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Published: March 8th 2008
Fear. Not normally in my repertoire. But that´s what I felt as the plane swooped down upon smoggy, sprawling Mexico City. The most populous city in the world, home to 25 million people, 1 million cars, allegedly 1 million police ... bigger than the entire population of Australia. Finally, my travels south through Central and South America were no longer a pipe dream. But the fear is for an entirely different reason. You see, us Maynes girls are notoriously bad dancers and equally terrible at learning new languages. In this part of the world, respect is earned through salsa dancing and speaking Espanol. I was in over my head. A hack at both. And here I was armed only with a piece of paper with the phone number of Enrique and Linda Galacia, my new Mexican best friends, and a Central American Lonely Planet ... missing an entire chapter on Mexico City. Hola Mexico!
I expect Mexico City to be dangerous and dirty and teeming with people (hopefully wearing sombreros!). In reality, its city centre appears clean, safe, colourful and immediately appealing, if not a little over-Americanized. Historical buildings surround the Plaza del la Constitution, still decorated with Christmas decorations
and lights. An ice skating rink sits in the middle of the sunny square, a novelty apparently just for the Christmas holidays. Green VW Beetle taxis speed past on the cobbled bluestone and friendly police in tight pants patrol the corners. It´s immediately evident that the Mexican culture values religion (over 90% are Catholic), the arts, family and good food. Safely installed at Amigos hostel, welcome Corona in hand, sitting at the computer, trying to develop some sort of plan of attack, the loco hostel barman unsuccessfully tries to pour tequila down my throat! I get in contact with the Galacia family and their teenage son, Enrique Jnr. offers to meet me at the hostel the following day and show me around town, before I spent a couple of nights staying with the family. I´ve been given the Galacia´s phone number by Enrique Jnr´s generous Canadian uncle, also called Enrique, a friend of one of my Canadian contacts.
Enrique Jnr proves to be a fabulous guide, his English is exceptional, as is his knowledge of Mexico City. We begin by visiting the ornate Cathedral Metropolitana - one of the biggest Cathedrals in the Western world. From its rooftop, the
views of Mexico City are spectacular and you get a close up view of the 18 bells in the tower and the ´monkey´ whose job it is to ring them! Outside the Cathedral, a massive group of policeman in full riot regalia assemble - right next to the row of plumbers, with tools, holding signs advertising they´re available to do work. Apparently there has been some recent trouble with the opposition leader who stormed the cathedral during mass to make a campaign speech. There´s no doubt that politics and religion are very closely interlinked here. Next door, is Templo Mayor, an ancient Aztec temple uncovered in the late 1970´s. We wander around the site and check out the museum - quite astounding really that such a massive ancient structure could have been concealed for so long, right under the central square of Mexico City!
There are so many great attractions to see in Mexico City, that Enrique Jnr and I resort to the bus. I´m chuffed to discover the local police riding horses and wearing sombreros (whilst talking on mobile phones of course!). Scattered around the city, flowering pink jacarandas spill over colourful walls and fences - a distraction
from the pollution. Highlights of my grand tour include Casa de los Azulejos and the Palace of the Arts - home to some of Diego´s most famous masterpieces. Mexico City´s tree-lined main strip - the Paseo De Reforma is like Paris´ Champs-Elysees, with the Angel of Independence its crowning glory. Locals all seem very proud of their Anthropology museum - a massive, well kept, yet uninspiring ode to Aztec civilization. Next door, in the National Zoo, which resembles Ikea (in that once you get in, its hard to get out) wallabies are labelled as kangaroos and unlucky animals are crammed into too-small cages - enough to make poor Steve Irwin turn in his grave.
Day two, after a sensational feed and night´s sleep at the Galacia family home in suburban Mexico City, I join Enrique Jnr. and his Grandfather Ernesto in their daily tradition of breakfast at a local diner style, chain restaurant. Here we´re greeted warmly by the staff and much banter ensues relating to the mystery guest ordering the English breakfast tea. Afterwards, we drive out of central Mexico City to see Estadio Azteca - the world famous soccer stadium with a capacity in excess of 120,000
and University City - a massive, grassy university decorated with famous murals and a bunch of students smoking weed. The highlight is definitely Coya Can - a bohemian village with cobbled streets, cafes, bookstores and the fabulous Frida Kahlo Museum - set in a leafy garden behind bright blue walls. Having seen the movie, I was fascinated by the display of Frida´s scribbles, paintings and eccentric correspondence with influential figures of the time including Rockefeller, Gershwin and her husband Diego.
Perhaps one of the most enjoyable aspects of my time in Mexico City was the sensational, albeit carb-loaded food. I´m the first to admit, that Australian-style Mexican food is perhaps my least favourite cuisine. But man were things different in Mexico!! Enrique Jnr. hooked me up with a sensational ´torta man´ in much the same way, you might find a drug Dealer. In a dodgy looking booth, on the cramped sidewalk, beside the entrance to the Metro - with a nod and some covert gesturing, my torta man would slice some fresh roasted meat off a rotisserie and make a tasty roast meat roll, flavoured with cilantro, onions and hot sauce - all for a bargain price. Meanwhile, next
door a famed Mexico City institution - served up delicious churrus - Mexican style donuts and hot chocolate, whilst a guy sat in the corner playing a guitar. But it wasn´t all tortas and churros, around the corner from my hostel, was my ´taco man´ - who whipped up cheap, tasty, tacos cooked fresh on the street and served on coloured plastic plates - without once cracking a smile! However, the best food in Mexico City was without a doubt, the meals served up by Linda, Enrique Jnr´s mother. Once she made a traditional ´mole´ - a chicken dish served with a chocolate-almond sauce. But my favourite was definitely the pozole - a kind of soup comprising chicken, stock, white corn, oregano, avocado, lettuce, onion and pork crackle. Buenisimo! Linda´s talents don´t end there, she has generously sewn me a traditional top from the Oaxaca region - where her family originate - to take home as a souvenir.
Back at the hostel, I joined forces with a few Adelaide boys for a Friday night out on the town. Crowey, Scotty, Junior and I meet up with Lucia - a Spanish friend of theirs in the funky, art district of
La Condesa. The nightlife kicks off after 10pm in these parts and we found ourselves in a trendy bar serving enormous beers and belting out familiar tunes. The place was short of a dancefloor and unable to find a place with the right dance floor-to-queue-to-entrance-fee formula, we ended up back at Lucia´s apartment nearby for a few beers. The following day, the Aussie gang had an Irish addition - Mairt - the son of some people mum and dad met in Ballinasloe, Ireland. Saturday night, we once again hit the town, fortified with tacos from my trusty ´taco man´ for Sky Bar - a posh bar for Mexico City´s bright young things. Full of cashed up posers, it was touch and go, as to whether our travel attire would suffice, but one thing you learn quickly in this part of the world, is that being gringo works better than being a Hilton for entry purposes and we were soon whisked up to the 46th (?) floor bar. What a view! Waiters served entire bottles of spirits to tables, a sax player got stuck into some jazz, mirror balls lit up the dance floor, where disco style dancing, instead of the
Sky Bar Gang
Mairt, Elena, Lucia, Scotty, Crowey, Junior and Ifrightening salsa alternative, was thankfully the go!
Early the next morning, I caught the train to meet the Galacia family for a day trip out to Teotihuacan - one of the most famous Aztec sites in Mexico. The family - Enrique, Linda, Enrique Jnr, Linda Jnr and her husband - have brought me a broad brimmed hat, a good thing as there´s no respite from the blazing sun here. The ´Avenue of the Dead´- a long street joins the two famed temples - the Pyramid of the Sun and the Pyramid of the Moon. The former is one of the largest temples in the Americas and the climb to the top is a hard slog, but worth it! Once at the top, tourists take turns placing their finger in the absolute centre of the temple - for good luck I´m guessing - so I shoulder my way into the throng and take my turn!! After Teotihuacan we lunch at a nearby restaurant where a bunch of mariachis entertain us with traditional music. I´m sad to farewell the Galacia family - so generous, helpful and patient and leave Mexico City behind, but it´s time to board the overnight bus to
San Cristobal!
The overnight bus to San Cristobal de las Casas is expensive and accordingly fancy. On board, me and the Adelaide boys are met with nice reclining seats and a complimentary pack of anti-inflammatory tablets which have me suspicious about the comfort levels!! Fortunately, the bus driver has pedal to the metal like a maniac, I sleep like a baby and we arrive in San Cristobal to find a pretty tourist town, surrounded by green hills and full of colourful haciendas and market stalls. The locals here are incredibly short, both the elderly and young children resemble penguins and everyone stares up at us tall Aussies like we´re freaks. The town is recently famous for its Zapatistas - a mask wearing group of left wing extremists, who invaded and took over the city back in 1994 in their fight for indigenous rights. No sign of them now though! Us Aussies, along with our new Dutch friends Eva and Niek, find ourselves a dirt cheap hostel (Glady´s) featuring filthy kitchen, fire twirling Israelis and a bunch of dirty hippies swapping stories of their peyote experiences. In an effort to more effectively mingle with the hippy community, Junior purchases himself
some of the local attire, and instead of the intended outcome, succeeds in attracting the attention of the stunning Argentinean contingent! The Coffee museum is a self-service kind of experience - involving reading off a bunch of numbered laminated cards, but the coffee at the end does the job. One night we treat ourselves to a pasta and garlic bread cook up once Scotty has appropriately disinfected the kitchen and complained to the owner about its festy state. Crowey and I sample the local vino tinto and several games of popular card games uno, arsehole, Dalmonte and the decidedly less popular Flux take place over a number of days.
A day trip takes us out to Canon del Sumidero - an impressive canyon with high rock walls and crocodiles. The highlight of the day, was stopping in the town of Chiapa de Corzo for lunch and by chance stumbling across a full scale religious festival. The colourful outfits are amazing - the men wore masks, colourful capes and hats that were of the same rough material as a doormat, whilst the girls wore wide skirts, makeup and lacy tops and all participated in a parade through the town. The
daytime fireworks display was interesting - a guy with missing limbs (wonder how that happened), set off noisy fireworks, dangerously smack bang in the middle of the crowd. I still don´t get the point of fireworks in daylight - but the Mexicans love it! Our last night in San Cristobal, we spend a cultural evening a the local theatre for the ´Palenque Rojo´ dance and musical performance. The mythical story of Palenque, the mayan city in the jungle and the demise of its ruler Kan Joy Chitam sets us up perfectly for our next destination, the ruins of Palenque.
Our 6.30am bus pickup to Palenque, via the waterfalls of Agua Azul and Misol-Ha, inexplicably arrives at 6am. Stuffing our packs and making a run for it, we are last on the bus and I´m still clutching a box of cornflakes, bowls and the milk - we haven´t had time for brekkie. The boys jostle for the coveted front seat next to the driver, but he´s got other ideas and ushers them to the tight seats at the back of the bus as I find myself in pole position. Politely declining the drivers offer for me to straddle the gear
Agua Azul
me, Scotty, Crowey and Junior stick, I pass the breakfast ingredients back to Crowey and enjoy the comforts of reclining seat and pillow ... whilst the rest of the bus passengers glare at me. The bus drivers eyes all over my bare legs a small price to pay for a decent nap! On route to Palenque we stop for breakfast, a swim in the blue water of waterfall Agua Azul and a quick look at the impressive Mizol-Ha waterfall.
Everyone who visits Palenque, stays at El Panchan - a hippy, jungle spot flush with a few cabana offerings and Don Muchos restaurant - the one stop music, fire twirling, drinking, eating spot. The boys and I share a cabana at the jungle palace, more jungle than palace - a basic room with waist high walls and fly wire to ceiling, by a mozzie infested creek. After an evening reunion with Eva and Niek and a few more rounds of cards, we set off first thing in the morning for the ruins of Palenque. These atmospheric ruins, set deep in the jungle rate highly in my books and we spend over half a day scrambling over temples and other buildings that were part of this
ancient city which was abandoned in the 900´s and only rediscovered in the 1700´s. It´s cool and damp in the jungle and bird noises outweigh the noise of tourist droves and souvenir touts - a good thing.
I say goodbye to the boys the following day and continue north east to Merida. We had heard a rumour that Zapatista problems had flared up again in San Cristobel (where the boys were headed), but as it turned out I was the one who had the military run in. I was sound asleep on the bus to Merida when a soldier, gun slung over his shoulder, woke me up with a nudge. More annoyed than concerned, I stumbled off the bus for a full bag check. As anyone who has seen my pack recently will attest, it is crammed so full, I need to kneel on it to close it. So, once unzipped it took me and two soldiers to do it back up AND they got the full whiff of my manky towel to boot!! Merida gets a fabulous write-up in the LP, but it really isn´t all that great. The Cuban Jazz festival overpromised and under delivered, the square
was nice, but a little shabby, some of the haciendas are stunning, but mostly a little ramshackle and for some reason it´s the new home of choice for a large number of American expats. The best thing this town had to offer, turned out to be the extremely well-equipped Nomades hostel. With hammocks-galore and all the little touches that suggest the owner has definitely travelled and as an added bonus, the people staying here were brilliant. We spent one dry Sunday night (no alcohol after 5pm in Merida) having a big soup cook-up, playing cards and talking travel in the cute little courtyard, as a guy played his guitar in the corner.
To go to the ruins of Chichen Itza or not? Recently named one of the wonders of the world, I literally had to pass by it on the bus to get to Playa del Carmen, so I decided why not? Now I can tell you why not!! Dusty, over-touristed and full of every cliche in the book, mostly as they relate to Americans. Within minutes I had an acoustical headache from the beating drums, clapping and pipe playing souvenir touts selling rugs, hammocks, stone carvings and death
masks for exorbitant prices. Fat, sunburnt, day-trippers from Cancun trudged around the site wearing fluoro stickers and following tour guides with a stick, loudly asking stupid questions in American accents. I couldn´t wait to get out of the place.
Playa del Carmen itself was not much better. A kind of Mexican ´Gold Coast´, a mini American tourist town on the Yucatan peninsula. Possibly a good place for a holiday, if you´re loaded with ridiculous amounts of cash ... but definitely not a cultural stop or a place to pick up a bargain on the backpacker dollar. The beach itself is nice enough, but no waves and only a thin strip of sand give it a pretty low rating on an Australian scale. I only had one night here before flying to Cuba from Cancun, so I took the opportunity to stock up on supplies at the enormous Walmart and use the super-fast internet. Time to hit Cuba!!
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Andy Horsman
Andrew Horsman
Hi
Hi Ellen, sounds like you're having a ball - sadly the whiff of well-used and still-damp travel towel is but a memory for me now! Looking forward to hearing about Cuba. Cheers, Andy