Sitting in a bus terminal for 6 hours is fun. Could I have ventured out and explored? Probably, but lugging surfboards around town isn’t that fun, and besides I couldn’t be smithed. So I sat there drank chips and ate coca cola, while studying the terminal-goers movements and making stories about them. Confessions of a loony.
I then proceeded to watch snippets of 6 movies in the space of 2 hours. The Hobbit in Spanish was one, in which Gandelf sounded particularly gruff. As well as a listening to some ill-proportioned Spanish fella try to dub over Vin Diesel in Fast and the Furious.
After roughly 6 hours I tried to work out what was happening, Que Pasa? I scowled at the check-in-chick, she pointed to a speaker.
5 minutes later the speaker awoke with unfamiliar sounds of Spanish spoken at 100 miles-an-hour. And within seconds the security/customs/bus person was pointing at me, the only gringo in the room, probably within at least a block too, beckoning me with her steady finger to place my bag before her for a bomb search or drug search, who knows?
So after 6 hours 3 packets of chips a coke, 2 liters of water, 2 dunny stops and roughly 5 seat changes I was aboard the OCC to San Cristobal de las cases. And with the utmost enjoyment, I was seated next to the most annoying person on the bus. (But alas, anyone you sit next to on an air conditioned-to-16-degrees bus, whilst donning trunks (boardies) at 2am in the morning is gonna be annoying, real annoying) I think I was just grumpy, but this kid really gave me the heebeegeebees. By the time of his grandiose departure I nearly jumped for joy, adios bastardchild! I then spent the remaining hour in an icy solitude.
Upon my arrival in San Cristobal de las Casas I was greeted with the all to familiar shiver of a tassie winter. It was freezing! Maybe because I’d just come from the hottest place I’ve ever been, Salina Cruz. The arrival at San Cristobal de las Casas was funny because it was the only place I’ve travelled to where I wasn’t bombarded with taxi drivers and their endless quest for moolah.
Nope, I had to go and hunt one down which was conveniently easy. I shoved my boards in and took off for downtown San Cristobal de las Casas, found a super-chill hostel and set myself in for a week or so.
I’ve now been here 2 days and I just ate 2 delicious tacos de pescado and wrote 2 pages of pretentious bullshit whilst sipping on my lukewarm water.
Tomorrow: I find a film camera to replace my beloved Rosie (who was stolen) and maybe go to a weird town in the evening.
San Cristobal de las Casas
Things to do:
- Stay at Iguana Hostel
- Walk (like heaps)
- Buy jewelry (Ambar; a Chiapas specialty stone is everywhere)
- Buy warm clothes (it’s freezing)
- Wear earplugs 24/7 (so many fireworks)
- Try and find the only English bookstore in the city (I did and bagged 2 classics)
- Eat at Funky Burritos and Taqueria Bendita
- Eat corn
Pablo Hernando Rodriguez
Last week I lost a good friend, a faithful companion and noble steed, Rosie. Rosie was always there when satisfaction was needed and when I was handed with a magical scene. She tackled cold mountain climbs, early southern adventures and late night shenanigans. She bounced along dusty roads in Sumbawa, and frolicked about sand dunes in Southern Mexico.
Rosie chewed through more rolls than a Midwestern American family at a turkey-less thanksgiving. Rosie was a Canon Ae-1 Program and she was wonderful. Thanks Rosie. Enjoy rotting in some thieving Mexican shanty town. You swine.