After leaving the bus we walked up a colourful street bustling with a lively hum into the centre of town. The road was only wide enough for single traffic and deep curbs separated the pedestrians walking on narrow cobbled paths from motorised transport. The buildings all share similar architecture but contrasting brightly coloured facades separate them from each other. They are mainly one-story high and set-out in a grid where each block is 50 metres long or so. Every now and then this grid is broken up by an open plaza which sometimes houses a beautifully preserved and ornate church or bars and restaurants. This arrangement is set at about 2000m high in the mountains so the town has a privileged setting too; the low buildings allow an open and light feeling.
We'd unwittingly arrived during the last week of high season so we had to do some wondering before we found a hotel that I liked (Vanessa is much easier than I am in this respect and was ready to kill me). The buildings which lined the outside edge of each block boasted impressive courtyards and our hotel had a spectacular one. This affluent little town is as popular for Mexican holidaymakers as Westerners; there were a lot of wealthy looking Europeans who made this a part of their main summer break.
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After dumping bags in the hotel I stood under a powerful hot steaming shower, I truly felt on holiday and in a first world corner of Central America. This was only topped-off by the anticipation of dinner in one of the many restaurants in town. We ended up at a tiny taco bar that was brimming with locals; a sure sign that you're in a good place. We are on a fairly tight budget and with tacos from as little as 50cents each and with full dishes at around €5 we could eat heartily. The addition of real cheese and soft flour tacos makes such a difference from Guatemala.
The main square is a busy thoroughfare during the day. A place to get your shoes shined or pick up some chewing gum from the street vendors who wore wooden display racks around their necks; a bit like in old cinemas. The difference between rich and poor is very evident in Mexico, and a town like San Cristobal exacerbates this as the wealthy holiday and the poor street kids sell their wares. Such a stark contrast is unsettling and begs a lot of questions; I couldn't help feeling a little animosity to these bourgeoisie who seemed happy to openly flaunt their wealth in this 'showtown'. The next blog is dedicated to these street kids who often hung around these squares to sell woven bracelets or necklaces.
