Big Ruins, Small Plane

Today's count: Sanjai, five tacos, me three. For dessert, we asked a street vendor who was about to close down if she could fry us two bananas. We must have asked nicely (that, or she felt bad wasting food) because she surprised us with special dessert platters incorporating all her leftovers. The result: fried bananas topped with condensed milk and churros. It was an eye-opening (and heart-clogging) combination.

Location update: I'm at an Internet center in San Cristobal de Las Casas, a colorful colonial town in highland Chiapas. It's closing in twenty minutes, so I'll be brief again. I'm also very sleepy, so my thoughts are vague. Those who chat with me on AIM can testify to the fact that I typo dramatically late at night, at least until I infuse myself with mixed nuts or a can of something caffeinated. While no mixed nuts are available here, I did buy an interesting "power soda" called CULT to bring home as a souvenir.

That reminds me of the time I decorated my room in Chile with a hiking boot, which left my uncle and aunt a bit nonplussed... but that's a story for another day.

One reason I'm sleepy: last night, we slept in a room by Ocosingo's central plaza. The noise was relentless. First, around midnight, we witnessed a dogfight. The sparring dogs howled like coyotes eating someone's pet in Porter Ranch. Trucks cruised by at intervals playing techno music; I'm not sure who they were cruising to be seen by, since everyone was (at least until they came by) asleep. And, though I didn't notice it amid blurry dreams of visiting the DMV, Sanjai lay awake in bed observing that the town clock tower rang a random number of chimes every twenty minutes or so. It was very pretty, though, so we forgave it.

In the morning, we tried to charter a flight to Laguna Miramar, but the pilot wasn't at the airfield--just a security guard making sure no one stole the plane. So instead we found a minibus to a local set of ruins called something like "Tonina." They were empty and awe-inspiring: set against hills and over 90 meters high. When we climbed to the top we could see for miles. The vista included a group of cows and a ranch recently occupied by the Zapatistas, to the dismay of the ranchowners, who now operate a small hotel in town while waiting for them to go occupy something else.

What we talked about at lunch: education policy, Mock Trial, the quality of writing at Stanford, and a man named Mr. Rude. The women at the table next door sent us cups of sangria when they heard us trying to negotiate a serving smaller than a pitcher with the waiter. Sanjai liked his. I swallowed some and tried hard to remember that red wine has health benefits, which presumably survive being mixed with fruit juice and mineral water.

What I'm reading: I'm not sure yet, as I finished Middlesex on the bus from Ocosingo to San Cristobal. What a brilliant book...

They're shutting down the Internet center, so I'll stop there. Coming up tomorrow: possibly a rental car, certainly a visit to the Canyon of the Sumidero, where we may try to kayak and will probably get very wet.