typical boat that goes on the canals of Xochimilco) and gently moved along the picturesque canals along with the many other trajineras. Trajinera merchants are also floating about, selling anything from beer, corn on the cob, chips, clothes, toys, rugs and there was even a photographer who looked like he was on a safari holiday waiting for clients. There were mariachis (of course!) who would hook up their trajineras with the requesting trajinera and would play in the middle of the canal. I was surprised by the amount of Mexicans that were on the canals and the lack of foreigners around. David told me that it’s a common thing to hire a trajinera with a group of your friends, to celebrate a special occasion.

As night fell over Xochimilco, we decided to take a look at the local cemetery (cemeteries are only open at night during day of the dead celebrations) and watch the vigils that were taking place. Unfortunately as soon as we arrived, it started to rain fiercely upon us and so we hurried from grave to grave trying to see as much as we could in between wet blinks. After 10 minutes of this, we gave up and, completely saturated, made our way to the metro. In the metro we were the only two who were wet. Other passengers looked on curiously, probably wondering why we had persisted to walk in such a heavy down pour.

The next day we continued our day of the dead offering obsession by going to Coyoacan, a part of Mexico city which has a rich culture to it and has many intellectuals and artists living there. Our first stop was the cemetery where we spent a good hour winding our way through the narrow paths, viewing tombstones and the decorations that loved ones had placed on them. Many families were already there at 11 in the morning, cleaning, decorating, praying, talking to their loved ones, singing along with the Mariachis that some of them had hired, laying down flowers, having a picnic, drinking (vodka for example!) and sitting on the tombs having a chat. It was the most social cemetery I had ever been to and seemed like a fantastic way to interact with the idea of death and dead loved ones. Kids were of course also there, helping and taking part in the rituals, laying down flowers on the graves with some of them dressed up in their Halloween costumes continuing to ask for trick or treats.

Next stop for the day was the centre of Coyoacan which had more formal offerings than what I had seen so far. These were prepared by the council and many of the offerings were to artists that had passed away from the area. I was most impressed with the large pictures that had been designed with a mixture of petals and seeds. In another area, some offerings were set up which explained the different elements that are placed on the offerings. They described that water is placed so that the dead are never thirsty, food because it’s the belief that the dead still live on and come down to eat on these days, day of the dead bread with little strips that symbolise bones, candles are there to lead the dead towards the divine light and flowers symbolise the sun which shine on the lives of the souls.

In the afternoon we went to the University City again (went on Saturday night but couldn’t really see much and it was too cold for my liking!) where we saw the amazing offerings that the university had set up. Every year they have a theme which each department adheres to and this year it was a tribute to Edgar Allan Poe, the famous America writer who is considered to be the inventor of the detective-fiction genre. Amazing structures were erected of giant skeletons, spiders, bloody hands coming out of the ground, skulls in all corners, decapitated heads sprawled on the ground, swords stuck through bloody hearts and scenes of skeletons being killed. All very gory but surprisingly quite appealing to look at. Kids were going around with their parents and all had smiles, seeming content and not at all scared by what they saw. I started to think about how death is treated in Australia and the differences with Mexico. We seem to cover up and not talk about death, as if it’s a taboo subject. Here, it’s out in the open, gory, jokingly uncanny, cheeky and joyful. Kids are confronted with death from a very early age and are accustomed to it. Death is celebrated rather than just simply feared as it seems to be in my country. I think I might start to adopt this tradition and also call it my own...!