The Yucatan was really one out of the box: flat, warm, seemingly unpopulated, bushy. Our shiny first class bus (there was no option) took us from this cultured and manicured Yucatan, and went uphill - a long way uphill. And as we went, we were treated to the promise of a more 'Mexican' Mexican experience. It started with the shiny bus breaking down, having left a trail of diesel along the road for who knows how far. Equipped with a swiss army knife, the driver's repair was limited to cutting off a length of perforated diesel line feeding the fuel filter, and waiting for a grimy second class bus to cheerfully deposit us in San Cristobal about 3 hours late. San Cristobal straddles worlds so far removed from each other, and yet only a bus ride
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