Monday 11 August 2014

Wow, I really wasn't expecting that...

So in this blog post I thought it would have been a good time to talk about the food of Mexico. That was until what happened on Sunday 3rd August at around 12:30 when passing through the mountains in the region of Oaxaca. Therefore, I am going to go over this quick story and then another post a few days later will talk about the weird habits of Mexican food and a few funny food-related stories.

Nasty passes on the ol' girl

O.K. You have to picture the scene. Leaving the hostel in Oaxaca City reasonably early on Sunday (apart from the rotten hangover from an abundance of Mezcal, the local spirit it felt like any other day. I knew I had a tough few days passing through the mountains to the coast, in order to cross through the Guatemalan border near Tapachula, Chiapas. But little did I know what was in store for me that day...

Typical mountain road through the region of Oaxaca

As the previous days cycling through Oaxaca, I was busting my arse cycling through the 8000ft mountain passes and after a brief stop in a small town named Santiago Matatlan and gobbling down the standard carne asada, a bit of cooked beef, with he standard side portion of tortillas and frijoles (beans); I hit the road with a new lease of energy. Everything was going swell, until the astrocity what I came across after a tiny town on a long mountain pass. Just after leaving ....., I glanced across and on the left-hand side of the road, and as always there what looked to be a large bit of road-kill, probably a large dog. However after a second glance I realised what I was looking at. Laying in a driveway of a small mountain cottage. Was a dead Mexican guy. Just laying there. It took me that second glance to actually register what I was seeing. As soon as it registered; shivers shot up my spine and my head genuinely felt like my head was going to explode, under all the nerve endings jolting. It felt like what I could imagine shock or shell shock would feel like. My body froze. The next 3 seconds my eyes were fixated on this body. And more details were showing through: I noticed this guy was soaked in blood from head to toe and a puddle had accumulated around his life-less body. The next thing I noticed and it shocked me was. This guy's right foot had literally been chopped off. God knows how this happened. And if I would have had to take a guess, I would assume that he was tortured and murdered, because this poor chap was an absolute mess. He couldn't have been there long; maybe 5 minutes. Becuase the murderers must have dumped the body off by his or his family's cottage.

Ingrid - what a stunning mare. Good ol' girl

 

What was I meant to do?

I wasn't entirely sure what to do... Do I contact the police? Do I go and speak to some of the people in the city and explain the situation with my broken Spanish (I do not even know how to say 'dead')? or Do I just run? Well, you can probably guess what option I picked. I just got the fuck out of there. I wasn't willing to get involved with people who are going to chop guy's feet off and dump them on the side of the road and the police may suspect me and would no doubt want to ask me a bagfull of questions and a statement.

Beautiful scenery in Oaxaca

So instead, I pedaled my little heart out for the next 20km at a silly speed to get out of, what I thought might be the danger area. The shear realisation of what I saw was playing over in my head, while cycling and I really just couldn't believe what I just saw. Was it just a make-up doll? Or a joke? It may have been; but it was damn realistic. I eventually stopped just to cool off and I realised my little beater was on overdrive. I sat down, to give the poor bugger a rest. I read Game of Thrones for 30 minutes to get my mind of the situation, but just couldn't concentrate. In the end in the end I tried to slee. But all I could see was this dead Mexican...

My wildcamping spot the day of the dead guy sighting

To say I slept like a log that night would be a complete lie. All I can tell you is I braved a wild camping spot about 50km south of the scene. The scenery was stunning as seen above, but I had my knife at the ready, close at hand ready for war...

...

...

Later in southern Mexico, I got pretty friendly with an English teacher in a smallish town on the coast. He also had stories of similar happenings, but they were 10 times more descriptive and brutal. They honestly sounded like medievil wartime stories.

The lesson of this post is don't get on the wrong side of any Mexican. Or look like you have a lot of money. Fullstop.

 

Hasta luego muchachos,

Love Tomás and Ingrid (still alive and still going strong in Guatemala)

 

 

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