It is only a short distance from San Cristobal de las Casas to Puerto Arista on the Pacific coast of Chiapas but these are definitely two different worlds. When my somewhat insane friend Wes Nations and I left San Cristobal it was in the mid-50s with a little bit of rainy season gloom in the air. Three hours later after one of the most spectacular drives on the planet, listening to beach tunes on the radio and plenty of storytelling we arrived. We had no plans, no reservations and not a lot of common sense; all the right ingredients for an adventure!
At the beach in Puerto Arista it was hot; mid-90s and humid but there was a nice breeze blowing. Since we were very hungry as we pulled into town we made the mistake of accepting directions from the first restaurant hawker we saw. After parking and the hawker introducing us to his boss – to make sure he got a commission – we were directed to a small table on the quiet beach. We obviously got the “gringo menu” because prices were handwritten and as we later learned about double other places in town; still much cheaper than comparable food in the US but that isn’t the point. Admittedly it was a beautiful spot, the grey volcanic sand was well groomed and the beers were cold. We should have moved but everything was just too agreeable, and the food was delicious. Next time I will protest by moving. Maybe.