Continuing on

I am not sure if we have mentioned it, but Tuxtla Gutierrez was hot. 35+ degrees hot; and that's not ideal for cycling. So on Wednesday I left a little after sunrise (6.40) on a route around the canyon, to take a more scenic route to San Cristobal. And I planned something Kathi would have hated — I hated it too, partially — namely, small, steep, rocky, bad gravel paths, all to avoid the car road out of tuxtla. It was heavy and I was sweating even that early on. But at some point the single- and double-tracks leveled off and become a gravel road again, I entered farmland with a flock of cows, horses, dogs and Ponys all in one picture. (Sadly, the picture isn't worth sharing). Oh, and in a town a bit further up, I got my, and our, first genuine "oh my god, a gringo!" Shout. Worth it, I guess: it made me laugh out loud.

The route went back to the canyon and gave me amazing views, this time from above, and went to Osumacinta. From there it went up-up-up again, and it was already getting hot-hot-hot. So, I was suffering. Luckily at some point a few genuine mountain streams (with lots of water!) Showed up for amazing cool-down options. At one, before another big climb, I met some other local bikers of whom one spoke English, so I had a genuine conversation about cycling. (Well, as much as I was capable, given my fatigue, to hold a conversation.)

I made it to another shitty hotel in another small village where I got faces of disbelief upon asking for vegetarian food, and slept for about 10 hours.

The following day I wanted to reach San Cristóbal early, to enjoy coffee, a drink, and maybe buy new shoes (because mine are, excuse my Spanish, proper fucked). The only thing standing between Ixtapa and my destination was 45 km and 1550 meters of climbing (how does this only go uphill?!), on gravel. But, the scenery was very nice, starting from mountain waters and forest to hills covered only with greenhouses containing what looked like only flowers. I finally reached Zincantán sometime around 11, and was somehow surprised it was a shithouse town with nothing to show for. Yes, there was another parade and fireworks, and maybe there is indigenous culture hidden behind the walls, but for a supposedly popular day-trip town there was nothing for me to see— except maybe the flowers of the local greenhouses on the local market. Some places don't understand tourism well; it's more than just opening a stand and selling mangoes and flowers. I did have a brunch tostada there which was very good; it is just not amazing cycling food, and of course there was another climb to go for San Cristóbal.

But, I reached the destination, and visited two bike stores. And guys, I don't get it, and didn't mention it before, but bike and bike-gear prices here are way higher than in Europe. So I would have paid significantly more (like 1.5-2 times!) of what I would pay in Europe. I opted instead in asking a local shoe-repair guy to fix it, and he did an excellent job in an hour for about 8 euros. [Shrug]

I also needed another battery and some more ride snacks, and of course the best place to look for batteries (standard cr2032 ones) is at the market. The market where some young girls giggle constantly over a foreigner (gringo?) talking to them, people constantly walk in different paces and run into one another in way too small corridors, and the market where you just walk around until you find something; but you generally will find it if you search long enough.

So I will go for Guatamala while visiting one or two or three Maya sites on the way, which I should reach in a week. I would say the next post will be all about Mayas; that, and about crossing a bit more dangerous area in Mexico.

I also talked with a guy from a coffee store, and I had coffee upon arriving in San Cristóbal from a village that I am about to visit soon, tenejapa; he mentioned that the local way of drinking coffee is boiling the coffee, like we had it already when camping. He loved it—we were not amazed. Traditional is definitely not always better.

But first, two more days in San Cristóbal, not of my own choosing. The last time of puking wasn't enough, so said Mexican tap water (which I do not drink!) or mexico in general, and I got a slight infection going. Luckily, the closest doctor just one block away from the hostel spoke German(!) and said it wasn't malaria, gave me antibiotics, probiotics, and painkillers. Already feeling slightly better. Plus, this gave me a chance to listen to traveling/hostel people. Should I interrupt a conversation and object to their quest of finding meaning in life through traveling? (Would that be hypocritical?)Read more