The new hotel room in Puebla was indeed ready, so we were able to spend the extra night there to recover from my stomach upset. As so often before, we were surprised at how well things work out in Mexico!

Our departure from Puebla was on a Sunday morning, which was the perfect time. We crossed a few intersections on almost empty roads and soon found ourselves riding relaxed on the highway. The first 120 kilometers were mostly downhill. After that, however, the fun was over. We spent three days riding up and down the winding Highway 190. Although we were spending a lot of time in the saddle, we were only making slow progress. The landscape was beautiful but not spectacular, the food was delicious but not outstanding, and we slowly made our way through the hilly countryside towards Oaxaca. We were looking forward to a break in the city, which had been recommended to us for its markets, delicious food, and diverse arts and crafts.

However, we were greeted with thick smog, unusually hectic driving behavior, and strangely chaotic traffic management. The route to our accommodation took us through the entire city to a quiet residential neighborhood. There was no excitement there at all, and the bustling streets of the old town were far away, but we didn’t mind at that moment. And there was no shortage of food options in this area either😊.

During our stay in Oaxaca, we wanted to visit some of the surrounding villages, each of which is known for a specific craft. In San Martín Tilcajete, colorful painted wooden mythical creatures called alebrijes are made, black ceramics are produced in San Bartolo Coyotepec, and textiles and carpets are woven in Teotitlán de Valle. Our plan was to take a half-day trip south to see both the wooden figures and the ceramics. Even without luggage, the ride in the aggressive morning traffic with its biting clouds of exhaust fumes was quite nerve-wracking. Hopefully, the effort would be worth it!

The workshops and stalls selling alebrijes began right at the turnoff to San Martín Tilcajete. The little animals were for sale in every house and at every door. To make matters worse, we got caught up in a free tour at what was probably the most famous workshop. Oh dear, had we fallen into another tourist trap? Perhaps… but it was interesting to see the different steps involved in making these artistic figures and their colors. Of course, the tour ended in the sales room, but no one took offense when we didn’t buy anything. By now it was already noon, and we just wanted to quickly explore a few other workshops and the sales stands in the village square before heading back. A good idea, but it didn’t happen that quickly… Several hours later, we had two lovingly painted alebrijes by a remarkable artist in our backpacks and had to pedal back to Oaxaca as quickly as possible. Because that’s where we had arranged to meet Tamara and Simon, two bicycle travelers from Switzerland. We had already let them down in Puebla and kept them waiting a long time this time too🙈. As a result, our visit to San Bartolo Coyotepec with its many ceramics studios was correspondingly short. Never mind, we enjoyed a lovely meeting with Tamara and Simon and a hot chocolate each.

The next day we spent at the bustling markets and were more exhausted in the evening than after cycling many kilometers. So it was a bit of a relief, so to speak, to leave the city again on Sunday morning. In the weaving village of Teotitlán de Valle, which was on our route, we particularly liked the local market. In the countless carpet shops, which also had some beautiful pieces, the salespeople were a little too enthusiastic for our liking – you could even call them pushy. I wonder if that’s because of the carpet trade?! After another lively Sunday market in Tlacolula, we were glad that things were a little more peaceful on Route 190.

From 1’600 meters above sea level, we only had about 2’500 meters of elevation left to descend to sea level🙃. Apparently, in the 16th century, the Spanish king asked the conquistador Hernán Cortés what Mexico looked like, whereupon Cortés crumpled a piece of paper and said “like this.” We had the same impression here. However, we were less concerned about the hills than a short stretch near the coast, which is notorious for its strong winds. Wind farms and the place name La Ventosa are no coincidence. Sometimes trucks and cars are blown over, and cycling is not recommended😉.

The weather forecast predicted strong, gusty north winds. We decided to see for ourselves and not take the bus from Juchitán as a precaution. We were allowed to spend the night in the fire department’s vestibule. At 5:30 in the morning, the usual vehicle cleaning routine began, which made it easy for us to get up. At daybreak, we were already on the road and made surprisingly easy progress to La Ventosa. We hadn’t imagined the route would be so easy! But we had rejoiced a little too soon, because the worst part was yet to come. As soon as we turned onto the highway, the wind blew so hard that we had to stop again and again, because otherwise the gusts would have blown us and our bikes off the road. Fortunately, the wind didn’t sweep us onto the road, but away from it. For a while, we moved slowly forward with both feet on the ground, pushing our bikes. There was no end in sight to the wind farm, and we were already calculating how many hours it would take us to cover the 15 kilometers on foot. Bloody hell, what had we gotten ourselves into?!

As if the decision-makers at the state-owned Pemex company were cyclists, one of their gas stations with a mini-market suddenly appeared in the middle of the roar. What a relief it was to have two coffees and Snickers bars out of the wind! They provided energy and confidence for the rest of the route. But we didn’t need that much anymore. Things soon quieted down and we were able to ride all the way to Zanatepec. Satisfied and exhausted, we were allowed to spend the night at Rodrigo’s unofficial campsite before starting to climb the hills again the next day.

In the inconspicuous village of Nueva Tenochtitlán, Josefina picked us up at lunchtime and absolutely wanted to introduce us to her cycling enthusiast husband Raúl. So off we went for coffee in her beautiful courtyard! However, we couldn’t stay too long because we had a pretty ambitious plan to reach our planned break in San Cristóbal, which we successfully pursued. We quickly crossed Tuxtla, the capital of the Chiapas region, on separate bike lanes. We just had to be very careful of the shared taxis and their stops.

Between Tuxtla and San Cristóbal, there were only 70 kilometers, but also 2’000 meters of elevation gain. We began the ascent via the old main road. Shortly before dark, we saw a chapel in a small village and asked the residents if we could camp next to it. Of course, that wouldn’t be a problem at all. So we pitched our tent under the water Tower beneath the power line behind the chapel😊. It was another creative place to spend the night, of which there had been many in Mexico: private terrace, fire station, beach house, gas station, cactus forest, churchyard, restaurant, village square, beautiful bedroom, courtyard, luxurious B&B, soccer field, hotel garden, shooting range, campground, community center… and also some very normal accommodations. There was a lot of activity around the chapel. But that wasn’t because of us, it was because of the preparations for a big fiesta at the weekend. Have we mentioned that Mexicans love to party😉?

The night was surprisingly quiet, so we were well rested when we set off on the long climb in the morning. Because the weather wasn’t particularly nice and the route along the old main road was longer and more strenuous, we took the opportunity to slip under some barbed wire and get onto the highway. We climbed steadily up the mountain for about six hours, reaching our destination in San Cristóbal in the early afternoon. It was cold and windy up here, so we went straight to the hostel, where we had to put on warm clothes in the unheated room. Although we didn’t feel at all at home among the feel-good atmosphere of backpackers who join adventurous tours and have the hostel staff organize a taxi to the nearby bus station, we somewhat hastily extended our stay by two more nights. Now we are cuddling under the warm blanket and don’t really know what to do with our time. We no longer feel like going on the planned trip to the surrounding Mayan villages. Too many (white) tourists are here on a quest of discovery, wanting to see the indigenous people’s traditional way of life as if they were living exhibits. We are no exception, although we would like to be one…