Wild Spirit of Woman

Friday, November 28, 2014
San Cristobal de las Casas

          Mark Egge is here. I lived with him in Phoenix for 6 months. He is traveling with a friend of his, Bri Jones. She speaks Spanish very well and together they are road tripping through Mexico. It’s by sheer coincidence that we happened to be in the same area. Once we figured that out, we made arrangements to meet.

          I was hanging out with them the first night they got into town, and we were looking for live music. Not having much luck, we ended up going into a bar where one large group of friends was singing at the top of their lungs to the music of a single guitar, played by the proprietor. The bar was really just a room the size of a small garage that had 5 tables and opened right out onto the street. The owner had a song list of around 100 songs, about half of them English, the other half Spanish. He sang along and had a good voice.

          The group of friends already there was rowdy. There were about 7 or 8 of them. They had pushed together a couple of tables which were filled with bottles and glasses. Their whole group was very friendly, shouting, laughing, dancing and toasting! They saw us peer in, and after we sat down, they bade us to join them and move our table to join theirs, and like that, we were included in their group.

          At one point, Mark and I ordered shots of posh, and intended to sip them. Seeing this, the group began to chant something in Spanish. Our bartender, an Argentinian named Javier, helpfully explained that the chant compelled us to shoot the shots, rather than sip them. Mark and I eyed each other with resignation and downed the shots. Not being subject to the same rules, we ordered beer the rest of the night.

          Among their group were two men and five or six women. I took note of one of the women whom I thought had a beautiful face.

          The whole group moved to another, larger bar, and there I had an opportunity to dance with that woman. I was pleased to find she was very kind and intelligent. Later, I would learn her name, Liss, short for Lissette.

          For the next two nights, our group (Mark, Bri, and me), hung out with Lissette's group, and we had some really fun times. Everyone being on a holiday of sorts, some more so than others, we all reveled with a kind of abandon. Even Mark danced, and that’s saying something.

          I recognized something in Lissette that I have begun to think upon: a wild spirit. I mean: a spirit that isn’t tamed, isn’t captive. A truly wild spirit. I've begun to look for that thing, that wild spirit, even after she and I parted ways. Like an energy or an elemental force, this idea of a concept greater than a single person but which a single person might tap into and channel. The Wild Spirit of Woman.

          Over those few days, as I thought of Lissette, I began to have this hunch: maybe I’ve been in love with this wild spirit before I even fell in love with those individuals who carried its fire. It’s the same spirit as the mountains, the sea, and the wind. It’s the spirit of the Mustang and the careless flame. Although a stranger, there was something familiar in the passion I saw in Lissette when she danced, or laughed. It was something that grounded me, and brought me to the present.

          Lissette had to leave after two days. She was working as a graduate student with the locals in the state of Chiapas, and she had a flight to catch back to Mexico City. I wasn't sure if I'd see her again, but we exchanged contact information and we had a wonderful dance party in her hostel the night (and early morning!) before she left. We said our goodbyes, and I told her I would write.

I want to specially acknowledge the financial contributions from Alexandre Nguyen, Manny Rangel, Michael Pang, my mom, and my aunt Julie, as well as Kate Phillips and Ian Wheatland for helping make these words and pictures possible!