Page 4 Planet of the Arts “Oanaca onthe Wild Side Day1 Arrive in Mexico. It’s New Year’s Eve. Begin looking for some festivities. Still looking three restaurants later, all of which are closed. It’s beginning to look like we’re going to see the new year in at a street taco stand. We find an expensive roof-top restaurant, complete with slow dancing to Mexican muzak. Nuevos Anés. Day 2 Spend day in bed recovering from too much Mexican style (ie: polluted) cold air. Should have left my cold back in Vancouver. Cough, cough, sneeze. Day 3 Went to the market at Toluca and ruin site at Malinalco. Picked up two hitch-hikers who took us on a steep mountain short cut. The only thing that felt shortened was my life. Day 21 I’m on the plane to Var-couver, trying to remember what happened from Day 4 to Day 20. I have vague recollections of collapsing onto my hotel bed feeling ruined on ruins. I experience arecurring flashback of me riding the “Omni-bus from hell” over steep mountain passes. It’s a blur of activity. Nothing left to do now but wait till the pictures are developed. Until then, “una cervesa por favor”. Vireini /irginia a ao Se" mink ( ae TH WS A great thanks to Sally Michener! The hours she spent planning and organizing made the trip run smoothly. Without her work we only would have been able to take about half the amount we saw. The learning experience, from traveling and seeing various historic sites and villages specializing in the arts, made everything far more vivid than reading about it. The places I enjoyed the most were Palenque, Aqua Azul and San Cristobal and various sites around those places. I found something almost magical about each of those places. Trips like this should be encouraged by the school system — there is nothing more educational than this hands on experience. Thanks again Sally for making this trip possible. Sue Griese After the short flight from Mexico City to Vancouver some of us got routed through customs. We were just singled out. I was very neryous even though I had nothing to hide. Hans my boyfriend, wasn’t there to pick me upand most of our group of 18 had gone home. So in true Mexican fashion. I took the cheapest way home — public bus. I felt like a stranger in Vancouver. All the streets were clean, quiet, wide, smooth. All the people were clean, well dressed, happy. All the children (just out of school) were laughing, had money in their pockets and candy in their hands and were unescorted. Then a young woman asked me if I knew any people in Vancouver, if I hada place to stay. I said “Yes...thank you.” (I’ve lived in Vancouver for 13 of my 20 years). Then she got off the bus — her stop. It felt strange even to have bus stops. The bus got kind of crowded but nothing like in Mexico. When I got back to my dingy little apartment I became hysterical. I went around the place like a maniac, I couldn’t believe that I was back at this oddly familiar place that only seemed like - a past dream and that I couldn’t just go back outside to the Mexican slime on the streets (that was still on my shoes) and the taco stand. I felt like a wild animal trapped, I looked like one too. I thought I was going to have to go back right away, that@ could never be happy in Vancouver again. Then I thought that if I moved to Chinatown or Gastown I might be OK with other dirty people and city streets, the cheapest place I could find, but I knew that I could never live with Hans. It was lucky that he wasn’t home. I drank some tequila and pruned my plant; it calmed me somewhat. I couldn’t watch TV, I was too restless. I had worked to get out but I felt I had to be there if Hans called from work I tried reading the comics but they weren’t funny; there was nothing about Mexico in them. I wanted to call someone but felt I had nobody to call. Hans came in. I really turned him on now. I felt like a wild woman and passionate but not for him. I didn’t want to ruin what I remember us to have had so I can’t tell him because everything might work out fine once I settle down to Vancouver. Helen Spaxman After an exhaustive study of the ubiquitous ‘pocolito perro’ we discovered a key to the true mythic significance of Walt Disney’s world. Is Pluto really Xolotl, Aztec God of the Underworld? And what about Mickey Mouse? Stephanie ARTIST'S RENDITION oF ANCIENT ALTE CEROMONIAL ®QowWL My impressions of Mexico are rich and varied and I know these experiences will be imprinted on my mind forever. The villages with their zocalos (town square) and wonderful old Spanish churches. The adobe houses with their animals close by. The vamilies — old and young participating in the basic existence of everyday life, weaving and making pots in these small compound- like yards. There is nothing quite like seeing the great ruins of Mexico for the first time and the Museum which houses the treasures from these ruins. You are always faced with unbelievable contrasts in Mexico — extreme wealth for a few and tremendous poverty for many. The loving warmth of large family groups and the sad small undernourished street children. Wonderful colours and the bleached dusty country. I am. very indebted to Sallyt Michener for the variety of experiences she planned and organized for us and to the group I had the privilege of sharing it with. I am all the more aware of how privileged we are to be Canadians. | realize after that experience, what a responsibility to our world we have. Lea Mann Walking through the” Aztec ruins I found myself confronted by the remains of a very grand and violent culture. There was not place here in the sun for the weak or the conquered. The powerful were ferocious warriors of Spartan character: priests, who demanded and took from the populace. This taking included the ultimate offering of the self, the human sacrifice. Has Mexico changed over the centuries? What is happening today? Are the few not bleeding the many? Wyn Yang Even though we ate our eggs dutifully, Montezuma’s revenge was grievously evident and passing was not easy, so cerveza was a panacea against the dreaded diarrhea. Hy; Wesley Bentz Our group of eighteen had quite a trip: so many new sights, sounds and smells. We quickly slowed down. Manana, manana. New Year’s Eve was celebrated high above the Zocalo. On the Ist day of 1987 we tried out the metro system enroute to Teotichuancan, a massive, ordered Precolumbian temple site. Every day seemed so full, and every night took on new intrigues such as our “dogman” outside the Hidalgo Hotel. Street taco stands were safely sampled by some adventurers. But many cautious types didn’t escape Montezuma’s revenge and the language lesson “donde esta el bano?” was heard frequently. An early loss of acamera on a crowded bus made us wary thereafter. We took a triangular route from sprawling Mex Cuidad to Villahermosa (La Venta Park); Palenque with its butterflies and tranquil beauty, on to an incredible splash at Agua Azul; San Cristobal with its cold nights and its villages of another time warp; Oaxaca and more museums, sites, villages, the ocean for 1% days and back to Mexico City. Despite frantic shopping sprees we managed to appreceiate the Canadian embassy’s schedule of studio visits, briefing and a posh party. We returned to Vancouver loaded with memories, colour, weavings and pots and more rolls of film than I can count! The struggle to survive is enormous for Mexico and Mexicans. The peso is practically worthless. Pollution acutely. offends the eyes, throats and hearts. Good water is scarce and costly. The rate of exchange is shocking. Mexico is hell-bent on becoming “modern” which means more pollution, poverty, plasticsand TV. Mexico is in crisis. We are so privileged and take it for granted. I cannot imagine what will happen. Sally XK Prenouced Wo- Haw- Ka \Wus- by Patrick bons Palenque is a very special place. It has been left to ruin but there is still much life in the stones. The numerous temples nestled in the jungle set the stage for historical stories that make up these walls. Traces of red and blue still remain. Glimpses of the Mayan people filter through these fragments yet the mystery overpowers it all. One can imagine the degree of ritual and regallia that took place under these massive stone roofs and within the tunnels and tombs. A gentle atmosphere rules over all my thoughts. Only a place so peaceful could contain so many butterflies, flowers and a magnificent swarm of crimson dragonflies. They hovered together darting spasmatically just out of reach beyond the summit to the north. Nancy —_— ) Lee wes Nt Three words, in Spanish, from Mexico shall forever remain in my vocabulary: escultura, hamburguesa and _ yo tengo! ... next time — through the mountains to Ochumilco. Bill What did you say? Something about money? ? ? Oh I understand. I have plenty and you need more? Thank you. for your time. You want to go? One thousand pesos to get that far? ° Look at all that food. Would you like to have some? Do you have any crime? No not at all. What are you doing? Can I try that. No thank you. Connie The street food in Mexico is beyond description, but the restaurant food can be compared to our cafeteria. At home in Vancouver I’m a poverty line student but in Mexico I’m a rich man, so what am I doing in Vancouver? I don’t know. Todd (Hector) agsddas Amantengois a small, sun-baked pottery village outside of San Cristobal. Upon our arrival, children were allowed out on the landway with their wares, tiny, slip decorated figures of animals, and some small pots. They all smile winningly, white teeth flashing against sun drenched skin, each trying their best to show that their family’s work is perhaps a little better than the neighbours. The differences are subtle of course. The pottery is done strictly by women. The men work in the fields. The skills are passed on carefully, from mother to daughter The children are very young, the oldest being, maybe 8 or 9. They follow us through the village, dark eyes intent, thrusting their creations at us, saying “Regalo, Regalo”. This means gift, butit is a gift, I think, in the sense thata gift of candy or perhaps a pen or pencil will be given in return. The girls wear simple dresses, sometimes covered with an embroidered shirt. Their shiny black hair is braided, or sometimes worn in a knot on the forehead. It is sleek and healthy looking. Some cover their heads with a long scarf. ; There was a fair amount of activity, considered the fact that we arrived at siesta time. We wandered the streets with our parade of little children behind us. Women gestured at us to enter their yards and view their wares. We sat with a woman, named Carmelina, and watched her mother, aged 100 years, at her lifetime task of hand pinching pots. The matron of the house was wrinkled and wisened; and though she was stone deaf, her eyes were bright as she smiled and nodded and went about her task. Carmelina told us it takes her mother 8 days to complete 2 pots. I couldn’t help but envy the purpose and peace in this woman and many of the other villagers. Crystal* ‘ \ f QO = ~ sy. Somewhere over Los Angeles. . . I’m beginning to get a little nervous here. No, it’s not the altitude --- I had promised the other editors that I’d come back with a hot and spicey Mexican article for the paper. Well my diary entries are not exactly complete so I have few choices left. Either I: 1) head for the nearest emergency exit 2) claim diplomatic immunity 3) implore my fellow group members aboard the plane to write candid, witty, sensitive and/or insightful comments about their “Mexican Experience.” This calls for another cervesa. . . I'd like to thank everyone from my Mexican groupa who complied with choice number 3. It would have been a long way down (see choice number 1). : V.A.