Xela
August 12th 2002 A first class bus took us from San Cristobal to the Guatemalan border. No signs in English, Spanish and no indication of what to do. Taking a wild guess Reena and I wandered over to the Mexican migration office. I tried to ask the stern, and blatantly bored official behind the counter what I needed to do. One word was uttered, "passporte". Handed over the passport, lost my tourist card and receive
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