The Mexico prequel
It has been a while since I last posted. After Morocco, I spent a week in Gran Canaria, and then another in Los Angeles before I boarded the flight to Mexico City. Gran Canaria, situated not too far west off the coast of Morocco, was a time for me to unwind from the go-go tour I had prior. The weather then was oft windy, and mostly cloudy, did dampen some of my beach-laying plans. Luckily, my London-based Canary Island-born friend, Rául, also happened to be there took the time to show me around town, and drove me around the island. Before going there, I did not realise how beautiful the island is. Below are some photo highlights.
After six nights on the island, I took a flight to Los Angeles via an overnight layover in London. I left my big DSLR camera at the hostel for the week, and looked for places to eat around town. And around town I did. For anyone who hasn’t been to LA, it’s a huge city, and apart from some choice spots, I had to rely mostly on the bus network to get me around. This means that for me just to go to downtown from Santa Monica, where I was based, it would take 1.5 hours one way. There were two main objectives for this leg of the trip - eat as much diverse food as I could, and catch the final episode of The West Wing Weekly podcast. The latter of which I had purchased the ticket for months and months ago, and was definitely the highlight of the trip there. To make things brief, here are some other highlights in dot-points form:
The Late Late Show with James Corden - it’s a simple process of applying for a free ticket, and I was on my way. I have been to a couple of other talkshow tapings before, so I knew what to expect. The only bad thing was that I had developed a cough when I was in Gran Canaria, and at one stage I had to hold in what could have been a massive coughing fit.
All the food - I lined up over an hour at Howlin’ Rays for their spicy fried chicken, and I’m still thinking about it now. Around Santa Monica, I enjoyed doughnuts at Sidecar, jerk chicken from Cha Cha Chicken, and The Misfit’s famous prime rib sandwiches.
Korean spa - Spa and sauna were so very relaxing, but there is also a wonderful restaurant there, where I had bibimbap and mango smoothie.
Parasite - speaking of Korean, I caught the Oscar-winning movie at the cinema.
Finally it starts
OK, the time you’ve been waiting for. After clicking on a link that was meant to take you to a post about Mexico, it took a whole two paragraphs before it starts. And even now, you’re reading some meta self-referential introduction about a Mexico blog post that doesn’t begin until a fifth of the way in. So let’s get the ball rolling.
Coming into CDMX (Ciudad de Mexico, or Mexico City for the gringos out there), I had no expectations of the place - no negatives nor positives. Similar to what I did in Sri Lanka, I arrive at the hostel to talk to other travellers to get an idea what there is to do about town, but also where else in Mexico I should also visit along the way.
Although quite hard for me to do, but I am getting better as the years pass, I really have to dig in and turn up the extroverted side of my personality. I can probably keep to myself - use my phone and iPad, but the benefit of backpacking is meeting people, hear their stories and share travel tips. You’ll see that throughout the post, unlike Morocco where there was a regular cast, there are characters that will weave in and out of my story like recurring guest stars.
Mexico to the Maxico
I am staying at a hostel about 10-15 minutes walk from the zocalo (city centre), and when I first arrive, a couple of my roommates who had been in the city for a few days already took me around some landmarks on the way to dinner. When we settle at a bustling restaurant brimmed with locals, and not knowing much about their cuisine, I order a plate of enchiladas like a gringo, basically because I know what it is. Kind of, anyway. However, one of the blokes orders pozole verde, which is a soup with either chicken or pork that comes with an array of fixings. I think I would have much preferred that. Regardless, I am not at all dissatisfied with what I ordered.
Most of the time, my first full day at a new city, I like to just walk around the city centre, without really any aim or real direction to soak in the atmosphere. If I want to turn left here, I turn left, if I see a cool building up ahead, I’ll go there. Well, that isn’t the complete truth, I do always look up where my next meal will be. With Google Maps at hand, I get my first experience and taste of the Mexican tacos. There are many sabores (flavours), most of which I am not familiar with yet, so I just order a few. It’s a very no-frills experience; just the way I like it. Each taco is made of two tortillas, and filled with whatever meat, and then it’s up to you to fill it with stuff; usually an onion and coriander mix, salsa of your choice depending on how spicy you like it, and sometimes some pickles, lettuce, and guacamole. Unless you’re going for some more exotic tacos (e.g. bistek, you can figure out what that means yourself), they are priced between 10-15 pesos each (that’s less than US$1). For me, 3 to 5 of them makes a meal.
Now for a picture break.
Wrestling with alcohol
The hostel runs lucha libre nights 3 times a week. It’s Mexican wrestling, much like WWE in the States, except they all speak Spanish so I don’t understand what’s going on, but usually it’s good guys vs bad guys. I just figure it out by the reactions by the Mexican locals, involving loud boos and hollering. But let’s rewind a little to when the night start off - we all gather at the terrace of the hostel where our host Ignacio (or Nacho) supplies us with shots of mezcal. The drink is a Mexican specialty, or more specifically, an Oaxaca (pronounced o-ah-wha-ca) specialty; a region I will later visit on my trip. It has a smoky barrell taste that doesn’t have that familiar stench of regret every time I take a swiff of tequila. There are about 8 of us from the hostel, and after an hour and 5 shots later, we make our way to the arena.
Wrestlers are dressed up in their costumes, and there’s pretend-drama terribly acted and fake fighting. So very much like the American version, but with much less frills. Regardless, I think it’s just one of those things you do, and it’s not a horrible experience by any stretch. I just don’t understand how the locals can watch more than one show, if not for special circumstances.
After the show is over, 4 of us break away from the group and head to the trendier, hipper neighbourhood of Condesa. As the clock ticks, margaritas are consumed, and I stop remembering much from then on. We eventually get back to the hostel safe and sound.
Two trips become one
For the sake of ease, I am combining my two stints in Mexico CIty into one bite-size. Well, a huge bite. Speaking of eating, I sign up to an “authentic local street food” tour on AirBnB, as recommended by an Aussie traveller. The problem with tours is that you’re paying a significant premium for the convenience and hope for authentic insights and experiences. Even though it’s a perfectly well-run tour, we end up eating a lot of tacos. The problem is that by the time I join this tour though, I had already eaten an abundance of tacos. If I had just arrive in the country, I think my impression of the experience would be different.
Frida Kahlo is a world-renowned artist, and her house in the city has been turned into a museum. The museum, located south of the city, is not easy to get to via public transport, but because of her significance in the culture, I take a long bus trip and then walk to the blue house (casa azul). When I arrive, there are two lines, one for people who had booked online, and another for those who just turn up; like me. It doesn’t end up being a hugely long wait, but the price to enter is at a hefty $230 (just shy of £10). I also opt for an audioguide for another 90 pesos and then 30 more for the privilege of taking photos. I hadn’t seen the movie, or really knew much about her, but there’s no doubt that she was very talented. The museum takes you through the house, with rooms containing some of the artworks she had done, while the audioguide covers her motivation in them, such as her tumultuous relationship with Diego Rivera, and her life with polio. Overall though, I wonder if in hindsight that if the museum itself is worth the money I spent? Probably not. But having the experience to learn more about the country’s cultural history is important.
On a Sunday, and I remember it’s a Sunday, and on the recommendations of others, I go to the Anthropology Museum. Unlike the journey to the Frida Kahlo Museum, this is a single bus ride from the hostel. In case you’re wondering how I remember it was a Sunday, when I enter the museum, the ticket office is closed and looks like I can enter for free. To be fair though, I’m not sure if that’s the actual reason, but I made that connection in my head.
The one thing I really don’t like to do is to visit museums. I like modern art, and maybe a good interactive science museum, but generally anything to do with far far history bores me, and some parts of this falls into that category. Trips in Japan and China have involved going to some of these, where they have pots and spearheads on display, and so now I just don’t really care about these artifacts of the past. I have similar feelings of churches/cathedrals in Latin America and Europe or temples/pagodas in Asia. There are so many of them, I’m numb to anything similar, even if they’re all so slightly different.
A sol-sol experience
Do I have to explain the title of this section?
Just outside Mexico City, is an ancient Mesoamerican city called Teotihuacan (tay-oh-ti-wa-kang). Since it’s a relatively simple journey over there, and because there’s a boardgame of the same name, I decide to catch the bus over in the morning. As you can see from the photo above, there is very little shade available when you are there, but as an Aussie, we were drilled into our brains the importance of applying sunscreen. However, while my skin is protected, the sun beaming down at me with nowhere to take a break is not a comfortable experience.
When I arrive at the entrance, a random man approaches me with tickets, and having travelled in these tourist-trap locations, I am always wary of anyone random offering any sort of help. However, the guy is standing right by the entrance holding tickets with those anti-copy reflective stickers on it, I hand over the cash for one.
Upon entering, the Pyramid of the Sun (Piramide del Sol) is right in front, with the Avenue of the Dead going to the Pyramid of the Moon. The photo above is taken from the latter pyramid, looking towards the Sun Pyramid. There isn’t much to do there apart from climbing up on both of these pyramids. Well, perhaps “climbing” is a little bit hyperbolic, but some of the steps are pretty steep, and tall, which I find counter-productive when you consider how much shorter people are back in those days. I wonder what compelled them to make such hard work for themselves. Speaking of heights, I do want to mention that even comparing to my short-self, some Mexicans are really short! While I’m in Asis, I feel like I’m amongst my people, but in Mexico, I sometimes I feel like a 6-foot man among the 5-footers. Their height, or lack thereof, has something to do with the elevation of certain regions, I’m told.
As a Brit now, I should quickly discuss the weather here. During my first stint, the day temperature was hovering around the mid-20s, falling to a much colder 12-15 during the night, requiring additional layers and changing into trousers. However, two weeks later, it’s much warmer, adding about 5 degrees to both the max and min, where you can probably brave the night-time wearing the same thing you wore just a few hours before.
So that’ll do for the Mexico City part, and I’ll wrap it by reiterating that I had no expectations coming into the city, but now that I have been there, I think it’s a wonderful, and vibrant city. Even now, I’m thinking of how I can maybe stop by for a few more days when I will have to eventually leave the continent.
Going to what now? Learn Spanish in Guanajuato.
If I need to explain my heading, you probably don’t know that the letter j is pronounced as a hard h in Spanish, like how Stewie from Family Guy would say “cool whip” (cool hwhip). Former London-resident Dan gave me some notes on his trip for Mexico, and one of the towns he (and Jodi) visited was Guanajuato; 4 hours north of the capital. Additionally, he noted that he did Spanish language classes there. Given that I am going to be in Latin America for 5 months, it is probably a good idea to get a better grasp of their language. It never hurts to learn more languages. It’s also the first time that I have taken a Mexican intercity bus, and it is not cheap! A little less than £20 for a one-way 4-hour trip seems too much, but it turns out it’s a premium bus. Before you board, you are given food and drink as you board, and when you are sat down, everyone has their own entertainment unit like you have in a flight. But of course, it’s in Spanish.
When I arrive, I am relieved that there’s Uber available, despite the town being on the smaller side. The benefit of Uber is that you select the destination in your phone, so you don’t have to do the whole bit where you have to explain where you need to go; like when I was in Gran Canaria, I needed to take a taxi back to the hostel, and I ended up telling the driver to take me to the casino, which was only a few blocks away. The first two nights I am staying at a boutique hotel - time to pamper myself with my own space with privacy and my own bathroom! It’s a little bit out of the city centre, but that doesn’t bother me too much, I end up spending most of the time watching Netflix and YouTube. On the first night, I even order my dinner from Uber Eats.
After the weekend, I return to hostel life, closer to the centre, and also closer to the Spanish school. This hostel though is up a 165 steps, and actually quite steep. This means that for a week, every time I need to go to school, grab some food or whatever, I need to walk back up these steps. As the week goes on, it does become easier. Unless you’re staying at a hotel or hostel right in the heart of the town, people are living up on the side of the hills. When I move to an AirBnB the week after, it, too, is up on a hill, but is instead on a slope. The benefit of both of these accommodations is that it offers a great view over the town.
With 2 weeks at hand, I get to familiarise myself with the surroundings, and I can just soak in the atmosphere of the place. Given the hustle and bustle of the big city that I had just left, this is a good change of pace.
Hitting the streets
I sign up to 2 1-hour sessions a day, for 2 weeks. Across the two weeks, I learn about grammar and improve my vocabulary. However, because I’m starting right at the beginner level, by the end of it all, I still haven’t learnt much about the tenses (especially past tense, which is apparently much more difficulat). So, for now, I can say what I’m doing now, and a little bit of what I’m going to do. There is no point recounting every single class that I attend, but overall, it’s been a worthwhile experience, especially at such a lovely location.
At the hostel staying in the same room, is tall lanky Dutch boy, Felix, is on a slightly condensed trip in Guanajuato. As I head to school one day, he buys tickets for the callejoneadas for that evening. The show consists of a few members playing instruments, and a guy who hypes up the audience, but is also talented at dancing, and as the night continues, he becomes the narrator of stories. From the audience reactions, I think he’s supposed to be quite funny, and the young man is getting some attention from some of the women as well. At the start, the band plays some music just outside the church in the town plaza, and is performed only in Spanish. About half an hour in, we all get up and the whole group take on the streets still playing music, but stop every now and then for some story…which I do not understand. At some stage, we arrive a bar where we can grab some beers and for them to collect our tickets; we had wondered why we even had to buy tickets before then. It is there where we meet American couple Mel and Graham, who are also as clueless as me as to what is happening.
One of the famous attractions in the town is Kiss Alley, and there’s a Romeo-and-Juliet-esque story about how a man and a woman living across each other at a narrow alley where their balconies are close enough for them to kiss. The story ends in tragedy as well, with both of them dying as their relationships start to blossom. This part of the story is re-enacted by a couple from the audience who is told what to do by the narrator. With some rough knowledge of the story going in, I at least understand what is happening from their actions, not necessarily from their words.
After the show and the crowd disperses, the group of us decides to hit a bar to drink and chat. The place that we go to has a 2-for-1 special on margaritas for 90 pesos. When you have a deal like that, you can’t simply just turn it down! I share my Instagram account with Graham, so that I can contact him when we ever overlap somewhere in Mexico.
Andele to San Miguel de Allende
After my first week of classes, comes a long weekend - there is coincidentally a long weekend in the country - Constitution Day, or if it’s in Spanish, it’d be literally translated to Day of Constitution, because that’s just how the language is. Upon speaking to people in Guanajuato, the town attracts a lot of domestic tourism, which is an interesting thought that rarely crosses my mind. I, too, have travelled within the UK and Australia as a resident, but when I’m overseas, while I regard everywhere as tourist spots for a foreigner, I never consider what is considered touristy for the locals. It certainly explains the uptick of people in the city centre throughout the weekend.
Anyway.
San Miguel (de Allende), is an even smaller town in Guanajuato (state, Mexicans love being confusing, because there is also a Oaxaca state and city, but I guess New York is the same) that is lined with baroque Spanish architecture (see above). On the east side of town, the streets goe uphill, and there’s a viewing spot where you can see the whole town and beyond, but it’s one of those spots that have annoying trees that kind of just stick out so that I can’t take a decent enough photo. I think what I end up with in the photo above is a little more interesting, with a bit more layers and depth.
Honestly, there isn’t a huge amount of things to do in the town, but to walk around and admire the architecture. There is also a section of the town that have some great street art, but unlike say the works of Banksy on the streets of London, or the ones you find in Georgetown, Penang, the art here are murals - large pieces that cover a whole wall of a building or fence. In fact, Mexico has a history of muralism starting in the 1920s depicting political and social messages as a way to reunify the country after the revolution. One of the famous painters commissioned is Diego Rivera, who you may have read in my paragraph about Frida, was married to her.
Six or so hours, a plate of guacamole with tortilla chips and fish tacos later, I get on the bus back to Guanajuato.
Will this post ever end?
Man, I feel like I’ve been writing this post forever; I still haven’t covered and will not cover everything. Remember, this is part 1. ONE. This is 2.5 cities. Ok, let’s keep going.
One of the distinct features of Guanajuato are the tunnels that run below, allowing traffic to move in and out of the town easily. The tunnels were once used as a way to prevent flooding, but over the years, the issues have been fixed and the burrows that run underneath now have been repurposed for vehicles to drive through.
WIth only 4 days of classes left, and also in the town before I return back to Mexico City, I venture out to the mines.
Or at least I thought.
It turns out that when I arrive there on an Uber, the place is closed, as I had neglected to check their opening times. They seem to be only open on the weekends, and the journey I took was mostly for nought. Instead of calling another Uber back into the main town, I decide to walk instead. Coming to the mines required going uphill, but going back down should be much easier.
Or at least I thought.
Not having paid much attention, the roads going back are windy with no real sidewalk or pavement (look, Aussies and Americans call it “sidewalk”, and Brits call it “pavement”, and now I don’t know what to call them, except that I am so used to say “sidewalk”), and Google Maps are routing me around non-existent paths. About halfway into my trek back home, I take out my phone to load up Uber to book a ride to the Mummy Museum.
You might think to yourself “why are you going to ANOTHER museum, when you said you don’t like going to museums?”. Honestly, because I did not get to go to the mines, I felt that I needed to go somewhere else instead of just going back to the town centre or just back to my accommodation. And immediately upon entering the museum, I feel uneasy and unsettled seeing the mummies on display; unlike the ones I have seen before, they are mostly intact and whole, the skins and meat haven’t been totally rotted away, propped up behind glass cabinets. They remind me of the photos in The Others (a horror movie starring Nicole Kidman), where they had dead people dressed up as if they’re posing for family photos. I think in the end, I spend only about 15-20 minutes in there.
It’s Friday, and it’s my last day of classes. After the usual end-of-week lunch with the school, follow by yet another group photo of all the teachers and students, I hop onto the bus back to Mexico City.
Reunited with familiar faces
Since they will pop up at least once more in future posts, I will mention that Graham, Melissa and Felix, those who I had met in Guanajuato are also in Mexico City, and on the night after the AirBnB food tour, I join them at their fancier, more expensive hostel for a couple of more margaritas and attempt to dance to some rather undance-able songs. At one stage, Felix, now joined with some friends from home, go out to some concert, the rest of us stay around before we go to a hipster-looking bar nearby to end the night.
While these guys opted for a swankier abode, I’m paying half that cost that is only about 200 metres away from the first hostel I stayed in. Even though it’s only a short distance away, it feels decidedly sketchier, not dangerous, but I just have a more uneasy feeling when I go out to dinner. However, I must add though, just around the hostel is a place where I discover birria; a meat stew originating from the Jalisco region of the country. It’s accompanied by the usual accompaniments, so that you can make tacos out of the meat in the stew if you wish to do so, but I mostly just consume it like I would an Chinese soup.
It’s finally time to end, and move on. Next stop, Oaxaca!