Teotihuacan

My posts are like busses, I don't bother for a week and then two come along at once.

Went to the gym on Tuesday. Now I know some people might, perhaps justifiably, think I am a narcissist and a poser, but there was a guy in the gym taking pictures of himself. It's bad enough when people take pictures of themselves in the mirror and put it on facebook, but surely that is going too far.

On Wednesday I went to the fair, which was located in the section of Chapultepec which I have tried to find on many occasions. I went with Suha, who drove, so this time there wouldn't be a problem. Except I failed to underestimate quite how dreadful Mexico City is for not signposting anything (more on this later). After driving around for ages, and asking several people, we finally found it. I was planning on going to Six Flags later in the week, so wasn't overly concerned about going on the rollercoaster, especially as Suha didn't want to. We went on a couple of bizarre/shit rides (one was a simulator and it was sooooo bad, it was about the same level of bumpiness as the city's roads), I persuaded Suha to go on 'Crazy Mouse', which was a cross between Chessington's Rattlesnake (amazing ride) and the good old fashioned 'Waltzer'. Later we went to the Haunted House, which is the main reason Suha wanted to go to the fair in the first place. It was actually quite scary, although being the ultra-brave person I am, I ended up leading the group round, and didn't break into a run at any point. This caused a problem for the staff/actors as I was holding up all the groups behind, and for everyone else in my own group, since they had to endure being scared witless for longer. However, since I can't understand Spanish, any instruction or plea for me to hurry along a little fell on deaf ears. The height of my braveness came when a guy (in a mask) having an exorcist style fit (complete with moving furniture) leapt from his bed and ran towards the group. I immediately let go of Suha's hand and broke for the door, very much with a "save yourself" mentality. Suha fell to the floor screaming, but that wasn't my problem anymore, I was free.

On Thursday I was going to Teotihuacan, also known as 'Las Pyramides' (the reason for this name will become obvious shortly, if you haven't already guessed). The plan was to head out quite early, in the hope that it wouldn't be as busy, but even though a leaving time of around 8am was ideal, a fairly late night on Wednesday meant that I would settle for a bit of a later start. Veronica and Suha both said they wanted to come with me, and I was glad to be having company for the outing. I told them to be at the hostel for 10am. This was clearly a little optimistic, and Suha finally turned up at 12. We met Veronica at the Metro station, but she was also late and we didn't get on the train until 1pm. We then had to get to get a bus which took the best part of an hour.

This now brings me to one of the most frustrating aspects of life in Mexico City; There is very little guidance to anywhere, regardless of whether you are a local or a tourist. I wouldn't expect tourist information booths round every corner, but honestly, unless you actually know exactly what you are looking for and where you need to go, you're stumped. I alluded to this earlier about finding the mystery section of Chapultepec Park, and in previous posts about how taxi drivers don't know where anywhere is, and you end up having to give them directions. For example, I went to the Metro station the other day, and knew roughly where it was. I was walking along the road and only managed to find it because I walked past the entrance - even from 20 metres away, there is nothing to signal that it exists. And so, back to the Teotihuacan bus... that's what it is called. The bus stops briefly and it sounds like the bus driver may have said something. However we were near the back so it was little more than a muffle. Add to that the fact that nobody on the bus got up to leave, so we didn't think anything of it. The next thing I notice, is we are driving past a turning labeled 'Pyramides'. This alarms me, and on checking with another passenger we realise that we missed the stop and now had to get off at the next village. It annoyed me immensely that there wasn't more effort on the driver's part to bring attention to the fact that we had arrived at one of the biggest tourist attractions in Mexico, and that perhaps there might have been non-locals on the bus who might need to get off!

On arriving at the village, Suha asked a few people how to get back to Teotihuacan, and we ended up walking. The time was now 3:30pm and I was getting a little bit agitated because I was worried it might shut at 4. We finally got our tickets and discovered that we were ok. It was 3:55 and the site closed around 5:30. We made our way across the ancient city towards the largest temples, the Temple of the Moon and the Temple of the Sun. Personally I think the Aztecs missed something by not having a 'Temple of the Wind', since that seemed to be the main weather type present.

I was planning on climbing both temples, but Suha and Veronica were both against that idea. I tried to persuade them but they weren't having any of it. We were having to scale and descend several times en-route to the main site, and I was also feeling a bit tired, plus I wasn't sure how my knees would hold out (they're no better since I've left. It's quite depressing.)

Temple of the Sun. I was going to climb this bad boy.

As Suha and Vero took their seats (and to be honest, I saw them as spectators, who had come to cheer me on throughout my ascent, but when I returned I discovered they had been buying things from the local tradesmen instead. I even have photo evidence from the top of the temple to prove this. Typical), I begin the climb. I have already thought about which music I needed to assist me, and the choice was obvious. Theme music from Last of the Mohicans. As the violins churned in my ears, I kept walking. I was getting tired but the music helped me push and not to stop. I avoided using the handrails, and took pleasure in passing others who clearly had not thought about such motivation techniques. As I reached the summit, the song smoothly transcended from the steady solo violin into the epic triumphant string section. It was perfect. I realise that I am extremely sad for taking such pleasure in this, but anyone who has ever played Mario Kart with a carefully selected soundtrack will appreciate the extra dimension music can add to an already unforgettable experience.

If the wind was strong on the ground, then you can imagine what it was like on top of the pyramid. Nevertheless, the views were phenomenal and the feeling I had after reaching the top was amazing.

View from the Temple of the Sun

After this, there was only one thing left to do - climb the Temple of the Moon (you can see this pyramid in the picture above). I convinced Suha to climb it too, as it wasn't as big, but Vero didn't want to. I blame it in on smoking. It was a shame though, since Veronica had never been to Teotihuacan before, and I actually preferred the views from the Moon temple, although it wasn't as high. Suha complained a little bit about being tired once she reached the top, but I think part of the enjoyment is that it does take a little bit of effort, and it makes the view and the atmosphere a little more special. After Suha went back down I decided to stay for a bit and once again had some music to enhance the mood (Eddie Vedder - Long Nights. Awesome.)
Teotihuacan was quite a tiring excursion (I'd like to point out the the Temple of the Sun isn't that enormous, not like climbing Everest or something), but one which was definitely worth it, and even though we turned up about 5 hours later than I would have liked, in the end it worked out ok, since by this point in the day, it wasn't very busy either. I fell asleep on the bus home.

[Clockwise, L to R:] View from Temple of the Moon; Teotihuacan; Suha trying to deal with the windy conditions; Looking across the Aztec city; Veronica; Conquering the Temple of the Moon.

You cannot appreciate how inexplicably bloody difficult it is to put pictures side by side on this blog. It's taken me about half an hour.

Adios!

Twig

Fiesta Mexicana!

During the day on Saturday, I went out to the shopping centre across the road and hoped to find a guitar to play. Just because I haven't played one since I left. I didn't want to impress anyone, or feel like I needed a guitar to justify my current position of "traveller", I just miss it. Luckily I found a spot in the store focusing on musical instruments. There was an electric guitar, which was out of tune, and an acoustic guitar, which was locked on its stand. The bass guitar wasn't really going to satisfy my craving, but it was better than nothing. Until I realised it only had three strings. And so the void in my life continues for a little while longer...

In the evening there was a party at the hostel. There had been parties the previous two nights which I had made an appearance at, but Saturday was supposed to be the main one. It was a costume party, but because I hadn't been sure whether I would see Makocha this weekend, I hadn't actually organised anything. There were a few people from the hostel going who didn't have costumes, it wasn't mandatory, but a most had made an effort. Fortunately, Beatriz had a spare 'Mexican Wrestler' (Luchadores) mask for me. Unfortunately, it didn't fit too well so I spent the entire time walking round with my eyes half closed, stitching grazing my forehead and concern about my inevitable 'post-wrestler-mask' hair.

Whitney's mask was clearly a much better fit than mine

Another English guy, Pranav, had moved into the hostel on Thursday night, who worked for BBC Sport. He had a fair bit of time off, and his job included doing the live commentary updates for Cricket (I wasn't able to discuss much on this topic, but remembered to inform him that Flintoff was on my flight), Rugby and occasionally football. I was quite envious of his job, but apparently his department is steadily having to move to Manchester, which was enough for me to reconsider probing for details as to how to get such a role. Pranav actually moved out Saturday afternoon when he heard about the party planned for the evening. It was understandable; he was still suffering from jet lag, and didn't want to spend three of his five nights in Mexico City not sleeping due to the parties upstairs. I mentioned to him about possibly going to the football the following day though, and he seemed keen.

Which brings me to.... Sunday 24th October. 17:00. Club America vs Guadalajara Chivas. The two biggest teams, in terms of levels of support, and naturally, levels of hatred amongst other supporters, in Mexico. Venue: Estadio Azteca. The fifth largest stadium in the world, but the biggest 'well known' one. A capacity of 105,000 and has held two World Cup finals, as well as being the setting for the infamous 'Hand of God' goal.

Nine of us left the hostel at 2:30, and we met three others on the way, after we had eaten at a market stall. It seemed to take a lifetime to decide how to get to the stadium, and once we were there there were more reasons why we had to wait to buy tickets (during which time Molly was interviewed by national television. I wouldn't have minded doing it, but not being able to speak the same language as the interviewer would have been a considerable barrier). We finally purchased them at 16:57... Pranav and I were getting a little restless; for most of the group, this was a day out at a football match, to me (and probably Pranav too), this was a football match which was doubling up as a day out with friends. No football fan likes to miss the kick off, which is what we managed to do, despite leaving the hostel 2.5 hours before the match...

Nevertheless, the main thing was that we were seeing a game at this stadium, and what a stadium it is. There are no seats inside, just rows of concrete. Due to our late arrival, there didn't seem to be any spaces for twelve bums, so we kept climbing the steps until we reached the very back row. It was high, but the view was still good.

Estadio Azteca: Club America v Guadalajara Chivas.

Beatriz was adamant that we would be supporting America. I was happy to go along with it, seeing as they were the home side, although I would have preferred to cheer for Chivas, as they play in red and white stripes, the Colungas support Chivas, and America are known to be media favourites, yet generally disliked amongst those who aren't heavily influenced by the press. I was surprised however, at how much the fans mixed, outside and inside the stadium. People with Chivas shirts sat alongside those sporting America colours, and even the 'Ultras' appeared to be no more than flag-waving-jump-up-and-down fans, rather than the brawling, missile-throwing nutters I was expecting. Maybe that's a good thing, but it seemed people were more intent on eating, chatting, taking photos and unthinkably, even the one thing no true fan should EVER do at a football match... having fun.

The Azteca is the third World Cup final stadium I have visited this year. Wembley in March (I think it was March...) for the prestigious Johnstone's Paint Trophy, and the Olympic Stadion in Berlin for a drab 0-0 between Hertha Berlin and Vfl Bochum. Having seen one game abroad end in a 0-0, I was hoping for a little more excitement, and definitely at least one goal in Mexico.

Final Result: Club America 0 - 0 Guadalajara Chivas.

Balls. By the end I was cheering anyone who came near the penalty area, but it wasn't to be. In a sure sign of a dull game, the Mexican waves started near the end. Normally I'm not a fan of these, but as I was in Mexico, possibly in the stadium where it gained its notoreity, I was happy enough to participate.

[L to R:] Sara, Chris, Carlos, Molly, Beatriz, Whitney, Eduardo, Whitney, Pranav, Me, Suha, Hugo.

After the football, a few of us were led by Hugo and Suha (who work at the hostel). I thought we were heading to the Metro but they were looking for the fair. It turned out that we had been going the wrong way and it was all a bit confusing. We spoke to the others, who we had separated from, and decided to meet them for dinner in Coyoacan. Before we hailed a taxi, Chris decided to nip down a side-street for a quick toilet trip. As we waited on the main road, about 30 seconds after Chris had disappeared, a police car emerged from the same side road. Whitney was quick to observe, stating "I hope they haven't just seen Chris". Then the car door opened, the two policemen got out and marched back down towards the beleaguered urinator. At a cost of 200 pesos, it was certainly the most expensive piss Chris hasd taken in a while, but a bribe was a better option than an arrest. Once this incident had passed, we all clambered into a taxi and headed for Coyoacan. When I say 'all', I mean 6 of us, and when I say 'taxi', I am talking about a normal saloon. Hugo and Whitney shared the front seat, whilst Suha sat on the floor in the back. Naturally, because the football had just finished, almost every other vehicle was a police one, and it seemed inevitable that we would get pulled over by the same policemen who had just busted Chris in the alley, and on seeing his face they wouldn't be overly happy.

But fortunately, we were ok, and got to Coyoacan without any problems. The Bazar was also open, so I managed to get Makocha the gift (because I'm going to leave soon) I had travelled to Coyoacan for on Thursday without success. We ate at a nice Cantina, although sometimes the number, and brashness of smokers in Mexico can be quite annoying. It's a shame people have to light up every few minutes, but especially when you're confined to a seat and have food in front of you, it would be nice if now and again smokers had the courtesy not blow it straight into your surrounding air. Before we headed into the Cantina we were stood in the Coyoacan plaza, and Quentin Tarantino walked past. I only saw him from the back because I'm generally pretty terrible at noticing things when I'm out and about (there have been so many times in London where a friend has said "did you see her?" and by the time I've emerged from my daydream and adjusted my short-sighted eyes the girl in question has gone), but it was still cool that he was there!

I have more to write about, but will either update this post or make a new one later.

Twig

Due to disillusionment with the tools at my disposal on this website, I am intent on not making any more posts

Oh go on then. And I would like to state that despite how the title of this post may appear, I have always had total belief that this website can help me fulfil my blogging ambitions for a long time to come.*

The reason there haven't been many posts this week is because I haven't really done much. On Saturday I was feeling better but in the end I didn't get up to much. Then on Sunday, I felt ill again. I went to see the doctor on the Monday and started a course of antibiotics. In a bid to recover properly, I stayed at Makocha's house in Sayavedra until Wednesday morning. In that space of time the only thing of note I did was finish my book ('Eleven' by Mark Watson. I thought it was great, in case anyone is looking for a good (and fairly easy) read) and watch a film called 'The Ultimate Gift'. Not only was I feeling pretty dreadful, but this weekend also saw the good performances in the sporting world coming to an end, with Saints and the Falcons both losing.

My eventual return to the hostel was met by much rejoicing, and news that the internet wasn't working. Even though I shouldn't be using it much, when one isn't feeling great and can only really muster enough energy to 'hang about', such news can be rather devastating. Nevertheless, there is a nice little coffee shop next door which has wifi, and also sells tuna, mayo & cheese crepes. We got the internet back Thursday night at the hostel, but over the past two days, the staff at the coffee shop have got to know me and my tastes (I only like a little bit of Mayo & Cheese) well. In the evening I headed out to a bar called the Black Horse with two new arrivals at the hostel, Miriam (a Norwegian girl) and Chris (half Mexican half British). Miriam is here as part her medical training, and was telling me about some good places to visit near Puerto Vallarta, which hopefully will come in handy later in my trip.

Thursday I decided to head to Coyoacan, the district where I went with Makocha and Alonso during my first weekend. It was a bit of journey to get there, and I was disappointed to find that the Bazar, the main reason why I was going, was closed. So I wandered round for a bit and sat in the sun to eat some M&Ms. As I left the station there was a man handing out free cereal bars. I took one, and made my way up the stairs where I passed a woman begging. I couldn't understand why she didn't wander down and get some of the free bars.

Today I spent a good few hours walking.  Chapultepec is an amazing park. It is so vast that for most of my walk I could only see one or two people in the vicinity, yet I would stumble across an amazing monument one minute, before sauntering through what felt like an enchanted forest the next.

I was also determined to seek out the two lakes which I had twice previously set out unsuccesfully to find. the problem with the area of the park I needed to reach however, is that it is situated on the other side of a main road. And a main road in Mexico City is pretty big. Imagine two M25s alongside each other cutting right throught the middle of the city. I make it so far towards my ultimate destination but trying to navigate all the roads becomes a bit of a nightmare, so I ask two security guards who are conveniently loitering nearby. They send me down a road (convincingly so) which leads me back to where I had started. By this point I had been walking for 2 hours and not eaten anything for about 5 hours, so decided to give up. It is quite frustrating that Mexican people generally don't know where anything is, yet at the same time always have an answer to your question. I even provided the map to these guards, and asked them where our current location was, and they still couldn't manage it.

I spent the final hour of my excursion ended back on a grassy, kind of peaceful (it would have been extremely tranquil but for the main road 20 metres away) verge alongside the only lake which hasn't eluded me. I listened to some music and then to and audiobook and struggled to keep myself from sleeping in the sun.

Maybe this weekend will have some more interesting stories and photos, we shall see. I'm glad to be feeling a bit better, and hope that dreaded food poisoning doesn't hit again. I still need to visit a couple of the places in Mexico City which were on my 'absolutely must do' list before I arrived!

Twig

* Just in case you are totally bemused, this is a reference to the Rooney saga at United this week...

Not a great deal to report...

On Wednesday Beatriz and I went to Castillo Chapultepec, which is an old castle situated in the park,  on a hilltop so that it gives views over the city. The views were awesome but the photos never really captured how good they were. It was enjoyable to walk around but I wasn't overly captivated by the rooms etc, and because my Spanish isn't great I didn't really have the chance to learn much either. I'm glad I went though.

[Above, left]: The gardens inside the castle were pretty impressive, like something out of Alice in Wonderland. Not ideal for playing football in though.

[Above, right]: Here I am, not looking at all like a tourist, holding a stupid pose.

On Wednesday I also went to the gym. I know that is a bit of a lame thing to do when you're supposed to be on holiday, but I miss not going, and the idea of going skinny or fat whilst I'm here is not appealing. The gym was pretty awesome, if a bit run down, and only cost a couple of quid. The downside was that there was no water dispenser and I didn't have my own bottle. Oh well.

That evening, the plan was to head for a night out (up to this point, I've had a lot of fun, but haven't actually had a proper 'night out'). I met up with Beatriz, both Whitneys and Rafa (from Cuba) at a restaurant first. I had some Chicken, which was nice enough but after we left I was a little concerned that my stomach wasn't feeling great. Probably just paranoia mixed with indigestion.

We end up going to the Mojito bar which James and I had been to, albeit antisocially, last week. Beatriz and I had a go at joining in the salsa dancing, and at one point they were even teaching some steps. I thought this would be an ideal way to improve but alas, it was just too difficult. I'd be just about getting to grips with one or two steps and suddenly there would be this crazy move than I can only describe as "turning around". That, unfortunately, is not yet part of my repetoire, so I sat down and had some tequila.

We left the Mojito bar and the night started to drag. We tried another place with live music, but I was starting to feel a bit tired, and still a bit bloated from dinner. In the end we went back to the hostel, my first big night coming to a close at half-past midnight and after one solitary drink. I stayed up for a little longer but was starting to feel a bit sick, which quickly morphed into ridiculous fatigue. It was soon obvious that I wasn't well. I'll spare you the details. I went to bed hoping that I would be ok in the morning.

I wasn't. I spent pretty much all day in my room, and in bed on Thursday. My only trip out was to the Pharmacy in the evening, to load up on any kind of tablets which would speed my recovery. By Thursday night I was feeling a little better but hardly got any sleep because I was getting terrible stomach cramps all night (this may not have been helped by the fact I had my first gym workout in a month the day before).

Just after I had unsuspectingly polished off the piece of chicken which would sideline me for the rest of the week...

Friday I was still in pain, and also very tired due to the lack of sleep, so again spent most of the day hanging around the hostel. I was in a bit of a better mood though, and an afternoon nap made sure I was ok to meet up with Makocha's cousins at the Hippodrome that evening for some horse racing.

My temporary Mexican mobile has conveniently decided to switch network lines and I have no idea how to switch it back. The superb by-product of this being that I am no longer able to make calls. This is extremely annoying when you're trying to meet up with people and haven't got a clue where you're going. 

I would have arrived at the hippodrome on time, but the taxi driver was a bit of an idiot. It seems that most cab drivers don't really know where anywhere is, and I normally end up having to supply a map for the journey. My conversation on this occasion went a little like this (translated into English, although the original was in Spanish):

Before getting into the taxi (the hostel manager had already informed the driver where I wanted to go):

Me: "The Hippodrome de las Americas?"

Driver: "Yes"

Me: "On 'Conscripto Avenue', yes?"

Driver: "Yes"

30 minutes later, we are on Conscripto and have been going along it for a while. I feel like we should have arrived by now, and am now a few minutes late.

Me: "From here, how long will it be, two minutes?"

Driver: "Well this is Conscripto, but I don't where you want to go"

Me: "The Hippodrome?!"

Driver: "Ohhh, that's back there, on the other side of the roundabout!"

This, coupled with the fact that when I arrived, I didn't have a clue where to go and there were absolutely no instructions as how to reach the stand, made me extremely annoyed. However, I got there in the end.

I bet on three races, won on the second of three, and came extremely close to winning on the third as well (you could either bet on the top three, or specify the order. I decided to take a risk and predict the order of 6-2-4 and it finished 6-4-2...). Now, I'm not the sort of person who revels in victory, especially when there is cash at stake, but it was nice to have some success to go with a fun evening.

Hipodromo de las Americas

I am now back in Sayavedra. It is nice to be in the comfort of a proper house, particularly at the moment when I still don't feel 100%. Hopefully the next blog update will see me feeling better and having a few more things to report!

Twig

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People!

Some of you have mentioned that I haven't put any pictures of people on my blog yet. As a result, I have posted a picture of some below. They are all very good friends from my time in Mexico so far.

:-)

In all seriousness though, I will be adding one or two pictures to previous posts, as well as trying to include more in future ones of actual human beings that I have interacted with on my travels!

I have also just discovered how to fully justify (i.e. "alignment", not "vindicate") the posts. Excellent, I much prefer it.

Moctezuma, Cocoyoc, Gyros y Mucho Cansado

On Thursday I visited the Templo Mayor museum with Beatriz. This is in the very centre of the city, and the site of the ruins of the Aztec city of Tenochtitlan. It's hard to believe that these temples and artefacts went undiscovered for so long, underneath the busy Metropolis we know today as Mexico City. The museum also contains the history of Moctezuma, the leader of the Aztecs when the Spanish first arrived on the shores of the Aztec Empire. There are also hundreds of artefacts in the museum and within the ruins which have retained some of their original colourings, often as tributes to the gods. My knowledge of these areas was helped by the fact that I played Hernan Cortes in an Aztec play when I was aged 10, as well as being familiar with the Aztec god Coatlicue due to collecting Monster In My Pocket.

As much as I tried, it was very hard to imagine what the city must have been like. I wish I could have a few moments seeing it in all its glory. [Left] is a picture from my visit, and below it, what Tenochtitlan looked like during the Aztec period.

One thing that I did think was strange, is that the Aztec city and civilisation feels so ancient that it almost seems unreal. It is so difficult to imagine what life was like, yet Moctezuma reigned from 1502 to 1520, which is about 400 years later than my University was established, yet for three years I wandered round the streets of Oxford not really thinking much more than "bloody tourists...".

After the museum, we were joined by Beatriz's friend Whitney, from San Diego, and we went to Zocalo, the main square in Mexico City. There is a magnificent Cathedral, both inside and outside at the edge of the square. The Cathedral inside was very tranquil, but outside there was a Death Metal band playing, which was peculiar, especially as they weren't even very good.

Later we went for a coffee at a bar which overlooked the Galleria Belles Artes, before heading back to the hostel. In the evening, Beatriz, James and I were joined by two new arrivals at the hostel, Chloe and Donna (both from England) and another of Beatriz's friends called Whitney. This Whitney was from Atlanta, but she didn't support the Falcons... I thought I might be able to piggy-back on some of Neil's Georgia Tech knowledge, but alas she didn't like them either. We ate at a bookshop; there was a restaurant upstairs and it was really cool. I wasn't sure what to get to go with my Michelada, and then I saw it... Chicken Gyros. It was a no-brainer... but I was bursting with questions -  would the wraps have chips inside, would I need to know the Spanish for 'No Tzatziki', and would I end up asking for an extra large portion only to be disappointed in my inability to finish it?

For those who aren't aware, every year when I and several other seriously cool dudes go to Greece, we always go to the same restaurant and order Gyros. Pretty much every night. On this occasion however, there were no such problems. The food was amazing, chips were served separately, and I manage to polish off the two wraps, albeit with very little to spare.

The next day I was going to Cocoyoc in the evening, a town 2-3 hours (we'll come to this later) outside Mexico City. Because I needed to meet up with Makocha and Alonso, I didn't have much time to do much, so I went to.... the Zoo again. I saw the Pandas, but they weren't doing much (probably why they're in such a crisis. Lazy). I thought the Panther was pretty cool:

I was, however, a little disappointed that it didn't look up, with this telling expression:

I set off from the Hostel at 4pm, because I needed to head back to Makocha's house to collect some things. In the end the traffic was pretty bad, so we turned back and I would just have to get by without whatever it was that I needed to get. The traffic in Mexico City is horrific though. I hate queueing (not sure if this is the correct spelling, but I like the fact it has 5 consecutive vowels), and hence I hate traffic. Like most people I expect. I know that in London it can be bad, but being here, as well as what I have witnessed in Russia and India makes me realise that I should try and be a bit more tolerable back in England, as it really isn't THAT bad. Anyway, we then had to pick up Pablo, Alonso´s friend, who lived just around the corner from my hostel. We got to him at 8pm. Very annoying, I could have spent four more hours singing 'the Bare Necessities' to the Panther if I had known. We finally arrived in Cocoyoc just after midnight. So that was about an 8 hour journey... like I said, the traffic here is infuriating to say the least.

I was feeling pretty tired by this point, and said to Makocha that even though I would have liked to have stayed up and meet her friends, I was too tired and planned to go straight to bed when I arrived. Yes, I know, I am lame. Alonso convinced me to stay up for 1 or 2 drinks, and someone decided to start a game of 'Kings'. I perked up a little, and later even managed to trick Sara and Alonso into 'riding the bus' (it's a card game, before anyone jumps to any frightful conclusions). I chatted to Azu quite a bit, mainly about music, and she told me that she wanted to go to Glastonbury next year. She didn't know Reading Festival, so I was unable to impress her with stories of being on the big screen during Andrew WK. I had a feeling it was time for bed, so checked the time... 7am. Jesus, I certainly hadn´t seen that one coming. Party Hard.

Woke up at Midday, and sat in the sun for about half an hour. We had to head back to Mexico City because Makocha was going to a family event. So a few more hours in the car ensued, and by now I really was struggling, as the roads are so bumpy, getting to sleep in the car is near impossible. I join Makocha (and Alonso) for the family event, because basically I have no choice. The main reasons why I was hesitant about going along initially were 1) it's a family thing, I'm not family, and everyone will be speaking Spanish. 2) I'm hardly dressed for the occasion, I´ve got shorts and T-Shirt on compared to everyone elses trousers & shirts, and 3) I am fucking knackered.

The family have booked a number of tables in a section of a hotel. It feels a bit like a wedding - round tables free flowing alcohol, 4 course meal, singers performing outside, with crowds of people making their way onto and off from the dancefloor with each new song. I did feel a little bit out of place at first, but Makocha´s family (all 60 of them) made me feel very welcome, and I thought how it is a shame that events like these are so uncommon back home. I quite wanted to join in the dancing at some point, but didn't want to make a fool of myself. In the end, Makocha's cousin Carolina was kind enough to teach me a little. She said I was good, but I took that more of a morale booster than fact, although in fairness, I think I managed to avoid being utterly malcoordinated. Perhaps it was the pressure of having the entire family watching us. Once again, I was pleased that I managed to overcome my tiredness, and had a really good time.

The following day (Sunday), I followed up on the football and NFL results (once again, good news, that's 4 wins out of 4 since I've been here!), and sat in the garden listening to Jack Dee's autobiography. Yes, I come to Mexico in hope of finding a 'new me' and I am listening to the story of someone who grew up in Winchester, then lived in London, and spends most of his life complaining about one thing or another. I'm not sure of the exact connection, but whilst I was listening to this, I thought about one of the oldest, most basic jokes about the chicken crossing the road, and realised that in my 26 years, I have only just 'got' it. Because no-one has ever really mentioned it before, I decided to look it up. According to Wikipedia, "this answer's obviousness and straight-forwardness becomes part of the humour". Oh. So my thoughts that "the otherside" referred to the chicken dying and going to heaven were totally fatuous... What do you think? Maybe I'm right and Wikipedia is wrong.

Anyway, sorry about that, the last thing this lengthy post needs is a digression about bloody birds. That evening Makocha and I are invited to her cousins house for some food, some tequila (which conveniently, nearly everyone else had an excuse for not drinking) and some games. These included a card game called 'Cambio', Uno-Stack and an interesting game involving a glass, a coin, kitchen roll and a cigarette. I will be bringing this idea home with me. Being both Mr Pessimist and Mr Competitive, with every turn I was convinced it would be the final straw, yet in the end managed not to lose any of them. It was a fun night, but most people have to work on Mondays, so we headed home before it got too late.

[Above, L to R]: Makocha, Nataly, Caro, JC, Martha & Octavia.

Monday was almost an exact replica of the previous Monday. I just hung about in the house relaxing and playing the piano. I bloody loved it. Today (Tuesday) I have returned to the hostel in Condesa. Beatriz is still here but the others have moved on. It's quite quiet, but at least I have had chance to hog the computer and update this.

Hasta la vista


Twig

Hostels!

Tuesday morning was my first day staying in the town centre and in a hostel. Hostel Condesa sounded good from the reviews, and in reality it was ok. However a big drawback was that no-one spoke English. Whilst I feel a bit bad for not having a good enough knowledge of Spanish to be able to chat to the people I encountered, it was quite limiting. Also, the people I met weren`t exactly friendly... I was wondering if this was to be expected... I decided to go to the Zoo during the day on my own. It took me a while to get there, because, perhaps in a typical British fashion, I hate getting a map out on the street and looking like a tourist. Instead I prefer just to sort of... `guess the way`. This can end up being a little bit stressful but I got there in the end. The Zoo was great, a bit like London Zoo although a bigger range of animals. The Orang-Utans, Rhinos and Giraffes were particular highlights, but the Jaguar was the best.

I got back to the hostel and was feeling pretty tired. I was even in a room on my own, but in the end that worked out quite well as I was able to get a good amount of sleep. In the morning I determined to walk about 20 minutes North to another Hostel I had read about called Hostel 333. Upon arrival, I was met by Veronica who was instantly more friendly than those at Hostal Condesa. After a couple of minutes of chat, James popped round the corner and introduced himself. This place also had a cool roof terrace and better sleeping accommodation. And it's cheaper.... so, bit of a no-brainer really. I marched back towards Hostal Condesa, heaved my big rucksack onto my back and set off for my new destination. This is the third trip I had to make between the two Hostels this morning, but as well as being more excited about Hostel 333, I also imagine I am an American Football player and walking with this huge bag on my back is my training for playing in pads. I'm pretty sure everyone I passed felt this vibe and thought I was incredibly cool.

When I arrive at the Hostel, James isn't in but I meet Beatriz, a Colombian girl who speaks almost perfect English. We get some lunch, but I have stupidly not brought enough money with me from Makocha's house, so I need to use the ATM. There is a service charge which I begrudgingly accept, then there is an additional charge of 5 Pesos (about 30p) which I also agree to after the initial charge. Beatriz tells me afterwards that this second charge was an optional donation. Convenient that they didn't translate this part into English for me... With this in mind, I probably won't bother with any volunteering activities later in my trip, as I feel that, albeit unsuspectingly, I have now done my bit.

Back at the hostel, I'm feeling a bit cold and a bit tired, so a nice warm shower will help sort things out. I thought Beatriz might call me, so decided to take the phone to the shower. In hindsight, this was a silly idea, since I was hardly going to answer it whilst lathering my naked body under a tap. It was especially annoying as there was nowhere convenient to put the phone. Yes, I know the simple solution would be to return the phone to my bedroom, a mere 10 metres away, but I'm stubborn. So, the phone goes onto the second shelf of the shower rack, alongside and underneath some soap and shampoo bottles. Unfortunately, neither tap seems to 'equal hot' but this hasn't stopped me plastering myself in shower gel in a bid to save some time.

Now, I am cowering in the corner of the cubicle, but there is no escaping the icy clutches of the shower water, which sprays in all directions quite unapologetically. It is quite evident there will be no warm shower today. As I struggle to control my shivering frantic body, I inexplicably manage to knock the shower rack off the nail it hangs on, and can only watch as it crashes to floor. Bottles, bars of soap, soggy boxes, random pubic hairs and miscellaneous wrappers fill the floor, and there alongside them, is my phone, lying face down in the water like the first victim of a Midsomer Murders 'Lakeside Tragedy'. And I hadn't even begun to think about how I was going to un-soap myself.

So my first bathing experience was not great, but overall the hostel is a vast improvement on the previous one. That evening I chatted to a couple of French guys and went for a few drinks with James, who it transpires also went to Oxford. He was telling me how he often lies about where he went to University because he is wary of the reaction. I said it would've been funny if we had both applied the same tactics to each other and never discovered the common link that explained why we were both snobs. We ended up at a bar where loads of people were salsa dancing. I quite liked the idea of having a go (and dancing with some hot mexican girls) but the only time I have ever attempted salsa, I was truly pathetic. So we just drank instead, cursing our poor fortune of being both uncoordinated and cowardly.

My first days in Distrito Federal

Thursday evening Makocha & I went to her friend's (Israel) house round the corner in Sayavedra. As Carlos and Israel argued back and forth about which music should be played, I was quite content drinking my Tequila amongst the throws of Incubus, Annie Lennox, Metallica and Whitesnake. Then Israel made some tacos, and Makocha told me I HAD to have salsa. So I did. Following her instructions of 'just a little bit', I sprinkled less than a spoonful of this delightful salsa over my steak tortilla. In doing so, I also got a tiny droplet on my finger, so sucked it off. This tiny droplet promptly blew my head off. Putting on a brave face, I said "yeah, this is good stuff, I'm totally fine", wondering how I was going to tackle the currently untouched burning fireball of a taco before me. I gave it a go, but in the end Carlos was good enough to insist on taking it off me in exchange for a salsa-less one. Lesson learned. I think....

I also realised that in the evenings, Mexico City gets unbelievably cold. Most of my clothing is T-Shirts and Shorts. Mum, if you're reading this, I know my response to the question "Are you sure you don't want to get one of these fleeces, it might get cold?" was "Mum, it's not going to be THAT cold, I'll be fine". Yes, well I was wrong, and I have since had to buy a hoodie at the Shopping Centre. Fortunately, they have a Zara here, so I have managed to keep up the tradition of buying all my clothes there despite being half way round the world.

The next day I visited 'Chapultepec', the biggest park in Mexico City. I spent most of my day at the Museo Antropologia. A lot of the information was in Spanish only, so I wasn't really (I tried, but reading passages of human history when each word takes about 20 seconds of processing is tiring) able to digest that much. But some of the models were pretty cool (see picture). I spent a fair bit of time just sitting in the sun. Obviously I didn't apply suncream in the morning, because that's not how I roll. Cue a red face (literally and metaphorically) in the evening. Lesson 2 (probably not) learned.

At one point I was approached by about 10 girls who asked if I was English, and then wanted a photo with me. I have no idea why, and can only assume that my pasty skin and unmexican dress sense made it obvious where I was from.  The girls seemed to be on some sort of school trip so must have been about 15. I can think of at least one friend who would be delighted at such an encounter, but unfortunately from my own perspective, I only fancied a couple of them.

In the middle of the museum there was a pond. There must have been about 50 turtles in it. At first I thought they were models because there were so many, and they were so lifeless. They're pretty cool though, so I took a picture.

That evening Makocha had a job interview so we drove there after she picked me up from the museum. The roads in Mexico City are quite stressful... I certainly won't be driving anywhere soon. The interview was next to an american style diner so I had a couple of beers at the bar and waited for Makocha. I suppose I could have tried to make conversation with people, but I wasn't really in the mood. After quite a while looking at the menu as something to pass the time, I decided to bite the bullet and.... put in my headphones so I could listen to some Karl Pilkington. Not sure if anyone noticed me grinning and occasionally chuckling into my glass, but they could not have possibly known that I was listening to "tic tacs tinging their way up the tube".

The next day, I visited the shopping centre to buy the aforementioned jumper. It was a nice shopping centre, but to be honest it could be anywhere, as the shops are pretty much identical to the ones you'd see in English 'malls'. I find that a bit of a shame, but at the same time it makes life quite easy. A bit like how most convenience stores in England are fast becoming mini Tescos or Sainsburys... more selection, cheaper prices, but somehow a bit too efficient and soulless than good old Misslebrook & Western. During my browsing of one of the sports shops, I saw a girl trying on a pink Ben Roethlisberger American Football jersey... it didn't seem right, but unfortunately I didn't possess the necessary Spanish vocabulary to explain to her why she should choose somebody else.

In the evening I went with Makocha and Alonso to Coyoacan, a small bohemian area of Mexico City, focused around a small square, with bustling stalls along the side streets. We ate in a 'Cantina', a traditional Taverna-type place, and later devoured some Churros on the way home. We stumbled upon a modern art exhibition, being held in the upstairs of an unusual shop. I got chatting to the man who ran the shop, who had lived in Islington, Guildford, Cologne, Dusseldorf, Anecy, Barcelona and the Canary Islands. Strangely, the element of England which he was a big fan of was.... the Police. He followed this up with a saying that "in Heaven, the Cooks are French, the Mechanics German, the Lovers Italian, Hoteliers Swiss and the Police are English. In Hell, the Cooks are English, the Mechanics Italian, Lovers are Swiss, Hotliers are French and the Police are German". I considered analysing this and making corrections/criticisms, but I could see what he was getting at.

On my escapades I have noticed some attractive girls passing me by. However, I have also noticed that they are nearly always holding hands with either a boyfriend, a parent or a child. None of which are ideal. Otherwise of course, I'd be straight over to have a little chat 'en espanol' about topics such as "rainfall in the UK".

And finally, today I have just been chilling out at Makocha's house. Checking the League One and the NFL results (good news all round), researching hostels because I think I'm going to be staying at some this week, and typing this mammoth blog. Hope you made it this far too!

Twig

Speaking Spanish

Every morning I've been conversing with Naty (Makocha's mum) in Spanish, although I'm not quite able to have free flowing chats. The pattern tends to be:

1) Think of what I want to say
2) Work out how to say it
3) Realise that I don't know all the verbs/vocab
4) Think of an alternative
5) 10 minutes later, once it is no longer relevant, slowly despatch the words from my mouth.

However, despite this, I think I'm doing pretty well. We've had conversations about the contrast between Mexican and English life (explaining the difference in rainfall patterns throughout the year being a particular highlight), and I've even managed a few anecdotes/jokes etc for good measure.

However, understanding people out and about when they talk to me as if I have a perfect grasp of the lingo is a different matter entirely... I tend to be like a rabbit in the headlights and just end up saying "errr.... errrmmmm.... ingles?"

I was quite pleased with myself when I went to Starbucks (it was the only place, I wasn't being a philistine) for a coffee... well, a tea in actual fact. "Un te, ingles desayuno por favor" I said, in a convincing manner. The guy at the till simply responded with "English Breakfast?"... He could at least humour me.

Flight & Arrival. Wednesday 29 September.

Now I know that anything happening in England isn't really travelling, but technically my trip began when I got into the taxi, which would then take me to the train station, where I would get a National Express connection to Heathrow. A couple of things to note on my journey:

- The National Express didn't turn up, so had to wait a while for the next one. Luckily I had built in some extra time into my plan, and a packet of Marks & Spencers' “Percy Pig & Pals” helped whittle away the time stood in the rain.

- Whoever designed the toilets on South West Trains... thank you for providing me with a stressful urinating session. Before the train pulled into Woking station, I thought I'd nip to the loo. So, pretty straightforward: Press open, walk inside, press close, press lock. Hmmm the lock button is still lit up in red, so I press again. This happens several times before I realise that there are two settings - flashing red and solid red. Except I have no idea which one means 'locked', and also have no idea how many times I have pressed this bloody button... In addition, thanks to the huge mirror plastered on the back wall, my plan of simply standing with my back to the door wasn't to work either. So I just had to hope, bracing myself for the door to slowly reveal me like some sort of game show prize. Unfortunately a small child came in, shouted for her mum, I was arrested and never made in to the airport.

Ok, I made that last line up, but it COULD have happened like that.

I arrived in Mexico City at 19:30 local time, the equivalent of 1:30am GMT. On the flight I listened to a bit of Jack Dee's autobiography, practised some Spanish, watched Shrek IV and didn`t sleep a wink. Despite this, I wasn't feeling too tired. And in passport control I noticed Andrew Flintoff on the other side of the queuing aisle. So any cricket fans wondering what he did after injury forced him out of the game, well he came to Mexico City with me. I did consider saying something to him, but I figured that he probably didn't need any more (there were already one or two) inane comments from someone who doesn`t even know much about cricket. The man is an absolute beast though, tall and built. I didn't feel very masculine stood alongside him. Maybe I should have just said something about that instead.

I was met at the airport by Makocha, her mum and her aunt, and we drove back to their lovely house in Candado de Sayavedra, a beautiful neighbourhood in the North West of Mexico City.