Into Belize

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We left Mexico via an o/n bus trip from Palenque to Chetamul including a stop by the well-armed Mexican army (which is better than 2 angry Chinese guys with swords and daggers) who got us all off the bus and searched our gear (but not Mary's who claimes she looks too respectable ... and she does) at about 1.00 in the morning. One on the lads on the bus suggested they were looking for contraband and (without any hint of humour) fruit.

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We arrived in Chetamul very early, dodged the usual shonky taxi men and got a local bus to the Mexican side of the border. Did all the stamping and paying and then back on the bus through no man's land to the Belize side. By the time we exchanged niceties with the Belize people (who speak English and share our queen.... all very comforting) and got the welcome nod, our bus had gone. Although we were pretty tired and a soomewhat marooned, we felt a little fortunate that the bus hadn't charged us for the trip yet.

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We spent the day in Corozal (my god it's hot and humid) waiting for a boat (if there were enough people for it to run) to drop us off on it's way to San Pedro (of Madonna's "I fell in love with ....."). We were headed for "Backpacker's Paradise" (turned out to be a misnomer). The place got a rave review in Lonely Planet but, based on the evidence we think that must have been a self-asssessment. Nothing much was as it claimed, and in a Miss Marple-like moment, Mary spotted the owner's maiden name (observed on her tourist licence) as an contributor listed in the back of the book. We're losing faith in Lonely Planet.

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Although the place was disappointing, we got to visit an orphan baby manatee ...... a face only a mother could love but cute anyway.

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The rest of our time was spent swatting unprecedented numbers of mozzies and cycling back and forth to town and the "nearby" (Lonely Planet!) beach for cool-downs before we could get the boat to call in and take us across to the Belize Caye's.

Some Images of Mexico

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Just a few photos......
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In Every Kiss a Revolution

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After the Pacific coast we headed to San Cristobal de las Casas (where at least one person sees a bit of politics in 2 girls kissing (en cada beso una revolucion - in every kiss a revolution), planned for another week of Spanish and settled down in a homestay on the edge of town. Mama, papa, 18 yo nino,12 yo nina and a very vigilant perro. We don’t think we’ll do a homestay again.

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Most evenings in San Cristobal began and/or ended in a lovely little wine bar with a nice (imported) glass or two plus snacks and maybe a pasta. And we caught some films (including "Una Tranvia llama Deseo" (could be misspelt ... "A Streetcar Named Desire". Was Stanley bad?) in cute little cinemas relaxing on lounges, plastic or camping chairs.

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San Cristobal offers lots of activities and tours. First we opted for a horse ride to a nearby invillage. We were collected for the halfday outing and directed to the back of a pickup (you were right Bob, don't know what the fuss is about) to scoot through town and out into the surrounding semi-rural area. The horses and gear were .....well, very little padding or leather involved (none on the seat) and in my case, no bit either. Pretty creative use of nylon rope though. Didn't seem to matter. The horse knew what it was doing. We pretty well trotted the hour or so out of town (not the horse's idea but the 12 year old guide's) and moaned the hour or so back (and for 3 days later).

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The indigenous market was interesting. Lots of farm produce, wool for making the traditional heavy skirts and vests, plus loads of local handicrafts (apparently local in all parts of Mexico (and probably Central America)).

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En route toward the east and Belize we took a three day (jungle/river to Mayan ruins/rafting) tour staying in lovely rustic (see-through bamboo walls and a mosquito net between you and whatever lives out there) cabins on stilts by a river (really very nice) and ending at Palenque for a bit more of the rustic and ruins, and waking to howler monkeys (extremely loud!) in the jungle.

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Inertia

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Inertia

1. physics resistance to change: the property of a body by which it remains at rest or continues moving in a straight line unless acted upon by a directional force

2. apathy: inability or unwillingness to move or act
Encarta ® World English Dictionary © & (P) 1998-2005 Microsoft Corporation. All rights reserved.

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1. I had to turn 50.

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It's technically not correct, but aging is like a time inertia and, in the absence of any directional force (and there's only one), it was always going to happen. Mind you, I was happy to turn 50. I've been 50 for years.

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To mark the occasion we planned a stay in the mountains but, as they were booked out on the day, we shuffled from there to the coast for a couple of nights, back to cloud forests and then back to the coast. I had quite the series of birthday moments......

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Open fires, walks in the hills and local pueblos, surfing in the warm Pacific Ocean, drinks on the beach, seafood dinners, spiffy accommodation all round....... And Mary spent hours making me a card with lots of pictures of our travels. A very nice (and impressive) present, especially since we were in San Jose del Pacifico (nowhere) at the time.

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2. And now, we can't move.

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It's partly the spiffy accommodation (Mary's on our balcony in the photo below) and it's partly paradise. It's not apathy but it's definately an inability or unwillingness to move or act.
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A Very Warm Ocean

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The road between Oaxaca and the coast is around 300 km and 6 hours of unrelenting twists and turns ("Curva Peligrosa" ...... many people recommend the flight instead) across a range of spectacularly steep and forested mountains, through plueblos set along ridges, and past houses and stores perched precariously on stilts beside the highway. There are frequent comedors (food places) with great views and apt, if not understated, names like "Linda (pretty) Vista" and"Curva Comedor".
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We were lucky to have broken the trip in half at the cloud forests before descending (twice - had 2 days at the coast on my B'day) the 3000m to the warm Pacific Ocean and a Mexico remarkably like anywhere in tropical Asia.
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We're currently at one of a series of beach spots strung between 2 ports. This one (San Agustinillo - a fishing village plus tourist spot) is just perfect. Beachfront (waves, sand and then our room) accommodation, pretty safe (but big) surf (great for body surfing) and restaurants with beach lounges and tables and chairs to chill out in during the day and relax at over seafood (thank god it's not frijoles and bistek) and an iced margarita or (otherwise impossible to source) wine at night. The water is extremely warm .... a cold shower after a swim to cool off!

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People wander along the beach during the day trying to sell you stuff constantly. We take turns (to give the other a chance to read) to politely fend them off. Except my favourite man in Mexico. An old fellow who wheels a barrow along the sand carrying a beautifully shiney vat containing several flavours of homemade helado (gelato).

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Today we moved to one of the spiffiest places in town and into what we think is the best room (up top and jutting onto the small headland between two pretty beaches) for three nights for my (belated) 50th B'day.
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Cloud Forests

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Oaxaca (wha-ha-ka) was very nearly the spot for our initial Spanish-learning phase in Mexico (but for Google images). It has such a lovely name and was touted as "a wonderful Colonial city" (Monty Python and Venice come to mind). We thought, while heading east, we should stop in and settle for a while for more classes to build on our rather shakey (especially mine) foundations laid down in the now absolutely wonderful Guanajuato.

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The town didn't suit us - either too up-market-US-neat or too local-grundge, and a wee bit hot for me despite it's altitude. Well, maybe not really too hot but it's decent level of heat combined with a recurring bug I seem to have had since leaving LA resulted in a very sick night for me (poor Mary did very well searching for treatment clues and administering to me Florence-like). We had sourced and almost booked a 3 day hike between pueblos in the mountains (around 2-3000m) north of Oaxaca for a B'day treat but abandoned for a cooler clime in the cloud forests of mountains halfway between there and the (Pacific) coast.

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All very gorgeous. We got a cute little cabin with spectacular, constantly changing views, an open fire, decent shower and a desk of own's own.

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Boring as (insert colourful Ambulance term) food (I'm done with bistek (beefsteak), frijoles and tortillas) but a nice km stroll to the nearby pueblo for alternatives.

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The mountains plummet to valleys which almost every evening host an upward swell of mist ending with clouds settling below us. We had a lovely week of cool fresh air, reading by the fire, studying Spanish, walking in the pine-forested hills and making friends with burros.

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A Change of Direction

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Plan B after Guanajuato was to head south to Morelia (another "wonderful Colonial city"). But after reading the paper and deciphering the words that went with a disturbing picture, it seems that the bodies of 16 Federal police (we saw quite of lot of recruitment posters for Federal police) were found there after a moment of retaliation by drug lords .... even though Morelia is clearly not a border (US) town.

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Mexico City seemed relatively safe. The city is, as you might expect, big and an interesting mix of old and new sprawling out across previously individual towns.

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A double decker tourist bus showed us a great deal of the city and gave us our bearings for independent excursions as well as dropping us off at various museums and galleries including the very lovely house where Frida Kahlo (a favourite with (especially) Mexican women and me) was born and lived for many years +/- Diego (don't like him).

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We saw lots and lots of police (at once comforting and disturbing) of various specialisations. One morning we were in the company of several bus loads of riot police (guns, shields, helmets and flack jackets .....) keeping the peace during a little demonstration. Then there were truckloads of army personnel cruising by (they seem a friendly lot) and ubiquitous transit police (looking rather smart) standing at or in intersections blowing whistles and waving frantically to speed traffic through, occasionally against the lights (little green "walk" men are of little value). The also carry guns. Not sure what the penalty is for a breach of traffic laws but it might be significant.

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From within the city doesn't appear very polluted. Quite the clean-up apparently. Odd and even number plates (and their cars) are banned from entering the city (centre?) on alternate days.

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Oh, plan A had been a trip up north to the Copper Canyon for my B'day but it's been put on hold. The canyon, not my B'day. That forced it's way in.

A side trip to San Miguel

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San Miguel de Allende is a lovely (colonial of course) town to the east of here. There's a lot more foreign (mainly US) investment there and consequently the buildings and town (and prices) show a degree of wealth not much evident in Guanajuato. Generally a lot more greenery exists in the streets and the city has several large parks in addition to the usual plazas. It's quite a pretty and relaxed place although receives some criticism for having "too many Americans". Not sure about the level of geography studied here.

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There are lots of cafes, bars and restaurants. We had a lovely evening and dinner on a rooftop terrace overlooking the cathederal drinking absolutely fabulous, antartic margaritas with Anna from our grammer classes.

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San Miguel was a short bus ride away from Guanajuato (an hour and a half) but an interminable ride back. Driving at hair-raising speed around blind bends on the wrong side of the road and overtaking on curves and up hill (on crests) were part of it. A tendency to pull in front of other vehicles and slam on the brakes for effect (and presumably to annoy the other driver) was the icing on the cake. On our (unexpected) safe return I was inspired to use my best Spanish to lodge a complaint ("me no gusta"; "muy peligroso") at the teminal office. The man there appeared to take me seriously. Mind you, his look of concern could have easily been about my lack of words rather than my intended message. I'm seeing that look quite a lot. Back to school....

A walk in the hills

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I had my eye on the hills (mountains I guess) around Guanajuato from the moment I saw them. How to get into them though was a mystery. The odd conversation produced a few hints and suggested, although it always seems dodgey to head off into the "beyond", it was a safe thing to do.

We actually set off for a little trip to the famous-person-statue that looks out over Guanajuato. That turned into a stroll along the road (La Panaramica) that circles around the top of the town. A place not to be ventured into at night apparently (even for Mexicans - as warned by a staff member of our Spanish school). And then we just got closer and closer (comments like "around the next corner"; "just a little bit higher" (from Mary!) etc) and before we knew it, were climbing into the spectacular hills that rise up around Guanajuato.
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Starting from the upper edge of the town, which sits at around 2000m, it's a fairly impressive scramble up to a plateau with massive rocky outcrops worthy of the equivalent of national park status. The land is fairly dry despite regular afternoon thunder storms. The odd burro is grazed up there. There are no fences so the poor things have their front legs tied (tightly) together to stop them going too far.