Dat Colectivo Life
I had booked an 11pm bus out of Pochutla, thinking that it would give me the most time to hang out with my people and have a tasty dinner at that pizza place in Mazunte one last time.
Then, I found out that the last colectivos (pickup truck with a covered back) left from Mazunte at 6:30-7 for Pochutla. Bummer. I managed to get packed up and out on the street for a ride around 6, but all the trucks that passed were full, and the wily taxi drivers continued to tell me that the last colectivo had already passed. The taxi would cost around 150-200 pesos instead of the colectivo price of 30. I was really hoping that I wouldn’t need to take the taxi.
Casey, Anie and our friend Hana waited with me, and we had been chatting for about a half hour when we decided that for better positioning, I should walk down the road to try to catch the truck earlier in the route or just suck it up and take a taxi, hopefully with another person.
Just as I was picking up my bags, one last truck pulled up, with people already hanging off the back railing. After getting the OK nod from the ayudante (who helps the driver collect the fares), I squeezed myself and my bags into the back and hung off the back of the truck, dramatically waving back to my crew as we slowly drifted down the road towards Pochutla.
Riding in colectivos is always a fun experience for one reason or another. Besides the plethora of people crammed into the small space, someone is invariably amused by my hugeness, and / or ability to understand a little of the Spanish jokes that they’re making about me. This time was no different, and I was able to make fun of myself with some kind, middle-aged women for about half of the 30 minute ride into town.
Since I arrived more than 3 hours early for my bus, I had to search around for some food, which is always a bit of a tragic situation near bus stations, and was no different here. I ended up with a few tostadas in a fluorescent-lit restaurant watching a telenovela. Trying to maintain some semblance of a vegetarian diet, I was treated to rice and cheese, with a hint of avocado. Thankfully, I had come packed with snacks from the market the day prior, including some peanuts that I hand roasted myself!
The remaining hours were spent lounging on a metal bench in the bus station journaling and reading. Bus waiting areas at this hour of the night are a sad and bizarre place.
The bus ride was completely uneventful. I was impressed by the quality of the ADO bus, which is the main company that runs throughout Mexico. It was certainly nicer than any Megabus or Bolt Bus I’d ever seen, and rivaled some business class seats in terms of both comfort and recline. And for a mere $25, I was able to get myself to San Cristobal in 12 hours. Throughout the ride, we made a couple stops, which were a bit jarring as you wake up from a light sleep to the lights being turned on, some hawkers shouting outside the bus selling tamales, snacks and drinks, while people shuffle around the bus for their stop.
Breath Of Fresh Air
As soon as I got off the bus, I was overcome with the freshness of the air and sunshine of San Cristobal. The city is located in the state of Chiapas, which borders Guatemala and is known for its mountains, chocolate and delicious food. As it was nearly December, I was greeted by the chilly temperatures in the shade and the strong warmth of the sun under clear blue skies.
I walked 15 minutes from the bus to my Couchsurfing (CS) host, Marco’s house, which, it turned out, was actually a hostel in its final few days of operation. He offered to host me for free in one of the private rooms, which was a real treat. Marco was extremely warm and welcoming when I arrived, and after settling in, went with me and a friend of his to breakfast in a lovely restaurant courtyard for some chilaquiles in the sunshine – apparently very typically of San Cristobal. They chatted about life as 20-somethings in a city that is having a tourism boom. They both manage hostels and were frustrated by the fierce competition, which has artificially driven down prices, and the incompetence of many of the volunteers (read: exchange for room and board) they’ve had. They’re considering opening a new hostel together in 2018. I’m sure there was a lot more of interest said, but after not sleeping much, my brain had trouble on translation duty.
After breakfast and hanging at the hostel planning my stay, I met up with my friend Alie from Hridaya, who was basically running the same itinerary as myself for the next couple of weeks, but a couple of days ahead of me. I met her and a friend for a beer as they were waiting for their afternoon bus departure to Cancún – a 24-hour journey. When I had heard of this a few days prior, I was quite against it given my prior experience taking longer bus rides in southeast Asia and China (given my size), but looking back on it I may have considered it after my first ADO experience. That said, the cost wasn’t much less than the flight I booked to Cancún for a few days later.
That afternoon Marco, who is also an independent tour guide (definitely recommend if you end up there) in addition to hostel manager, took me up to his favorite viewpoints of the city at two churches. It was the first time I’d done some “hiking” in nearly two months, and with the altitude, I was a bit out of breath after the 30-minute climb to the second, more secluded one. But, the view and the setting sun were well worth it and we got to sit in quietness and enjoy the moment before heading down. I’m so grateful to him because he forced me to practice my Spanish the three days I stayed with him, even though I think he spoke English quite well.
The evening was uneventful, except to note how cold it got there. While it was quite pleasant, especially in the sun, during the day, the night brought a brisk chill in the 50s, and without any heat, the night was the coldest I’d been since camping in the U.S. – donning my thermal layers and under a couple of blankets, I was still a little chilly, and certainly reluctant to get up in the morning :).
The following day I spent waking around mostly, enjoying the colorful, low-set buildings on cobblestone streets and the many cafes and restaurants that line them. I took this as an “admin” day to take care of some odds and ends, and planning for the next week or so. As I left TierrAdentro cafe (with tons of Zapatista posters and books), I felt a bit frustrated that I had perhaps “wasted” a day. But, then I remembered not to be judging myself for such a decision. I had, in fact, chosen to do exactly what I wanted today, and there’s nothing problematic with having a day like that. Not every day will be filled with cultural sites, hikes or some incredible vista. And that’s perfect. That’s exactly what was intended.
Feeling a little more positive, I found a yoga class that had come recommended and enjoyed a long hatha / vinyasa session taught in Spanish. While I have taken a Spanish yoga class before, this one felt more meaningful as it was the first since Hridaya. I was able to understand more new vocabulary related to body parts – hips, inhalation, spine – and to more “internal” ideas like listening to your body and quieting the mind. I was surprised at how at ease I felt during the class, able to hold many of the poses without strain and able to keep focus on my breathing. It’s amazing how easily the body can be trained and molded over a few weeks of daily activity. After yoga, I went to a little wine bar Viño Bacco, where they serve cheap, 20 peso wine, and with every glass comes a tapas. Marco ended up joining me for a drink a little later, and as was the case anytime we were walking around town, he ran into several people he knew.
I enjoyed my final morning, ringing in the first day of December, walking around the main square and pedestrian streets and had lunch at a lovely backyard cafe recommended to me by my friend Nicola, who had just been a couple of weeks prior. I picked up a hot chocolate, some extra treats for my journey, and packed up to get a bus (large van) to the nearby airport in Tuxtla Gutierrez, about an hour away.
Getting Warmer
While I had slept on the journey into town, the route out was through extremely foggy, winding, mountain roads. Of course, the driver was happily swerving into the left lane to pass slightly slower vans, and we made the journey in nearly half the expected time to Tuxtla Gutierrez Airport, in the eponymous capital city of Chiapas.
I flew on one of Mexico’s budget airlines, Vivaaerobus, and had to pay for my first flight in cash because of it being unavailable for points booking :(. The airport was actually quite new and I passed the time with a couple of Israeli guys in their 30s discussing the state of the NBA over some beers.
Wheels up and we touched down in tropical Cancún an hour later. I was pretty happy to be back in a warm climate after a couple of days in the mountains.
Photos
Gotta get those points though!