ONE MEXICAN ROAD-TRIP

A YEAR AND FOUR MONTHS ON THE ROAD

If my wish to travel was like thirst
and the road - like pure-water,
How could I not drink it?

Today I woke up by the Gulf of Mexico...and remembered everything:

How I tried to direct my footsteps toward Puerto Angel at the Pacific Ocean from Oaxaca, but the footsteps directed themselves to Puerto Escondido (still at the Pacific Ocean) instead; the zig-zag roads going up and down the Sierra Madre del Sur - these 261 km seemed endless! - trucks going just 20 km/h, the roads in bad condition, the heat ...but all was in balance - with the views to magnificent landscapes, the rich nature, the "exotic" rides (at one point found myself in the trunk standing in between boxes with live chicken in them), the kindness of the people, - I would call the journey beautiful rather than anything else.



One family invited me to camp in their yard and in the morning I had an amazing breakfast cooked on the open fire in their little straw-house community kitchen.

I reached the Ocean just in time for the sunset, walked as long as my feet agreed to carry me and camped underneath a palm-tree. There was no-one to tell "I made it" to. I missed that.

I do feel more alone travelling Mexico than I did up North in the States and Canada. A big (and I would think only) reason for that is the language. The things I can say are too few to say anything. It is a struggle, with wanting to share, with understanding what is being asked, but being unable to express myself. I know I should be more patient, the language will come, it always does, but speaking Tarzanique(= me Tarzan, you Jane), really tired me out at a point. Or was it the heat?

I found myself sitting first under the palm tree I had been sleeping under, finished the book I had been reading. And then, a ride later (one taxi-bus driver had mercy and pulled over - I was standing in such an impossible place to stop with the road construction going on, and gave me a free ride to the next village),I was sitting again in a small shop, drinking water and eating fruit, without any power to continue. I talked myself going out again after I had finished the whole one and a half liter bottle, and could eat no more. There was a shadow of a tree I stood under and enough space for cars to stop - so it was much better than the previous spot!

A half an hour later I had a ride.

They were not locals, no! And although the girl spoke Spanish to me, she spoke English to the guy and called him Pavel.

"Pavel, put the backpack in the back", I heard her say. Pavel, a very popular Russian name, could it be?

"So where do you come from?" I asked.

The girl, Carmen, was Spanish, Pavel was Bulgarian, they were sharing a flat in London. The joy and relief I felt upon hearing that! It was as if I had met my neighbours, well, not exactly next-door(considering that Bulgaria, Spain or London for this matter are quite a way apart from Estonia), but the same-house kind of neighbours, perhaps (meaning Europe). Curiously so Carmen and Pavel had landed in Mexico the same day I had arrived, and had journeyed the same route, I had taken; Mexico-City - Oaxaca - Puerto Escondido...going South.

I thought they would drop me off ten kilometers later, where they stopped, but they kept me for the whole week! I SO-O-O-O needed that break - not to hitchhike for a while, to have friends, that do not change every hour, to share a common language, to be equal in being an alien, to have a feeling of some-kind of security(although I realise it is an illusion, but still...), not to be alone when looking for a place to sleep and when waking up having someone to say "good-morning" to, not to eat alone, not to sing alone...to have a shared memory of yesterday and a common dream about tomorrow. I think I had the feeling of us being a trio already by the end of the first day.

On the road you do not have time to grow together or grow apart - it all happens instantly, because too often that instant is all there is. Just that moment! I think I have spoken of this phenomena times before, but this "rule" again reminded me of itself with the two, so I repeat it here.



The first night we had a coco-nut party,
a fire by the Ocean in the jungle of Tomatal. We slept under the stars on the beach. Next day, spent on another beach, we were swimming, building sand-sculptures and eating wonderful food. The night, spent again under the stars was our last night by the Pacific - we started our journey toward the inland the following day.

Sumidero Canyon, Chiapas, Mexico

There is a spirit in every place, I believe, and San-Cristobal, the town we had reached by the afternoon, had a very quiet one. We loved it the moment we arrived!

"Even the children are quiet here", said Carmen as we watched them play on the square, where we had a picnic. Yes, even the cars were quiet, and the tourists - these too seemed different - more quiet. Even the market place was quiet as we discovered the next day.

We lived in cheap youth hostels, from where I have a beautiful memory of having breakfast on the roof. On both days we made friends with local dogs. Carmen named one Zoi and the other one Canela. We saw Zoi again the next day, but she did not recognise us. Canela, on the other hand found us somehow at our youth hostel. How? - we had taken a car to drive there. At one point she was found sleeping in Pavel's bed. And of course she was there to send us off the next morning.

Having a rented car makes wandering around much faster that it would be on foot. We made a short trip to a market in Chamula - a small town just 10 kilometers outside of San Cristobal. The inhabitants of this town are the indigenous Tzotzil Maya people, whose Tzotzil language is one of the Mayan languages. But beware - the traditional ways and beautiful costumes can not be filmed or photographed - the people believe that one´s soul goes into the image. We learned it the painful way when Carmen got surrounded by a group of locals demanding to give them her film. She did, but enquired the reason later from a local lady on the market.

"I am sorry," said the lady, "we do not have any culture."
"It is not you - you have culture - but it is us, " said Carmen, "we do not have any culture!"

We continued our journey to Palenque - inspired by the word of it being the "paradise on earth".



We found paradise in Aqua Azul - one hour before we reached the town - and made a short hike by the side of astonishing waterfalls. A popular place - how can it not be! - but sharing the journey with too many tourists and being constantly targeted to buy everything from the little shops did give us an unpleasant commercial after-taste. So we decided to leave, after making friends with local kids and taking a swim in the emerald-green water.

As to the city of Palenque, then

I would really like to say that something was beautiful there...
But it just wasn´t!

We left agreeing that it was probably not Palenque that was called paradise, but its surroundings.

Following someone´s word about a campsite outside town, we reached a place called Panchan. It was a jungle. A real one - with monkeys making Jurassic park sounds in the night, with big trees that have flowers growing on them, with bamboo and palm trees and other plants I have no idea what are called, with live music playing day and night, with beautiful local people, with hiking routes, with more than we ever expected to find driving around, looking lost in the middle of the night. And the price was affordable - 40-30 pesos (the dorm - a stone bed - was just $ 2,5 per person a night, you could have a private room with two beds for 120 pesos, around $3,5 per person if you were three).

The next day Armando, a friend Carmen and Pavel made the first night, brought us to the non-touristic paradice - a waterfall with a natural swimming pool where we spent most of that day. A couple from Australia joined us for the trip.

Emily, the girl, hearing about how I met Carmen and Pavel, told me about Australian aboriginal people, who in their youth make a quest called a walk-about.

"They have no destination and no time-limit", said Emily, "Their only mission is to continue their song. They would understand your journey".

That made me think. I have not encountered many people who don´t understand it, I told Emily. It is as if I was doing something very natural to all humans, only to many it is a forgotten knowledge. Why I claim that is because in the conversations, it is not with a feeling of surprise that people respond to my stories. It is rather as if they remembered something they really wanted to do or as if they recognised something about their nature.

We arrived at the Gulf of Mexico yesterday night, made a fire on the beach, just like on the first day of our meeting. Funny, how exotic and far away Gulf of Mexico still seemed, even with our feet in the water. Did we actually make it?

Yes we did!

And the bugs we were fighting all night did not let us doze off into the unconsciousness of a sleep, to forget...We were still there when the sun went up, Carmen and me in our sleeping bags under the sky , Pavel in the tent on the beach by the very side of the Gulf of Mexico.

It was time to say good-bye. A coffee and breakfast in one very European cafeteria, Carmen teaching me some more Spanish expressions, a visit to the market. And there they go in the direction -North; and here I continue - South.

Another chapter has closed. I have made great friends! I remembered when I saw their car drive away without me that I had forgotten to ask them for their e-mails! Guys, if you are reading this, please help me out here - I would not like to loose contact with you! Have a great trip! And THANK YOU for everything - I would not be here, without you (obviously:)!). I loved every moment of our trip together!