Hurry Up and Wait

We were headed back down the mountain towards San Cristobal. In the back seat, I leaned over and whispered into Sally's ear.


"I remember reading that you are supposed to negotiate the taxi fare BEFORE you get into the cab."


"Well's too late now," said Sally, "but least we're off the street."


The streets slid by our little Nissan taxi in colourful blurs. I loved the colours of the houses that lined the streets. I loved the simple architecture of the houses and the complicated lines of the city's historical buildings. I believe that you find the heart of a city in the homes of its residents. San Cristobal was no different. The easy feeling of a corrugated roof; the invitation of a colourful doorway; the mystery of a flowering vine winding its way down the outside wall; the oppressive weight of a window locked in iron bars.

Soon we found ourselves within a few blocks of the hotel. We began to collect ourselves as the driver turned onto our street. He slowed the car as he pulled up against the curb in front of the hotel. The driver smiled at Annie in the front seat and said, "Ciento y veinte."

It would seem that it would cost us $12 to return from our $5 cab ride out of town. Ouch! This, I understood, was why you negotiate the rate before you climb into the cab. Annie paid the driver while we emptied onto the street. Once she had paid the driver, we all went into the hotel.

Our innkeeper seemed relieved to see us and started talking quickly in Spanish. I caught Senor Chris and aqui and thought that she was saying that Chris did not know that we were at the hotel.

"We got lost. Perdido," I tried to explain.

"Si," she replied. "Senor Chris telefono," she tried again. "Senor Chris quisiera que usted esperara aquí."

"Aaaah," we said in unison as we realized the Chris had anticipated our return. We were to wait at the hotel until the group returned from the cupping at Maya Vinic.

(Doorway photo taken by Chelsea Bay Wills)