5/18/10 - 5/19/10 - Depart Merida, Arrive San Cristobal

Tonight we embark on a twelve-hour bus trip, across the plains of northern Yucatan, down through Tobasco, and into the mountainous cloud forest of the southern Chiapas highlands. We'll wake up in the city of San Cristobal de las Casas.

Our Caribe breakfast was somewhat sentimental -- we have come to think of this place as home, and even though we will be coming back here a few days before we leave Mexico, we'll miss the familiarity, and the warm, friendly, inviting atmosphere of Merida that we've grown so attached to.

Saying "goodbye for now," to the Hotel Caribe

After the morning meeting, Yoshi and I went for a walk around town, our mission being to acquire foodstuffs, beverages, and batteries to sustain us on our overnight journey. While we were out, we ran into our friend Ricardo again! We were actually in quite a hurry, but we told him we would undoubtedly be visiting his shop as soon as we get back to Merida. We headed back to the Caribe to pack our bags. The plan was to separate what we wanted to take with us to San Cristobal from what we wanted to leave in Merida, like clothes, money, souvenirs, etc. The things staying in Merida would be locked in Professor Tromans' room at the Caribe for safe keeping while we were gone, and had to be given to him no later than 12:30 pm. Typical of myself, I lost track of time, and there I was at 12:31 knocking on Tromans' door, and him not answering. I sighed, and resigned to myself that I'd be taking the extra bag with me!

We'd be leaving on a bus from the ADO station at 7:00 pm, and we were expected to get ourselves there no later than 6:00. It was starting to rain, and fearing the possibility of another flood, Yoshi, Naylynn and I decided to catch a cab to the station at 5:00. We stood out in the rain by the taxi stand in front of the Caribe holding our bags for a good fifteen minutes, trying in vain to flag over a cab as one after the other passed us by. Finally, a man ran over to us from across the street, grabbed a few of our bags and shouted down a taxi for us. He helped us load our luggage into the cab, and wished us a safe journey. Such nice people here!

We got to the ADO station ridiculously early, of course, and our group members trickled in in groups of two or three over the next hour (many of them, like us, soaking wet from the rain). We played cards, listened to music, and talked to pass the time.

Professor Tromans: "This is my best angle."

Finally, when we were all there, we checked our bags to be stored under the bus, and boarded. Professora Sahagun passed around a bottle of Dramamine to prevent carsickness, with the underlying assurance that it would more or less knock us out cold. The bus driver popped in a movie, "The Boy in the Striped Pajamas," which was a complete tear jerker despite my inability to understand most of the dialogue, as it was dubbed over in Spanish. That's the last thing I remember before I dozed off.

I woke up a few hours later when the bus stopped for a break at a station in some town along the way. I had no idea what time it was or for how long we had been driving, but I do remember that it was dark outside as I stumbled off the bus, still drowsy from the Dramamine. I went up some stairs to where there was a public bathroom. Like all public bathrooms in Mexico, this one cost two or three pesos to go into. It had a coin slot attached to a revolving gate with horizontal metal bars. I put in my coins, and pushed through the gate, somehow getting my right ankle caught in the bars and tripping my way in. As I limped back to the bus, I realized my ankle was hurting. A LOT. I sat down and rolled up my pants to reveal a gigantic goose egg. My entire ankle was blue and purple all the way around. I showed Howie, who exclaimed "What the heck happened?" My sleepy reply: "The baño tried to eat me!" (Baño is Spanish for bathroom). In chimed Naylynn with, "MMMM, GRINGA! OMNOMNOMNOMNOM," all of us busting out laughing until our sides hurt. This incident has become the leading running joke, complete with a giant purple swollen ankle to illustrate :D

. . .

5/19/10

I woke up this morning on the bus just before the sun appeared. All I could see were the dark shapes of trees, and further off dark blue mountains covered in fog. Here and there in the distance small groups of lights indicating where homes were, and people were just getting up, having breakfast before they start work at first light. The smell of cooking fires was making my stomach grumble. I was one of the only ones awake, and as my swollen ankle throbbed uncomfortably I just sat looking out the window in awe. It was so surreal, and beautiful.

We drove deeper and deeper into the jungle, and just as the sun began to peak out from behind the mountains we passed through a village.  Men, women and children were out working in their corn fields. We passed a sign saying, from what I could make out in Spanish, “This area supports Zapatista,” or something to that effect. I was thinking, “Wow... this is it!”

We kept driving for what seemed like forever, into what seemed like the middle of nowhere, surrounded by thick jungle broken only by the occasional corn field or small village. We bounced along the mountain road, shifting from side to side with every turn. There was a bathroom in the back of the bus -- not the most pleasant smelling place in the world, but I was desperate. So I made my way back there, bracing as the bus tipped and tossed. I closed the door to the tiny bathroom, only to realize the door didn't latch. So as I sat and went about my business, I held the door shut with my left hand. As the bus began again to lurch and swing, I found myself clinging to the door handle for dear life, fearing that it would fly open and appall the Sisters who happened to be sitting right outside the door! Mexico has so far managed to give me the most adventurous bathroom experiences I've ever had. Naylynn actually succeeded in manhandling the door locked on her turn, except when she was done she couldn't get it unlocked. Ay carumba. . .!

As we were finally nearing the city, we found ourselves running into a traffic jam along the mountain road, specifically the only road leading in and out of San Cristobal. Apparently, part of the road had washed out during the night. Our bus stopped and we waited for almost two hours as the cars piled up behind us. Sweating to death in the hot bus, we waited and waited as a construction crew worked on an emergency repair. Our twelve hour trip was now looking to become a fifteen hour trip. Finally, they began letting cars through. We watched as car after car from the opposite direction went through, the cars on our side honking and shouting. Some tried to force their way through, and more than once we feared one of them would run the other off the edge of the cliff!

A family stood outside their home nearby and watched with interest, to add to the huge crowd that was gathering to watch this exciting event!

The little boy on the left was very concerned...

We watched as a bus about the same size as ours pulled up, unloaded it's passengers who walked behind as the bus nervously wobbled around the slippery bend. Then, it was our turn. We stayed on the bus as it leaned around the bend in the dirt road. On my side, I could see nothing but a sheer drop into the jungle, and I honestly feared for my life for about ten horrifying seconds until we finally made it around to safety. The entire bus let out a collective sigh of relief as we drove into the city.

The city of San Cristobal is a hidden gem situated in a valley in the middle of the jungle, with only a few small villages around it. It's at least twelve hours from any other major city. It's hard-to-reach-ness makes it a place where Americans rarely venture. It's a popular haven for backpackers, mostly European, who are embraced with open arms by the multitude of hostels found around the city. In 1994 the city was stormed by Zapatistas and, like most of the surrounding country, claimed as part of their territory, independent of Mexico and outside of the jurisdiction of the Mexican government. Many people here openly support the Zapatista movement, which aims to restore land rights to the indigenous people, who make up 90% of Mexico's population yet own less than 50% of the lowest quality of farmland.

After arriving at the bus stop and claiming our baggage, we set out into the city to walk to our hotel. It wasn't so much of a walk as it was a hike, uphill and downhill over jagged and uneven sidewalks and slopes, up and down curbs that for whatever reason are about two feet higher than the road, carrying our heavy bags.

It was intense, to say the least. We trekked for six blocks until we finally reached the hotel, only to find that they had "lost" our reservations!

Our frustrated professors negotiated with them, until they finally got us a deal with a sister hotel, about five more blocks away. Luckily, this time we got a truck to take our bags!

We finally made it to the beautiful hotel, and soon discovered a ladder leading up to a skylight right outside our rooms and up onto the roof. It was a gorgeous view from up there, and it was at that moment I decided that this city is a spectacular rarity, and officially at the top of my list of favorite places.

I can't wait to do some exploring! But first, a shower. . .