Pelenque and then some.

Erin and I wake up before six to catch the shuttle that arrives a half-hour late. We´re heading to the Mayan ruins of Pelenque, normally over four hours a way, but we´re also stopping at two different waterfalls along the way.

The sun is just rising by the time the shuttle picks everyone up and I´m so friggin´ tired. I have a window seat and, unfortunately, the bald-headed geezer in front of me puts his seat all the way back. Meanwhile the guy next to me uses me as a back rest while he sleeps soundly. Bastards. On the other side of the aisle, Erin has a seat to herself. Bitch. I sit motionless for two hours before we reach Agua Azul, the first waterfall.

Before we reach it, though, we pass a few signs informing us we have entered the territory of the EZLN, Zapatista National Liberation Army. We even pass through a small village that is completely controlled by Zapatista farmers. On the side of a school is a mural of indigenous farmers, Emiliano Zapata, Che and Marcos, the "face" of Zapatismo (Marcos [not his real name] always wears a black balaclava which, itself a symbol of the Zapatistas, symbolizes that Zapatismo has no face, but represents everyone exploited and subjugated by authority). Several miles later, we pass a military checkpoint, but the road signs afterward are spray painted with slogans like "Viva Zapatistas" and "Muerte Sistema Capitalisma."

So we reach Agua Azul and it´s very pretty, but I´m not sure how to tell a story about something being pretty. It just is. I hope you get to see the pictures.

To give description of the next waterfall (name?), I only need to refer to the Gorge in Oregon. Again, may you see the pictures. Although, I don´t know of any waterfalls in the Gorge where you can actually go into a cave with a stream that feeds into the waterfall. That was pretty sweet.

And finally, Pelenque. The ruins are big and numerous and epic, and the coolest one you can go into and it was almost a maze. But I´m not sure if they´re quite as cool as the jungle that surrounded them. Cami, again, I thought of you. And, again, may you all see the pictures. I really, really wanted to go into the jungle, but that simply wasn´t an option. It´s probably for the best because I had visions of rope ladders and tree-houses attached to great, primordial branches. Wooden cities a hundred feet in the sky under a green canopy hundreds of feet higher. Yeah, I probably would have been dissapointed. Or maybe not.

For the ride back to San Cristobal, several passengers on the shuttle get off to stay in hotels near the ruins, so I get a seat to myself. Despite the frequent bumbs and tight turns, I think I manage to get as much as an hour of sleep during the 4+ hour ride back.

Arriving back in San Cristobal around 9:30, Erin and I eat at the first restaurant we found, head back to the hostel, and pass out in our respective rooms.