Other Forms of Transport, and Palenque ruins

(written Friday night, location: night-bus to Oaxaca) 

Friday's experience was to pad slack-jawed around the Mayan temples and palaces of the famed and glorious and expansive Palenque. I got there as early as I could, and walked to the back of the complex, diving into the rainforest where the temples are not perfectly restored, but instead growing with strangler figs and vines. The beauty of an ancient fallen city overtaken by plant life. It was shaded, and free of packs of French tourists, and I had silent reverent moments to myself, with the shafts of sun slanting through the layers of leaves and thickening the latent mist into visibility. 

Palenque temples and trees 

I'll spare you the names of what king ruled when and how many years it took to build such and such temple and that the palace is near the ball court. I did have a guide for a short while, jumping into a premade tour group and giving them some pesos, but Mr Guide was fully convinced that the Egyptians and Chinese had built the place, not the Mayans, and that all the facts on the interpretive signs were garbage. "See this glyph? This is the same that is on the Egyptian 100 coin. Mayans? Garbage!"  I believe he was absolutely wackadoo, but I enjoyed hearing his theories for a while. That similar structures and motifs exist in Asia and Egypt and in Mexico I think just illustrates convergent evolution, as it were; that there's something deep in the ancient human traditions to inspire similar shapes of significance around the world. 

The bike tour portion is finished; Kathy and I have parted ways. I'm going back to Oaxaca to collect that bicycle box and, being retired, she's going to hang out and enjoy Chiapas for longer. Kathy and I were a success: basically strangers on a blind date for a month as travel buddies. We made it! We didn't have to break up! Because of her, I was able to take this trip, and for that I am completely grateful. We split rooms and shared some meals, but for most of the time I rode alone and explored alone. This was an ideal situation for me, because I love being in solitude and moving on my own whims, but also having someone to catch up with at the end of the day. 

Thus begins schlepping bicycle via various forms of non-bicycling transport. Sometimes this trip has felt less like a bicycle tour and more like a vacation where I happened to pack my favorite possession. Still, I went almost 1000 kilometers (I have yet to calculate the total elevation climbed, but most of the riding was mountainous) and experienced glorious moments of flying down a slope, knowing I had everything I needed in my little paniers behind me. 

I caught a Collectivo van from Palenque to Villahermosa this afternoon. A collectivo goes from town to town, in an unscheduled way, leaving when there are enough full seats. Much of Mexico travels this way. But I was wary of how this would work: how would I find from where the vans left? Would one leave in time? How much would it cost? Would they fit my bicycle? The collection of collectivos was at the edge of town, and thus easy to locate. I rolled in and announced where I wanted to go, and was immediately and graciously ushered to a van going to Villahermosa. "Cuando salir?" I asked in my terrible Spanish ("when to exit?"--if you don't know how to say a thing, put forward whatever words you can), a man held out five fingers, "five minutes." Perfect timing! 

I've learned that in Mexico "five minutes" means, "we're really hopeful about this" and it will be longer than five minutes. "20 minutes" means "we are not ready and please come back later."  "Ahorita" (literally, "little now") is actually the American equivalent of "five minutes." "Ratito" (literally, "a little while") is completely malleable but will be longer than five minutes. 

The 2-hour ride cost me $4 and included a stupidly violent movie from a rickety TV in the front of the van (what IS it with stupidly violent movies playing everywhere always? I am a porous sensitive soul and detest them), and also three browned traveling men from Greece. I'd noticed these blokes having a smoke and a drink at Agua Azul, and then I saw them at Palenque, and now we were all in the same van. I suppose there is a logistical order to the charming sites of Chiapas, and we were all following it. 

After the collectivo to Villahermosa I am now folded into a large shiney night-bus for a 98 hour (approximately) ride to Oaxaca city (with another stupidly violent movie playing for all of us while we'd prefer to sleep). I sat in the florescent bus station with my bicycle, dusty and weary and completely alone, watching people tightly hug each other around backpacks, saying goodbye. I felt completely the traveler, without a proper bed until tomorrow, wearied and dusty and unable to understand much language. 

I saw that my bicycle got safely underneath and climbed up the stairs into the bus; and there through the window were my Greek men, waving and calling out, "goodbye Sandra!"  My heart warmed hugely to have a sendoff from them, a moment of connection in the otherwise withering world of bus stations and wearied travel. Human connection, no matter how brief, is what can make this life bright. 

Likewise, although Villahermosa was a gritty bustling stinky garbagy city with too much traffic and yelling men, and I found no beauty in being there. However, Mr Juice Place, Mrs Restaurant, and Miss Chat Me Up Bicycle took good care of me. Letting me fill my water bottle, being gentle and patient with my poor Spanish, and chatting about the importance of bicycle lights and complimenting my green paint ("es mi padre!" I replied with pride).