Nico's Nonsense

 May 15, 2011 Yesterday was my last FULL day in San Cristobal, today my bus will leave heading towards Tijuana at exactly 1 pm...Well 1 pm Mexican time, which could mean at 2 pm...Maybe even 3. Yesterday morning I had woken up with the worst migraine in the world, and as I stumbled out of bed and stumbled on over to try and look for pills unnoticed, I'm greeted cheerily by Yolanda and Pancho, as I hide my "morning face" I grumble that I have a headache, Yolanda say it's the heat, while Pancho tries to take pictures of me with his phone, but I'm certain it's because today is my last day here in San Cristobal. I'm certain that in some particularly odd way my body understands I'm going home and if I were crazy enough I would even say this is a sign, a sign from the earth, from my body, or from the tiny little   nerves in my brain telling me I should stay, I shouldn't go home. But instead I fumble around with a box that I believe is some form ...

Oventik,Chiapas   As I write now, I see the city lights beneath me, and hear songs of love strumming on the guitar beside me. I've fallen in love. And so quickly, I'm almost ashamed.  Mornings are spent walking through markets that go on for days and days, afternoons are spent lounging in the kitchen, sharing stories and laughing with the locals and foreigners alike and our nights, our nights are ours to dance away. To laugh, to sing, and fall in love.     An innocent kind of love. A “can I hold your hand?” kind of love. A love you can't comprehend until you've lived it.  In leaving Cancun, I'd thought I was leaving paradise, but in coming to Chiapas, I've realized I hadn't experienced paradise until just then. True paradise is not; beaches, snorkeling, and beautiful faces. True paradise is finding beauty in a place. Seeing prosperity and poverty, the indigenous and the tourist both dwelling as one. I can hardly put to words why I've fallen so har...

I officially landed in Cancun on the 1st. With a major migraine and a bit of nausea to go along with it, in arriving, I simply wanted to fall asleep and die. Instead, I spent the night by the beach with some fellow travelers from the hostel I stayed at. A convenient little hostel right in the middle of everything you need, called Hostel Quetzal.The next morning I was unsure of exactly where I wanted to go, so I'd packed everything up and gone off to   the bus station...ready to take the world, booked a one way to San Cristobal de las Casas and didn't look back. So, here I am at a quiet little café   in San Cristibal de las Casas; the café is comparable to those seen in French films, the chairs are curly and fancy and every few minutes a boy looking to shine shoes walks in. Luckily I'm wearing sandals, or I'd give in. Though the 15 hour bus ride out here was no penny pincher, the town is absolutely dirt cheap and I love it. Hostels are no more than 5 dollars a night...

Part 3        Early next morning I am awoken by the sun, quietly sneaking up upon the spiteful hills. As I sat there on the blistering edge of the the bottom bunk, I sprung up in anticipation,as the bed let out an awful cry. I decided that I would go in search of what I came for. Paraiso, as Romero has, and in deciding this, I got this feeling in the pit of my stomach, excitement, anticipation,and  fear. A feeling that makes you want to burst out laughing and break down crying, all at once. I'm startled by Ernesto's footsteps walking in the room with two mango's in his hand he asks "Breakfast?" I smiled as I grabbed a mango. "I know that look" he said as he bites into his mango, subtly  puncturing the soft of the skin, absorbing every bud of taste it had to offer, as if this were the last mango he would ever eat. I am distracted and have heard nothing of what he's said. "Huh?" I question "Where to today?" He pries ...

Lay my head on the sober of his chest Rest my hand in the tender of his Kiss the firm of his chin  No longer head west  I've fallen in love And he hasn't a clue It's only because he reminds me of you

I am sitting on the bus. The roads here, aren't paved, it's been a harsh and enduring ride, my head, resting against sweat stained windows, my eyes closed, though I'm not asleep. I am partaking in this moment, this dream. A day I have dreamed of since I was eight years old. And since, this is all I've ever really wanted. No luxurious cars, dazzling diamond rings, or white picket fences.                         I hear faint voices of fellow passengers, talking amongst themselves, tourists mostly, excited an anticipating our destination. As I am. And suddenly the bus jolts to a stop, I open my eyes as we pull in through wooden gates, where guards have let us pass. We're finally here.  My heart races,though I hesitate in getting up, this all seems so terribly unreal, and if it is I hope to never wake. Two women push their way out the door, and I follow, still hesitant.  One foot in front of the other I think, steppin...