"Like a white, shimmering jewel, Palenque perches above the misty, deep green of the forest shrouding the waterlogged lands that stretch northward from the base of the Chiapas mountains to the swampy beaches of the Gulf of Mexico. To the south of the city, rugged, jungle-covered hills gradually rise to climax in cold, volcanic highlands. Temples, palaces and noble homes, all built with the distinctive sloped roofs characteristic of Palenque's architectural style, line the clear streams that bubble up from within the heart of these mountains to tumble down rocky slopes and into the rolling plain below. As if to instruct humanity in the ways of destruction and rebirth, these life sustaining waters rise through the limestone strata to break onto the surface of the earth. Laden with calcium, the running water fashions a fantasy world of crystal lacework by encasing the decaying leaves and branches of the forest in what will become the fossil-laden strata of floriforous limestone a million years hence. The pearly deposits shroud temple and tree alike, creating a mirror to the Otherworld, like a cave turned inside out. Even today, you know you stand on sacred ground here at the western gate of the sun's journey across the world of the ancient Maya."

The preceding is borrowed from "A Forest of Kings, The Untold Story of the Ancient Maya," by Linda Shele and David Freidel.

We arrive at the ruins at approximately 8 A.M. It is a misty morning, the ruins are resplendent in their very being. It seems a miracle to find these magnificent edifices standing here in the middle of a jungle, completely timeless, completely unsychronized, with the modern world. Once again, it is a time warp.

The ruins at Palenque are managed much like a park, or a museum. There is a small "caseta" (office) at the entrance where one can purchase guide books and various souvenirs. In addition, there is an opening and closing time (six to six) to the "grounds," I call them grounds, but actually it is the remains of a city. We pay to enter and we find ourselves completely alone, (except for park attendants, and they remain near the caseta) as we start to explore the various buildings.

The site itself is large, the monuments excavated (in1974) cover an area five hundred yards (NS) by three hundred (EW) yards. There is a much larger area yet to be uncovered, thought to be approximately three and a half to five miles long, east to west. This area is covered by thick stands of mahogany, cedar, and zapote trees, thus encapsulating the greater part of the old ceremonial center. We explore the excavated area going into various buildings, there are more than a dozen to choose from. We stand in places where people lived and died centuries before, people completely different from us in thoughts and values, but in another way, we know they were just people, just like us, with questions about life and its purposes, and at the same time facing the daily challenges of life. It would be folly for me to try to go into great detail about the overall physical and spiritual feel of the ruins, let's just say enchanting and spellbinding, I'm sure that other ruin crawlers know the feeling.

One temple attracts our interests over all the rest. It is the large "Temple of Inscriptions." The Temple of Inscriptions stands directly backed by the thick forest, which enhances its impressive size. The hillside partly supports the pyramid type substructure, which itself ascends sixty-five feet. From this platform rises the temple, finally placing its floor some seventy-five feet from the level of the plaza. We climb to the top of the pyramid using rough hewn stones as stairs. They are irregularly sized, large, and difficult to transverse. It is surprisingly steep and a bit scary, especially we will find, on the trip back down. When we do reach the top, we enter the temple.

We find the temple divided into two aisles, one a passage with five entrances, the pillars display human figures in stucco; men and women carrying small children, the children appear to be wearing masks of some kind. The other aisle has a central chamber and two other small rooms. On the back walls of the chamber are great stone panels covered with mayaglyphic inscriptions, therefore the name, "The Temple of Inscriptions." The Temple has history corresponding to our 7th century AD. 

The floor of the temple is made from beautiful large stone slabs, masterfully cut and carefully fitted together. One of the slabs proved to be a sort of "door" to another area, another structure under the floor of the temple. Then was discovered, through painstaking excavation on the part of the discoverers, the existence of a vault at the bottom of a stairway. The stairway itself had been filled with rubble, but the hardworking archeological teams headed by the discoverer, the famed Mexican archaeologist Alberto Ruz Lhuillier, cleaned it out and at the bottom, they found an impressive crypt. Today, there are lights (sometimes unreliable) to the bottom of the stairway and we are quick to commence travel to the bottom. It's not easy traveling down the stairs, in addition to being poorly lit, damp, and slippery in some spots, we once again find the steps irregular and steep. We reach the bottom and are intrigued by the huge and thick triangular stone door, we cannot help but wonder, how did they do it?

We enter the grand funerary chamber. It is difficult, if not impossible, to portray accurately the feeling of awe and almost reverence we experienced as we entered. In this very place, in 683AD, had been buried the renowned Maya king, Pacal the Great. We find that the sarcophagus with its bas-relief carving is still here. It is beautiful. The sides, in stucco, show Pacal's ruling ancestors. The five-ton sarcophagus lid has a sculptured relief which tells the story of death and rebirth. There is a beautifully carved figure on the lid which is said to be Lord Pacal descending to the underworld. There are celestial glyphs carved along the borders. The walls of the crypt show nine stucco figures, which some believe to represent real persons, others believing that they represent the nine lords of the Maya underworld. The remains of Pacal were found inside the sarcophagus, complete in his ceremonial attire. His body had been covered with jade ornaments; in addition to rings on every finger of both hands, there were pendants, beads, and even earplugs. Pieces of jade had been placed in his mouth and in each hand. His face had been covered with a great and beautiful mask, which was made from over two hundred pieces of brilliant green jade. Also found in the tomb was a second, smaller jade mask, two beautiful jade figurines, and two life-size stucco heads. Pottery pieces were also in the tomb, which might have contained offerings to the gods in the form of food and drink. Ominously, outside the tomb, were found skeletons of several youths who may have been left behind, sacrificed, as guards to the tomb. Once again I borrow from Linda Schele and David Freidel's "A Forest of Kings, The Untold Story of The Ancient Maya"

"Pacal's tomb with its access stairway and innovative structural engineering is so far a unique achievement in the New World. The imagery of his sarcophagus lid is famous around the globe, and the life-sized plaster portrait of this king found under the sarcophagus has become an emblem of modern Mexico."

All the jewelry, personal items and other archeological items, including the great Jade Mask, had of course, been removed. There was much to see however, just in the building of the crypt and the permanent artwork contained there. There were notes lending various explanations, including one that told of the great Jade Mask's location, on display in the "Museo" in Mexico City. We are so completely awe-struck by all of this that we decide to break our previous vow about not returning to Mexico City. We feel that we absolutely must see the articles that once adorned this fantastic burial site in order to make this visit complete.

We have actually descended to about five feet under the level of the main plaza, but in order to exit the tomb and return to 'street level,' we must go back up the stairs to the temple, then down the exterior of the pyramid. Going back up is fairly easy, but we find the trek down the outside very steep and somewhat unnerving, we realize that we could easily fall. We marvel at the now apparent dexterity of the much smaller Maya as we finally, and safely, reach the plaza floor. We continue to prowl around the various buildings exploring everything, just walking about the grounds, continuing to be struck by the beauty and "vibes" of the place. We take pictures, we talk about and speculate as to what might have happened on the very places where we stand. We discuss ritualistic sacrifices, blood sacrifices with hearts being torn out and thrown, still beating, into huge fires, it is pretty heady stuff. We are then distracted as we hear noises from the entrance area. Large tourist filled buses have made an appearance. We observe from a vantage point high up in one of the many temples. We watch as the tourists depart the buses. They are dressed in leisure clothing, and from our distant location, they collectively portray a dreadful mosaic of random color swatches. Some even wear Bermuda shorts and garish long socks with floppy hats covering blue hair, many have cameras dangling around their necks. As a group, they look ridiculous. They are talking loudly and making noise in general, we symbolically connect this army of crayons with the invasion of the Spaniards centuries earlier. They slowly infiltrate all the buildings, talking, pointing, posing for and taking photos, just assuming command, and changing the feel of the place completely. We feel driven out, we identify with the ancient Mayas. Our visit is over, we return to our Cadillac and drive back to the town of Santa Domingo Palenque. We feel as though we were very lucky to have had the time alone in those majestic ruins, it gave us a feeling of Maya history that we could not have otherwise enjoyed.

Upon returning to town, we honor the siesta tradition, then wake up in the very late afternoon. We shower and begin our daily ritual of the quest for yet another perfect meal. We find a likely looking place, enter, and settle into a cold cerveza while we decide what will be the perfect entree. The restaurant has a large roll up type door, affording a full view out onto the street. The town has a little different feel, everything here is centered around the ruins. Backpacking young people arrive in town inquiring about the ruins, how to get there, best time to go, how far, etc., etc. It appears to be a Mecca for would be archaeologists and anthropologists from all over the world. We order our meal, eat it, order more beer and just enjoy the ambiance of the restaurant while watching the street scene. We laugh and joke as we watch the foot traffic, different people, different clothing, a potpourri of world travelers. Suddenly, almost simultaneously, we see to our wonder and surprise, our ex-camp mates from Tulum, Huey and Jim. At first they don't see us, but then Jim looks directly at us, his eyes widen and he draws Huey's attention to us as well. We prepare to greet them as they come directly to our table. We realize very quickly that Jim is upset, very upset. He quickly and aggressively accuses us of abandoning them in the rain storm, of leaving early on purpose to avoid taking them, or at least of letting them into the car to stay dry. We say calm down, have a beer, we didn't leave you there on purpose. Jim is not satisfied, he wants to fight, he looks to Huey. Huey, once again, has the cooler head, and I think he was thirsty as well. He advises Jim to calm down, let's have a beer and talk it over. After all, no one was going anywhere so in reality, they could beat the shit out of us at their leisure, if they so chose. Jim sat down, the beers were ordered and brought. It felt uncomfortable. After a few pulls on our beers however, everything calmed down a little. Huey finally asked why we had left so early, they and their camp had been soaked, if we had not left "in the middle of the night" we could have all weathered the storm in the car, and everything would not have gotten soaked. It became evident he and Jim had talked it over and decided that the only honorable course of action, should they ever see us again, would be to "kick our fuckin' asses." I told them that I had prompted leaving early, before it started raining, hell, we couldn't know it was going to rain. I further explained that I didn't know what time it was when we left until the radio in the car told us. I continued that we just kept going, we were on our way. Then Ed, very matter-of-factly, added, "hell, it rains all the time around here, it's been raining for the last three days, so what's the difference, how long could we sit in the car anyway?" Huey seemed to buy it, but Jim was still angry, but, he was less angry. I think Huey had added to Jim's wrath, using us as scapegoat for their soggy gear, agreeing that our asses should be kicked, but at the same time thinking they would never see us again anyway. Joseph added that everybody knew we weren't staying together anyway, we had already talked it over. Not only that, we had said our goodbyes the night before. We're all men here, let's forget the whole thing, there's nothing we can do about it now, here let's have another beer. They agreed, Jim somewhat reluctantly, and with a face saving warning that he would be kicking some ass if anything like that ever happened again. We drank and hung out for another hour or so, but the conversation ran low and we parted company, never to see Huey and Jim again. We did not know at the time, but we subsequently learned that it was very common to run into people again in Mexico, after all, many foreign tourists are attracted to the same places.

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Copyright 1996 by R.P. Folsom. All rights reserved.