The Burma Road

"STOP THE BLOCKADES".  The large banner hanging from a private balcony, complained about a popular form of protest in Oaxaca.  Often, a group frustrated by government inaction, will barricade a main road for hours.  After the debacle of the 2006 protests, the government refrains from any provocative action, leaving the unfortunate drivers stranded.

We were climbing the winding road to the mountaintop village of San Jose Del Pacifico, home of the Magic Mushrooms, when we reached the tail of a long line of stalled cars.  The cause of the stoppage was further up the mountain and not visible.
"A blockade"  was the resigned response of the truck drivers resting in the shade of small oak.
"By whom?"
"The Teachers".  (The teachers union instigated the 2006 rebellion, and is thus the usual suspect)
"Until when?"
"Who knows.  Maybe 5PM?"

I checked my map. Not far behind, a dirt road branched off the highway, and wound its way up to the next town.  It was still morning, no rain, I had a tankful of gas, and Adi was happy to embark on a cross-country adventure.  As I maneuvered the u-turn, I noticed four or five vehicles also leaving the blockade.  They were following a taxi-driver who knew the detour.  I decided to join the convoy.  We turned off the highway earlier than I would have, and followed a much rougher road than I anticipated.  After several steep, rutted inclines, we crossed a flowing creek, and somehow managed to loose sight of the guiding taxi.
The next Y intersection required a group discussion, "Right or Left?"
The road to the left struggled for a while, then brought us back to the highway.  Unfortunately, it was not high enough.   Protesting villagers (not teachers) ambling their way to the blockade below, prevented our access to the paved road.  As we tried to retrace our path, the villagers placed large rocks behind us.  The adventure was quickly turning into a nightmare.  We were trapped between two groups of men with stern faces and heavy sticks.  My companions tried to plea, reason, and bribe the villagers, but to no avail.  Eventually,  a village elder arrived, and agreed to let us return the way we came.  Soon we encountered the taxi driver, and after one more creek crossing, the road improved and we safely reached the highway.  Everybody was happy to pay the taxi driver for his effort ($2.50 per car).  I never learned the cause for the protest.

During the late lunch at San Jose Del Pacifico, I told Adi about the siege on Jerusalem, and the Burma road that broke it.