The sound is strange and it is close. Our eyes struggle to adjust: overwhelmed by our green surroundings, we scan the dense undergrowth for a clue. The culprit is standing a few meters away from us, nervously nibbling on something hard, but we just can’t see him.
The jungle surrounding the Palenque archaeological zone in Mexico is home to some beautiful, strange creatures. Keel-billed toucans and a variety of rainbow-colored birds; colorful and noisy amphibians enjoying the humidity; Yucatan howler monkeys and a group of monkey species swinging from high branches.
But this sound cannot be attributed to any of them.
The agouti is a strange little creature, a fantastic cross between a rat and a deer, and it is remarkably well camouflaged. If it hadn’t been so intent on eating its nuts, it would have gone unnoticed, but that’s the way it is, we eventually discover it – and it discovers us.
The rodent holds our gaze, trembling, and is obviously calculating something in its little head. Satisfied with its work, with a quick glance to the right and left, it starts nibbling again.
It’s late and the sky is darkening. Our drive from San Cristóbal de las Casas this morning was long and tiring, as our bus driver likes to overtake on tight bends. After getting off safely, my girlfriend and I were happy to be able to retire to our cabin early to watch the approaching storm from our bed.
Tomorrow we plan to explore the nearby ruins of Palenque, a once-powerful Mayan city-state that flourished between 500 and 700 AD. For reasons that are not entirely clear—theories suggest a combination of overpopulation, ecological devastation, and power struggles—the city was abandoned in the early 10th century before eventually being reclaimed by the jungle.
Palenque was reclaimed by the jungle after being abandoned at the beginning of the 10th century.
Lulled by the distant rumble of thunder and the heavy rain on our roof, we sleep soundly, unaware of the stream that has overflowed its banks and is now flowing through our hostel complex.
When we wake up, the staff are understandably in a state of hectic activity. They explain that although this unusual weather is due to the natural climate phenomenon El Niño, it is not normal. The situation has been made much worse by climate change.
The morning begins sunny, but when we reach the entrance to the archaeological site of Palenque, the fog has returned and it is pouring with rain. To give the occasion an atmospheric atmosphere, we cross the jungle that surrounds the old town and cross streams and waterfalls that are made even more impressive by the rain. In the distance we hear the monstrous roar of boisterous howler monkeys.
It feels like we have entered a true wilderness, but the illusion is quickly shattered.
As we venture deeper into the site, climbing ancient stone steps slippery from the rain, we are struck by a distinctly contemporary sight: a construction site. New toilets are being installed on the outskirts of this ancient center, presumably in response to the growing popularity of the ruins. The shocking change serves as a grim reminder that destruction in the name of tourism plays its part in shaping this region.
In the summer of 2020, construction began on a high-speed rail network that will connect Palenque with other major tourism centers in the Mexican parts of the Yucatán Peninsula. The Mayan Train, as it is called, was designed by the Mexican government as a means of creating jobs in tourism and thus reducing poverty in an otherwise severely underdeveloped region.
Mexico has pumped enormous sums into the project, which has seen its costs rise from an original estimate of $8 billion to nearly $30 billion – in a way that would have horrified even the planners of Ireland’s National Children’s Hospital.
A bas-relief at the archaeological site of Palenque depicting Upakal K’inich, son of K’inich Ahkal Mo’ Naab III.
Huge tracts of land have been cleared to make way for the railway, putting many of the region’s already endangered species at even greater risk. Indigenous communities have been displaced. The ecological damage and the expected influx of tourists are likely to put even greater strain on water supplies that are already beginning to dwindle.
While the beauty of Palenque is humbling, one cannot avoid the thought of destruction. This particular Mayan city may have been abandoned long before the Spanish arrived, but the continued traces of colonization are clearly visible here and throughout Chiapas.
As we climb the steep steps at Palenque to one of the highest temples in the complex, we marvel at the remarkable sophistication of the Maya’s achievements. Their temples are still magnificent and their art intricate.
A distant roar pierces the air. It is not the sound of howler monkeys, but of heavy machinery.
Early the next day, we feel adventurous and decide to follow a path behind our hostel and see where it leads us.
Within half an hour we are surrounded by roars, and this time we know it is the local primates. We sense they are nearby, so with naive enthusiasm we sprint off the trail into the jungle, jumping over streams and ducking under low-hanging branches, blindly intent on finding the group.
We will soon be lost.
When we happen upon a plot of land, we spot a farmhouse from which a man emerges. His name is Gerónimo, and after a few friendly remarks, he offers us a tour of the jungle for a few hundred pesos. We gladly accept the offer, promising to take us to the monkeys.
We’ve only been walking for a minute when Gerónimo stops and points up to the treetops. There they are: mom, dad and two baby monkeys. We watch, spellbound, for as long as we can stand with our necks craned, as the cozy clan goes about its business. When they’re not shouting at their rivals, these screamers seem to lead a peaceful life.
Howler monkeys
We walk for hours with Gerónimo. While he clears a path in front of us with his machete, he tells us about his knowledge of the wondrous plants and
Animals we encounter along the way. He also tells us about the Zapatistas.
On January 1, 1994, the Zapatista Army of National Liberation (EZLN) rose to worldwide prominence when it revolted against the Mexican government and demanded regional autonomy and the rights of indigenous peoples.
Although the uprising was short-lived—a ceasefire came into effect 12 days later—it ushered in a new era of self-government throughout Chiapas, with community-run schools, health centers, and other services being established.
Gerónimo is obviously proud of the Zapatistas’ achievements, but what he fails to mention is that Chiapas is changing today.
While we are in tourist-friendly Palenque after coming from the safe town of San Cristóbal, other parts of the state have recently succumbed to the scourge of cartel violence.
Given this chaos, the future of the Zapatistas is anything but clear.
As his tour and our day draw to a close, Gerónimo points to a field in the distance where a man stands alone, chopping wood with an axe in his hand. We stand in silence for a while, watching him, the sound of his axe filling the air at regular intervals.
It is a simple scene of a simple life, moving and unforgettable. People throughout Chiapas, like everyone else, want to live in dignity and safety. The tragedy is that, despite their struggle, they may not be allowed to do so.
Later that night, my girlfriend and I are wandering in the darkness behind our cabin. The weather is calm, and as we meander along the path, little yellow lights appear all around us. The fireflies are putting on a show, apparently determined to convince us that this forest is enchanted.
It seems a fitting end to the journey: a magical moment in a beautiful country under terrible, invisible strain.
The Aguti, an imaginative mixture of rat and deer
Getting to Chiapas from Ireland is neither easy nor cheap. First, head to Heathrow Airport and fly to Mexico City with British Airways. Spend a night or two there, enjoying street food, then travel south by bus or plane.
The ADO buses are comfortable, cheap and more environmentally friendly than the plane, but the journey is long.
Alternatively, you can fly with Aeroméxico to Tuxtla Gutiérrez International Airport and take an OCC bus to the modern city of Palenque, which is the gateway to the ruins.
The ideal time to visit Palenque is from November to March. The rainy season is between May and October and should be avoided.
A variety of accommodation options are available on the edge of the archaeological zone. For budget-conscious travelers, El Panchan offers simple rooms in a beautiful jungle setting. At the upscale end of the scale is Piedra de Aqua Palenque, a five-star hotel with a spa and outdoor pool.
The increasing violence in Chiapas is undoubtedly a cause for concern, but it should be avoided by limiting itself to tourist-friendly areas such as Palenque and San Cristóbal de las Casas.
ensure your safety.
The locals convinced us that we shouldn’t rent a car to get around the state as it’s easy to make a wrong turn and end up on dangerous routes. It’s much safer to travel by bus, but if you rent a car, never drive at night. If you’re unsure about a route, ask a friendly local for advice.
