San Cristobal and Puerto Arista

The 12-hour trip from Antigua to San Cristobal, Mexico started off rough. I did not sleep the night before we left which turned out to be a blessing when the alarm didn't go off and I was awake at 4:30am to get us on our way. On the first mini-bus leg of the trip, we had the worst seats (those without backs for those of you who have been in a Mexican mini-bus before) and there was no sleeping for those first few hours. When we changed buses in Lago de Atitlan, I was going on 24 hours without sleep and was elated to secure sleepable seats. The next time I opened my eyes was to view the 'Welcome to Mexico' sign. I'm not sure what it is about this country, but that sign brings about a great feeling.
San Cristobal was great. The temperature is cool, the town is lively and full of culture and there is a lot to do. The colonial town is similar to Antigua, but with the added energy of Mexico that compliments the town well. We managed to find the best margaritas, the best live music and a salsa competition. The salsa competition was great to watch and I even managed to dance a bit in between sets. My salsa dancing needs some fine-tuning, but I´ve got the basics down. When the turns start coming, watch out, I lose all sense of rhythm after the second one. I hear that gets better, but patience has never been my strong suit.

After San Cristobal we decided to head to Puerto Arista. If you´ve never heard of it, that is because we were on a quest for a non-touristy location and we found it. The only tourists were from Mexico. Below I have outlined the high and low points of the weekend, which are one in the same. In no particular order:
- I chased my first mirage. Walking down the beach it appeared there was a water inlet or outlet ahead. When the water did not seem to be getting closer, Veronica suggested it was a mirage. Not believing in the deception I was witnessing, I spent a fair amount of the afternoon walking to random points where the water had previously appeared before I agreed it was a mirage.
- The sort-of transsexual. Our first best friend in Puerto Arista was a transsexual who had clearly gone through some medical procedure to change his sex from male to female, however, did not go so far as to shave his legs. Our new best friend sought us out because she saw us as her ticket into the heterosexual male crowd in Puerto Arista. She even made us promise we would attend the non-existent discoteque on Saturday night and dance with her.
- The people were a bit off. It´s hard to put a finger on the source of the social awkwardness in this town, but it was blatant. One of many examples is how our actions spread as news through town. When the locals fabricated a discoteque and karaoke bar at someone´s house, we said we could not attend because we were tired (which really meant not a chance in hell are we going to a random person´s house to dance and sing). The next morning, everyone in town knew we had gone to bed early, even strangers who we had not yet met.
- Pool hopping. They were actually reservoirs, not pools. These semi-below ground, non-filtered tanks lined the bars along the beach and provided a welcome relief from the giant waves of sand in the Pacific. One afternoon, we made our way down the beach from dirty reservoir to dirty reservoir, each time taking a photo as evidence of our bravery. We knew we´d been at it for too long when we actually agreed that we had found the best pool and settled there for a while.
- No one knew how to get anywhere. We took a day trip to Boca del Cielo, a small island about 2o minutes from Puerto Arista. Every time we asked how to get there we got a different response; take a bus, a taxi, a truck, it´s 20 minutes, it´s 30 minutes, etc..... Therefore, it was not surprising when we were told buses leave every hour for our next destination, but actually leave only once a day, at 2am.

Currently, we are in the middle of a multi-stop route and hope to make it to Zipolite tonight.