The Lice Guys in Chiapas: How a Hostel, a Revolution, and a Few Lice Eggs Changed Everything

By The Lice Guys

Hey there, friends — it’s Enzo and Giuseppe, checking in from deep in our memories and a little deeper in the jungle. Before we were running a mobile lice salon in Austin, before we had kids who think “bluebonnets” are a reason to stop on the side of the highway for family photos, we were just two younger, dumber Jersey guys living in a small mountain village near the Agua Azul waterfalls in Chiapas, Mexico.

Now, before you get the wrong idea, we weren’t hiding out from the mob or anything. It was the mid-1990s — the height of the Zapatista movement — and we were just a couple of dreamers. Enzo was there to learn indigenous cooking techniques (he once spent three weeks trying to perfect a tamale stuffed with goat cheese and cactus). Giuseppe? He was there to “absorb the culture,” which mostly meant sunbathing and reading half a book.

The Lice That Launched a Legend

One weekend, we decided to take a break from village life and head down to San Cristóbal de las Casas, a colonial city with cobblestone streets, strong coffee, and — as fate would have it — an infestation that would change our lives.

We checked into a tiny hostel run by a cheerful woman named Rosa and her husband Miguel. But as soon as we tossed our backpacks on the bunks, Rosa came rushing in like her hair was on fire. Turns out, her guests were the ones on fire — or at least itching like crazy. The place was overrun with lice.

Every pillow, every blanket, every unsuspecting backpacker — crawling with what the locals called piojos.

Giuseppe looked at me and said, “Buddy, looks like we picked the wrong weekend for a nap.”

The Great Hostel Delousing of ’96

Now, you gotta understand, we’d already learned a thing or two about lice from our Sicilian grandmothers. Heated stones. Olive oil. Patience. But this was no small job — we were talking dozens of travelers, every head a potential outbreak center.

First, we had to make sure no one else got infested. “When is lice not contagious?” one guy asked. “When it’s dead,” Giuseppe answered. (Still one of his finer moments.)

We got to work — section by section, combing through every guest’s hair. Enzo, ever the chef, mixed up a concoction of lemon juice and local coconut oil. Everyone asked, “Will lemon juice kill lice?” We told them it might sting, but it sure makes the place smell better.

We explained the difference between lice eggs (nits) vs dandruff — “See that? If it moves, it’s a problem.” We taught people what to look for: lice on the scalp, the tiny lice larvae, and the occasional louse egg glued tight to the hair shaft. Giuseppe even started referring to them as “tiny soldiers of the revolution.”

By sunset, we’d turned the hostel into a full-blown lice removal operation. Buckets of hot water, towels steaming on lines, and travelers lined up like they were at confession.

Heroes, or Just Two Guys with Combs?

When it was all over, Rosa and Miguel were crying tears of gratitude (and maybe relief). They offered us free lifetime stays at the hostel — a deal we’ve held onto ever since.

Now, every two years, we bring our families down for a week in the summertime. Our kids chase butterflies, the wives drink iced coffee in the courtyard, and we keep an eye out for any stray lice bug looking for trouble.

We joke that the hostel is where The Lice Guys were truly born — not in some boardroom, but in the backroom of a mountain guesthouse, surrounded by half-backpacked hippies and a line of nervous travelers asking, “What do lice look like?”

From Chiapas to Austin

Today, we’re still fighting the good fight — only now it’s not in Mexico, it’s right here in Texas. Our tools are better, our hands a little more tired, but our hearts? Still in it. If you ever need help, come see us at our lice salon in Austin (conveniently located in your own home), where we trade jungle humidity for Texas heat, and every treatment comes with a smile (and maybe a story).

Because whether it’s a village in Chiapas or a classroom in Round Rock, lice are the great equalizer. And we, my friends, are still scratching our way to victory.

Stay itch-free,
Enzo & Giuseppe — The Lice Guys