The trip back to Oaxaca

Our last lancha captain, Rollo, who poled us through the shallow water and wanted to learn to say, "How are you?" in english.






The colectivo to Tecun Uman filled pretty quickly, and I was soon sitting on a box, facing backwards with my knees under my chin, as we passed more banana plantation. In Tecun Uman, a man advised us to use a tuk tuk to get the few blocks to the border, because we're gringo tourists and the drug scene is unpredicatable here, even for a Sunday morning. The old man has a hard time pedaling us, with our bags, but gets us to the border. A stamp in our passports (not necessary but she has to earn a tip), a propina of 20Q to leave the country, change our quetzales to pesos with a dude on the street,  another tuk tuk to cross the river into Mexico, another stamp and a big fee we can't pay (we'll pay the land-entrance fee at a bank when we get back to Oaxaca).  There is some confusion because we just converted our quetzales to pesos, but the tuk tuk driver wants to be paid in quetzales....no one has change for a 50 peso note (worth less than $5), so we give him the 50 pesos. The tuk tuk driver, this time really a pedicab, has just crossed into Mexico with not passport of fee.  But then, he's a local.   The river, who's name I don't know, is crowded with people washing clothes.  There is no fence here, just a fence along the bridge.  Who makes this stuff up?!?  ANOTHER tuk tuk driver, a pedicab, takes us to the bus station in Ciudad Hidalgo, we're back in Mexico. Stuart is very tense, he's not good on travel days, particularly when he can't speak the language. But, I'm doing OK, and we get where we want to be.

The colectivo drivers in both countries play a game: how many adults can they fit in a mini-van? At one time, between Ciudad Hidalgo and Tapachula, I counted 24 adults! Can you say, "too many people"? I watch the conductor, who is hanging out the side door, giving signs to the driver to tell him how many more he can squeeze in. Thankfully, the trip is short, about an hour.





We pass more of the screaming yellow trees, that the women on the bus several days ago tell me are called palo
blanco. When I said, "they're not white, they're yellow", the woman shrugged and said "that's the name".

There is a bus from Tapachula to Juchitan seven hours from now. There is no luggage lockerer at the bus station in Tapachula, so we sit, taking turns walking around the block to stretch our legs. The bus leaves on time at 7pm, and we arrive in Juchitan at 2am. We buy a ticket to Oaxaca on a bus leaving in about 9 hours, so we find a hotel room and sleep for a little while. All the bus stations we've stopped in on the way are busy, brightly lighted, with food vendors on the streets around them all.  We notice that the taco vendors in Juchitan are closing up shop as we walk past at 2:30am.  

The hotel is over-priced, but there aren't many options within walking distance.  We wake early, too early, and find time to walk off the road jitters before heading back to the bus station. There isn't much to entertain us in Juchitan, as we learned at the beginning of this trip.

We find this beautiful mural on a side street in Juchitan, seems perfect for the end of our trip. We buy a sandwich, fill our water bottles and get on the last bus. The trip to Oaxaca is about 6 hours, and we when we cross the last mountain ridge and head down the valley into Tlacolula, we giggle and feel like we're home! We've made it home from Tilapita in less than 48 hours but we're road weary. We must have a local's attitude, because when we get off the the bus in Oaxaca, no one tries to sell us anything. We catch a 4.5 peso city bus to our street, familiar with all the streets and shops, and walk into our calm, peaceful courtyard, to receive hugs from Manuel, Josephina and our neighbors. It's nice to be home.