Killing Time

I´m writing from an internet shop outside the bus station in Pochutla, otherwise known as Mexico´s Suratthani, to which only Linds and Chantelle can relate. It´s essentially a place people only ever go out of necessity- if you run out of money on the beaches and need a bank machine, or if you are catching a bus out of the shithole. I arrived here with the Brits, who have long ago caught their bus towards Guatemala. We said our goodbyes over a couple of beers and a spliff on the curb just down the street. I´ve been here since 530pm, it´s now 830pm, and I still have 2 hours to wait. And then comes the 12 hours on the bus, that is if there are no delays, and there always are. I bought 2 Gravols in one of the 50 pharmacies I´ve walked past so far for 5 pesos a piece. Then I wandered around the town square and watched some junior high volleyball. I then proceeded to eat an avocado bun and drink some liquid yogurt on the same curb as I had the beers with my departed friends. I´m bored as hell.
I had the option of catching a ride in a Blazer with this crazy Mexican hippie I met last night. He was telling me all about this experience he had with 6 other people, walking through the desert of Northern Mexico eating Peyote. It sounded good last night, not so much this morning, but as I sit here it´s beginning to sound good again. It would have been really tight though with the 3 Quebecers who were also riding with him.
Mazunte was beautiful, and I think I´ve got a bit of a tan somewhere under the layer of red. Both Zipolite and Mazunte were real laid-back, chilled-out places with great vibes. It isn´t high season yet so it´s hard to find much of anything going on, but that´s part of the charm. What I desperately need is to do some laundry, but I´ve been putting it off in this heat, because everything just gets so sweaty and grimy and sandy right away anyways. My next destination, San Cristobal, sits at a higher altitude and is therefore much colder. I can´t put off my chores any longer once I´m there.
I´m off to stretch my legs before the Gravol-induced semi-slumber on the night bus to Chiapas.