Mexico City- Ciudad de Mexico- D.F.- A Weekend

Oversleeping is never a good way to start a trip...but alas, we did. Our bus was leaving from the San Miguel station at 7:00am on the dot, and at 6:30am we were walking out our door worrying if there were even taxis in our little neighborhood that early in the morning. Practically running to our little church, we luckily found a cab, flew down the hill to the station and ran from the taxi right onto the bus. I thought it was a miracle we made it at all. With a giant sigh of relief, the three of us fell to sleep. Taking a first class bus to Mexico City is actually really easy and comfortable. We used the bus line ETN and arrived in D.F. at 10:30...a half hour late due to traffic.

In preparation for our trip to D.F., we read a lot about fake taxis that pick you up and then rob you. So we were pretty nervous in general about taking taxis. Eleanor told us that you have to buy a ticket from the taxi stand in the bus station and then you will go to a long line of taxis at a cab stand that will take your ticket. We did as we were told and right when we got into our taxi, the driver leaned over and locked all of our doors. "Oh boy," I thought, "Mexico City really is as dangerous as the rumors had it." The taxi ride was twice as much as any in SMA and the driver had to keep looking at maps before we finally arrived at our little hotel.

The hotel was on a nice street and I was so excited to make it to our destination. After trying to get into the wrong door...twice...we finally made it into the courtyard. We were greeted by the owner who was very kind. He let us know that the room we requested was not yet available and that he upgraded us to a King Bed room. We could then decide which room we wanted when the three bed room was ready. (Online we were promised a queen bed and a twin in the same room) He then brought us to have breakfast in their dining room. We were brought menus and when it was time to order, whatever Ronnie asked for, the waitress shook her head and pointed at the French Toast. Ronnie pointed again at the egg dish he wanted and she once again shook her head. (I was busy talking with the owner about subway routes and such) Finally Urian and RC called me over to do some translating for them so that RC could order what he wanted. But for some reason the owner kept talking to me and so I missed what the guys were asking. I finally ordered and it turns out, what I ordered was what RC was trying to get but she wouldn't let him have it. So for some strange reason I got the egg dish and RC could not. It was very confusing and made RC, understandably, a bit grumpy. We continued to wait for the 3 twin bed room to be ready as we were told it would be by the time we finished breakfast, so after 20 minutes, we decided we needed to get a move on to see DF. We told the owner that we would just keep the upgraded room and if they could please bring in an extra bed or rollaway for Urian to sleep on. "It will be done when you return," said the owner. Leaving our things in the king room, we headed off towards the subway station.

The subway was the cheapest I have ever seen. 2 pesos. That's 20 cents. We got on the wrong train at first then once corrected, headed to Coyocan, where Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo had lived. The subway was like an oven and so we got off a station early and decided to hoof it several blocks to Frida's house. The guys weren't that interested in the museum, so they went of to find a bar for some refreshments, while I wandered into Casa Azul, wide-eyed and heart beating rapidly.

The house was simply amazing. It was like you could feel the couple walking around, talking, laughing, entertaining guests, with all of their pet birds, monkeys, dogs and cats. I could feel the intense love the couple shared, but at the same time, I could also feel the pain and heart brake radiating of the electric blue walls. All of this emotion combined with the vibrant colors of the house and gardens made for a shaking experience. In the museum, there were sketchbooks, unfinished paintings, books from the couple's collection, photographs of family and stars from the day with personal notes to the couple, letters sent throughout their marriage that you could read, the bed Frida passed away on, an urn with her ashes and much much more. It was one of those places I had always hoped to travel to someday, and finally being there felt so magical.

I went outside to meet the guys but they weren't there yet. It began to sprinkle rain mist, but it didn't bother me. I was still glowing from the experience. Finally, the guys stumbled down the street, apologizing and laughing. Apparently they had a couple beers and a couple tequilas with the bartender while I was in the museum. They had bought me a frog made of telephone wire as an "I'm sorry," gift. It made me laugh and I said it was no problem. Luckily there was a taxi stand in front of the museum so we hoped into one on our way to floating gardens of Xochimilco.

The ride was longer than we expected as it rained and we hit traffic. Our taxi driver taught us how to spot fake taxis and we counted about 15 on our way to the gardens. Once there, we were the only ones ready to go out on the colorful boats. It was raining after all. Our taxi driver said he would give us deal to go back to our hotel after the ride. His asking price seemed crazy to me, but Urian, being used to San Francisco taxi prices, thought it was a bargain and agreed. We hoped on one of the boats and took off on an hour tour of the floating gardens.

Xochimilco is just beautiful and the light rain hitting the water made it all the more magical. The boat is pretty simple and pushed along by one man with a giant stick. The only place to sit is a long table with many chairs in the middle of the boat. After going for a little bit, a really sweet family in another boat pulled up and offered to sell us some beer. We were an easy sale, and were hungry for lunch. She made us some of the best quesadillas I have ever had. We ate, I think, three each and bought one for our boatman. The family stayed with us most of the ride. There was something so serene about being out on a little boat, eating hot home-made quesadillas with chicken and cheese, sipping cold beer and looking out at the rain on the river with Ronnie and one of my best friend's Urian. It was one of the most special moments of my life. We all knew we would never forget that experience. The ride ended all too soon and we were back at the taxi driver.

On our drive back to the hotel, we had crazy conversations with the taxi driver. After many beers, Urian was pretty chatty and both he and the taxi driver kept using me as the translator. Ronnie seemed in a daze and half asleep. On the way, we drove by many shops that we decided looked like a good afternoon walk, so we had the taxi driver drop us off there. Before we got out, the taxi tried to talk us into letting him take us to the pyramids tomorrow for once again, I thought, a crazy price. Urian felt he had bonded with the taxi driver and so to make things easy, we decided to say yes. I was a bit disappointed as I wanted to hear the history of the pyramids in English and I was doing the translation for this guy. But "ni modo," I thought. It will be fun either way.

We got let off in a sort of strange shopping area. Everywhere I looked, were Farmacias. (Pharmacies) We wanted to do some clothes shopping so we wandered for blocks and blocks, going in and out of stores, never really finding anything, until all the stores closed. Luckily, we eventually found a subway station and took it back to our hotel area in the Zona Rosa. While walking through the Insurgentes stop, we passed many kitchy restaurants, none of which looked very good, but we were all a bit hungry. We settled on the last restaurant on the row. Turned out to be a bad idea as the food was really bad and expensive.

Finally getting back to our hotel, we were dismayed to find out that an extra bed had not been brought in for Urian. I went to the front desk and found that the lady there did not speak any English. So I used my Spanish as best I could to explain our situation. She said they were all still waiting to see if we still wanted the room with the 3 beds. The lady and I went up to look at the room which was much smaller than the king room. I told her that I needed to ask my friends what they wanted and she seemed very frustrated with me. She said I needed to hurry up and decided as the staff was about to go home. I guess she didn't know we were promised the bed to be ready in the king room already. So to make matters easier, I said we would stay where we were but needed an extra bed. About 10 minutes later, a couple showed up to our room with a pair of sheets, a Dallas Cowboys blanket and an old quilt. I honestly thought they were going to set him up on the floor. Turns out the couch in the room had a pullout bed. The sheets they brought were for a twin size bed and so they didn't fit the mattress. Neither did the blankets. At this point I was getting pretty upset. It was not fair for Urian to have to sleep on one of those awful things. We pulled the mattress on the floor and the bar in the back was imbearable for him. Finally, to calm my nerves, I went to go take a bath...but sadly, I learned there was no hot water and the tub was leaking all over. That was the last straw. I went to the internet cafe nearby and booked us a room in the Sheraton Centro Historico for the next night...for the same price as this bad hotel. It's funny, once you are angry with a room, you start to notice things, like that old smell that lingers, how all the windows face right into the main courtyard and people walk by and look in, to the 3 old towels we were given, to the leaking tub that soaked the whole bathroom for the whole night, the stains on the blankets...this recommended hotel turned out to be a nightmare.

None of us sleep well. Poor Urian had been hit with turistas and felt terrible. We couldn't wait to get out of there. I went to the front desk and told them we had to check out early and I had them call the crazy taxi guy and cancel. We then went to the Sheraton which felt like a dream come true. It was a BEAUTIFUL hotel and a much better place for Urian to recover. He needed to lay low for the day, so after a great breakfast, Ronnie and I hopped on one of those double decker buses that take you on a tour of the whole city. Turns out, that night there was going to be a march protesting all the drug violence that has been happening in Mexico and that we may not make it back to our original stop. We decided to take our chances. The tour was amazing and well worth it. 3 hours, in English, on a beautiful day. Ronnie got a pretty bad sunburn as we forgot sunscreen. We had a nice lunch near the Zocalo and did some more shopping. People in white started showing up everywhere so we knew they must be for the march. We went back to the hotel to check on Urian, who was still under the weather. By now, there were thousands of people in white and so we couldn't really leave the hotel. Room Service was out of our budget so we went downstairs and found a McDonald's. We got a sandwich called the McNiffica, but the only difference from normal sandwiches was that it had tomato on it. We decided to call it an early night and keep Urian company in the room. We were able to watch the march from our window.

The next morning after breakfast, we took the mostly better Urian for a walk around Bella Artes and around the Zocalo. Ronnie had a huge craving for sushi so we stopped at a place. It was just okay and by this time, Urian was feeling ill again. We rushed over to one last market for some last minute shopping I wanted to do, before heading to the bus station to board our first class bus back to our beloved San Miguel de Allende.

Being back in such a big city after 2 months was strange and wonderful at the same time. It was so fun staying in a fancy hotel and eating first class breakfasts there. A lot of Mexico City is so beautiful...with it's tree-lined streets and amazing historical buildings, but a lot of it look to me like Los Angeles. (Or LA looks like DF?) I do miss the urban lifestyle at times. Going from living in the middle of San Francisco to a small casita in Central Mexico has it's differences, that's for sure. But coming home to SMA felt like we were landing on a big, soft, down pillow. It felt so good to be home. We do miss the city life, that's for sure, but the simple life we are living now, feels so gentle, warm and comfortable.

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