Numero 6 - El Zonte, 'Empire of the Sun'.

Waking up, the smell of another night of perspiration was think in the air. The cold shower was needed. With dollars being the currency of choice in El Salvador, I was glad there was an exchange bank at the border. If you were that way inclined, you could also buy a fridge at the same bank amongst all the other electric appliances on offer. The border crossing went smother than what I had been told. I didn't even have to stamp my passport.

                                                                    Border control

The smog from the armada of long haul trucks that lined up on the border, made the place feel very eerie,almost ghost town like. The heat at 8 in the morning was unrelenting though. I had just crossed over so decided to gulp some water while planning my route south. A van pulled up with a pool table attached to the roof. A pony-tailed guy & dreadlocked chica emerged. They seamed pleasant enough, so with sweat sliding down my brow, I approached the chica. After some normal border chat I discovered she was German but back down here to catch some waves. The pony-tailed guy was her mate who she had been travelling with from Gautemala City. He had been up there to buy a pool table for his place in El Zonte, which he was looking into converting into a beach bar. They were more than willing to give me a ride. The ride to El Zonte climbs through hills & some tunnels. The air was much cooler now, the coast was approaching. El Zonte has a reputation of being a sleepy surfer retreat. Not as popular as the world famous Ponta Roca which is 30min further up the road towards La Libertad, my originally planned stop off. Fate & the travelling gods had other intentions for me though. Fate in this case, could not have played me a better hand.

                                                                             El Zonte

El Zonte, finds itself nestled in a cove, one that allows for waves that are effortlessly consistent. The cool sun, laid back almost island lifestyle & ocean breeze, makes for picture postcard living. Throw in cheap food, that's also very good & you have a receipe for Utopia. The days seem to fade into one another without much fuss & you have the sense that you 'Walking on a dream'. The inhabitants were made up of locals & a myriad of different nations. Germans, Dutch, Canadians, French, Americans, Swiss & that chico from South Africa, scattered the surf landscape. A surfers haven to many, it still had place for the land lovers as well.

                                                            Carol, one of Central America's finest.

Initially, only to be used as a spring board to San Salvador, I got swept up in the El Zonte life. Trust me, it's REALLY hard not to. The city eventually called. In Utopia, they forgot to place any decent atm machines. So off we went to San Salvador, which was just an hour down the road. For 50cents, you can catch the famous 'Chicken Bus'. Popular throughout Central & South America, they unmissable with there kaleidoscope of colours adorning there skin. The thing with Central American or with any capital city is, once you've seen one, you've seen them all. San Salvador does have the reputation of being one of the poorest & most dangerous cities in the world. The former, was visable from the get go. With people literally past out against & on pavements, & in some cases even in the street. The streets also had litter sprayed all over the place, as if it were confetti at a wedding. The night eventually came to claim the city & with it I expected so would the gangs. When the markets shut, I expected the inevitable precession of undesirables to come crawling out. They didn't disappoint. However, they did disappoint when it came to there hardcore reputation. I bumped into some from the notorious MS gang. There reputation had rapidly increased since being featured in an episode of Ross Kemp's book & BBC show 'Gangs'. They however where as laid back as most guys you & I would know, with the exception of the gangs tatoo's all over the bodies & even the heads. Funnily enough, they were surprisingly more afraid of me than me of them. They actually thought I was some heavy gangster. Who would have thought. Once we got pass that misunderstanding we had a fantastic night which went well into the early hours of the next morning.
The allure of El Zonte was calling though & in the morning I was heading back to 'The empire of the Sun'. I decided I would have one more visit. The timing was perfect as that night would be full moon. I think the lonewolf in me knew that. I had received so much kindness & friendship from the locals & felt one last hurrah with them was justly appropriate. Meno & Ela, the guys who had given me a ride from the border had really been more than just a ride. They had given me fantastic friendship as well.

                                                                       Meno, cutting it up.

As the moon rose in all it's orange glamour, some locals went for a night time surf. I will admit, I pulled softon that one. I may have scared the infamous MS gang, but the Pacific had my number. The bonfire got going & I enjoyed my last papusa, a local meal. Filled with cheese & topped of with chilli sauce & coldslaw, it had become the dinner of choice for the past few nights. And I still believe it's even better the morning after. With the fire jugglers going threw there repetoire of moves, & with Jack Johnson & Bob Dylan serenading the new moon, my last night could not have been scripted better.

                                                                          Fire Jugglers

The next morning brought with it sadness at having to leave but plenty of excitement at the new adventure that layed before me. I got to have one more laugh with Meno & Ela. Was a good way to end, as it all started with them a few days earlier. Ela even knitted me a woolen hat for Antarctica.

Ela, camera shy.

Until that day ........

Numero 5 - GUATE, GAUTE, GAUTE

I was sad to have to leave Tapachula the next morning. It has that really crazy border town feel about it, where anything & everything is possible. Being only 20min from the Gautemalan border was just to tempting not to cross. The trip thus far has been filled with surprises. None of the stereotypes associated with Central America had at this point been proven to be true, however upon reaching the border, the mad rush from local touk-touk drivers to get your bag, the illegal money exchange dealers & all the other madness you can imagine, awaited me at the Guatemala/El Salvador border. Before that though, the immigration post had to be conquered. And at this point my first problem arrived. Upon arrival in Mexico City I was handed a tiny (well to make me feel less like a tit I call it that) piece of tourist ticket. A ticket, which had long since disappeared along the long roads between Mexico City & the border. That was however a real problem. Without that ticket, crossing the border was not possible. At this point a local guy who was going the other way approached me. Realising my lack of Spanish he communicated with the immigration official. After 10min it was discovered that crossing the border was indeed possible, but only possible if a certain amount was paid. I had decided that I would get rid of most of my local currency before entering new countries & just get the new currency once over the border. I didn’t want the hassle of money exchange. That plan had backfired though, as the fee to cross the border was 250 pesos. I had at this point, only 40 pesos, since Guatemala has there own currency I didn’t see the need to have more. My local translator, Regerio, who had just sorted out his own documentation to cross the border, then approached me offering to pay the fee. I was blown away at this point by this total stranger’s generosity. For a complete stranger to just help out was another one of those moments. He even refused to give me his bank details so that I could pay him back as soon as I got across.

After that fantastic moment, the madness of the border then started. When crossing the border with a backpack, it sends out immediate signals to all the circling vultures, just waiting to take advantage of unsuspecting prey, a.k.a ‘The Gringo’. I was at this point still in awe of the generosity I had just experienced so my guard was temporarily down. That’s all they needed, & before I could prepare for the onslaught they pounced. Resistance was futile & I consigned myself to the fact that today they had got the better of me.

The unsuspecting prey a.k.a ‘Me’, was then driven off to the closest town where upon I was thoroughly overcharged by the driver. The town, ‘Nameless’ as it would become known to me as, since nobody could actually give me the name of the bloody place, was like Britney Spears 10yrs ago. Sweat & cute on the outside, but not much after that.

I checked into a motel that seemed too good to be true, & usually when it seems that way it usually is that way. It wasn't that bad in the sunshine of the day, however when the sun went down the roaches came out. I did to be fair, after slaying a few roaches & then overloading the room with insect repellent, sleep like the dead.

Waking up with remnants of insect repellent still lingering around, I had a cold shower. In these sweltering conditions, la ducha caliente is not even an option.

After having my now obligatory language misunderstanding when buying some bread for the road, I was off.

Unlike Mexico with its well constructed highways, imagine taking a stick & pulling a line through some grass in your back garden, that’s the best way to describe the Guatemalan highway. Your trip is always accompanied by walls of trees & forest to your left & right, with the odd river or mountain side interrupting the continuity of the surrounds. Quincho, the driver of the pick-up that had stopped to give me a ride, was as silent as the view was spectacular. He also had a liking for Mozart. So with Mozart concerto & the Guatemalan country side putting her best foot forward, the 4hr road to Guatemala City passed by.

Guatemala City unfortunately did not have much more to offer than all the other Central American cities I had seen thus far. The city centre was awash with markets selling all that you could want & more. The square had its normal ensample cast of government offices flanked by cathedrals. The main city cathedral did have something I hadn’t seen before. When the Conquistadors came visiting all those years back, they needed away of getting the indigenous people to accept the gospel. So as a p.r stunt, they put a black Jesus in the church, so as to get the native Indians to follow something they could relate with.

One thing I didn’t expect from 'Gaute', local slang for Gautemala, was the amount of up-market cars & especially 4 by 4’s that drove by. I didn’t expect a back water town; but I didn’t expect the latest BMW & Audi models either.

 So after that surprise, I headed for Antigua. About 30min south west, Antigua's claim to fame is the volcano’s peering over the town. So after having missed out on some volcano spotting in Mexico, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see Pacaya volcano.

My dress for this expedition would not necessarily be in the standard mountain hiking catalogues.

Not your standard hicking shoe's But with vision of Shackleton & Hillary in my mind, I set off to conquer the beast. After 45min I felt more like Frodo Baggins, the landscape resembling a land long lost & forgotten. I was expecting to see ‘The Eye’ from ‘Lord of the Rings’ to appear in the distance. We stopped about 1 kilometre from the top. Not due to my lack of enthusiasm at all, but more due to the lack of fitness of the rest of the ‘fellowship of the ring’. The mountain feels very much alive, with small caves feeling more like a sauna’s once inside & small crevasses sending heat out that’s hot enough to get marshmallows all hot & bothered.

Sauna holes with heating steaming out.
Eventually re-routing via a different path the fellowship made it to the top of an adjacent mountain. And the view, spectacular!

Pacaya
The following morning with exploits of the previous day still very much in mind I hit the road. With El Salvador very much on the horizon, I bid farewell to a place that had disappointed & blown me away at the same time.

Until that day …….

Numero 4 - Last stop Tapachula

Looking at the map, the Guatemalan border was still another 450klm away. I didn't at any stage think I would be able to reach it in one day. So with the heat streaming down yet again, I loaded up my bag, which at this point had become much lighter. Not due to the contents getting any less, but due to the simple fact that it had become such a part of my daily dress. Catching a cheap bus to the city limits I started noticing the surrounding scenery slowly also starting to take a new look. It had started taking on a much more lush attire. I was told that the more south you get, the more similar the surrounds get to that of the Caribbean. Getting to the city limits, waving down a ride proved an easier task than expected. I was on my way to Ariaga. Unfortunately my lift, who was an electrician, received another job, so dropped me off in another town with no name. Well, it probably has a name, but once again that detail could not be found. I was about 40klm from Ariaga. The sun was now having a real go at trying to suck out all the juices out of my body. So in response I decided to do some spontaneous push-ups at the side of some deserted road. 15min later and with the realisation hitting home that doing push-ups in the midday sun is not the smartest thing to do, the road looked as tired and empty as I was feeling. So as you do, I started dancing away to some U.2. Next thing you know.....

Another bumpy ride but my dancing must have been real good because these guys were heading even further than Ariaga. Tonala, which is well into the Chiapas District was know the next stop. The surrounds as promised, was having more and more Caribbean look about it. I was half expecting some rasta to come driving buy with some reggae wailing out the windows. We weren't that close though. Arriving at Tonala I even allowed myself an ice-cream break while watching some Barcelona v Arsenal. Sorry Gooners.

With ice-cream fetish met, I felt there was enough time in hand to try and push on to Tapachula. That proved a good choice. A few minutes after getting to a hitcher stop, another trucker with some space for this hitcher pulled up. With a shake, rattle and roll, we were off. As Tapachula drew closer and the sun got lower, it slowly started sinking in that I was about to complete the first step of many, hitchhiking across Mexico. It had been some crazy times thus far and with plenty more to come, the lasting memory will be of all the nameless faces & faceless names that has thus far played a bigger part than they will ever know.

'Hey there Tapachula. Que pasa?'
Until that day......

Numero 3 - The days of crazy guys & 'Container Cities'.

Arriving in Salina Cruz this afternoon, which is on the south west coast of Mexico, I was greated by a cacophony of noise. A combination of people, cars & some sort of crazy birds circling the city centre, filled the air with noise, as if some sort of carnival was in town. It's the usual fanfare though. Even in the smaller places like Mitla, which is nothing more than a tiny village. So tiny, that they don't bother with placing it on most maps.
Before we get to Mitla & Salina Cruz though, lets rewind a few days. I eventually found myself in Puebla. A fantastic town surrounded ominously by 3 semi-active volcanoes. Also a town that recently suffered an earthquake back 2009. Puebla is also steeped in history. I was told by a local while sitting at the colourfully named 'Container City', that Puebla is the oldest continuosly inhabited town in the Americas. I happened to stubble upon 'Container City' while wondering through the old part of town. All the cobbled stoned streets, old Mexican drinking halls & street vendors with traditional home made goods. The scenes you've imagined about Mexico you'll find in Puebla. 'Container City' is just what the name says. Using some imagination, the locals decided to use old containers & convert them into bars & cafe's. Perfect for the boho, hip & arty crowd found in the Cholula area where 'Container City' is situated.

My first attempt of getting out of Puebla proved a monumental failure. Once again my lack of knowledge saw me heading in the wrong direction. When I eventually figured out my north from my south, the real tragedy started, well maybe not tragedy, that's a bit strong. Not one single ride. It's fair to say the lack of interest showed by passing cars left one feeling down in the dumps, then again, to quote 'Coldplay', 'Nobody said it would be easy'. I was actually glad to spend another night in Puebla. Like all Mexican cities, Puebla has a Zocalo, or city center. Everybody gathers there, so it lends itself to a real party vibe. Overlooking the city center is the traditional Spanish cathedral. Families, teens & young romantics alike. the Zocalo is the place to be at night, whether to start the night, spend the night or end the night.

A new day brought with it new energy, positive energy. And that positive energy was well founded as within 15 min I was heading due south to Oaxaca city. I had some interesting travel companions with for the ride. Armando, my lift works as a driver transporting live stock to the slaughter house. The 4 hr drive took us through the Sierra Negro mountain pass. A marvelous view but also a scary one. Remember, they drive left hand drive cars on the right hand side of the road. So winding through this pass you get a real eye full off the sheer magnificence of the view, but also the drop-off that lies beneath. The concerning part is. All long haul drivers have a stature of the 'Lady of Gaudelupe' & when entering these treacherous parts of trips they usually give it a kiss or a stoke. Armando turned down the radio & held it in he's hand tightly, really tightly.
Eventually getting to Oaxaca at 8pm & after having endured the heart in the mouth ride, I was just looking for a place to lay my head. Oaxaca is a fantastic place with the remaining part of the mountain pass surrounding the town. As short as my stay was, really enjoyed it. I also had my first crazy guy folowing you experience. I noticed said crazy guy on my first morning in town. Minding my own business I went off to the local shop. He must have seen me there. After that I started noticing the same guy outside the shop, at the traffic light & everywhere else I turned. Having just watched 'Oceans 12' the previous night, I got into my George Clooney head space to lose my crazy. It worked. The night took me to the local hot spot called, 'Nude'. Not as clamorous as what you think nor was it a strip club. It was a live music venue & on that night they had a cover band playing in a boxing ring with the guy on keyboard sporting a gimp mask & the rest looking like bad knock-off's of the Village People. I had my second experience of craziness on my way back to the backpackers. Some local drunk was convinced  I owed him change from the ice-cream he had bought from me earlier. Crazy.

I was on route early the next day, after really taking advantage of the free breakfast at the backpackers. Hey, don't judge me. Next stop was Salina Cruz. After reaching Mitla, which is about 250 klm from Salina Cruz at 13.30, I  thought of heading to the local ruins. So rather than push on I decided to stay the night. Good choice. After grabbing a little touk-touk ride to the ruins, I was once again saddened by the destruction that man does in the name of God & country. The ruins, as with most of the ruins I've seen on the trip, was once home to a flourishing civilisation. As with most of these civilisations, they were either fully destroyed or completely by foreign invaders. And the one way to really inforce your beliefs upon someone, is to take what they hold most dear, the temples in this case, & build a huge sign of your own beliefs,cathedrals. They are spell boundimg in there own right.
Walking through these ancient structures with the wind whistling through the nooks & cravesses & the fading sun hanging in the distance was one for the memory bank. It was made even more special by the fact that the hords of tourists had long moved on, so I had the place to myself. I enjoyed the ambience & tranquility that comes from these treasures a bit too much. As I sat back in one of the old chambers I discovered that the gates had been shut. It was 17.30, the place shuts at 17.00. I found though that my fence jumping skills had not deserted me, & I think I nailed the landing. At least a score of 9 would be fair.

With overcast skies I set off for Salina Cruz. To be honest, I didn't think I would cover the entire 350 klm today. I started slightly later after going through the agony of my football team losing. We'll leave that just there. After 20min or so the sun decided to join me for the ride, a ride however was not forthcoming. After some poor renditions of 30 Seconds To Mars while standing on the side of the road, the cars passing surely thought I was nuts. One pick-up eventually pulled up.Must have seen my air-drumming technique & thought I had potential. Air-drumming is the future you know. He got me as far as a military check point. For the record, military officers don't take kindly to one flashing there camera's around. After explaining my situation, there send me on my way, after making sure I deleted the photo's. 15min later & I was off. And this time know cattle truck, know I was travelling in style. Air conditioned Quantum with a cooler box in the back.
What a week indeed. Almost certainly when we meet up next it will be from south of the border. About 500 klm from the border. Will be sad to leave Mexico. It's been all I've imagined & so much more. In saying that Gautemala is just such a crazy place. Can't wait.

Until that day ........