Day 13 – Indiana Jo and the Tomb of King Pakal

The Intrepid hotel was unexpectedly swish. Toiletries worth stealing and a coffee maker! Whoa! I cranked that baby to full black as I performed my usual prepack and repack to check out of the hotel and head down for the in house breakfast. (Turned out I left my shampoo behind. Crap.) I know I could have eaten another cheap tuna can but if there are huevos, I am generally in. I suspect my high energy levels are brought to you by the letters E and C – eggs and coffee. If I don’t set myself up with those things at the start of the day, I will pay for it later with headaches and feeling terrible. Sadly, I just can’t get away with living on cheap snacks.

Speed was the order of the day – as was my omelette and coffee – as we needed to depart for the Palenque ruins at 7.30. I met Laurie, Sylvia and Sara – three others from the tour group to regale them with stories and movies of my jungle exploits. I also ate Sara’s plantains. (God, they are like crack to me. I forgot to mention the massive bag of plantain chips I scoffed like a dog on the 13 hour Oaxaca bus trip. Woke up feeling like I had licked the Sahara desert and I had no water.) All aboard our personal mini bus and we were on our way. Palenque ruins are not far from town. 20 mins max.

Francisco was waiting for us with his trusty Honda hat, iPad and folder. I met Francisco last time I was on the Palenque tour in 2017. I stuck out like a sore thumb. Not a lot of Australian girls can talk about Mayan ruins and fangirl over the 19th century explorers Stephens and Catherwood who slept at Palenque, basically high on a cocktail of malaria, crazed itching from insect bites and recurring fevers. (I am seriously thinking of writing a kids book based on their adventures. Stephens’ accounts are gripping reading but also really funny!!)

I digress …

Palenque is one of the classics for Mayan ruins on all the top ten lists for people in the know, but I don’t think most people know about it.  Everybody goes to Chichen Itza and they should because it’s awesome, but Palenque has a special Chiapateco vibe. I put it down to a combination of the jungle setting, the huge temples, and the intricate carvings of people – not all sites have all three – but these things are more the unique filling of the cake. The icing is King Pakal. Palenque is all about Pakal. This is very much still his place.

Pakal was the king of Palenque for a whopping 68 years. He lived to a ripe old age of 80 during a time when 45 was considered to be knocking on death’s door. Granted, he was the king – he could eat the best of everything and was not lugging huge stones up hills – but by the end of it, he would have been a bit Weekend at Bernies at appearances surely? Pakal was crowned by his mother at the age of 12. Note  how precise these numbers are. It’s not me mucking around in the iPhone calculator. That’s because it’s all inscribed in glyphs, the Mayan writing system carved in stone.

Pakal was a very powerful, successful king. He was basically a god during his lifetime, probably due to his longevity. Perhaps he popped to the Chedraui for some probiotics and some Metamucil? After his death, he continued to be deified by his descendants and the people of Palenque. His son took over and very cleverly kept power by continuing to honour the cult of his father, rather than stamping his own authority. This kept the loyalty of the people. Unfortunately nobody knows where he’s buried – he’s still out there waiting to be found. I guess he must have felt a bit like Prince Charles, wondering if his parent will ever die so he can take up the role he was meant to play.

Palenque was a massive Mayan city so spanning maybe 200-800AD. Archaeologists have excavated only about 10% of it, which happens to coincide with the most important buildings in the ceremonial centre. Lidar technology has shown there’s HEAPS MORE! In the jungle, there are a lot of mounds. Except they are not mounds. They are pyramids hijacked by the undergrowth. We are talking maybe another 20 square kilometres of potentially valuable archaeological discovery stopped in its tracks by money and politics. Heritage is not always a priority for governments …

Francisco delivered the briefing on the site in a small shed outside the gate. (I think I remember a tent from last time, so an upgrade.) Not everybody in the group wanted a guided tour – some chose to save money and walk around on their own. Despite my thrilling off-road exploration of Yaxchilan, I always choose the guided tour option (when it’s in English!)  because the guides know what they are talking about and I want to learn. I am such a nerd!!!! Plus Francisco has such a passion for the topic  that shines through. The others in my group could see it and later told me they gave him a really good tip because of how good he was.

As we entered the turnstile, the ground shaking Jurassic Park roar reverberated across the site. Howler monkeys! Everybody was captivated, thrusting their iPhones aloft. As if their paltry zoom would catch anything! Let me tell you – I have wasted so much time trying to take pictures of howler monkeys. All I have ever got is blurry backs fit only for deletion. This time, one of them gripped a branch with its prehensile tale and I snapped this corker.

Then the Temple of the Skull loomed into view. Everybody gets excited about it because it’s the first one you see and it looks cool because all Mayan ruins look cool, and for gods sake it’s called the TEMPLE of the SKULL! Truth is – it’s the least interesting building there. Francisco skipped over it and went straight to the next two – the Temple of the Inscriptions and the Temple of the Red Queen.

The Temple of the Inscriptions is like the Mayan equivalent of the tomb of Tutankhamen. It’s right up there, maybe  with the Bonampak murals, as one of (and perhaps even the most important) discoveries in the Mayan world. The temple contains the tomb of King Pakal and it’s still there in its original condition. Pakal rests in a giant sarcophagus which is a massive stone box – not like an Egyptian sarcophagus that looks like a person with a creepy face. I can’t remember exactly how much it weighs but it’s tonnes. The lid is carved with an image of Pakal in the tree of life, but if you look at it horizontally, he looks like he’s flying a spaceship. The sarcophagus is still there because it’s at the bottom of the pyramid down a twisty turny dark Indiana Jones pathway and not even Allied Pickford Movers can get it out. (That’s a joke.) It’s too big and heavy to ever take out. It was only found by accident. I can’t remember when but quite literally somebody found a step, then dig, then found another and kept going until they hit paydirt.

As for Pakal himself, he was sprinkled with cinnabar. That is not a delightful sweet scroll from the bakery; it’s mercury. The Mayans routinely did that with their dead. (Perhaps cinnamon might have been a nicer smell. Again, Chedraui?) So Pakal dissolved but his jade adornments remained including the famous mask of Pakal. These goodies were taken from the temple and kept on site in the little Palenque museum until recently when they were transferred to my beloved National Anthropology Museum. Remember that spaceman photo of Pakal? That was from Palenque and sent up to Mexico City. Palenque also had a fantastic reconstruction of the tomb in the museum – gone. The anthropology museum had a smaller one that I kind of breezed past because I had seen a better one. It made me sad to learn of the transfer. I think Pakal should be with his people who think he is a god king – in Mexico City, he’s one of many competing for attention.

The Temple of the Inscriptions has been closed to the public for nearly 20 years. So no poking around Pakal. You can’t even go near the building. It’s roped off. This is the closest photo you can get with the king.

Did I mention I bought a necklace with the image of Pakal on it? It was at Yaxchilan so not Pakal’s crib but they would have heard of him out there back in the day. It’s a cheap river stone but I wear it all the time.

The Temple of the Red Queen is right next door. Another sarcophagus containing the red cinnabar ashes of a woman was found inside. Archaeologists believe she was either Pakal’s wife or mother. You can go inside to the room where she was found through a fence. There are no cool glyphs or engravings but you get to go inside the cramped little passageways so there’s a bit of a sense of what Pakal’s pyramid might be like on the way to his tomb.

The next building is the palace where Pakal hung out. Remember the temple is just where he was buried. The palace was a place with rooms for the nobles, tiny toilet holes, saunas, and a massive quadrangle for councils on important matters.

Huge slabs of engravings depict images of conquered warriors killed by Palenque’s finest. You can tell they’re dead because dead Mayans all have this huge fat lip. These slabs would have intimidated visitors.

Pakal would have sat on a huge throne, surveying it all. And it would have all been painted a bright white and red stucco, not the lifeless stone it is today. It would have been magnificent.

Last time I was here, it rained. Sure, the pictures are all moody and kinda cool. But it sucked having to constantly shove my camera under my jacket like a shoplifter. I was so glad my Palenque day this time was sunny and perfect. Such a contrast.

I could tell that my tour mates were enthralled too which was great. The only downer was not enough time as always. I always lag behind taking so many pictures, then just soaking in the atmosphere that I miss the information and the group was far ahead. Then I stopped to sneak in a couple of leather carvings. I already have two at home that are my prize possessions. I bought two more – one was of Pakal’s mother crowning him which was depicted on a carving I had seen just minutes ago.

I bolted to catch up with the group, my backpack jingling with its full contents of snacks, water, chargers and hats I never got around to wearing. Francisco had led them around to the final group of buildings from the time of Pakal’s son, whose name I can’t quite remember. Something Balam? He launched into one of his pet topics – Mayan numbers. It’s maths. I am a writer. It’s basically lost on me. It works on a times by 20 system with bars. Generally, I find bars don’t tend to help my maths skills in any way, shape or form. So I just quietly admired the three buildings.

The cluster of three temples constructed on top on top of three hills were built in the time of Pakal junior – the Temple of the Cross, the Temple of the Foliated Cross and the Temple of the Sun. They are named for the engravings inside – not for any Jesus activities. The cross was an ancient Maya symbol long before Columbus, Cortez or any of those conquistadors got their grubby gauntlets on the land. You can climb up the steps to gawp in at the engravings that consist of two panels on either side of a central panel. A bit like a fireplace. A couple are a bit hard to see. A particularly famous one is an old crone who is a healer. I bought a dodgy magnet of her.

The view from the Temple of the Cross is spectacular, extending over all Pakal’s buildings and the lush jungle. There are some winning photographic spots.

I insisted on a few photos with Francisco before I ran around the three temples like a loon shooting my usual mix of iPhone movies and Panasonic camera shots. As usual, I was last. I was determined to soak in every last morsel of history and drag the chain. There was nothing to rush back to anyway – an hour for lunch in Palenque town and then a long 9 hour bus ride to Mérida.

Francisco and I bid farewell. Next time, I will be confident enough to come without a tour group. It’s pretty easy with the buses. Francisco will take me around for a few days with no rush.  So back to town it was for now.

Let me explain a bit about Palenque town. Unlike the colonial cobbles of San Cristobal or the cool street art of Oaxaca, Palenque is more what I like to call a modern frontier town. Nothing is on point here as the hipsters would say. Palenque has a leafy side of town called the Canada area where I overnighted in the Hotel Chablis. It also has a couple of bars, restaurants and cafes. Not exactly much browsing fodder though. Although it was early for lunch at 11am, I thought I would head to Café Jade, a really nice café that cooks the best eggs in town. I was hoping the breakfast menu was still going and it was. Huevos motulenos. Two fried eggs on tortillas, peas, ham, tomato sauce, plantains – I know it sounds disgusting and it doesn’t look much better but my god, it’s delicious. I have been dreaming about it for three years and it didn’t let me down.

So I crossed the bridge to the mean streets of downtown Palenque where toilet based desperation forced me into a Burger King. I bought a water – the check out chick knew it was all a front – it was all a shameless façade. If it were a Maccas, using the facilities in such a way would be called a McShit with Lies.

Palenque town is big on shoe shops for some reason. My rucksack is already at a chiropractic crisis – shoes would be a no no. With a quick stop for an icy cold beer for the trip to Mérida, I just made it back in time.

The 9 hour bus trip was memorable because of the onset of food poisoning for one of the girls who chucked three times. Poor thing. Chunks all over the seat in front of her. Thankfully, nobody in the splash zone. Bus karaoke also fun. 90’s classics before the onset of Queen and Beatles. Dave in his element. At a truck stop, I think we were meant to stop ten minutes but Btin and I crossed the road for a restaurant and had the best truck stop meal ever!!!! We made the bus wait a bonus fifteen minutes. I think they thought we were getting smashed at the bar. No. I squeezed in a whole fried seafood ball called a marisco with salad and free entrees of some sort of mystery roll up and bonus Jatz with a tuna dip. My god, it was delicious.

Pina colada average but experience of watching sunset with classy meal knowing the rest of the group was in the bus snacking on junk food from the service station while we ate like kings = priceless. Definite highlight! Good thing too because we didn’t pull into Merida until about 9 and eating that late would have killed me.

The next post sees Indiana Jo return to her all time favourite ruins at Uxmal, hunting for previously unseen temples (unseen by me that is) and run amok in Merida, the Yucatan’s cultural capital.