Friday, November 18, 2005

We were so innocent when we first looked into bus tickets from Oaxaca to San Cristobal de las Casas. "Why is it the same price as the trip from Mexico City to Oaxaca, even though it's twice as long?" we wondered. Oh, hahaha, silly gringos!

First let me mention that Michael is just as charming as he can be to people. He's naturally polite, but he's been taking extra care to be polite to the Mexicans we meet. He greets everyone he can, and they love it. When we sat down at the bus station to wait for our bus, he said, "Buenas tardes, no, buenas noches," to the elderly couple sitting across from us. The wife nearly split her head open smiling. She smiled at me, like, oh that's such a nice polite man you have there. Isn't he the cutest? She started talking and I'm pretty sure that what she said was that out of the huge crowd in the waiting room, no one speaks to each other, but Michael spoke, and that was good. We had a short conversation with them, but it didn't go far because of our lack of Spanish. But it was a nice little moment in backpacker-Mexican relations. Good job, Michael. So polite.

It was the same busline, ADO, as the last trip. Same wonderful clean bus, same video about our amigo Juan. No special bag check, but still the patdown and the hand-luggage search. But not the same ride. It was like Space Mountain. You know, Disneyland's groundbreaking rollercoaster-in-the-dark. We were distracted for a while by the movie (Little Black Book, in English with Spanish subtitles.) but soon enough we realized that we were barreling around twists and turns and hairpins and up and down. It was unbelievable. Things slipped and slid along the overhead racks and we rocked back and forth in our seats.

Oh, did I mention I had a really bad cold? I had taken some Tylenol Cold back at Cafe Los Cuiles and it had more or less kicked in, but it made me afraid to take Dramamine. (Did not take any motion-sickness pills - there's some foreshadowing for you.) So I wasn't exactly happy. And the bus was jerking around too much to let us sleep.

For this entry's installment of Public Restrooms Hate Me, I decided to use the bus's facilities. I figured it would be nice not to have to wake from sleep to do it, should I be so lucky as to actually fall into that blessed state. At first I thought maybe it was locked, but no, I saw the little green light, so I struggled with the door some more and managed to get it open. Then the bus rocketed around a curve and I fell into the bathroom, smacking into the window hard enough to make me momentarily afraid that I'd contribute to plunging the bus over a cliff. Also, it was embarrassing. But what else is new?

There was a grab bar, which was a very, very smart design addition, and at least I didn't have to fight off any critters. But let me tell you, it was hard to remain reasonably upright. And then when I managed to wrestle the door open again, the sudden transition from the brightness of the bathroom made the bus seem pitch black. I had to cling to the overhead rack for dear life while trying to discern Michael from the other dark lumps in the seats. My fault, I told myself. From now on I just won't go while the bus is moving.

I tried to fall asleep and almost succeeded, except I was feeling more and more nauseated. It was not good. I had a bag ready. Michael had given it to me at the beginning of the ride, joking that I should always have a bag on these bus trips. And it's getting harder and harder to convince him that's not true. The twists and turns were getting worse. That combined with the nausea and the cold symptoms leaking out around the medicine I had taken started to give me bad feelings in general.

What if we go so far away that we can never get back? What if the only way out is the way we just came in, and I can't face it again? What if we're just too far away from home? I remembered what I wrote in my introduction: "If the bus starts to suck, we'll do something else." But what? Then I puked into the bag. Still champion, but it's starting to wear thin. Wouldn't it be nice if I were to become champion of not puking?

The bathroom saga is not over. We had a rest stop at 3:00 am. I had absolutely no interest in getting off the bus, but I thought I'd go to the bathroom again, now that the bus was safely stopped. (Hahaha, silly gringa!) I waited for whoever was in there to finish. As soon as I locked the door behind me, the bus started up again and pulled out of its parking spot, turning this way and that. I needed as many acrobatic skills as I had the last time. But I managed. And when I got back to my seat, the bus stopped. And we sat there for another fifteen minutes. See, at first it was just amusing and best and mildly paranoid at worst for me to think the bathrooms are out to get me. But after that? The bus taking a special trip around the block just as I go to the bathroom? What more proof do we need?

The twisting and turning continued all night. Later in the night/morning, I saw the last thing I wanted to see on the windshield on such a road: rain. It was drizzling and misty when the sun finally rose and I saw the landscape we had been driving through all night. Deep green hilltops rose out of the white mist all around us, and towns slid down the hills abruptly from the side of the road. But I couldn't enjoy it because my eyes kept slipping closed. I was exhausted.

It was raining softly when we arrived in San Cristobal. My hair is natural now, so those things don't bother me as much, but I still didn't feel like getting rained on. Plus the sidewalks are made of a kind of stone that seems to have been designed to be as slippery as possible when wet. San Cristobal is a popular tourist town, as proven by the fact that we were handed no fewer than four hostel fliers on our way to our hotel. But all I wanted to do was take some more Tylenol Cold and lie down. It's cold and damp here. Not just rain-damp, but bone-damp. Ugh. My cold medicine is non-drowsy, but I think I will fall have no trouble falling asleep.

The moral: The road from Oaxaca to San Cristobal de las Casas is extremely twisty. That's why it takes so long, even though it's not that far. Take your Dramamine! Or your ginger root if you are one of those natural types.

HOURS ON THE BUS: 83.5

TIMES VOMITED (MEGAN): 6

 

From the window of the bus. Somewhere between Tuxtla Gutierrez and San Cristobal de las Casas, dawn.

Same. We were so happy to see daylight.

Same.