This was my view of the Zocalo from my hostel room.
The Zocalo of Mexico City is a magical experience I got to repeat five times. La Catedral Metropolitana, El Palacio del Gobierno with the amazing Diego Rivera Murals, the Aztec Ruins, the street performers, and the people, oh the people--tons and tons of people. Unbeknownst to me, everything shuts down pretty early and it's a bit dangerous around there at night (different than the centros of most Mexican cities) but during the day, it's fantastic.
I reunited with a friend from school in the "Zona Rosa."As always, a taste of past life makes me hyper-conscious of a) how much not just time, but life, has passed, and b) how much I've changed. Getting a shot of Wisconsin in the midst of Mexico City was a good juxtaposition of me-past and me-present (it's all about me after all, right?) But, aside from the extensive self-analysis, it was great to see RS and get his take on his experiences since school, and meet his traveling partner and here about his experiences living in India and Pakistan!
The next day, I spent a whopping 3.5 hours in a bank trying to make an international transfer from Mexico to Norway. Way to go HSBC. The thing is, Mexico City is actually pretty efficient and fast-paced. Unfortunately, the transfer had to be approved by the branch in Yucatan since I haven't changed my address and well...este...five phone calls, two emails, and three and half hours later they finally came through. No magic there.
Not my preferred way to spend my first morning in DF, but it was compensated by spending the afternoon "dando una vuelta" (going for a drive?) with my super-cool horn playin' friend JCQM. Mexico City is like 350 worlds in one- you can go from beautiful university campus to neighborhood where the economy is based on stolen car parts in a matter of minutes. I enjoyed getting the world-wide tour.
EC showed up Tuesday evening and we did some restaurant hopping as we caught up on the changes of the last year--lots of different experiences, lots learned, lots to talk about.
Wednesday was market day which meant a large amount of incredible sights (huitlacoche, pictured above), cheap food (the cake made out of cookies "takes the cake") , and Mexican men shouting "Guera (white girl)!" repeatedly at the top of their lungs. My favorite were the garlic stands (piles and piles of all types of garlic-you could smell it long before you could see it, of course) and the brujerÃa (witch magic) stands with animal legs and reptile skeletons and various skulls just hanging there. When we asked what they were for, our friendly brujerÃa salesman responded, "Que traigan galanes (to bring attractive men)" with a smirk. It was an ideal afternoon, well worth the sunburn and some sore feet.
We took off for Angangueo around 4 in the afternoon in order to visit the butterfly sanctuary the following day. Arriving around 8:30 we dropped off our things and headed towards the fairy-tale-like food stands by the cathedral. Michoacan seems to be big on sweets- candied figs, peaches, pumpkin, guayaba, and who knows what else. They eat the super sweet treasures on bread, like a candy sandwich! We passed on the candied fruit, and went instead for "hotcakes" with cajeta (check it out EC-heh heh) and fried plantains with canned peaches, cream and jam.
We shivered back to the posada and dove under the covers in attempts to get some rest before our trip the next day. That may be the coldest I've ever been in Mexico!
The next morning we caught a bus up the mountain, literally. EC and I have ridden a lot of buses in our time in Mexico, and neither of us had ever quite had an experience like this one. Creeping along the side of a cliff, going around curves and enduring some significant humps in the road on the rickety old bus was an adventure, to be sure. The driver and his near-by assistant didn't seem too worried though- they traded places at one point without even slowing down! Once the bus dropped us off we were escorted up another road by an elderly gentleman, and introduced to the couple that would end up being our excursion companions (words can't describe these characters-I'll leave that for EC to chuckle about on her own).
I don't know which was more surreal, the massive amount of butterflies (yes, all that "stuff" is butterflies!) or turning the corner at the beginning of the trip and coming upon a full soccer game (11 on 11) on a sort of plateau in the middle of nowhere at 8:30 in the morning. I wanted to join in, but resisted and sat down for some blue corn sopes and quesadillas instead. Then we headed into the woods to see the butterflies. Unfortunately, it wasn't a very blog-friendly experience, as the feel of the air, the view of the layers of mountains, the sound of the earth underfoot, the sound of the butterflies flapping their wings, the height of the trees, the peacefulness, doesn't transfer so well to my virtual explanation. Needless to say, it was magical.
We explored the woods a bit, kept our heads tilted to the sky to see the huge amounts of huddles of butterflies hanging on the branches, still sleeping in the shade. As the sun came over the hillside they woke up little by little, and we ended the visit sitting on the open part of the mountain chatting and watching the butterflies emerge, more and more, until they were flying all around us.
For more explanation, check out the Journey North website.
We got back to the soccer game (now substantially less active) and had some more quesadillas and some seriously magic mamey ice cream, then back to the bus-stop, where we caught a taxi to take us back down. Then a bus back to Mexico City...and we left the whole thing behind like a dream.
Friday we spent in two more enchanted places in DF: Museo Dolores Olmedo and Coyoacan. The museum had some fantastic pieces of Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo, plus a visiting exhibit from the Walker in Minneapolis! But the estate in which the museum was created was the real treasure. And the peacocks. Tons of peacocks. And peacocks are cool. Coyoacan was mostly about the churros, clowns, coffee (bad as it was) and crafts. Too full of people (due to some festival because of vacation) to really enjoy, but I got enough of a sense to know that I'll be back.
That night we went dancing with the aforementioned JCQM. I think the other girls in the hostel were jealous when they saw me put my sparkly shoes on... "Are you going out? Where? How? Is it dangerous? Where could we go?" I had to admit that I wouldn't go out in Mexico City without a male friend from there with a car. Then I had to apologize that I couldn't invite them along. I'm thinking of suggesting to my friend that maybe he could make some extra cash by just escorting nice white girls from the hostel out dancing on Friday nights. But I guess it doesn't really work that way.
We didn't do much dancing, but the few times we did were successful, and a great time was had by all. Especially when we arrived at the totally crowded "Chupacabra" taco stand under a bridge- who knew that was the place to be at 2 in the morning in Mexico City.
Saturday morning we ate at the famous Cafe de Tacuba (the atmosphere better than the food- just like Lonely Planet said!!) and said our goodbyes. Hopefully I'll see EC on this side of Mexico City sooner rather than later! I headed off by myself to Texcoco, a short bus ride southeast of the city.
JCHD picked me up at the bus station and we headed to his native pueblo- Santa Cantarina del Monte. It's true that my previous experience in Texcoco was not exactly positive. On the way to the pueblo I began to change my mind, but I couldn't have prepared myself for the magic in store. We arrived at NC's house (the location of the party which got me there in the first place) a little earlier than expected (or only 45 minutes after the time he told us to get there, instead of an hour and a half) so JCHD took me to visit "the water source." I was confused for most of this journey- as we drove through some pretty rocky terrain, and then walked through rockier, he kept talking about "tubing the water" and being nervous that we were going to get wet. I figured it was just a language problem so after asking a bunch of questions and still not understanding, I went back to my standard smile and nod.
We hiked through the forest- across a little stream, around the kids having a leaf fight and rolling in the dirt, past various families that were picnicking out there, and even by a little snack stand someone had set up in the middle of nowhere (sooo Mexico!) and finally arrived at this huge cliff, fenced off, with water running down it's side. Things began to be clear- in a country where nobody drinks the tap water, people in this pueblo DO, because it comes straight from this absolutely pristine source. Magic. And beautiful.
We walked slowly back, appreciating the quiet of the forest. I still didn't understand why we were going to get wet (all the water was basically contained) as JCHD maintained, but I just went with it (a skill I've developed in the past few years, in case you hadn't noticed). Back to the car, back to the road, no getting wet. Then we came driving around the corner, and I saw up ahead 4 little boys, eyes sparkling, grinning ear to ear, holding buckets and poised. JCHD yells, "Get the windows up" and we do just in time, before they throw the buckets of dirty water (this from a not pristine source) all over the car. Everyone in sight was laughing to tears- who knows why, I guess it's just the simple pleasures and things that make you feel like your four again that really get to you. The boys ran back for refills and chased after us again while I realized that this was in fact a long standing tradition and my friend had probably been one of the little boys twenty years ago.
Texcoco and surrounding pueblos is known for being the birthplace of more musicians, especially brass players, than probably any other one place in Mexico. I'm still not sure why (could it be the water?) but I love that it's so. N and J described to me how when they were growing up everyone would practice outside their houses in the evenings, the sounds of trumpet, clarinet, horn, trombone, oboe, etc. mixing and echoing through the hills. A few hours into the party we heard a trumpet sound come from the other room. Most everyone present being a musician, conversation ceased and someone went to find the source. Shortly thereafter emerged a sweet little 6-yr old boy, holding a small bugle or something. He proceeded to play a C-major scale, up and down, in tune, with a quite desirable sound. Magic.
The final uncanny event of the trip was la Feria del Caballo, which we went to after the party. Imagine a state fair, crowded beyond belief, and 100 bandas. In case you don't know what a banda is- here's an example. And yes, I said 100. The sea of people separates them, and as I understand it, you just stand right in front of the one you paid to hear a song from, so they sort of drown out all the ones nearby. The singer is helped by everyone singing along (no amplification) and well, there you go. As someone said to me once- Mexico is probably the only country where it's actually cool to play the clarinet or the tuba. I guess I understand now how these guys get so good at playing loud and high...
Well, that was long, but there you have it. Central Mexico is a completely different world than Yucatan (food, music, culture, people, climate, and more) and I think I like it more!
P.S. As soon as EC sends me more pics, I'll add more respective photos.
1 comment:
Wow, sounds like a fun time. So different than Germany...well, except for the soccer part.
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