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Ándale Ándale, Mexicoooooooo!

The ugly non-specific no man's land typical of border towns quickly changed into developed highways after a few kilometres into Mexico´s southernmost state of Chiapas. Our transport was no chicken bus either; this had been replaced by an air-conditioned minibus, first world in comparison. This was a god send as the temperature had soared to a very sticky 42 degrees known locally as the 'tierra caliente'; at least ten degrees warmer than our lakeside spot in Guatemala.

The faces began to change and the clothes too, we were dealing with a different economy here and although there were stereotypically dark skinned, ten gallon hatted hombres gathered underneath the shade offered by tarpaulin that hung from dark cantinas on dusty roads, there were also well dressed and well educated people; (and often whiter skinned) too. Among those in the minibus were a mother and her two daughters from one of the Northern states. The youngest girl had blonde hair extensions emerging from underneath her thick black bobbed hair. Although this was one of the worst hair-dos I´d ever seen (worse still than the mullets of Barcelona), it proved a level of economy which was further accentuated by the fashionable clothes and new trainers that all three brandished. A few kilometres further we stopped at a compulsory checkpoint. Alto Obligado! A customs official asked for passports and proceeded to ask these ladies (the only well-dressed Mexicans on board) where and what they had studied. As the mother answered that she had studied law at some university or other I was quite curious as to why this question had been asked and once we were waved through I asked her if this was normal. No, she had never been asked that before and her tone suggested that she had been a little insulted by this customs official. The world over customs officials are often officious pricks whose faces would crack if they attempted to smile. I understand that they have a serious job to do but the air of superiority with which they often do these is laughable. Although laughing at them is not a good idea, so I play it out in my head instead.

The military presence in Mexico is obvious. We passed quite a few military installations with their cold concrete walls and fortress like architecture in the few hundred kilometres that we travelled from the border. Outside the built-up cities I was surprised by some of the lush landscapes that unfolded quite unlike the dusty desert like Mexico that first comes to mind from misguided stereotypes. I had seriously undermined the size of the country too. After looking at the map when we arrived at our destination I realised that we had hardly dented the state, let alone the country.

We left the air-coned bus at Comitan and had a 15 minute break at a nondescript bus station in this city. It was far more developed than anything we'd seen for a while; petrol stations looked like they did back home with little shops selling all the same stuff; There was a 'Wallmart' and a 'Burger King'. We were hungry and were ready to sample our first Mexican food. A small taco stand seemed a good starting point and after asking the girls there what I should go for, I ordered four beef tacos. Meat is sold in small amounts in Mexico, not like the half a cow portions of Argentinean fame. So the tacos were served up in maize tortillas with a small amount of shredded beef inside (24 pesos – about €1.5). There was no sauce or dressing with them and at first I just saw a red bottle and a green one. I decided to put a line of each on either side of the take-away polystyrene tray. I then spotted the raw onion, tomato and herb mix on a table next to the stand. I put some of this in each tortilla and went back to the bus. As a rule green is generally hotter, and after trying the red sauce was physically scared of the green stuff. For those who know me and my love of 'picante' I was always going to try the green sauce … so it was for the next two hours that I felt I had inflated li-los for lips and a numb feeling from the neck up.

After this last leg we arrived at our destination, San Cristobal. This was a tourist destination, (just as much for Mexicans as for foreigners), nestled 2200 metres high in the mountains and unbeknownst to us we'd arrived in the last week of high season – bring it on!

The lack of photos is a representation of my concern at swinging around a fairly expensive camera in unknown territory. Of my experiences so far in Central America I am most alert and fearful when travelling and try and keep as low a profile as possible. The camera has a place at the bottom of the bag, and besides, you rarely get a decent photo on a moving bus. That being said I wish I could have got the shot of a Guatemalan bus that blocked oncoming traffic as it stretched diagonally across both lanes of a dual carriageway where a mudslide had occurred. We watched as the bus jolted and slid on completely bald tyres as it tried to manoeuvre out of the mud without falling down the sheer verge. It was a bit like the scene from 'The Italian job' with the gold bars … but the gold bars were children.

Going Global

My very own shoe shop!

Facebook is great for random contact from old friends. I particularly liked this photograph spotted by an old friend Bryan who is in Cambodia!