Depicting Memories

When I look back at my experience visiting San Cristobal de las Casas in Chiapas, many memories come to mind. Back when I was an undergraduate student, I attended an Anthropology Congress. It was the first time I traveled on my own, so every step towards my destination felt like an otherworldly accomplishment. As soon as I went through customs at Tuxtla Gutierrez’s airport, I left the airport and took a 70-minute bus ride to San Cristobal. When I set my eyes on the ‘pueblo’ I was impressed. It is amongst the first Spanish towns established in America. Its colonial streets, Baroque churches, and warm orange hues create a magical atmosphere. I decided to walk around, hoping to get some dinner. On the main street, I saw my colleagues who had arrived earlier that week. They recommended that we head to the congress, since they were holding an activity that evening.
The event was taking place at the former Santo Domingo convent. Outside, we purchased twenty pesos tacos with spicy sauces. Later, we visited a local bar. The parlor was located on the second story of an old, run-down building. The live music was played by three men, two Nicaraguan and one French. They performed Latin-American songs and allowed the audience to improvise along with them. Nightlife in San Cristobal is vibrant and bohemian. The bar was full so I had to sit quite close to a dark-haired girl I had met at the convent. Her name was Lena. She was in Chiapas doing her thesis research on Indigenous women. We agreed to meet the next day so she could show me around town. The next morning, I woke up to a delightful 13 C. I was waiting for Lena at the hectic square in front of San Cristobal Church. Indigenous women were selling beautiful textiles. School children were walking by at a fast pace. Soon, she came along with a huge smile. “I am taking you to the city’s former entrance”.
As we walked along ‘Paso Real’ we saw sidewalks with outdoor cafés. At the end of the street, there it was: ‘Arco Del Carmen’. The vermillion arch stood astonishing in front of us. Its exuberant design blended Moorish and Spanish architecture. According to her, if we walked beneath it we could make a wish and it would be granted. I longed to return someday. My wish was granted in an ethereal way: I still hold dear fleeting mental images of the arch, and many joyful memories. To this day, I still yearn for those moments, and I try to bring the gratification I felt there into my daily life.