PALENQUE

 

 

Our ever amoeba-like group flexes once again as to who is going to Palenque and when.  I can hardly keep my head on straight.  Things are moving so fast and I am so far behind writing about it, I feel like a Panzer Commander in WW II moving through France at breakneck speed.  I am also getting threats from home.  “Post: or else!”  Luckily I don’t have pets.  I think they would be stuffed and mounted by the time I arrived back in Seattle, due to my tardy dispatches.

 

The trip into the archeological ruins at Palenque is luckily quite short.  Perhaps half an hour, at most.  Arrangements are made almost immediately to share an English speaking guide (Jose Luiz) with a German couple from Bavaria, Heike and Klaus.  Palenque is a major site among Mayan ruins, and though it was on my bucket list, I did not think it approachable due to a long, roundabout approach circuit.  But when I found out there was a direct route from Tikal – however tortured – it went back on the front burner for putting in a visit.

The site was discovered in modern times in 1773 by Mexican families out searching for raw materials for chewing gum.  It held a population of close to 40,000 by 700 AD, with most of the population being domiciled in wooden houses in the valley surrounding Palenque.  Initial occupation of the site occurred somewhere around 100 BC.

 

I am really itching to find out what makes Palenque stand out, and unique compared to my other Mayan temple objectives: Chichen Itza, Tikal, and Copan.  And the answer is quite simple.  Accessibility, scope, and the fact this major Mayan monument was never a City-State.  It was always a graveyard.  Probably the largest in the world, at 25 square kilometers and containing over 1400 pyramids and supporting structures.  Only 1% have been excavated.

 

Unlike Tikal, which was a male-dominated settlement, Palenque has a distinct female energy to it.  Three rivers flow through or nearby the ruins.  Eighteen years ago, evidence was found of an extremely powerful female ruler called the Red Queen.  Unlike in Roman and Greek burials, where a pair of coins is laid across the deceased’s eyes to “pay the ferryman” for safe passage across the River Styx to the underworld, jade in the mouth is used for this purpose in the Mayan world.

 

The jade also had high levels of mercury.  Mercury has a nasty habit of killing DNA.  Only from the tooth material, were scientists able to determine this woman was not native to the area and was imported and married into Mayan Royalty.  She was also probably an albino.  Her royal housing was called “The Casa of The White Skin.”  The primitive solid rock platform bed chambers there were padded with feathers and jaguar skins.

 

As opposed to Tikal, there is also substantial evidence of bathrooms and kitchens in Palenque.  Royalty regularly enjoyed protein in the form of pigs, deer, fish, monkeys, and a local delicacy – armadillos.  The common folk ate tortillas, beans, and chiles.  Protein was not off limits to them.  The rule was simply whatever was caught, had to be shared 50% with royalty as a necessary contribution to their status as “living gods.”

 

Mayan royalty often intermarried within their immediate family.  The reason was to preserve privilege, and the exclusive passing of the torch for information, knowledge, and dynastic secrets.  The result was offspring with crossed eyes, six fingers, and club feet.  And sometimes an albino exterior.  This was not a mark of dishonor, however.  It was a badge of distinction.  You see this on stilas all over Palenque.  Bass reliefs of royalty with genetic irregularities make it appear as if these physical deformations are gifts of the gods.  It was not something that was hidden, but rather extolled.  Especially in Palenque.

 

I visit the Temple of the Red Queen, a relatively low-lying step pyramid with substantial hollowed out interior space dedicated to the monarch’s final resting place in a Mayan arched burial chamber.  Space for her servants (who were sacrificed upon the Red Queen’s death) are located immediately adjacent.  It is a large enclosure, well lit, and relatively spacey compared to the relatively confined spaces found in Tikal. 

 

Next door, adjacent, and much higher is the “Temple of The Inscriptions.”  This is the burial tomb of the Red Queen’s son, Pikal, who was invested as king in 615 AD at the age of 12 years old.  What is notable about this temple is the fact it has a Greek style summit altar, and it is aligned in such a way that on the winter solstice on Dec 21^st of each year light from the sun shines directly all the way through the summit temple for a period of seven minutes.

 

 

Across a broad walking path, perched above a structure divided into four main courtyards called El Palacio (The Palace) where royal housing was actually located, was the only tower in Mayan antiquity.  Like the Leaning Tower of Pisa (Italy), this tower was deliberately leaned just a bit to the south to compensate for Palenque’s position relative to the equator.

 

In that way, on December 21^st at noon, there would be no shadow from the son for perfect astrological alignment.  Still higher, is a royal reception court, where royalty from other kingdoms was received – either as guests, emissaries, or prisoners.  Stilas once again gave an indication of their status.  If the depicted enemy was partially bound and had paper in their ears instead of jade (a sign of humiliation), you knew they were prisoners and subject to ransoming prior to possible execution.

 

Nearby is a ball court (the closest modern day equivalent is jai alai), which the Mayans played with knees and elbows only.  An even more difficult pursuit than today’s soccer, with feet only.  We are told the game was not to create hierarchies and to promote sacrifice of the loser, but to replicate in circular motions and play patterns, the circuit of the sun through the heavens.

 

Among other stories told by additional stilas on the site, are the knowledge that other tall, white appearing peoples preceded the Spanish (which the Spanish attempted to destroy, along with over 1 million Mayan documents).  The story of corn is also told.  Corn was absolutely sacred to the Maya.  Their mythology dictated that humans emanated from corn.  Mayan babies of high birth standing, were in fact purposefully deformed at birth by a couple of pressed boards on the scalp for the first six months of their lives to make their craniums more elongated and thus corn shaped.

 

The highest point on the site, around a corner in a long curving staircased ascent, is the elegant Templo de La Cruz (Temple of The Cross).  It has the largest and most finely engineered roof comb temple found at Palenque.  Views from here over the The Palace, The Temple of the Inscriptions, and the Temple of The Red Queen.

 

Mayan civilization rose and fell, depending on the presence of abundant corn and abundant water.  Temple building by 900 AD had reached such a crescendo, that disproportionate areas of jungle had to be burned to support the building initiatives.  For every 1000 kilograms of limestone mortar necessary for binding stone together, 3000 kilograms of wood had to be burned.  This included the sacred ceiba tree, mahogany, and balsa.  As in Easter Island, this single minded pursuit actually prompted the demise of the society which had initiated this ambitious building program.  The lack of jungle resulted in a distinct weather change and nine year drought at Palenque.

 

 

 

Unlike at other Mayan strongholds, however, environmental adjustments were made.  Limestone and mortar were abandoned in favor of clay as the favored construction material.  Palenque continued to thrive until 900 AD – not nearly the lifespan of Tikal, but then it was never really a “living city.”

 

A short tour of the jungle aspects of Palenque is attempted, but I have a timeline to adhere to.  I attempt 15 minutes of this nonsense and only get rewarded with a coating of mud, before begging off with Jose to end the tour early.  He is only too happy to comply.  And from here, it is rush-rush to attempt making the bus for a six-hour bus ride to the highland colonial gem of San Cristobal de Las Casas.  Luckily, I have trained myself since high school as a result of long bus trips to away athletic contests, to sleep almost anywhere.  Sleep is possible on this occasion also.

 

Arrival is late at night, and yet the city beckons still.  It is an area I have long been told about, and long wanted to visit.  Like Merida in the Mexican Yucatan or Cuzco in the Peruvian highlands, it is a thrill to explore its cobblestone streets, well preserved missions and churches, and colonial Spanish architecture.  At the same time, it is surrounded in Chiapas state – site of a relatively recent Zapatista uprising led by Mayan peasants upset with the lack of political distribution or economic gain – with traditional villages without running water or electrical power.

 

The squares here are beautiful, spacious, and well lit.  Like Cuzco, there are no potholes.  They are simply not allowed to exist.  Mexican and Spanish music plays deep into the night, and by the time I am ready to retire at 1 AM the crowds have yet to dissipate.  Many of the streets are pedestrian only, and very visitor friendly.  I stop at a restaurant called The Terradentro, and enjoy the best tamales and enchiladas verdes I have ever tasted.  The tamales are made of corn maize, double crème, chiles, and pollo.  The enchiladas are of course adorned with green chili sauce, pollo, onions (cebollas), and a variety of spices.  It is truly a treat to write home about.

 

Even better, is the colorful daily public market which takes place about five blocks outside the main public square in San Cristobal, Plaza 31^st of March.  It is wrapped around the Templo de la Caridad on three sides, and is an absolute delight of local crafts, food booths, and bohemian displays of artistry showcasing both indigenous Mayan craftsmanship and works from creative types from nearby provinces.

 

I am most reluctant to leave this festive spot after two hours of gawking (and buying), but once again must conform to a schedule if I hope to make my primary objective for the day.  This bucket list highlight for the entire 45 days in Central America – the mysterious and beautiful Lake Atitlan, remains nearly ten hours away in a risky night ride return to Guatemala.