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Published: August 22nd 2007
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Back on the Bamba bus, we slid our way down to Puerto Escondido down an extremely windy road. It didn´t help that the driver had to get all the way back again that evening, so he was nailing it on the corners and throwing us around in the back. The system of speed control on the roads here is in the form of speed bumps. We occasionally hit these at ridiculous speeds and hit our heads on the roof of the van.
On arriving in Puerto Escondido, the skies opened up and it began to bucket down. Stepping out of the van, I jumped in up to my shins (on the road!), and all the streets down to the sea had turned into rivers. After several attempts, we finally found a hostel with space. It also had a pool, and since we were already soaked we went for a swim. (Not sure about the wisdom of this, as it was in the midst of a thunderstorm).
The next day it was so hot. We got burnt sitting under an umbrella on the sand, watching surfers getting nailed in the pipeline.
We made friends with a dutch restaurant owner
and he drove us out to a friend´s iguana hatchery. They had pens just crawling with iguanas and turtles and other tropical creatures.
We then moved further down the coast, stopping in at some of the beautiful beaches on this side of Mexico. The further south we got, the more isolated the place seemed. The road down here is teeming with military, presumably to deal with all the drug runners that land on the coast. Here, they not only carry guns, they mount them on the roof of trucks and have the bullets all ready to go. This is a bit freaky when they stop and search your vehicle (which happens about every 20 minutes).
We were supposed to stay in some cabins at one of these windswept beaches, but the owners didn´t bother to honour our reservation. The driver was reluctant to take us anywhere else saying it wasn´t safe, and anyway there wasn´t anything to do, and so we found ourselves herded onto the overnight bus back up to the highlands. This was not great news for Ben, who had drunk a Mojito with some dodgy ice and was looking green and pasty for most of
the day. He did a sterling job fighting the stomach cramps and was a trooper throughout the 23 hours or so of driving.
By the time we got to San Christobal de las Casas, we were beginning to feel that things weren´t going our way. We turned up tired and stinky at our supposed hostel to find that there was no record of our reservation here either. We gave up and found a place that was nicer, cheaper and friendlier (and probably stealing someone else´s room in the process). I made a mental note not to bother with the hassle of reservations ever again.
San Cristobal is probably one of our favourite Latin American cities. We spent a good 4 days or so just wandering around, exploring the market and visiting the nearby Sumidero canyon.
Here, the rainy season seemed in full swing. Each afternoon, the sun would disappear behind clouds, the thunder would roll in and the skies would open. It would simply bucket down, and water would flow from anywhere and everywhere. Me and Ben actually linked up to cross the street as the water was almost knee height and flowing swiftly down the hill.
Our trip to the canyon was great. The walls are 1000m high in places, with the odd tree clinging for dear life. We took a boat ride through the canyon, but our driver was having a bad day. First he grounded our boat on a sand bar and had to jump in up to his waist (in jeans) to free us. I´d like to say we offered to help, but he was hooning it and no one felt sorry for him.
Then, on the way back, he ran out of petrol while we were sitting above some rapids. Finally, as he was calling for help on his cellphone, he steered us up behind another boat and those of us on the left side were swamped with sandy water from its wake. The water was actually quite refreshing since it was a steaming hot day, however, the sand in my eyes, mouth and all over the camera bag was not so flash. The cheeky bugger then asked for a US$10 tip!
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