Mexico. Round Tres.

On the day after the Jersey Shore ended for ever (R.I.P.), the selfsame day that the Mayan longcount ticked over, Mikie and me went our separate ways. Mikie back to Canada to work, and me back down to Mexico. I just wasn't ready for Canada again. I'd been there almost a year not that long ago, wanted to catch up with old mates, wanted to at least make it out into the Caribbean. South America was shot; but so it goes. Cuba and Jamaica, Haiti and Dominica held a certain appeal. Mostly though, the Atlantic, the god-damn Caribbean Sea, man. Pirate territory. Had to do it. Funds were at an all-time low, though: I had to borrow money from my sisters just to get out of San Diego and make a run at it. Most of this money was gone within a week. Basically as soon as I walked into Tijuana, without even having to get my passport out at all, I was picked out as an easy scam and within an hour duped into giving some dirty ice-scab a thousand pesos in the belief that he could get me a ticket to Chiapas for "local price". In hindsight that dude's never had a legitimate job in his entire life. Dude had tears tattooed on his face, and an "LA" tattoo on his throat. Oh well, a fool and his money are easily parted. So it goes. The ticket I got for the next day ended up costing me 1800, in the end. After a feed, and a night in a dingy hotel, and some groceries, I had about 500 left. Spent a hundred on the three-day bus ride, and, on arrival in Tuxtla on Christmas afternoon, I discovered that the rest had been taken from my bank by a hotel in San Diego we'd done the sneaky on for a free night... or so we thought. So that left me with 11 pesos in my pocket. Then I bought water for 10, and that was that. Gone. Broke on Christmas, and still quite a ways from where I needed to be. My shot was Palenque, where I thought Soph and Pablo were at the Rainbow Gathering. No choice but to stick out the thumb and make a go of it. An hour and I got a nice ride an hour up the road to the old stomping ground of San Cristobal de las Casas. I tried to pump straight through; but the walk was long and after a lot of sweat and frustration it got dark and I had to call it. So I turned and lugged it back into the central square to have a look at Christmas. Not much happening, just standard San Cristobal scenes: Nicely dressed people getting about at slow pace. Mellow mood and live music wafting into the streets from the coffee houses. Nice, but I was broke and starving and kicking myself at my situation. Just couldnt get into it. So I stole some snacks in lack of turkey, ham, and seafood and walked out of town again. I'd read somewhere that the Pemex petrol stations let hitchhikers sleep behind them. Turned out to be bunkum - even on Chrissy. Slept the night in a wet cold and dewy ditch in a shit neighborhood. Bum Christmas. The next couple of days were also of the rough variety also. Bit of an eye-opener in terms of having to turn something out of nothing just to get food in the belly. Sold things like special coins and these shit necklaces I made from string and bottletops. Even changed all of my American ones and shrapnel. It was rag-tag, but I made enough to eat, and got myself out again on the road the day after I spent a night in a no-so-cosy-but-secure garden on Boxing Day. Stressful days and shit, but I pushed on through. Also bummed by the news that both Sophie and Pablo were by now in Tulum, which was a long way further down the line. 10 more hours so. But, my luck was in on that sunny day, and after an easy, short ride out of town to the appropriate intersection, I nabbeda brilliant ride with a lovely family. A couple of girls my age and their old man, out on a road trip from DF. Turns out that one of the girls has plans to emigrate to Oz one day, so she got a chance tpractice her Australian English, and I got a feed, a few beers, an afternoon at the waterfalls, and a ride to Palenque. Made me really happy, that day did. On arrival in Palenque, I walked out to the road to Panchan, left my bags in a paddock and walked the 9 k's out to a place where I knew I could sneak a free hot shower, did so, and slept so sweet in a baddock under a big gnarly old oak tree. The sunrise was magic. Golden light though mist and big green blades of grass. Before too long I was shooed along whilst reading, though, and I had to get a move on. Went in to Palenque and knocked about for a bit, refilled my water bottle and got given 15 pesos for the colectivo out to the Rainbow Gathering that afternoon for the night of the big fullmoon party. It turned out to be exactly the place I needed to be. I settled in, set u p the tent and sat down in the trade section, make a few sweet deals for things I needed (tobacco, cornflakes, mushies)  in exchange for things I didnt need (a map, chewie, a ticket to the museum in Mexico City), and got to know a few people. Never in my life have I seen so much nudity. So many hippies getting about with the old fellas flapping in the wind. My old man would kick my arse if he seen me gettin about like that. I didnt partake in the nudity. The fullmoon party was nice, too. Huge Om circle, much love, much dancing, great veggie meal and all free. Good vibes. Met a girl called Sparrow. She made me a man of straw. The party got wierd later on - I got invited to an orgy. Too much of a prude these days, so that bird flew. I hit the bed a bit later after heckling the koombayah singers into playing a bit of reggae and partaking in some salad and chai tea, instead of some kind of hell-for-leather sexfest. Right move, or worst move ever? Whatever. Leave the orgies for the serious freaks. The next day, I decided to chill for another day. I was tired of running, by this time. Needed a recoup bad. Had a great day. Went swimming. Again no nude prude. Met a couple of German girls, non hippies, and initiated them to the wierd and wonderful family/tribe that is the Rainbow. So much potential, but at the end of the day it's a society of people, a large one, and these things inherit problems, hippies or no. When its good, which is most of the time, it's great - but there's a fair bit of degeneracy, laziness, snobbery and disunity there, too. Just like the other society. I wont say it's better or worse, but there's things they both need to learn from each other. The next day, the rain came in. It was a mud fest, and the Germans tent and my tent were shithouse, so the time came to get out. Back to Palenque. I remembered I had 40 bucks stashed in my Canadian bank, too, so after a night at Panchan, a king-sized Victoria beer and a pack of smokes, I went into Palenque the following morning, New Years Eve, to try get to Tulum. I had just enough money. Me and Some Argentinians and the most lost person, sad crazy little Marie from Germany commandered a colectivo to take us there in time for the countdown. Poor Marie jumped the gun just before we left though, on a premonition. May the Lord watch over her soul. Anyways, the road was straight and true and we got there with plenty of time to spare, 8pm. The Argentinos continued on to Playa del Carmen, and I was left to my devices. tried to find Sophie, but no sign and she hadn't been online for a few days so I was beat. I hit up Mum for a little more money to settle in and have a small time, but I'd lost another money card in Palenque, so I was on skid row again. Broke and lost in the central square sitting under an angel statue staring at the Christmas tree, ruing my constant incompetence. Things were looking grim again. Then my guardian angel arrived. Part 2 coming soon.