Caballos Borrachos -- Todos Santos

This past weekend was another adventure to remember beginning, of course, with the bus ride to the destination.

On the ride down the mountain, feeling a little queasy, I put on my iPod and shut my eyes for a bit instead of reading my book. Half asleep, I was awoken by shouting and looked up to see all the passengers that had been standing in the aisles (at least 25), duck down. Not having heard what was said, I assumed that the driver had seen someone ahead that was going to shoot at the bus, which is not outside the realm of possibility considering all the gangster extortionists that work the route. I was frightened, especially since I had chosen to sit up front. How do you hide from a bullet? Luckily, my guess was wrong. We rolled passed some cops and it all became clear: the cops actually enforce passenger limits, thus the sudden ducking of the passengers to avoid a fine for the driver.

The long journey continued. I had estimated no more than 5 hours, including waiting, to reach Todos Santos (less than 90 miles away). It took 7. The details are typical: road blocks, weather, waiting, sketchy mountain-side roads.

Although I had been to the town of Todos Santos Cuchumutanes, Huehuetenango before (and almost lived in one of its villages), I had not been for the major show. As its name suggests, the feria of Todos Santos coincides with el Día de Todos los Santos (All Saints Day). It's a cool place to visit on a normal day with the beautiful mountains and the women and men both wearing the typical indigenous clothes from the town. The feria, however, is something you can't miss, particularly the horse races, which are especially famous because the riders are drunk. Many refer to the event as the "drunken horse races," however, it has a very interesting past that makes it more culturally appealing.

When the Spaniards were exploring the Sierra de los Cuchumutanes (probably in the 1500s or 1600s), they would leave their horses in the care of the local people of Todos Santos, but with the warning that if they were to ride them, they would die. So for years the locals took good care of the horses and never rode them, until one day, a man decided to test the warning. He told his family he was going to steal a horse and ride it around town, proving to all that the Spaniards were lying to them and taking advantage of them. The family, afraid for the man's life, pleaded with him not to. But he told them not to worry, if he were to die, he would at least go down as a hero. Moreover, he decided to perform the feat drunk. The man did become a hero, but not by dying. He successfully rode through town that night (drunk) and lived to prove to his people that the Spaniards were cheating them.

From that night evolved the current event that takes place during the feria, where a handful of men pay to ride horses (ironically, rented from non-indigenous people) all day long on November 1st. There aren't individual races and winners, it is more of an endurance event.

So really, it's a story of rebellion and an activity in commemoration of that, not simply men stupidly risking their lives to ride horses while drunk.

The rumor that the race continues until someone dies or is seriously injured (which is an honor) proved true this year. Around 4:30pm, one of the riders, too drunk to stay on his horse, fell to the side, too close to the fence, and wrapped his neck around a post. (Luckily, I did not see this.) Believed to be dead, people started shaking him. A friend of mine who's well-trained in first aid/CPR ran down to check on him, found his pulse, and convinced his compañeros that he needed a doctor immediately. After the incident, the races were suspended, leaving us to explore the cemetery, ride the ferris wheel and go to the local dance.

Monday morning leaving town was another adventure. A volunteer that lives in Todos Santos hooked us up with a house for the weekend for Q30 ($3.75) each per night. When I tried to pay the owners on my way out, the crazy old man who lives there locked us all in the ran up to where people were still sleeping and starting yelling at them to pay while beating them with his large stick. He seemed to fear that we were trying to cheat him out of Q900, clearly not understanding that the volunteer from there had collected everyone's money and was going to pay him shortly. Eventually I escaped and met up with my friends at the comedor who had snuck out before the jail beating.

The last bus for the early morning was leaving at 7:30 a.m., with the next one not leaving until 11 a.m., i.e. EVERYONE wanted on the 7:30. The bus driver, trying to make a few extra Q, squeezed close to 50 people on a 25-seater bus, which made the steep hills difficult. Half the bus had to exit and walk at least 4 times on the way up the mountain. And due to the cramped quarters, a handful decided to ride on the luggage rack, which later got the driver a Q100 fine when we were heading down the other side of the mountain into Huehue.

I wonder: what's travel like in the States?

Stay tuned for the next adventure: a week in Chiapas with Julio! We're meeting up next Wednesday!