San Cristobal was not quite the same the second time around without Moya, but it was alright.
Here's positive proof that the 80s are dead and the 90s are back-- even in Chiapas, graffiti artists have quit fetishising 80s ghetto blasters and are on to panasonic stereos from Kmart circa 96.
Back in San Cris, you can get a breakfast like this at La Casa del Pan- homemade croissant, local organic eggs, rajas (cactus), queso gouda and fried seso mushrooms on top.
My eyes were so depressed by the two-dreadlock, pseudo-crusty hippy style in San Cristobal that this eccentric gentleman was literally like a ray of sunshine. How did he find socks to match the rest of the outfit?! A style pioneer.
When official language goes retarded: the men's room at Zirko on a long night of clubbing.
Here's positive proof that the 80s are dead and the 90s are back-- even in Chiapas, graffiti artists have quit fetishising 80s ghetto blasters and are on to panasonic stereos from Kmart circa 96.
Back in San Cris, you can get a breakfast like this at La Casa del Pan- homemade croissant, local organic eggs, rajas (cactus), queso gouda and fried seso mushrooms on top.
My eyes were so depressed by the two-dreadlock, pseudo-crusty hippy style in San Cristobal that this eccentric gentleman was literally like a ray of sunshine. How did he find socks to match the rest of the outfit?! A style pioneer.
When official language goes retarded: the men's room at Zirko on a long night of clubbing.
oh i hear you loud and clear on all things san cristobal, i think. zirko's got some smartypantsing going on with the 2 for 1 drink specials too - they just double the price of the drinks. boo yah! miss you. xo
ReplyDeleteI mean, I definitely can't hate on San Cristobal. It's so beautiful and the living is easy. I could see myself living there.
ReplyDeleteIt's just that a Saturday night late at Zirko or Madre Tierra just feels to me like a meat market for local artesanos and guys in reggae bands to pick up backpacker girls. To me a sleazy dude is still a sleazy dude, whether or not he has dreads or whatever. I was talking to a guy one night because he was wearing a Women's Rights T-shirt from Oaxaca... then he turned around and saw one of my friends, a blonde Finnish girl with dreads, and he started yanking on them from behind her, like "Oye, oye, rubia! Rubia!".
That place Cafe Revolucion is the worst- I tend to think a real revolutionary like Che or whatever would bomb that place before buy an overpriced beer in it and listen to Manu Chau.
OK, hating complete. Chiapas Libre!