Incipient Vagabond--Verily

So Jonathan and I spent a good deal of time together over the course of about four days; I would come to the centro, first to make jewelry, for the company, to meet and get to know other vagabond gypsies who hopefully could give me some good ideas, some philosophy, company on adventures, or just to have fun with.  The thing is, there in Oaxaca there's a bit of a bubble of gypsy-types, who are radically different in appearance--though still very friendly, hospitable, and generally human *gasp!*.  But the rest of the people are quite typically mexican--either having some kind of gig that they put their every week into, using every resource they have to sell things--a cart, a pole with merchandise attached, their voice, their children, images of pretty girls or pretty girls themselves; then the rest are on vacation, largely ordinary tourists doing touristy things, which consists primarily of gawking, walking, buying, eating, and talking.  Thus, I found other sources of diversion, such as learning to make jewelry (I learned I'm not so much into such intricate and time-consuming things--I'll take a job talking to people or moving heavy things any day over that), practicing poi, and planning to buy a tattoo of a quetzalcoatl.  I's badass, but I ended up not getting it, for two reasons--we didnt have proper space and the henna we did didnt look so good.  Okay, so I guess there's three reasons: I went out the night before we did the henna and ended up getting smashed and losing all my money, and my watch.  I met some chulos (in the hard sense of the word--interesting and cool enough, but trying to prey on this gringo nonetheless).

The cool thing in Oaxaca was all the lovely young ladies from the catholic school who happened to be really interested in our joyeria, hair wraps, and handsome faces.  My pal was as expert at talking to strangers as I am in English--that is, pretty damn good.  So we always had good company, and I was sad to leave.  That said, I started to see something I would realize later--that these gypsy jewelry vendors were as much stuck in their jobs as anybody in an office--they chase tourists and good weather and eek out a living but not much more... I definitely didnt want to get sucked into this, as I had to get to the jungle and start collecting monkeys and seeing mangoes... or something like that.  So after one final night hanging out together, which was actually the first night I met his girlfriend and got to stay at his house after leaving my other host, and a good luck smoke of the yerba buena, I was off.

I walked out of Oaxaca in about an hour and was just on the highway when I met Noblezza.  This is a trucker, and despite the feminine gender of his apodo, he was just a noble soul, full of compassion with nothing deviant about him (nothing he expressed, at least... he simply enjoyed passing the time with Oaxacan wanderers).  He just has a noble heart and knows many people, lives well and has love for all, driving a double stacked trailer which he pulled over right in front of me as I was walking even without my thumb out.  We had a blast, as we talked, I happy to have an opportunity to practice my spanish (the only thing about Jonathan--and I've encountered this in other people as well--is that since I didnt speak fluently, he coped by resorting to gestures and clammed up his lips when talking to me, using the few english words he knew instead).  The other thing was, he was eager to give me every opportunity to stop and see the great landscape after Oaxaca on the way to Tuxtla Gutierrez--hills of agave (whereas before Oaxaca it had been hills of cacti, many and great) and a gorgeous river which really made me wish I could just stop and go ask the nearest person if they knew where I could find a kayak, and they would be just as noble as Noblez and say "why certainly, I have one here!" and I could tell them I want to take the river to the city or the ocean, and explain my journey, and they would say, "That sounds wonderful!  Take the kayak, and when you get there, sell it and send the money back to me."   Life is rarely so full that our dreams cease to visit.

We enjoyed each other's company greatly, and instead of stopping in Tenochtitlan (something I very marginally regret, looking back on the geography of my tour), where people told me to stay a couple nights and party, for I was focused on Palenque, so I went with Nobleza to Juchitan, and stayed the night in the bus station gratis.  I had a small lesson there, in the form of a caballero from Guatemala who comes to Oaxaca three times a month to sell things, as all men of his culture clean as a whistle and living by his mano, ultra-conservative in manner, a different kind of nomad, he only had a cardboard box and there was a bit of a breeze... and I felt bad because these people are accustomed to hot hot sticky weather, whereas I am to the chilly wind of Kansas winters and San Francisco summers.  So, as he was very friendly (though a bit too talkative as I was ready to get some shuteye), I offered him the largest part of my space blanket, which had torn but was still plenty to cover him.  Those things are great, by the way.  My hammock-sleeping bag is already really warm, but not quite excellent enough for anything below 45, or warmth-sucking ground or wind, so having one of those under your butt makes all the difference.  The only problem is they are noisy, and people who havent seen a lot of technology think you{re pretty ridiculous to try to stay warm with a sheet of aluminum.  Still, he graciously accepted it as anything would help, and put it under him.  And he must have liked it, because it was gone with him when I woke up.

I got to hitching the next day, an adventure in the truest sense.  I set off with a test of intent, declaring that I would reach for Chiapas that day.  I got one small ride a little ways outside the pueblo limits, 15 minutes to the center of a wind farm.  I walked a ways, but as the landscape was just plains and ugly road development and up around the bend a bit, a concrete factory, and the only vehicles passing were work vehicles, it wasn't very pleasant or productive.  I was only about a half an hour going when I saw a bright green vest in a small clearing across the road.  I went to inspect it because I definitely wanted some diversion, and lo and behold, it was a motorcycle.  I got to looking at it, and noticed it had the keys in it.  Considering the lack of people living in the area, it made sense that it belonged to one of the workers and they felt pretty secure leaving it.  Now, I was facing a huge moral dilemma that had me rooted for an hour.

I tend to be a really good guy, but I've got a bit of a devilish streak in me.  Namely, if I want something and theres nobody around to stop me, I'm usually tempted to take it.  [I have some insight on this. It seems to me that theft is bred of an environment of scarcity, (or malice, but that is always an option, in my opinion, and fortunately scarce in my life) Coming from a home where interesting and valuable things are scarce, In fact, if it werent for my damned powers of empathy and the time I've spent growing an ethical bone through philosophy, I would've been out of there in a heartbeat as soon as I made sure I could pilot the thing.  But I think of others and knew it belonged to somebody relatively poor, as it didnt even have a battery--they were definitely salvaging all the life out of it they could.  I could be kilometers down the road before it ran out of gas though!  I would get to drive a motorcycle!  Yeah, but I would end up ditching the thing because I had no money to buy more gas, and I could get in trouble with the authorities.  It did have a plate.

What I ended up doing was driving it around the little field a bit, and found a dirt "road" that led away from the highway some more, and followed it until I saw some movement in a meadow.  It had to be the owner.  I quickly killed the engine and paused a moment.  He was harvesting something.  I bet its drugs.  Or illegal farming.  Or maybe the guys at one of the companies around here grow this to supplement their income, and he's using his lunch break to collect the fruits?  I imagined all these options as I was walking the motorcycle back far enough that I could turn it around and restart it without him hearing.  I parked it the way I found it, but damn, I couldnt just leave it.  But I couldnt take it, eithe.  So I was just sitting on it when the guy came back.  My heart was pumping as I felt certain he'd run at me shouting when he saw me.  He just kept walking calmly.  He was older than I expected, and after my embarassing introduction, I lied that I had seen it from the road but didnt know how to drive it.  He laughed, and got to talking to me about his crop, his pueblo where they were largely mormon because some guys had come and preached the word to them and built a church, and then got to telling me how Ustedes son and what ustedes do (ustedes referring to me and the rest of america, because we are one and the same, of course).  Well, he finally took off on his motorcycle, but not before telling me that we hitch wrong, with our thumbs out--thats not how they do it down here, so what I should do instead is raise my arm and wave like an old friend.   So off I went back to the road.

And was punished by fate or karma or god for even thinking of stealing his motorcycle.  I walked for at least three hours, and was losing heart.  There's always a way it goes, the hitching.  First, you convince yourself to be optimistic.  You're in a good mood, if its early in the day, or youve been with good people, have some resources, etc.  But getting on toward the hour mark, you start to get grumpy.  I have a habit of walking a bit forward every 10-30 minutes or so, just because I hate not making progress and besides, I like the excercise.  Being out in the middle of nowhere, someplace where nobody else is, is often part of the goal.  But then you really start to get pissed, frustrated, depressed, anxious.  Finally you become resigned, and just go, then you start to enjoy being where you're at, and find yourself some diversion.  For me, this all came in the form of waving and saying "por favor, amigo", and half smiling; then translating and inventing insults to shout after they passed, then walking silently for an hour, pausing, then finding what had been a make-shift road flag but, actually looked like a surrender flag, just a white gunny sack atached to a stick, so I picked it up and got playful, getting a few friendly honks and waves yet still no stops; and finally I found a fence of cacti that were not of the nopáles variety, and tried cutting into them for water.  It didn't work.  They were too bitter, and didnt produce enough liquid.  I was out in my nalgene, but kept walking.  It was getting on about three oclock, and I started thinking, alright, I stay where I stay today and that's where I was meant to end up.  I round a bend and come upon a small settlement, or at least the public face of the settlement, because they often stretch back away from the road and only have a few people trying to make a buck off the passing cars.

I approached, and there was a nice tree to sit and rest a moment; I left my things there and walked across to chat with the people there, using the question "how far is the next town" as a pretext.  They were nice, and after talking a bit, offered me a bottle of water and a torta (sandwich).  I graciously accepted, and took off walkin some more in replenished spirits.

Now my luck flipped!  I guess I had done my penance, because I got ride after ride.  I met a guy who had worked in Los Angeles, and made the skin on the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park.  Hell yeah!  Now he worked in Ixhuantepec, had a mechanic shop there.  I met some other interesting people, and finally was getting close to the more humedo area--more greenery, more trees, less brown.  My spirits were up.  A ride in the back of a truck, a guy who had a son in carcel in San Jose gave me a hundred pesos (10 bucks), and then finally--when I had the urge to stop and eat a great meal and find a camp--I decided to keep at it, because that morning I had told myself, "I bet I can at least get to the border of Chiapas today".  And while it wasnt absolutely necessary, I figured while I still had daylight I'd keep trying.

This is where I have learned something about hitchhikers that I'd like to share.  I used to think at one point, that hitchhikers might be kind of lazy, because they just sit on the side of the road until somebody comes by and drives them to where they want to be.  Very passive.  I am very not okay with begging--I'm more of the make-it-.happen variety.  I cant stand begging for change, instead I ask for work.  I hitchhikefor several reasons--one, the environmental impact of driving, and I figure if you've got an extra seat, especially as a man, you should give your fellow man a lift.  Also, because buying bus tickets are boring, and I'm funding the unneccessary purchase of more gasoline.  I would be happy to walk or buy train tickets if there were no automobiles on the road.  I actually like the idea of walking the world, but its just so damn disheartening when everybody else is zooming by and the modern road makes the landscape so often so ugly.  The third reason is because it provides both the driver and myself great company, an opportunity for cultural or life exchange.  Still, I try to demonstrate as best I can when I hitch that I'm walking when I can/have to, and friendly and eager to share part of the day with them.  Sometimes I even think, if I had the opportunity to talk to them, I'd be willing to offer some gas money or work in exchange for a good ride and a meal.

Oh, and what I meant to point out was that yes, hitchhikers work through their patience, maintaining face, and drive to stay to the road through the boredom.

Now it was sunset and I was at the end of my day.  I had a truck pull over, to my delightful surprise, not too long after sticking out my thumb with little hope but with contentment that it was near the end of the day.  They had me hop in the back.  I shouted in through the wind a bit of my story, and we started climbing the hills.  I was stoked, and it showed! The guys inside were eating up my enthusiasm, and they were in a good mood too, as it was the end of a day for them selling "electronics"--all I saw was a few telivision remotes in the cab of the car.  I chuckled a bit to myself about the culture and the state of technology down here (not making fun of it, just at how different it was).  They ended up offering to bring me back to his house that night, and the next day we would go to Tuxtla Gutierrez.  I ended up staying for three and a half days and making some great friends, including a couple guys with whom I hitched to San Cristobal.