It was Good Friday and there was a carnival outside our front door, in the large square bordered by a 16th century convent on one side. There were dozens of food stalls, mostly manned by Maya grandmothers selling tamales, tacos etc. (Aside: I’ve concluded that tamales are not for me but all the variations of tortilla + salsa + stuff are a double plus 1). We arrived as they were setting up and pressing tortillas so had a very fresh and delicious lunch, then returned to our flat. A couple of hours later we heard singing and dashed out to see a procession led by Christ and the thieves, all carrying crosses and being enthusiastically whipped, with the boys of the parish bellowing abuse with great relish. They were taken to the square and tied to three large crosses, which were raised up. I was a bit startled at this; I’d expected the procession and the Via Cruces, but hadn’t realised there would be an actual crucifixion. The carnival continued around them as the crucifixion was reenacted. A solder stabbed Christ in the side. A mike disguised as a spear was waved up for the seven words of Christ; unfortunately the actor, a solidly built young man who was clearly selected for his fine head of hair, was either fainting from the heat or not a particularly good actor. Meanwhile one of the thieves was hamming it up. Then the crosses were taken down very carefully – they were quite high and the three bodies were carried away into the convent.
The carnival continued. We went to a cenote, at Hacienda Uxman. A very deep one, hung over with thick tree roots, with a rope for swinging over into the water. As we arrived so did a tour bus but happily they were mostly there to look and take photos, and those who ventured into the water took a swing and got out, then they all departed en masse to the restaurant before it shut. I swung with my usual ineptness and lack of dignity, and fell on my back; my excuse was that I had to take off my glasses but to be honest it was ineptness. Fortunately I wasn’t the worst. Anyhow, I swam around for a bit in the fresh water amidst silent black catfish. It was strange to realise how different fresh water is from salt, how much less buoyant. Obvious, perhaps, but I’ve really only swum in the sea for the past many years.
We returned and the carnival was still going on. Then, as darkness fell, the silent procession began: three wooden saints and a very large glass panelled coffin containing the body of Christ. It looked very heavy and hard to carry, and indeed the pallbearers stopped several times. We fell in behind as well, and walked through the streets in the dark until we reached the door of a graveyard. I was surprised; were they going to put the wooden corpse into a tomb? But no, there was a prayer and then the procession retraced its steps back to the convent. Here we peeled off and returned to the flat as the GF had stubbed his toe and I wanted to make sure it didn’t need anything more than a clean. It seems fine though I am sure there will be slight infection, what with the dust we walked through.