From Ticul to Campeche City via Hopelchén

 

Internet is not a problem: we are in San Francisco de Campeche, also known as Campeche City, the capital of the province of Campeche. This wasn't exactly where we had planned to be overnight, but it proved to be the simplest and most logical solution.

Yesterday morning at this time we were sitting on a stone bench at the collectivo station, our backpack stowed in the back of the van to make sure that it came along. We had said our goodbyes to Theresa, our wonderful host at El Jardin, sent on our way with a hug and 'Vayas con Dios'. Remembering at the last minute I asked her about a fruit growing beside the entrance to her place that I had never seen before. It is a caranbola, and she gave us one to taste. So far I haven't been able to find out the English name.

 A young woman with a cute little girl was waiting with us at the collectivo station. The collectivos supposedly have a schedule to which they adhere – kind of. The day before we had taken the same one, and it left a few minutes after ten, which would be perfect timing for the journey ahead today: we needed to catch the 10:30 bus to Hopelchén in Santa Elena. The young woman asked the driver of the collectivo – who was sitting on the curb on the opposite side of the road with his phone – about the time of departure and was told it would be 10:15. This might make it a bit tight since the drive takes 20 minutes, but what could we do? We had no idea how easy it would be to continue from Hopelchén to Xpujil anyway; the only information we had been able to get on 'Rome2Rio' (nothing else anywhere) was that there was one bus per day, no time given.

Around ten a few more people arrived, and in the end we left almost on time after all, thus had about ten minutes to spare if the 'Sur' bus was on time. In Santa Elena, the collectivo driver pointed out the place where we should expect the bus to Hopelchén. We waited in the shade of some trees beside an older gentleman who came in the same collectivo. 'What language were you speaking?' he asked us in English. Ha! This was the first person beside two travellers at our hotel who spoke English, and he was from here! What a lucky break. His English was not perfect but quite adequate, certainly much better than my Spanish. First we made sure that we were waiting for the right bus, and in the right place. No problem: he wanted to take the same bus, though only until Bolonchén, the station before ours. He told us to get out at the supermarket in Hopelchén, and from there a collectivo would be able to take us to Xpujil.

The bus arrived shortly after 10:30, and a handful of people got on with us, joining another handful that was there already: this is the route from Mérida to Campeche. Between Ticul and Santa Elena already we noticed (smaller) corn fields, no longer the seemingly impenetrable scrub and trees. Now, the fields got more numerous, and their size increased. While at first we wondered if they had to be harvested by hand there was no question anymore: these needed machinery, even though many of them were interspersed with little trees. In Mérida at the bus station we had noticed women in dark dresses and big hats and men with checkered shirts, suspenders and straw hats: Campeche has a sizeable population of Mennonites, and about fifty families reportedly live in the Hopelchén area. 

They are successful farmers, and what we saw now certainly supported that. The closer we got to our destination the bigger the fields got, well tended, many now either close to being harvested or freshly harvested, newly cultivated, some with rows of newly emerged little corn plants. Modern machinery appeared here and there, big, well-kept farm yards became part of the landscape, trucks loaded to the gills with workers on their way to fields with crops emerging from long rows covered with plastic. We were not able to identify what kind of crops they were, possibly melons or cucumbers, some fields with stakes for climbing support. A few cow herds were visible, too, but not a whole lot.

A surprisingly wide road with trimmed trees, nice sidewalks, benches and exercise equipment led into Hopelchén, the most favourable impression for me yet: usually the outskirts of a town are the most desolate. When we turned towards the centre the usual array of narrow streets prevailed; yet the town gave the impression of being relatively modern and well tended. We arrived at the supermarket after an hour and a half of travel from Santa Elena. Asked about the bus to Xpujil our bus driver told us that the bus left at 8 pm – and there was only one bus per day going there. Well, that would mean a collectivo, then. Johann retrieved our big backpack from the belly of the bus, and we looked around for the collectivo our friendly travel companion had mentioned. Nothing beyond the usual array of motorcycle taxis, however. A Mennonite couple was sitting on a low wall, and, assuming that we might get information in a language more familiar than Spanish, we approached them. Yes, they nodded, smiling, they spoke both English and German. No, we would not be able to take a collectivo to Xpujil; maybe to a small town half way, but that wouldn't help us much. This was not good news: the prospect of waiting for eight hours in Hopelchén, then taking a bus on a reportedly poor road, arriving close to midnight in unfamiliar Xpujil – no, that didn't sound like a good option.

      What then? Our bus was still there, ready to depart for Campeche City, and quickly we decided to board it again and spend the night in this port city. The bus driver looked a little surprised, but for another $4.50 each we got our tickets to Campeche. The bus was still almost empty until at one stop a group of school kids in uniform got on. It was fun to watch them, acting like 11 or 12 year-olds anywhere, teasing each other, tussling, probably with an eye on the bus driver in case they were going too far. Shoving and laughing they got off about twenty minutes later. On this leg of the journey we passed citrus, papaya and coconut palm plantations: it obviously is a fertile area.

At the terminal of 'Autobus Sur' in Campeche, now with an internet connection, we were able to search for and book a hotel for the night in the walled city, about a fifteen minute walk away, and we recharged our 'Ahorro bus' card for the trip to Xpujil today.

It's getting close to checkout time now, so I will post this and continue later.