Climbing to San Cristobal

It was one of those mornings when you start sweating as soon as you crawl out of bed; as soon as you leave the narrow breath of the fan, plugged into the room´s one socket, that makes sleeping in a concrete box bearable at all. I was glad to be heading to the mountains, the promise of cold nights and the return of energy and motivation during the day. The colectivo ride back to Tonola provided a grand view of where we were headed-- impressive green peaks that were obscured by the foothills in town, and for the first time in Mexico I was excited about the coming bus ride. Clouds perched on these mountains, threatening to spill over but seemingly afraid to commit to the heat of the valley below. The constant lightning from the night before left the sky emptied and clear; when the minivan stopped, which it did often to let people off or more likely to cram people in, it was like a solar oven. One child went to sleep in his mother´s lap, a chubby faced baby next to us gripped Melody´s finger-- the nearest handhold on this bumpy ride. People held hands or discussed where they were going and why; back home they´d say this is the kind place you´d raise your kids.

Arriving at the plateau near Tuxtla is like driving over the lip of a volcano. The steep mountainside, green and jungly with good views down toward the Pacific, is replaced by land more akin to lava-- highland desert, hot and dry, with bright red clay. On the other side of the mountain, life is scraggly and harsh; the cows are skinny and the shade is scarce. To reach San Cristobal though, means climbing for several more hours. Close as the crow flies, but world´s apart; past hillsides littere with broken rocks, the bus teetering on the narrow switchbacks, headed ever higher. The trees come back, the rain-- the first we´ve seen-- is daily, and the culture changes completely. Tuxtla´s shopping malls and grown up attitude are gone; here in San Cristobal there are gringos-- also the first we´ve seen-- hippy tourists from the States and Europe, and a strong indigenous culture responsible for the Zapatista uprising of 1994. Health food and hair salons. The pious and the political. Idealism and escapism, world culture collapsing into a locality both resisting and resigned.