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Day 104: The Last Dance

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 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 ...
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More than an outbreak.

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                           Isla Mujeres, Quintana Roo; a place of beauty, a place of happiness, but most importantly, a place of love. In coming to the municipal, little island, located off the northeast coast of the Yucatán Peninsula , I expected nothing short of a tourist trap.   A place only interested in the money in my pocket, they sure proved me wrong. Arriving in mid-April, my first task was to find a cheap, clean hostel, right in the heart of the island itself.   A fellow traveler I’d met earlier that week, in Cancun suggested a place named;   Pocna Hostel.     “It’s good price” he told me, in his broken English. I was on a budget, so I budged. Walking in, I was greeted by cheery foreigners like myself at the service desk, given sheets, a pillow, and a sleek red wristband that read “Mi casa en el Caribe” I thought nothing of it at the time. My goal in coming to...
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Caminos Entrelazados or Intertwined Paths.

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                                                                                                                      Part 1 We’d met in el mercado, a small one, right in the heart of Chiapas, Mexico. The one on Guyava St.   just   across from the Library. Both of us marveling at the beauty of a Country that wasn’t   our own. Though the color of our skin, made us seem to fit in. Indigenous almost. I was t...
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