Closing out Mexico

A short distance outside the city of Oaxaca brought me to Santa Maria del Tule, site of reputably the worlds largest (by volume) tree. 

El Árbol del Tule

I assume everyone knows what this means

This Montezuma Cypress has a trunk diameter of over 30ft and weighs in at about 636 tons and is around 2000 years old. In terms of height it is not that impressive and there are a lot of other claims to the world’s biggest tree. Whatever the facts there is no doubt it is a monster.

A few miles down the road and a little way into the hills the village of Teotitlán del Valle is found, home to the Zapotec weavers. The weavers of these small family owned businesses have been producing some of the most stunning, world renowned rugs and tapestries for centuries. The wool is all locally produced, woven and dyed.

Zapotec rugs and weavings

Spotless streets

Iglesia Preciosa Sangre de Cristo

Here I would like to acknowledge the kindness I was offered as a stranger. When I was still in San Pancho I got talking to Amando Martnez who was selling rugs in the square. When I told him I was going to visit his village he handed over the keys to his house and said I was welcome to use it. This is where I spent the night. 

The Zapotecs have their own distinctive language and this spotless village has all the street signs in this language as well Spanish and English

Well guarded green weeds

Early one morning I was sitting on a wall outside the market eating a few goodies I had purchased for breakfast and just enjoying myself doing some people watching. A truck pulled up and was immediately descended upon by many local woman who grabbed great bunches of some green weed-looking plant. ( I later found out it was something akin to alfalfa that they fed to their livestock). One of these ladies then walked over to me and asked if I wouldn’t mind looking after her bunch of weeds while she headed into the market to do some shopping. Not really knowing how to guard a bunch of weeds I agreed to perform this task only to realize once she had disappeared that I had no idea if I was going to be there all morning. A few minutes later these two rogues sat down next to me.

Rogues Gallery

We got to shooting the breeze, if using the limited Spanish vocabulary I have mastered can be called ”shooting the breeze”. Just then a rather good looking local lady sauntered past and they took it upon themselves, interspersed with gales of laughter, to teach me the correct pronunciation of the various parts of the female anatomy. I suspect these should not be used in polite conversation.

I did buy one small souvenir rug in the village that I am using to help pad by seat as it seems that I do not have enough natural padding to give comfort to those long hours in the saddle. This design is known as “ the tree of life” and so I like to think I am perched on one of the branches as my travels unfold.

With a stop at the ruins in Mitla, site of a Zapotec empire that took over power after the decline of Monte Albán in the 14th century with a later Jesuit church built on top of those ruins

Mitla

I took to the road that wound its way back through the hot, dry dusty mountains to the coast. I had randomly picked a beach on a map where I had hoped to spend the night but when I got nearer I asked at a gasolinera about the beach. From what I could gather there are no real beaches, just mud flats in the area and although there might be a restaurant serving seafood the chances of any place to stay were remote. As it was getting late in the afternoon I was eager to find somewhere to rest my weary bones for the night so decided to go to the next town, Juchitán which turned out to be great. Crazy traffic with the ubiquitous, three wheeled scooter taxis everywhere and a wild central plaza where all sorts of food was for sale. I am sure I was the only gringo in town - definitely not on the tourist route.

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Juchitán de Zaragoza

The next day I had a long ride to the Guatemala border at Ciudad Hidalgo arriving there at about 3.30 in the afternoon. I was a little apprehensive as I had heard that the process to get into Guatemala could be more than a little confusing and that I might need to show an original vehicle title that I do not have with me. I thought it best to get the lay of the land that afternoon with the intent of crossing early the next morning. The sleepy little border was nearly deserted so what the hell I drove on in. A local guy offered help with the process on the Guatemalan side and for the fews Quetzales ( 7 GTQ = 1US $) Juan was worth every centavo I paid him. About half an hour later with multiple trips across the street into the town itself for various copies needed at different stages of the process I was in to Guatemala.