As has already happened a couple of times during my travels, a place that came highly recommended by both guidebooks and people I have met has turned out to be nothing special when I got there. For me, San Cristobal De Las Casas has one too many extranjeros with dreadlocks, nose piercings or a flowery, tie-dyed ankle length skirt, and is really just another town with colourfully painted houses, quaint cobblestoned streets, blah blah blah.
I did however make an astonishing discovery whilst exploring San Cristobal's large Central Market where rural farmers from the surrounding countryside all bring their fruit, vegetables and pirate DVDs each day to sell, finding a hidden-away stall selling not only cures for acidic urine and your mind going blank, but also a cure for cancer. It turns out that pharmaceutical giants have been wasting their time over the last few decades in their search for a cure, as the indigenous Mayan people have already uncovered that it is possible to get rid of cancer by drinking a few pieces of coloured wood boiled in hot water.
Now I am back in Mexico, I have been quickly reminded of my earlier experiences in the Yucantan peninsula, namely of locals avoiding all eye contact. Only one Mexican has started a conversation with me today, a man with part of one finger missing that spoke dialects of Spanish and the native indigenous Tzotil language, neither of which I could understand. Frustrated with a day of not talking to many people, I bought a corn-on-the-cob and watched a bible-basher preaching in the street.
Hopefully a few more locals will speak to me tomorrow when I head out on a day-trip to San Juan Chamula, before heading west on Wednesday to Tuxtla to have dinner with a girl called Laura.
