Voladores of Papantla

With my iPod and health intact, I left town heading for Papantla, a very small town close to the gulf coast of Mexico, about four or five hours away by bus. This town of just about 50,000 would be a big change from the hustle and bustle of Mexico City, mostly being known for a group of ruins just outside of the town called El Tajín. The city, located in the gulf state of Veracruz, is also known for its voladores, or flyers. These men dress up in traditional indigenous costumes and perform a short of bungee jump/hanging by a long rope. Looking forward to seeing both attractions, I got into town, and immediately looked for a place to stay for the night. Walking into town from the tiny bus station, I saw a sign painted on a building for a cheap hotel with hot water and A/C, so that sounded good enough to me. I headed a few blocks into town, asked a few people and soon found the bright blue hotel, El Farolito. For $18, I had a big, simple, unfurnished room with old paint beginning to peel off the walls and cold tile floors, along with a TV, A/C and a separate bathroom...no shower curtain, though. I dropped my bags off and headed into town to see the main square and church. Just in time for the nearly hourly performance, I saw the voladores, dressed in loose, white shirts and red pants with bright yellow, green, and red multicolored sashes and black platform leather shoes/boots that look like something out of the 60s in England, reminiscent of the Low Spark of High-Heeled Boys, if anyone gets that reference. The five short, tanned men walked around the town square and the church, trying to garner interest and gather viewers for their performance. They congregated around a tall narrow metal pole, about 150 feet tall, right in front of the church plaza. Soon, they could be seen scurrying one by one up the tiny footholds to the top of the pole where they wound up some long ropes, sitting on a small square of metal piping around the middle of the pole. Atop the middle was another tiny seat, where one of the men sat or stood, playing a combination instrument with a flute and drum in one, announcing their intent to begin the ritual.

The pan-pipe type music echoed through the air, and before I knew it, the four flyers had each simply fallen backwards from their perch, facing headfirst towards the ground, being held tightly by the ropes attached to their ankles. Slowly, methodically, the giant pole turned one rotation, then another, the voladores slowly descending, creating each time a slightly bigger arc. Hanging in the air from their feet, they each spread their arms like birds, circling the pole and slowly moving closer to the ground far below. All the while, the musician maintained his seat atop the pole, continuing with the celestial music. This continued for probably five minutes as the voladores got closer and closer, finally reaching near the ground, at which point they straightened out on the ropes and were able to safely touch the ground, not seeming affected at all by the height and danger of the whole activity. Quickly, one of them was already going around, asking for tips from the entranced tourists and even from the jaded locals, seeing this exhibition a few times a day whenever near the town center. Impressed with the spectacle, I contributed to their cause and moved on to look for some food for the night.

Just half a block away was the shady town square, covered in short trees and filled with benches. Hoping for a place with a view of the pleasant, relatively lively square, I spotted a place with great potential. A two story building on the second story of which a quiet, almost abandoned restaurant stood. I made my way up the saggy, metal stairs, hoping the combination of rust and my weight wouldn't prove too much for them. My risk was rewarded with a friendly, tasty restaurant where I had a few good burritos and some freshly squeezed lemonade/limeade (in Latin America, their "lemons" are more like limes). The best part about the whole place, though, was the view. Overlooking the entire plaza, I had the pleasure of being able to watch most of everything that was going on in town. I also had a great view of the church and enjoyed another of the voladores performances from my comfortable chair. Again, the flute and drums began, and soon they were on top of the precarious pole. I got a few pictures and went back to my flavorful dinner, enjoying the pleasant evening and tranquil town spread out below me.

Needing to catch up on a few things, I found another of the many internet cafes that I've seen all across Mexico. Not being much of a tourist town, though, this one was a bit different. Not that the computers were different, but I actually drew some attention as I walked in and found a computer. People were asking what I was doing, where I was from, etc, and one of the girls even asked for my Instant Messenger address, so that she could talk to me online, I guess instead of just talking to me right then. Perhaps she was just being friendly, but perhaps I had an admirer...only time would tell. Anyway, after a few, long, slow, frustrating hours on the computer, I managed to download iTunes and upload all of my new music from Mexico City, providing me with at least some music to tide me over until I return home. Again, it's not the end of the world, but it really is a great treat to be able to listen to good music on command. Returning back to my hotel, it was dark, and the shady alleys with no street lights didn't seem to be the place you'd want to hang out with any sort of valuables, so I speed-walked back to the hotel, trying to avoid anyone lingering in the shadows or doorways along the way. Fortunately, there was nothing of the sort, and I had a nice rest, ready for the next day at the ruins of El Tajín.

(The four voladores begin their descent as the musician sits atop the huge pole, playing his flute/drum contraption.)

(A few minutes into the performance, with the nice looking church as an added bonus.)

(Nearing the end, you can see their form and costumes.)

(Asking for tips and conversing with the locals. Check out the sweet outfit.)

(Performance number 2, viewed from the deck of my restaurant around the town square.)

(The plethora of guitars, strumming in synch while singing. Also, featuring a few mild guitar solos by the man (teacher) on the left. Check out the little tiny kids in the middle.)

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At Least the Bathroom Was Nice

So, heading back to my hotel from Teotihuacán, I had decided to pick up some food from Domino's pizza, and apparently that was a bad decision. I don't know if I was being punished for choosing such an American, pathetic option amongst all the other food on offer in Mexico City or perhaps an ancient curse had been placed upon me for occupying the throne of the Pyramid of the Sun for too long. Either way, it wasn't good news. My skin felt very, very hot, so I got into bed early that evening and just stayed there for a while, drinking water, watching a bit of tv and hoping that I'd feel better in the morning. Well, I didn't really make it until the morning. Within a few hours, I was rather impolitely coaxed out of bed with a few imminent urges, so I spent much of the night going back and forth between the bed and the bathroom, vomiting along with other less than pleasant activities. The prolonged night seemed to never end, waking up every few hours and trying in vain to fall back asleep. Thoughts of malaria and other tropical diseases ran through my head, but I hoped it was just food poisoning. Since I only really had a donut and those pizzas, I'm pretty sure that the meat on either the Mexican or Hawaiian pizzas was bad, and I paid the price for it. On the bright side, if there was a day in this trip that needed to be spent inside, this was it, as I was still waiting for my iPod to be fixed.

Most of the day was spent in bed, feeling just a bit better, but still not really having any desire to eat anything. I did buy a Gatorade and walked around near my hotel just to get some fresh air, but that was about all that happened that day. It also wasn't the greatest day, with some rain coming in that night that I was sick, so things weren't horrible. I just hoped that I'd be better and ready to go the next day. As it turned out, I wasn't great, but I did feel better the next day, good enough to explore more of the city. I walked around more of the city, getting to know my way pretty well around the center. I found the beautiful Bellas Artes Museum, a European looking building with light stone, maybe marble, along with two huge rotundas covered in a pretty red fading to orange. I also found a great park in the town center with some vendors, and I had some real food. Not just real food...great food. An indigenous woman from Oaxaca, down in South Mexico, was there, cooking up some traditional tlayudas. I didn't know what they were before, but watching her make them had me sold. She took a huge, somewhat hard flour tortilla and added a black bean paste to the bottom before covering it with shredded cheese. She then added slices of steak, a bit of lettuce and a tomato or two and some spicy red salsa, before folding the huge quesadilla looking contraption in half and placing it in a special cooker over the wooden embers. Warming up for a minute or two, the tlayuda was then ready, ready to be devoured. This thing was amazing, and I could see why the constant line existed in front of her humble stand. Happy to be back in the world of eating and, more specifically, Mexican food, I continued on my way, finding more and more likeable neighborhoods in the sprawling capital city.

I also had good news the next day. I called the iPod repair center, and my iPod was ready to go, they told me, though I would be a bit skeptical until I actually had the working iPod in hand. I took the subway and walked for a while before finding the small shop again. Asking about my iPod, they said that it had to be sent away, so I'd be getting a new one. And, just around the back side of the desk, they had the new one, exactly like mine, still brand new in the plastic (though possibly refurbished). I cautiously enquired about the price of the repairs, and since it was covered under warranty, I ended up not having to pay a thing, which was amazing...again, Marcelle saved me a ton of money on that one. As I was ready to go, I asked what the problem had been, but they really had no idea, saying that just knew that they couldn't fix it, so they gave me a new one. The paper I signed also said that this would come with the same one year warranty, a little ambiguous as to whether it means to continue the existing, one month remaining of my other warranty or to provide a new, one year warranty on the new iPod. After checking online, it appears to be the latter, so it looks like I got the best possible situation, essentially extending my warranty for a year and getting a newer iPod (same style). The only downside is that I lost all of the music that I had stored on my old one, so I'd have to load up some of my black market mp3 cds to tide me over during the rest of the trip.

Also, on the way back, I walked in and out of the many side streets, hoping desperately to find a pasta place, as that type of cuisine seems to be severely lacking down here. Eventually, I found an Argentinian restaurant, and my hunch was correct that they'd have a bit of pasta. So, I finally had some spaghetti with bread and salad, and I was happy. The creamy cheese sauce wasn't the greatest, but it would have to do. Another day of wandering the streets, and I was soon on my way out of town, very impressed by Mexico DF. To all those out there who had their doubts, I recommend that you give the city a chance. I did, and I was quite impressed by what I found, partially because I came in with low expectations, but moreso because it really is a city worthy of being the capital of the over 100 million that call Mexico home.

(Some of the larger buildings of the business district, just off of Paseo de la Reforma.)

(Cars and buildings help make up big cities.)

(One of the comical benches along Paseo de la Reforma...well, two of them. Oh, so comical.)

(The Paseo again.)

(Another bench inhabited by two crazy kids.)

(Another mind-blowing bench along the way. A few people sat there for a minute to take a picture but seemed hesitant to linger for more than a few seconds under Upside-Down Man.)

(The middle of the Paseo...nice.)

(Once again, the Museo de Bellas Artes. Being such a pretty building, I probably should have ventured inside. Too late now.)

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Teotihuacán - The Beginning of It All

So, waiting for my iPod to be serviced and wanting to check out one of the main attractions of the area around the city, my next day would include a trip to Teotihuacán, the ancient city that was the beginning of the urban mass that now makes up Mexico City. The clouds overhead didn't look like it would be the nicest day, but it was still good enough to go outside and explore the most visited archaeological site in the Americas. So, I took the speedy subway over and up to the bus station, passing through a cool tunnel full of nature pictures and a dark area with the entire night sky lit up overhead with black lights - I think the area was called the Tunnel of Science or something like that. Then it was just 30 or 40 minutes through suburbs to get to the site. Thanks to the weather, the popular ruins were not very crowded, allowing more room to walk around and enjoy the towering pyramids and broken down temples. On the other hand, it also made me a bigger target for the numerous hawkers trying to sell shoddy jewelry, carvings, pictures, blankets, etc. Some of them would leave you alone, but you could see others sit at attention and prepare their spiel as you drew closer.

Upon entering the site, and passing by the quality trinkets, my first real view of Mexican ruins was a huge grassy plaza area surrounded by a low stone wall and steps, containing a low, steep temple with carvings on animal faces and other hieroglyphs on the sides. Something about me has always been drawn to the ruins, temples and customs of ancient cultures, so this was the first of hopefully many that I'll be able to see on this trip. I climbed the steep stairs of the first temple, only about 30 or 40 feet high, admiring the panoramic view of the rest of the sight and the large pyramids that lay ahead. I also listened in on a bit of the information given by one of the Spanish tour guides, noting the acoustics of the place, designed as some sort of podium, given the echo effect of the walls. Next, I passed over the small river, along the Calzada de los Muertos - the Avenue of the Dead. This was the main ''road'' in the city, and it would have been an impressive sight to see the place in all its glory. The original inhabitants of the town were a native tribe that flourished from about 250 - 600 AD, during which time more and more temples and buildings were constructed in the area. For unknown reasons, the society that appeared so powerful seemed to collapse around the year 700 AD, leaving the magnificent city behind. Around 300 or 400 years later, the Aztecs, possibly venturing from Mexcaltitán (pay attention to previous posts if you want to understand this reference) found and occupied this place, forming the beginning of what is now the site of present day Mexico City, more or less.

As the wind began to lightly blow, the day started to gradual cool off with the hint of a cold front and some darker clouds, though not yet covering the sky. I continued on to the next major site, the Pyramid of the Sun. Built around 100 AD, in the beginnings of the society, this massive structure is said to be the third largest in the world, behind a huge, mostly buried pyramid in Southern Mexico (Cholula) and the largest Egyptian one (perhaps the Great Pyramid, I don't know). I'm guessing that the measure was based on volume, as the pyramid is tall, but not overwhelmingly so, measuring in at about 210 feet. The wide base, stretching about 700 feet on each side, is what gives the pyramid its massive size. Built by hand, stone by stone, this huge structure consists of a few large levels, stacked on top of each other with steep stairs and a few platforms making the way all the way to the apex. Interestingly, the ancient inhabitants were fairly small people, making the steep, tall stairs even harder to climb, so it must have been a sizeable task to climb the temple (except for the fact that they probably did it all the time on the other steps around the town). From atop the towering structure, you could look down on the main avenue and other smaller temples, much as the rulers probably did 1400 years ago. For a little while, I had the opportunity of being the only one atop the rounded pyramid, enjoying the views and power that came with the position. Eventually, I was overtaken by some Polish, French and Danish tourists, so I ceded my throne and began the steep descent. Despite being named the Pyramid of the Sun, some recent research suggests that it might not have been a shrine to the sun, but perhaps to the rain god, Tláloc. But, I don't know, so no more conjecture here. Moving along, I passed a few faded murals of ancient warriors and jaguars, preserved underneath the overhangs of a few of the smaller, possibly residential structures.

The other imposing structure of the site now stood directly in front of me: a symmetrical two or three tiered pyramid overlooking the main square in the city, probably used for performances, markets and other space-intensive activities. Unfortunately, you are only allowed to climb to the first tier of this pyramid, about 50 or 60 large stone block steps, ending on a wide platform before you would ascend the other sets of stairs. From here, you have a magnificent view of the small, 20 or 30 foot remains of temples that lined the avenue, and, of course, the huge Pyramid of the Sun. The temple upon which I stood was the Pyramid of the Moon, and it was also a beautiful structure, composed of medium grey stone blocks, constructed most likely by slave and peasant labor. Of course, these pyramids don't have the perfect triangular structure of their Egyptian counterparts, but the sloping wall and terraces look very interesting. Walking the avenue of the ancient civilization was an amazing experience, picturing what society must have been like over a thousand years ago in this bustling town, full of stone structures, temples and two pyramids. Soon, the day was almost over and the cold had set in (it was only 40 or 50 degrees outside in the daytime), so I headed back to the subway. I also had a quick chance to call about my iPod, but it seems that it would need to be replaced, so it would be another few days, meaning that I definitely wasn't leaving town for a while.

Cold and hungry, I searched for some food at the bus station, but the shady taco stand didn't look too appealing, so I continued on. In the subway station, the one with the science exhibit, I was happy to see a Domino's pizza outpost, just a tiny little takeout branch at the corner of one of the underground walkways. They were also having a great deal with two personal, mini pizzas for $3. Pizza would be a nice alternative, something that I hadn't had in a long time, as well as it would be a nice warm meal, so I headed into the tiny place. Unfortunately, I was too late, as some of the locals had snatched up the last of the cheap pizzas, so I continued on, lamenting my close call. Then, around the next corner was another mini Domino's location. They were running the same deal, so I got a Mexican pizza (some sort of ground meat, jalapeños and onions) and a Hawaiian one (pineapples and ham). They weren't particularly great, and I got in trouble for sitting up against a wall that was supposed to be off limits...I guess I was putting off that homeless vibe again, but the pizza was good enough. Or at least I thought it was. Upon getting back on the gauntlet of subway routes to my hotel room, I was cold due to the weather, but I was also really hot. Feverishly hot. That's not good news...

(The Pyramid of the Moon, standing at the end of the Avenue of the Dead.)

(The zoomed in view down to the Pyramid of the Moon from atop the Pyramid of the Sun and my majestic, peaceful moment of solitude.)

(The massive Pyramid of the Sun from the ground.)

(More mini temples lined the way between the two major pyramids. The paved area was most likely a marketplace or perhaps a parking lot.)

(Another baby temple...probably about 40 or 50 feet tall.)

(Once again, the Pyramid of the Sun. It's so big that you can't take a picture without it being there somewhere.)

(Some of the interesting carvings shown in detail on one of the first temples. One is probably a god representing something. The other was probably just there for purposes of symmetry.)

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Mexico City - the Center of It All

Pollution, crime, kidnappings, poverty, slums, traffic, smog, crazy drivers, overpopulation. That pretty much sums up Mexico City in the minds of most Americans (or United Statesians, as latinos would be quick to point out...after all, anyone from North or South America is technically an American...though they claim to be strict on this point, you hear them slip once in a while, too). Why would anyone want to visit a city like that? Other than making a quick connection through the large airport, why even take a second look at such a city? Or so we all thought...

Mexico City, I owe you an apology. Of course the stereotypes and superlatives had to come from somewhere, and those maladies can all be found, but surrounding those parts is an attractive, alluring city. It is a city with culture, history, notable architecture, a few nice green spaces and a long list of things to occupy your time. The people here, known as Chilangos, are said to be proud and often arrogant, feeling that other inhabitants of the country are inferior to those who make the capital district, called Mexico DF in Spanish or usually just Mexico, their home. Before making it to this behemoth city, I found this attitude odd and a bit misplaced based on my preconceptions of the place, but now it makes a bit more sense. No, Mexico is not the grandest of all cities, nor will it captivate a person unlike any other place in the world, but it certainly deserves a look.

Riding into town on one of my familiar buses, a long way from the city center, the urban sprawl began. Being located in the middle of a huge central valley with hints of mountains in the far distance, little hills pop up all around the city, and I began to see these being covered with simple, tiny concrete houses, nothing more than a tiny plot of land just big enough for a bed and table or two, covered by four flat concrete walls and a concrete roof. Often built on top of each other and almost always adjoining, these concrete type slums pack many, many people into such a tiny area that problems with sanitation and hygiene are inevitable. Soon, the hillsides and valleys were covered with these mini houses, sometimes giving way to more proper neighborhoods, not often leaving much of the countryside to be seen. Finishing up our Keanu Reeves movie, we arrived at the bus station, much to my dismay, as the ladies in the back row had been blocking the way to the bathroom for the last half hour of the ride, meaning that I'd have to pay to use the bathroom at the bus station. I guess it's only 20 or 30 cents, but it still annoying. The bus station was everything that you'd expect from the city, a massive structure with huge hallways and people moving in every possible direction. And this is only one of four major bus stations in the city. As this is a prime spot for crime, I kept a close watch on my bags and my back as I found a taxi and headed towards the city center. Being known in the past for VW Beetle taxis (which were produced in Mexico long after production ended in the US - as taxis, they have removed the front passenger seat, giving legroom for the occupant in the back seat), I was a bit disappointed to have a regular taxi. As usual, he tried to talk me out of the long, traffic filled ride into the city, saying how I'd certainly want to stay in the zone that was conveniently near the station. Not falling for it this time, I decided to keep going, and we hit a few huge blocks of traffic before arriving right at the center of town. A massive plaza, known as the Zócalo, stands in between some impressive cathedrals and government buildings, surrounded by six lanes of one-way traffic. Knowing that I was near the hotel, but not knowing where it was, the taxi driver abruptly stopped around the corner, told me he didn't know where the place was, and there I was. Fortunately, I only have to walk a block or two to find my hotel, hidden in a little sort of alley of the main road.

Hotel Juarez was cheap, but it wasn't without charm. It had a little fountain and a narrow frame with five stories all perched around an open center with the courtyard down below. I was given a little room on the 4th floor that actually had a minuscule balcony, overlooking the alley and a bit of the road below. In addition, I was excited to see that the bathroom not only had a shower curtain, it had a separate enclosure with functioning doors and everything, meaning that the entire bathroom wouldn't be wet for a few hours after showering. I even had a little tv in the room, so, at $18 a night and a good location, this was a pretty good deal. Leaving the place, I decided my first move would be a double decker, open top bus tour to get acquainted with the enormous city. Obviously, this only visited the central and main attractions, but it was a great way to see some of the monuments, museums and notable buildings, along with audio commentary in 7 languages. We passed lovely tree-lined avenues, Bohemian neighborhoods, massive structures, traffic filled freeways, a huge park and a few other key attractions, all the while hoping that the overhead clouds would pass. The first day in the city seemed covered in white clouds, surely a mix of smog and rain clouds that would be common to the area. Eventually the rain clouds won out, and we get a bit of rain, just short of being enough to bring me down from the open top bus. The brave tourists got a little wet, but it was nothing to worry about, as we were enjoying the sights. We also hit another snag in the tour as a big parade/protest was taking place (it was unclear which it was) on the main road returning to the center, creating traffic jams and altering our route. After waiting a while in traffic, I decided to cut the tour a few stops short and just walked back to town. Not wanting to take my chances in a big, unknown city after dark, I headed back for the hotel, surprised to have found a likeable city. Perhaps I'd have to stay more than just a day or two.

The next morning, I returned to a few of my favorite sights from the tour. Paseo de la Reforma, one of the major streets in the middle of town was amazing, so I ventured back along the side roads before finding it again. Lined with tons of trees, monuments adorning the roundabouts, pedestrian walkways, plants in the median and 20 or 30 strange, artistically designed benches along the way, walking along the Paseo turned out to be one of my favorite things in town. The tour guides and guidebooks are proud to point out that it was modeled after classic European streets such as the Champs Elysees in Paris. There were benches shaped like animals, people, strange geometric shapes, playing cards...anything you could imagine. Along each of the side streets were numerous options for eating, shopping or whatever else you wanted to do. So, I basically spent the day meandering around the area, relaxing in the nice climate of the city (which is very pleasant thanks to the high altitude) and not really noticing much of the smog. At one point on the first day, I thought I might have had a slight headache due to the air pollution, but that also could have been just being hungry. It's hard to differentiate sometimes, and hunger undoubtedly is a driving force in my life. Uneventfully passing the day, I was still surprised and impressed by how pleasant the center of the city was.

The next day, Sunday, I was on a mission. I searched online, and I searched in person, and this search ended up taking up a good part of my day. I was searching for a service center for my defunct iPod. Normally, I wouldn't have taken the time just to have the luxury of music, but, thanks to some great research and trouble-shooting by Marcelle, I found that the iPod warranty is applicable even without the original receipt and can be verified on the Apple website. And, since my iPod is about 11 months old, the warranty would be expired by the time I got back to the US, so Mexico City was a big enough place to give me a chance at having it fixed. I found a few places in the technology sector of town, walking up and down streets of electronics stores selling everything from tvs to computers to bootleg software of every sort. Finding basically any store that could help me to be closed, I decided to resume my search the next day, instead focusing my energy on the alluring black market stalls that lined the street of Lazaro Cardenas. Fake polo shirts, sunglasses, movies, music, hats, software...this place had so much, and each vendor had crammed their tiny spot on the sidewalk full of interesting offers. I couldn't resist a few of the mp3 cds, offering the whole collection of an artist on one disc of mp3s, going back and forth and sorting through countless collections to see what they had to offer. In the end, I got a nice combination of Spanish music along with classic rock.

The next day, I returned to Uruguay Avenue to try again with the iPod service centers, which all seemed to open way later than the other businesses. Going back and forth from one to the next, I was told that they don't do service here or there, and one place hidden on the third floor of an office building basically only opens when it wants to do so. Eventually, one of them gave me another number to call, and I found an authorized service center, though the address turned out to be the name of an obscure river (Grijalva), so I wasn't even sure if I had heard correctly over the poor phone connection. After a while, I found the road on my map and started the long walk over there. (Side note: it turns out that Grijalva was the last name of one of the Spanish that first explored the Yucatán and Southern Mexico, finding the mouth of the river in the Gulf state of Tabasco.) An hour or so later, I finally found the tiny store, hidden on the bottom floor of a building in a residential area. They said that they may be able to fix it, but I'd have to leave it for a while, and I needed to call back every day or so, as I didn't have any local contact information or phone numbers to give them to get in touch with me. If they could fix it, it would be about $25, but if they had to replace it, it would be free, so you could tell which one I was hoping for, though I wasn't quite sure if I had understood that policy correctly. Since I was in the area, I also decided to check out the big park, Bosque de Chapultepec, again and perhaps the zoo. So, I walked through the leaf laden park, surprised to not find many people around. Then, as I finally got to the zoo, I realized why. Apparently the whole area, along with some businesses, decides to close every Monday, so my plan was foiled. So, I took a minibus back down the long road, got off and headed for the speedy subway, said to be the 4th busiest in the world. With 11 lines all over the downtown area and only costing 20 cents a ride, you can't go wrong....unless, of course, someone in the crowded cars steals your stuff...but luckily that didn't happen, so I'm a fan of the subway, at least for now...

(The main cathedral of the Zócalo, the town square.)

(One of the many alluring streets of the historic center, with a strategically placed green and white VW taxi.)

(A random white building.)

(More buildings, more green taxis. They weren't absolutely everywhere, but you could definitely find one if you were looking for it.)

(The Museo de Bellas Artes. This lovely building marked the end of the black market along Avenida Lázaro Cárdenas.)

(Taxis, cars, monuments and parks. You get the picture.)

(The Torre Mayor - meaning Biggest Tower. It's the highest building in Latin America, but it's only somewhere around 700 or 750 feet high. Atlanta can beat that.)

(The angel is one of the famous symbols of Mexico City, located in a roundabout on my beloved Paseo de la Reforma.)

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Pátzcuaro aka Who Threw That?

My short bus ride from Morelia brought me through more green farmland and moderate sized mountains before arriving in the town of Pátzcuaro, a place of only about 50,000 people that is said to be one of the most attractive, pleasant highland towns in all of Mexico. Hoping for a few days of rest and a nice laid-back setting, I was happy to see the town appeared as calm and laid-back as it claimed to be at first glance. I took a taxi towards my intended hotel, but I soon found that the rooms were about $10 more than I was expecting, bringing the outrageous price to a grand total of about $26, so I scoffed, turned my back and stormed away, with my huge backpack in tow. Not being a big place, I figured I could just walk around and find an alternative. A few other places lining the town square were also a bit expensive because of their location, but I soon found a nice hotel just a block up the road, offering a comfortable bed and pillow (which is not all that common), a tv and a nice bathroom for about $17. The small hotel of 15 or 20 rooms also had a nice, typically Spanish courtyard in the center as you walked in with some tall plants lining the stairway to the upstairs section of the hotel. Walking back into town, construction was underway on many of the roads and buildings, in preparation for the biggest event of the year, by far. Despite being such a tiny town, the place is overtaken with tourists every year during the week of November 1 and 2. In Mexico, these days, All Saint's Day and Day of the Dead, respectively, have tremendous importance, and this small town, along with some of its indigenous traditions and beliefs, is the mecca of all celebrations throughout the country. People come from all over the country and many parts of the world to be a part of the celebration. And, yes, though it may sound morbid, it is a celebration. The culture emphasizes celebrating the lives and honoring those who have passed on, more than mourning them. On these days, altars are set up with elaborate displays of flowers, along with traditional foods and drinks that are offered to the deceased, all the while burning candles and flames in their honor. Finally, the relatives often visit the cemeteries, holding candles and vigils during the nights. One of the particularly noteworthy events here in Pátzcuaro is the fact that the locals each board their tiny boats, one person per boat, with a lit candle at the bow, and they simultaneously descend upon the small island in the middle of the lake, making for an incredible sight of single lights heading out into the vast darkness...well, so I am told. Unfortunately, the Day of the Dead is still a few weeks away, and I don't have time to hang around this town until then. Also, they say that the limited hotel rooms in this town sell out many months in advance, so I think I'd be way too late to find any sort of accommodation anyway.

After a few minutes, I had pretty much orientated myself to the whole town, mostly centering around two main plazas only a few blocks apart. Much of the day was spent walking around the plaza, enjoying the cool weather (about 60 degrees) and just relaxing. Along with the Day of the Dead celebrations are traditional chocolates and breads from the local bakeries, so I enjoyed a few different types of bread, along with more than a few of the cheap, delicious chocolate skulls that were just a peso each. The chocolate stands had all types and sizes of dark and white chocolate skulls, decorated with edible beads and food coloring. Speaking of food, I found one of my many beloved taco stands here in the local market. Often very cheap, though not the most sanitary option, these places are hard for me to pass up. Just like the stands outside the stadium in Guadalajara, these taco joints have a huge grill lined with meats and grilled vegetables such as peppers and onions. Upon ordering, they just slide a bit of your chosen meat into the middle to heat up, then the take a few tortillas in each hand and deftly scoop up the tacos. Once in hand, they add the cilantro, onions and spicy salsa, throw everything on a plate with some of the grilled vegetables, mostly onions, and there you have it. In addition there are usually two or three more types of salsa and pico de gallo to choose from, making for a marvelous, quick, cheap meal. I had four of the grilled steak tacos for lunch, and I couldn't help but go back for dinner. Each vying for my attention, they shout ''Pásale, güero,'' meaning ''Come on in, blondie.'' Surveying the best looking meat, I picked out on of the stands and had a seat at the tiny stools around the grill. In between shoving my way to the front and shouting my order, for which you don't pay until the end when you leave (it is all surprisingly trusting of the customer), the power went out, which didn't seem to be an uncommon occurrence. The whole town was dark, particularly under the awnings of this market. As I laughed to myself, apparently someone else was also laughing to themself for a different reason. Within a few seconds, I felt a powerful force hit the back of my leg. Confused, I quickly tried to figure out what it was. Could it have been a dog or a someone trying to move around in the dark? It was a different feeling than that, though. As I thought about it, I realized that I had been the target of a sniper...not the dangerous kind, the kind that throw round objects, such as either a lime or a potato. Although it did sort of hurt, I couldn't help but smile as someone had taken the opportunity to throw a small fruit or vegetable during the chaos. And, I wondered, was I really the target? Was this an anti-American, anti-tourist hate crime, or was this just a random act of idiocy? Either way, my bruised leg and I didn't mind much, and soon the lights were back on. I searched all around for the said object, but I couldn't find it, after it had surely rolled under one of the many adjacent booths. I also looked around for possible culprits, but I couldn't find anything other than friendly faces, so I gave up my investigation. Amused, I finished my mouth-watering tacos and headed back for the night.

In the morning, I decided to take a taxi to one of the local mountaintops for a nice view of the town below and the nearby lake of the same name. Finding a cheap taxi driver that agreed to take me up there, wait for about half an hour and take me back for $10, I jumped in the beat up old station wagon, and we were on our way. Leaving town and heading uphill, we were greeted by some horrific cobblestone roads, missing big pieces of the road, leaving huge potholes that were often unavoidable, I felt bad for the driver and the car as the rattles and clicks grew louder and louder after every jarring bump. The little old man didn't seem to mind too much, though, but then he suddenly made a quick stop. Right in the middle of this somewhat steep, nearly deserted road, he stopped the car, and told me that he'd be just a second. Now, I'm not sure if it was the bumpy road or just an insatiable urge, but he got out of the car, closed the door and walked around towards the back wheel on the driver's side. Then, he assumed the position, with one hand resting up against the top of the car, and he just started peeing, right there in the middle of the road. He didn't seem to mind, nor did he want to bother to make the effort to hide behind one of the many trees lining the road. Just a little while later, he returned to the car as if nothing had happened, and we were back on our way. Not much further ahead, we arrived at El Estribo, a parking lot and gazebo overlooking the edge of town below, the thick forest all around and the lovely lake in the middle of the valley of peaks. As with many days in the area, the area was foggy and damp, offering hints of rain with nothing really materializing. Within the dark lake are four main islands, and he happily listed their names, as well as many of the surrounding pueblos that are known for their specific arts and crafts with such items as musical instruments, copper, masks, blankets, etc, depending on which town you visit. Apparently the Spanish settlers felt that the towns should have specialties, so each tiny village was introduced to a different discipline, a tradition that still survives today.

The view from the hilltop was amazing, but there was a better one to be had. Behind the gazebo, the steep hill covered in trees gave way to reveal the staircase from Hell. This conglomeration of concrete steps seemed to go on forever, as far up the hill as the eye could see. Despite dreading the steep climb, I really wanted to see the view from the top, so I took a deep breath and started climbing. Not wanting to look up at the daunting task, I kept my head down and counted each of the concrete torture mechanisms. Taking a few breaks, I turned to enjoy the foggy, mystical views of the nearly isolated lake below. Within a few minutes, I was at the top, making it up the initial 25 steps and the monstrous set of 392 for a grand total of 417 steep steps. The view atop the mountain was nice, though, realistically, it wasn't that much different that the view from 9/10ths of the way up. Soon, I headed back down to find the old driver just sitting outside his car, listening to the radio and smoking a cigarette. We headed back into town, not making any pit stops this time, though still braving the disastrous road. After reading about and then seeing the magical islands of the lake from above, I decided to go see them (or at least the main one) in person. A quick taxi ride took me to the pier, and I soon boarded the cheap boat filled with long benches for the 20 or 30 minute ride out to the island. Isla Janitzio is a small landmass in the middle of the lake, filled with small houses and shops, lining the shore and all the way up the hill that marks the center of the island. As we got closer, we could not only see the colorful houses, but the 150 foot statue with a raised fist that tops the island came into view. Also, just as we neared the shore, some local fisherman came out on their boats to give us a little show. The four of them lined up their small canoes and pulled out the huge, butterfly shaped nets that have been used for centuries. They ceremoniously dipped them into the water, with only one of them pulling out a tiny fish in the massive net. With a big smile on his face, he showed off the tiny fish, and one of the fisherman neared the boat, asking for tips from the tourists aboard. Despite not catching much of anything, these fishermen seemed to do pretty well for themselves, majestically fishing for nothing more than tips.

Once on the island, the steep hills revealed more and more stairs, winding through shops and house on the way up to the top. After ten or fifteen minutes of steep uphill climbing, I made it to the statue, constructed of a medium gray colored stone with white grout. The viewing platform over the town and lake below would have been nice, if not for the swarms of gnats that seemed to congregate only in that particular area. With the towering statue above, I walked around the top of the hill and found the entrance into the statue, revealing another gauntlet of stairs inside. The inside was somewhat like a lighthouse with an open center and six levels, with winding stairs lining the wall, along with a beautiful mural depicting the entire history of the town, back to indigenous days. I would have liked to have taken a few pictures of the colorful murals that covered every inch of the six levels, but photography is prohibited, which didn't seem to bother a few of the less scrupulous Mexican visitors. I climbed and climbed, thankful for the years of Stairmaster that had adequately prepared me for this torturous day, and I was soon at the top. Looking out, there was a nice view from the shoulder of the statue, but I wanted to go further. Another tiny spiral staircase and some maneuvering brought me to a place where I could peek my head and shoulders out for another good view, realizing that I had made my way up into the wrist of the statue. Not an island full of activities, that was about all there was to do, so I got back down to the harbor and left on the next boat. This one was a bit more crowded, but I was one of the few gringos, which is always a nice feeling. A friendly local woman began talking to me, telling me about the surrounding towns, introducing me to her sister and telling me about some time spent living in Washington DC. As usual, I was delighted by the sincere friendliness of the people, often just curious to know what you are doing here and what you think of their city, country, etc. Just as the boat was leaving, a group of four Mexicans jumped on, instruments in hand. There was a stand-up bass, a guitar, an accordion with an amplifier and a snare drum. Not leaving much room on the boat, they found their way towards the front, right next to me. Soon, the band set up, with the drum literally in my lap, and they began to play some mariachi tunes. It wasn't bad and definitely gave the trip an authentic feel. The return journey, along with the music, went by quite quickly, and the musicians asked for a few tips before jumping off and boarding the next boat back to the island, starting the routine all over again.

Back in town, the evening transpired in much the same way, featuring a relaxing night and many, many wonderful tacos at one of the local stands. A bit of rain began to fall, so I huddled under the tiny awning with the locals, absorbing the smells and tastes of the grill before running back to my hotel. The next morning was again spent at the bus station with a nice sugary donut. My next stop had me a bit worried after hearing tons of bad stories and press, but it is something that can't be missed...Mexico City...

(The Plaza Grande, featuring a little fountain, a few people, a more picturesque architecture.)

(Oh no...this is the never-ending stairway up to the top of the hill overlooking the lake. The site is known as El Estribo. And, actually, this is going downhill, so that's no so bad. Still long, though.)

(The island of Janitzio, with the statue standing tall atop the middle.)

(The four fishermen with their massive butterfly nets. The one in the middle is showing off the tiny fish that he caught.)

(A tiny cemetery on the island that would be a magical site during Day of the Dead celebrations.)

(A view of the other three islands, from the top of the statue.)

(There it is again. The first lookout is on the left side of his neck, between the face and the arm, and the other lookout is up at his wrist.)

(One of the typical streets with the red and white buildings leading from my hotel to the main square.)

(The little plaza, just steps away from some incredible taco stands...and one possibly belligerent local with a predilection for throwing small, round objects.)

(Just a pair of horses parallel parked on one of the main roads in town. Gotta love small mountain towns.)

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Historic Morelia

Leaving the picturesque, colonial town of Guanajuato, I was off to the similarly picturesque, colonial, yet in a completely different way, town of Morelia. By now, these four hour bus rides are nothing to me, and I have fallen into a rather nice routine of staying about two days in each town, getting an early morning bus, and arriving about noon in my next destination, giving me time to do a good bit of exploring before the sun leaves the sky. In fact, my bus ride was even better this time, as the little lunch pack included a better set of cookies than usual (cinnamon instead of chalky orange) and a ham and cheese sandwich with a jalapeño, a nice little Mexican touch that is actually a wonderful addition to the American standard. In addition, the last hour of the bus ride added some very interesting scenery as we passed over a few long, very straight roads that cut right through the middle of some very large, apparently shallow lakes. Just a bit of raised road was all that could be seen other than flat water on each side, some topped with some lake grasses and a boat or two of the local fisherman. These lakes seemed to go on for miles at a time, backed by the neighboring mountain range that seems to be everywhere you go in Central Mexico. My next stop, Morelia, is actually one of the oldest colonial towns in Mexico, tracing its history back to sometime around the 1540s and sporting perhaps the oldest university in the Americas. I found a great, almost unoccupied hotel just a few blocks from the center of town. It was another tiny room that would do, but the hotel actually looked decent, with an open Spanish two-story courtyard with a set of rooms spread around the center. I quickly took a nice warm shower and then set off to explore the town, heading for the massive cathedral and town square marking the center of the old town...well, actually I guess this is more of a city; it has over 500,000 people, 'including a lively young student population' - thanks Lonely Planet. This town is also a Unesco World Heritage site thanks to its Spanish architecture, stone buildings, intact aqueduct and abundance of plazas. The streets look ancient, with huge stone slabs making up the one and two story buildings that line that avenues leading to the center of town. Local ordinances also prevent obtrusive, obnoxious signs, so it's a bit hard to find anything, but that adds to the appeal of the town. All along the façades of nearly all the buildings facing the central plaza, archways provide a nice aesthetic, and they were apparently all the rage in the time of the Spanish conquisition, judging by the design of this city.

The main central plaza is a typically Mexican one, a square area surrounding a fountain and gazebo, lined with well-kept trees and a bit of grass, filled with benches of people, young romantics not afraid of public displays of affection and parents watching their children run wild. Next to the plaza is a nice pedestrian mall with some vendors, and on the other side of the massive cathedral is another plaza, this one filled with the tents and tables of protesters. Apparently, they are protesting the local governor who seems to have an arrogant, indifferent attitude towards the working class citizens, miners and poor, at least according to the signs, in addition to corruption and the many problems that Latin American politics often entail. A group of somewhere around 50 people congregated in the tents, with tables and a makeshift kitchen, their sign claiming their presence in the area for the past 242 days, though after my two day stay, I can only attest to a tiny fraction of that. During the day filled with clouds and a lovely temperate climate, I walked all around the scenic plazas, said to look much as they did 400 years ago. The never-ending arches of a stone aqueduct parallels one of the main roads (cleverly titled Avenida Acueducto) for about a mile or two. I don't think it is used anymore, but the structure from the 1840s or 50s still looks pretty nice. Later, nearly dying of hunger, I found a nice little local cafe, and I tried one of the specialties of the area - mole. No, not the burrowing animal. It's pronounced Mo-lay. It's a dark brown sauce that is a sort of mix of chocolate and chili, along with a few other things, that is often put on top of chicken. The cheap meal turned out pretty well, though I actually thought the sauce would be a tiny bit better. It was good, just not great. Needing to catch up on a few things, I found a wonderful internet cafe with huge leather chairs, a relaxed atmosphere and nice headphones allowing me to listen to my much missed music, thanks to my defunct iPod. I know it's just another creature comfort, but it was a nice break to sit back and relax for a bit on the computer. It also reiterated the fact that music is so important to me, as this was the first time that I was able to hear any music of my choosing since my iPod decided to take a break. Soon, the night was upon me, and it was time to head back to the hotel.

Following a good night's rest, the next day held much of the same, walking around the historic town, marvelling at the stone buildings and steeples. I once again found my way back to the aqueduct and a roundabout with a nice fountain in the middle, and I also found an extremely tranquil pedestrian street lined with ash trees planted in the early 1800s, providing nice shade for the benches along the way. For a while, I sat in the shade, watching the world and students pass me by. Eventually getting the feeling that I should once again attempt a bit of physical activity, I hopped back up and explored the nearby park/forest, planted as another relaxing spot for the residents many years ago. I passed by the grey buildings holding the oldest schools in the continent, looking into the inviting courtyards, amazed that the place probably looked much like it did for its first students. Young people flowed in and out of the two and three story courtyards, going about their daily business, not overly impressed by the lovely buildings and archways that made up their schools. Following the aqueduct back towards the center of town, I planted myself on a nice bench in front of the central fountain, watching the citizens enjoy this wonderful afternoon. In contrast with many American cities that I've found, the people here are eager to take the time to relax and simply whittle away their time in the main plazas, talking to friends, reading books, passionately embracing, or just hanging out, which was my preferred mode of passing the time. As the late afternoon lingered, a cool breeze started up, pushing around a few of the dead leaves, creating the perfectly crafted fall day. Vendors sold balloons and toys, children chased bubbles all around the plaza, trying to catch up to them before the wind took them away, briefly failing, but then immediately reanimating as they turned to see another set of bubbles coming towards them, thanks to the vendors trying to create interest in their products. Nearby an adorable five or six year old girl and her mother played, running back and forth, playing hide and go seek, chasing the ubiquitous bubbles and eventually lovingly embracing the father who had apparently just finished his day at work. All the while, a loud background voice filled the air, though I couldn't quite tell what it was. Eventually the voice got louder, and I saw a local guy, a little overweight, probably in his late 30s, singing his heart out. He was working for tips, but he was also just enjoying what he was doing. With a booming, decent voice, he spouted out song after song, accompanying himself with some claps, a few clever dance moves, some guitar chords that he also sung and plenty of air guitar during those times. This guy was amazing, capturing everyone's attention as he stopped by each area for a few songs, telling jokes in between as he caught his breath. The melody and guitar mimicking was pretty good, but the dances and imaginary guitar won me over. Of course, I gave him a good tip, as he put a smile on the face of everyone around. All in all, this was a wonderful evening, and it seemed that everyone in town was having as great a day as I was.

Despite the wonderful atmosphere of this friendly, colonial town, I didn't really have time to linger more than a few days, so once again, I made plans to hit the road. I took my time getting up in the morning and having a nice warm shower, as my next stop was unusually close. It would only be an hour bus ride or so (and probably just three or four dollars), and I'd be in Pátzcuaro, a small mountain town that was said to be tranquil and beautiful.

(One of the many old, old buildings from the mid 1500s that still serves its purpose today.)

(The main street next to the majestic cathedral and adjacent town squares.)

(The church steeples at night, lit up in red and green within the bell towers.)

(So many arches...this is part of the aqueduct, running through the middle of one of the main roads.)

(Main square, main church...you've seen it before.)

(Nice trees and landscaping with stone buildings for that antiquated look.)

(Dun dun dun dunnnnn. Here he is - the incredibly amusing street performer rocking out to his own imaginary tunes.)

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