Oaxaca to Juchitan

From the beginning, we said we'd go to Guatemala in January. One day, we'd wake up and say, "let's buy a bus ticket". And, we did. The trip across the Sierra mountains heading east/southeast is tortured , but the road is in good condition across the mountains. Five hours later, we arrived in Juchitan (hoo-chi-TAN) in the Isthmus. We passed through miles of agave, for mescal; saguaro cactus where nothing else would grow; tiny villages in the most remote places imaginable; tiny corn fields everywhere (it's the dry season); and then we're on the other side of the mountains. More villages, and fields of vegetables. The next bus to Tapachula, Chiapas leaves at midnight, and we decide to stay a full day in Juchitan instead of getting on the bus again in 6 hours. Not much for tourists to see in Juchitan. The hotels are very proud here: we paid about 50 dollars US for a basic room! I have read about the food here, and the cooks use much more lard than in the rest of the state. We won't be here long enough to learn much more...

We walked around town the next morning, and came on this group of high school kids in a dance class. The young women were wearing jeans under their fancy skirts.





The mercado is in the old municipal palace, on the east side of the zocalo. It's filled with fish vendors, among all the other usual offerings. It was very crowded, the city is filled with visitors for the Christmas holidays. We're the only gringos in town, I think. Here's Stuart, trying to cross the street!









People here love loud music. It's everywhere, advertising everything from soul-saving meetings to medicine. Here, there is a VERY LOUD band in front of the fabric shop! Yes, the fabric shop. They played for more than 5 hours. Time to get out of this town...

After we watched the dancers practice for a while, we walked through the old convent, which is now an art gallery. We met a nicely dressed man, who invited us to his book signing party. Not wanting to be rude, we accepted his invitation, and stepped into the cool auditorium, part of the renovated convent. He gave us a copy of his book, and later signed it for me. He's a Dr. of history at the university in Mexico City. I understood very little of what was said, but he was proud to acknowledge his friends from North Carolina in the audience.

We try to nap a little before the midnight bus, but don't really get any sleep. The bus station is as crowded and busy as rush hour traffice at home!