Day 25 - City Express, Salina Cruz

We were expecting about 5 hours riding to get to San Cristobal de las Casas, and we would pass through Tuxtla Gutierrez, which is the capital of the Chiapas region. What we were not expecting as we climbed in altitude, was how frigging hot it got. The temperature gauge on my bike showed a maximum of 49 degrees centigrade. Jorik has a more accurate thermometer on his keys that went up to 112 Fahrenheit, which is still 44.5 degrees centigrade, so it was damn hot! In addition, we climbed from sea level to a little over 2,200m, so a lot of elevation. We stopped quite a few times to cool off, and to let the girls cool down as we could feel how hot they were getting through our trousers. On one of these little stops in a little town, we headed for the main square to stop for a break. However, when we got to the main square, it was full of tents and makeshift camps and looked like a refugee camp. There were hundreds of people camped out, and it was pretty chaotic. We didn’t stop, but rather headed on towards the exit from the town, before realising that we had pretty much run out of town just beyond the square so pulled up in some shade outside a very crude looking shop arrangement on the side of the road. There were a few lads working on some pretty wrecked bikes and scooters on the next plot so whilst Jorik went to see about some cold drinks, I walked over and tried to explain that I was looking for 2 screws for the front brake master cylinder. I figured that whilst the cylinders themselves might differ in size, I reckon that every master cylinder has the same size screws. Sure enough, they all looked about the same size on the wrecked bikes, but no matter how hard I tried to explain that I wanted the exact size from 1 of the bikes they had there, it appeared that they were all considered to be in working order. Fair enough, they did offer a bunch of alternatives, but they looked like battery screws and not the right size. They also rummaged through the scrap that was simply lying in the ground around their little camp area, but it was a bust. Meanwhile, Jorik had got some cold water, as there was nothing else expect some dodgy local mix of fruit (he thinks) that looked sketchy as hell, and he felt water would be the safer option. There were a few ladies there, nattering amongst themselves, and bunch of little kids who were really cool and came over to look at the bikes. 1 of the ladies asked where we are from and once she realised that we were from South Africa, and I am pretty sure she got it as she hurriedly explained this to the other ladies, who were all suddenly looking at us differently, and started rattling off questions that we didn’t understand. But the kids got way more comfortable and were touching the bikes and looking around. I got a bunch of stickers out and these little kids loved it. They were sticking them up all over and kept coming back for more. We ended up giving them a few and at 1 point, an older guy pulled up on his bike and he also came over and asked for 2 stickers to put on his bike. It was a very cool experience and a good stop. When we left that little spot, heading on towards the mountains, we saw a bunch more people walking down towards the village, and from who knows where as we are still some way away from Guatemala, besides they looked Mexican. It was just odd, and we both commented that it must be a tough place they were coming from if they wanted to get to that pissant town. Whilst the roads we took were pretty good, we even took a toll road towards the end of the day, which saved us at least an hour, it is clear that Cassy does not like to climb. She really struggles going uphill compared with Jules. I suppose that is the modification on Jules kicking in, but I was constantly changing down to get enough revs up to try to pass big trucks and other slow-moving vehicles uphill, then going back up a gear, only to realise that the incline was just too steep, and I had to drop back down again. Not a fun experience and I am sure Cassy cursed me many times for thrashing her. We did eventually arrive in San Crisobal de las Casas after about 6 and half hours in the saddle, longer than expected. Again, the ride into the town was less than impressive, but after riding in the heat through the massive metropolis that was Tuxtla Guitierrez, it was good to be in a smaller town. We made our way through the outskirts of the town, and I constantly looked for a motorbike repair shop to try to get the replacement screws from. There were a few that we passed, but we were so hot and bothered, that we noted where they were and agreed that if we needed to, we would stop in the morning on the way out of town. We did find our way through the maze of one-way streets and twists and turns to an elevated garden square with a huge church in it. We stopped and Jorik did his thing looking for a hotel. Whilst walking around the square, I notice a really nice-looking hotel just across from us, but it looked a little out of our budget. My mother has very kindly offered to pay for a night in a nice hotel for us, similar to what Jorik’s siter and her fella did for us in La Paz, back at the Baja Club. I was so hot and bothered that I suggested we cash in her kind offer and just get a nice place with a pool. However, Jorik came up with a hotel right on the town square, just around the corner and it looked like it was going to cost around MXN800 for the night, and it was suggested that it had a pool. That is in our daily hotel budget at less than US$50 for both of us. So, we headed off to find this hotel. We got caught up in a horrible mess of traffic and it was still blisteringly hot, even at this altitude of 2,200m above sea level and at around 5pm in the afternoon. We found it, the Hotel Santa Clara, which was bang on the town square and located in just the right spot for all the restaurants, bars and activity. A great location, even if it didn’t actually have a pool. It was a very nice hotel though, beautiful colonial architecture and wood beams everywhere, result for us really.

We got showered (no pool) and headed out to check out the town, get a cold cerveza in, and see what options there were for dinner in this fantastic little town up in the mountains. The first thing I noticed; was just how clean it was. The streets were absolutely fantastic, no rubbish lying around, not even any leaves really and there were loads of trees. The whole place just feels clean and very neat. My kind of place and by far the cleanest we have come across in Mexico to date. There were loads of colourful streets and buildings and lots of activity, a few tourists, more than we have probably seen per local anywhere expect Sayulita, and it just had a great atmosphere about it. We had a beer along the tourist strip, and then found a little local taqueria down some side street and near another church. It looked like there was a function on at the church as we saw these very flamboyantly dressed youngsters lining up outside with much fussing and to do. I don’t think it was a wedding, but 1 chick certainly had on a blue dress that had a train that took about 3 people to hold it up. After our tacos and chicken, we walked around the town some more and found a little rooftop bar for a beer. It overlooked the square and gave as a good view of the goings on. We watched some fella try to get a fridge, yes a fridge, into a taxi. Just a normal taxi mind you, not with roof racks or anything. Between them, the chap with the fridge, still in its box, and the taxi driver, they cobbled together some sort of makeshift strap arrangement and simply tied it sideways in the boot with the boot wide open. I’m pretty sure they didn’t make very far as it looked like a proper crap job from where we were sitting pissing ourselves at this mess of a situation. Whilst in the rooftop bar, Jorik had used his phone to do some more research into the border crossing arrangements. It looks like there are various steps on the Guatemalan side that need to be followed, including the need to pay a sum to the local bank where you are required to take the receipt back to immigration. However, google suggested that banks in Guatemala are not open on a Sunday, and as tomorrow is Sunday, we may not be able to cross over. I wanted to check this out further, so we headed back to the hotel and our wi-fi and sure enough, it looks like it might be a risk trying to cross. We might make it out of Mexico, but I bet they don’t care to inform you that you might not be able to make it into Guatemala. So, we had to make a decision, do we stay in this cool town up in the mountains for another day and then leave on Monday morning for the border, or do we ride the 3 and half fours to a little town called Ciudad Cuauhtemoc, which is just on the Mexican side of the border. It would mean that the ride the following day would be shorter as we wanted to make it to a place called Panajachel on a lake that Jorik visited back in ’95. We decided to push the next day, as it would save time and distance the following day, and who knows how long it might take to get everything sorted at the border, both borders. Having made our minds up to press on the next day for about 3 and half hours, there was no need to leave early in the morning and as the evening was still young, we decided to head out into the very lively nightlife to see what we could see. Jorik was again amazed at how the place had changed since his last visit. The town has grown a lot, and we even passed a nightclub with music blaring right onto the street. It was filled with teenagers and youngsters, so not really our scene, but a few doors down, we saw a sign outside that advertised 2 x 1 on local beers and the chap was working hard to entice us into his little bar, which did offer a great vantage point for people watching along the busy street. As I was taking my seat and mentioned that we would also like a couple of mezcals and could we got those at 2 x 1, he nodded enthusiastically and ran off to get menus. When he got back, we again explained that we wanted 2 x 1 local beers and 2 x 1 mezcal and he looked at us a bit odd and repeated 2 local beers and 2 mezcals.  He then came back with 1 beer and 1 mezcal. Not what we wanted and after much confusion, he realised we wanted 2 beers and 2 mezcals. A young lady then came over as she must have been on a break and took over. She was interested in what we were doing and whilst didn’t really speak any English to us, Jorik did his best in very broken Spanish to explain what we were doing. I gave her a card and she immediately scanned the QR code and pulled up the website. She clearly spoke English as she started asking questions and looking at the photos. She suggested that I looked much older than my picture, which was taken in the summer last year whilst on holiday in Turkey, so not that long ago. Jorik found this hilarious and was quick to explain that he was actually older than me, which she did not consider possible. We had a good chat with her and even took a few photos saying that we would include her and their bar on the chat. However, when the check came, the beers were 2 x 1 at about MXN50, but the mezcal, which was shit, was MXN300 each. That was ridiculous, and we had a proper hissy fit, but ended up paying the bill anyway. MXN600 is almost as much as our hotel for the night. Needless to say, I have given them enough attention and the name of the bar and any photos shall permanently be stricken from the record, dickheads! That was enough for us, so it was back to the hotel for an early night, even though we only had to be on the road by about 12 the next day.