Seven months in Mexico

After seven months, I figured we’d be in the process of shipping the van across the Darien Gap into Colombia, but we are several countries short of that. Other than the much-slower-than-anticipated pace, the trip seems to be progressing more or less as expected.

We left San Cristóbal yesterday after six weeks of mellowing, eating well, exercising, tending to our various projects that require sitting still. Six weeks is one week for every month we’ve been traveling (not counting this past month). It’s always hard to leave a comfortable place, because you never know what the next place is going to be like. It could be loud or hot or buggy or all of the above yet somehow still magical (Puerto Escondido). But one thing that has happened on this trip is that we have bypassed that stage of hypervigilance that you get while traveling and have crossed into the stage of just trying to relax and be at home everywhere. It’s hard for a spot not to feel like home once you’ve slept in it.

We are going to pick up the pace a little, just because we are required to cross the four countries of Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador and Nicaragua within 90 days. It’s sort of their Central American Union, which is supposed to simplify border crossings, but I’m not so sure.

After seven months…
Best processed food discovery:
Chata Chilorio (canned or bagged meat)

Best low-tech embrace:
Cowboy coffee

Milo’s favorite campground:
Rancho San Nicolás in San Cristóbal de las Casas

Best beach campground:
Camping Marinero in Puerto Escondido

Best campground near nothing:
Yax-Ha in Calderitas, just outside of Chetumal

Number of times Juan has been mistaken for a famous actor:
1

Best city we’d never heard of:
Morelia

Coldest night:
The Monarch Butterfly Reserve by Anguangueo, in early November

Hottest night(s):
Everywhere on the Sea of Cortés in September

Best urban campsite:
The plaza just south of Cenote Zaci in Valladolid

Cheapest hotel
120 pesos for a cell in Comitán de Dominguez, Chiapas

Worst state, police-wise:
Tabasco

Cutest parade:
Sept 20 in Dolores Hidalgo

My favorite part about traveling isn’t usually about seeing things or learning things. It’s also not about meeting new people and hearing new stories, although these are, of course, all wonderful parts of traveling. My favorite part about traveling is much more self-centered. I like feeling like a different person—or, rather, just a person. Sometimes travel can remind you that you are someone who loves the mountains, or someone who appreciates gothic architecture, or someone who is wildly allergic to quinoa. But my favorite kind of travel has the effect of reminding you that you aren’t a specific individual with eclectic interests, but just a regular human that needs to eat, crap, and sleep, just like everyone else—someone who may be considered crazy or adventurous but in the end gets homesick just like everyone else, misses curry and noodle soup, and occasionally needs a day to just sit and wonk out on the Internet.

Upon arriving at the Best 300-peso hotel in all of Mexico last night (El Carmen in Comalapa, just near the Guatemalan border), we heard about the horrible events in Boston. I was confused and almost refused to believe it (I tried to tell him that all Marathons were run on Sundays, and in the morning). I thought about how we were in Palenque when we heard about the Sandy Hook shootings. I couldn’t sleep. It’s very hard to hear about bad things happening when you are far away. Part of you is glad you’re not there, and then the other part of you wishes you were and almost feels guilty for being far away. It all makes me never want to go back. Last year in San Francisco—after the Oikos shootings—I really started to have the feeling, randomly, that I could just meet a violent end anywhere—a feeling I don’t have in Mexico, even though a lot of people do stare at us.

Anyhow. Today we are off to our first border crossing since Tijuana seven months ago! We are armed with many photocopies.