End of Mexico
I took a trip to Puebla on my way to Mexico City. I need to finish Mexico so I can start on some Peru action.
Puebla was a fairly unremarkable place but I made it interesting. After a few self-imposed glitches, I was finally able to extract myself from Oaxaca. I got to Puebla in the morning and checked into my crappy overpriced hotel room. I need to go to Tripadvisor and straighten them out. I just kind of walked around town like I always do when I get to new place and ended up in what looked like the friendliest place for a beer (also like I always do). I was watching the Mexico vs El Salvador soccer game and I made the mistake of offering the extremely drunk guy next to me my peanuts because I didn’t want them. That, of course, made us best friends. He starts slurring to me in Spanish and poking me about every 20 seconds. I just want to watch the game. He wants to talk politics in barely understandable Spanish. Then of course I’m too good for him because I’m a pinche Gringo when in reality I just can’t understand a word he is saying. I am obviously getting annoyed and a couple of locals pick up on it and step and tell the guy to beat it (very cool of them). The waiter chases him down because he didn't pay and he comes back in and tells the manager that I am paying his bill. I deny that of course and the dude starts throwing glasses on the ground. Five minutes later the cops come in and drag him out. The bar pays my bill and I end up going out with the two local guys who helped me out and they invite me to a baseball game for the local team the next day which was a blast.
The next day was my last day so I decided to go to Popocatepetl. I hopped a bus to Cholula so I could find a collectivo to the general vicinity of Popo. Collectivos are vans that drive along and pick people up and drop them off as they go. Needless to say, you pick up and drop off a lot of interesting people carrying interesting items in the Mexican countryside. Being the only Gringo on a collectivo also makes you a bit of an oddity. The people are curious but polite enough to ask you what the hell you are doing. But if you speak to them they open up with a million questions. The cool thing about the collectivo is that the driver and passengers all work together to make sure everyone gets their stuff strapped to the roof or squeezed into the vehicle itself. People just spontaneously get out and help when the vehicle stops. There were pigs, lumber, sacks of seeds, bikes, plumbing supplies, a businessman in a suit, and many campesinos with farming tools.
I was dropped off in some little village that was allegedly close to the base of the volcano. I couldn't tell if the volcano was actually there because of the clouds but I started walking up a dirt road that some kids pointed me to. I walked up a path and eventually reached a trout farm where I met a teenage Mexican boy who explained to me that it was going to be at least a day's hike to the cone of the volcano. Nobody was home but he offered me food and water if I wanted to make the hike. I decided to head back to the main road which was a 30-40 minute walk. When I got to the road, I thought I would walk up a bit just to get some more exercise knowing that I couldn't even make it up to the restaurant/campground that was 20 km farther up the road. After walking for about 15 minutes, this guy comes flying around the corner in a beat up Nissan pickup with a camper shell and slams on his brakes. He motions towards the back to the truck and I figured, what the hell. So I hopped in the back of the truck and he continues FLYING up the mountain. I have video. This guy was going flat out and sliding around corners and tossing me around the back of the truck. The whole time I was thinking about how I hadn't considered how I was getting down, knowing I had to catch a bus to Mexico City the next day. He dropped me off at the campground and told me he would be going back down in two hours if I needed a ride. Relieved, I found a lady making food by the side of the road and ordered some thing that I couldn't name if you asked me. It was this blue corn tortilla stuffed with cheese, beans, and peppers and cooked over wood. Incredible. I ordered a second. I walked up to a little campground where the guy who gave me the ride was working on the stoves in the restaurant. I hiked around for a while and looked at some really bad Mexican development in a beautiful place. It started to rain so I walked down toward the campground and a bunch of people were sitting in this cabana and they started giving me (good natured) shit. "Hey Gringo, you're a long way from home. What are you doing? Where are you going? Come have some tequila." In Spanish of course. So I went into the cabana and the woman who seemed to be the ring leader told me to pour myself a drink. And then pour "tia China" a drink. And then pour "Tia Gueta" a drink. And this went on until I poured everyone a drink. They were full of questions about me and my life and we burned through two bottles of Sauza and then the dude who gave me a ride was ready to leave.
The guy invited me to ride up front for the ride down. His name was Santiago and his son, Miguel, was with him. He drove at the same speed (or faster) down the windy road and we just kind of talked about our lives and whatever. He just laughed when I talked about being divorced. He has three ex-wives and "we will never understand women" seems to translate in any language. We were driving past these trees and I was asking him what they were. He kept saying "nuez." I knew what nuez was and should have recognized the trees since I went to school in Chico and since my neighbor used to get drunk and blow them off a tree when I was a kid but I couldn't get it. We pulled over and picked a few green ones and Miguel started peeling them with his pocket knife. He extracted some of it and gave it to me and I said "oh, it's a fucking walnut!" And Santiago tried for the next 20 minutes to pronounce "walnut."
He dropped me off in the village and told me where to catch a collectivo back to Cholula and off I went with the most agro/angry collectivo driver I have ever seen. I was lucky to survive. Got on the wrong bus in Cholula and ended up who knows where. By the grace of some very nice woman, I finally got back to Puebla three hours later (it's 30 minutes from Cholula). Went to a bar/restaurant to have some food and a couple beers and met two very nice girls from Guadalajara. Hung out with them for a couple hours and was leaving and realized my Mexican cell phone was missing. I knew who took it and walked up to the guy, reached into his pocket, took it, called him a puto, and left. The guy who worked there chased me down and apologized, telling me that not everyone in his country was a thief. I told him that I knew that. He was very embarrassed.
I left for Peru the next day. I was sick with a respiratory infection for five days in Peru and also got distracted by a few people (well one in particular) but I am getting caught up now. I will update Peru next.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Stay Classy Oaxaca
3-2-1....and that's a wrap.
Adios Oaxaca
Or hasta luego more like it. I will return. I mean, I have to. Too many people expect to see me back here.
Adios Oaxaca
Or hasta luego more like it. I will return. I mean, I have to. Too many people expect to see me back here.
But I had to extract myself. I had a going away party because I needed one more night of staying up until 5 or 6. Matt from Australia and I ended up at the Tlayuda stand at 5:30 AM posing as a gay couple from San Francisco which was pretty funny for the other patrons. The amazing thing was that there were ten people there at 5:30 AM on a Tuesday. I was supposed to leave on Wednesday but I forgot my passport and my credit card at the place I was staying and had to go back and get it so I missed my bus.
I need to thank the following people for my time in Oaxaca: Paco uno, Paco dos, Paco tres, Carlos, Carlos, and Carlos, Oscar, Keni, Pinky, Fernando, Lalo, Flor, Alberto, Miguel, Gloria, Lily, Veronica, Jessica, Christy, Mayumi, Dale, Rebecca, Matt, Martin, Neil, Sandra, Jovani, and especially my good friend Heidy who was so generous with her time.
I had a good run and maybe stayed two or three weeks longer than I should have. I was kind of lost once Cafe Borgo closed because it was the center of my social life. Pretty much 80% of everyone I knew in Oaxaca was directly or indirectly through Borgo. The new Borgo is now open for business and I anxiously await reports from the front lines.
My last night in Oaxaca was interesting. It was actually uninteresting until the riot started. I walked into this little store and when I walked out these people were running down the street pushing motorcycles over. I started to follow them down the street to see what they were up to and they started smashing out store windows and growing rapidly in numbers. I looked behind me and police in riot gear were moving pretty quickly toward me. The rioters were apparently better armed with projectiles than I thought and started hurling rocks and bottles at the cops and I am trapped in the middle. I looked at the cops and shrug my shoulders with my palms up to say "what do I do?" One of the cops waves me toward him and I scramble his way and he drags me back through the line of cops to safety. I didn´t have an opportunity to get out my camera until I was behind the cops. I took some really bad video from behind the mayhem that includes me running away when the tear gas comes out. It also results in one of my favorite moments of the trip - the flower vendor running beside me yelling "orrale gueto" (run whitey) as his girlfriend runs by giggling.
I can´t get the video to post, I´ve been trying for a couple of days. I will try Flickr/Facebook to see if I have any luck.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Chiapas (Part 3) Comitan
I thought I posted this. Oops.
Comitan is a very nice little town. It is the cleanest city I have ever visited in Mexico. There is not one scrap of trash on the streets. I can't figure it out.
We left the ranch after a few days of relaxing, riding horses, and talking to a bunch of very interesting people. That morning, Cristobal and Flor were going to drive the Jeep into Teopisca for a shopping run. This another one of those "only in Mexico" or maybe even a "always in Mexico" kind of mornings. If you have spent any time in Mexico (especially on any kind of driving trip) you know that it isn't a Mexico trip until you pull a car out of a ditch, repair a car with aluminum foil, or perhaps buy gasoline from someone who lives in a camper shell and makes his pregnant wife siphon the gas (yes, that happened on a Baja trip). Cristobal tried to start the jeep, which had been sitting for a month but it was dead. Fortunately the ranch is up on a hill so we could just push the jeep down and bump start it. The Kernal, Flor, and I all got behind the jeep and started pushing. And pushing. And pushing. Until we go to the bottom of the hill. We couldn't push anymore and Cristobal realized that he had been in reverse the whole time and that the jeep was out of gas. Oops. What to do? The Kernal and Flor decided to walk the ten minutes up the road back the ranch for some reason. I can't remember why. Cristobal, Atman (three or four year old boy) and I stayed at the jeep. Some locals came along and Cristobal asked them if the could catch a ride into town. They said yes and off he went. And left me with someone else's kid. Now that might seem strange to you but remember this is Mexico. People just need to get shit done. They can't worry about following a bunch of rules or regulations. We are a very rule-based society. This British guy I met who is riding his bike to South America told me about being scolded by some random citizen in Orange County because he barely rode across the corner of a sidewalk. This is deep Mexico and we needed gas. The Kernal and Flor come back and there I am picking daiseys with the kid. The Kernal kind of says, "what the fuck?" I just told him that "hey it's Mexico", which of course he understood being a Mexico veteran. He said something to the effect that it was classic that someone would just leave me with the kid without thinking twice. And it would only happen in Mexico. Fortuantely Cristobal found a Gringo with a big truck and jumper cables to bring him back with the gas. He wouldn't have gotten it started without my automotive experise though. So, you're saying, "but you don't have any automotive expertise and are basically a mechanical retard." True. But I did mow a lot of lawns as a kid and I remembered that sometimes I needed to prime the engine to get it started, a concept Cristobal was not familair with. We eventually got the Jeep fired up and the three of them were off to town and the Kernal and I went back up the hill to wait for our taxi.
It's amazing the power of a 100 Peso tip. Our taxi driver made it up the someewhat sketchy dirt road and picked us up within 15 minutes of our agreed time. Then he told us he could take us all the way to Comitan for 200 more Pesos even though he was technically not allowed to do it. Another loophole. Something about picking us up on a dirt road and not the highway which made it ok. Whatever. He took us back to Teopisca to return our bottles and then made 20 more dangerous passes on the way to Comitan.
As I said, Comitan is a very clean little town. But the vibe is so different than Oaxaca or even San Cristobal de las Casas. We defintely had the "animal in a zoo" feeling at times. I mean, people stare at you like they are seeing Bigfoot walk down the street. I think, for one thing, people see lots of Gringos and Europeans in Oaxaca. We simply didn't see any Americans or Euros in Comitan so I think people were thinking "what the hell are you doing here?" At least that was feeling. People are much more closed. But it is also right next to Guatemala and there is a heavy Zapatista (rebel) influence in the area. However, like other similar parts of Mexico, people will totally open up to you once you speak to them, especially if you speak Spanish. The women will not make eye contact but they make more overt gestures (like yelling "papito" from cars). They will also say things like "guapito" (handsome) as they pass you on the street. But they just keep walking/driving. They don't hang around to talk. The men have a more aggressive or angry disposition than a place like Oaxaca. In Oaxaca they are just indifferent. Again, until you talk to them. We definitely got some glares and even some threatening stares in Comitan. But mostly people were just curious. "What the hell are you two Gringos doing here, anyway?"
The highlight of our trip was probably the torta shop and the girl who worked there. I don't think I have ever had a more charismatic person make me a sandwich. She was very plain looking but at the same time extremely attractive. As an added bonus, she let us bring beer into the restaurant because they didn't sell it. I can't explain it, but she just had this thing that pulled us both in. Ane then there were the tortas. If you are ever within 200 miles of Comitan (which you never will be), make the trip into town and go to Tortas Mickey. You will stay an extra day so that you can go back again and have more tortas. On our second day we didn't waste any time and just ordered two. Each.
The one thing that will stick with me the most was the girl that I spoke with from Guatemala. It was another reminder (although they come daily) of how lucky I am. She was 24 and had a four year old son who lived in Guatemala with her parents. She was working in Comitan as a stripper and sharing a very small and dirty apartment with another girl from her country doing the same thing. She simply could not make any money in Guatemala and had to work in some hideous club on the outskirts of town. She kind of dodged the question about whether or not they made her work as a prostitute although it was all in Spanish so I could have missed something. All she wanted was to buy a computer for her son. She said she had 4000 pesos saved which was a fortune to her (about $300). Everyday is a struggle for her and she was such a lovely person. Her story really moved me and I gave her 1000 pesos and made her promise me that it would go toward the computer. All she wants is another thing we all take for granted - an education for her son. She dropped out in 9th grade. She's not proud of that. She called it a loan and said she would pay me back some day. I told her that would be fine.
Then it was back to Oaxaca.
Comitan is a very nice little town. It is the cleanest city I have ever visited in Mexico. There is not one scrap of trash on the streets. I can't figure it out.
We left the ranch after a few days of relaxing, riding horses, and talking to a bunch of very interesting people. That morning, Cristobal and Flor were going to drive the Jeep into Teopisca for a shopping run. This another one of those "only in Mexico" or maybe even a "always in Mexico" kind of mornings. If you have spent any time in Mexico (especially on any kind of driving trip) you know that it isn't a Mexico trip until you pull a car out of a ditch, repair a car with aluminum foil, or perhaps buy gasoline from someone who lives in a camper shell and makes his pregnant wife siphon the gas (yes, that happened on a Baja trip). Cristobal tried to start the jeep, which had been sitting for a month but it was dead. Fortunately the ranch is up on a hill so we could just push the jeep down and bump start it. The Kernal, Flor, and I all got behind the jeep and started pushing. And pushing. And pushing. Until we go to the bottom of the hill. We couldn't push anymore and Cristobal realized that he had been in reverse the whole time and that the jeep was out of gas. Oops. What to do? The Kernal and Flor decided to walk the ten minutes up the road back the ranch for some reason. I can't remember why. Cristobal, Atman (three or four year old boy) and I stayed at the jeep. Some locals came along and Cristobal asked them if the could catch a ride into town. They said yes and off he went. And left me with someone else's kid. Now that might seem strange to you but remember this is Mexico. People just need to get shit done. They can't worry about following a bunch of rules or regulations. We are a very rule-based society. This British guy I met who is riding his bike to South America told me about being scolded by some random citizen in Orange County because he barely rode across the corner of a sidewalk. This is deep Mexico and we needed gas. The Kernal and Flor come back and there I am picking daiseys with the kid. The Kernal kind of says, "what the fuck?" I just told him that "hey it's Mexico", which of course he understood being a Mexico veteran. He said something to the effect that it was classic that someone would just leave me with the kid without thinking twice. And it would only happen in Mexico. Fortuantely Cristobal found a Gringo with a big truck and jumper cables to bring him back with the gas. He wouldn't have gotten it started without my automotive experise though. So, you're saying, "but you don't have any automotive expertise and are basically a mechanical retard." True. But I did mow a lot of lawns as a kid and I remembered that sometimes I needed to prime the engine to get it started, a concept Cristobal was not familair with. We eventually got the Jeep fired up and the three of them were off to town and the Kernal and I went back up the hill to wait for our taxi.
It's amazing the power of a 100 Peso tip. Our taxi driver made it up the someewhat sketchy dirt road and picked us up within 15 minutes of our agreed time. Then he told us he could take us all the way to Comitan for 200 more Pesos even though he was technically not allowed to do it. Another loophole. Something about picking us up on a dirt road and not the highway which made it ok. Whatever. He took us back to Teopisca to return our bottles and then made 20 more dangerous passes on the way to Comitan.
As I said, Comitan is a very clean little town. But the vibe is so different than Oaxaca or even San Cristobal de las Casas. We defintely had the "animal in a zoo" feeling at times. I mean, people stare at you like they are seeing Bigfoot walk down the street. I think, for one thing, people see lots of Gringos and Europeans in Oaxaca. We simply didn't see any Americans or Euros in Comitan so I think people were thinking "what the hell are you doing here?" At least that was feeling. People are much more closed. But it is also right next to Guatemala and there is a heavy Zapatista (rebel) influence in the area. However, like other similar parts of Mexico, people will totally open up to you once you speak to them, especially if you speak Spanish. The women will not make eye contact but they make more overt gestures (like yelling "papito" from cars). They will also say things like "guapito" (handsome) as they pass you on the street. But they just keep walking/driving. They don't hang around to talk. The men have a more aggressive or angry disposition than a place like Oaxaca. In Oaxaca they are just indifferent. Again, until you talk to them. We definitely got some glares and even some threatening stares in Comitan. But mostly people were just curious. "What the hell are you two Gringos doing here, anyway?"
The highlight of our trip was probably the torta shop and the girl who worked there. I don't think I have ever had a more charismatic person make me a sandwich. She was very plain looking but at the same time extremely attractive. As an added bonus, she let us bring beer into the restaurant because they didn't sell it. I can't explain it, but she just had this thing that pulled us both in. Ane then there were the tortas. If you are ever within 200 miles of Comitan (which you never will be), make the trip into town and go to Tortas Mickey. You will stay an extra day so that you can go back again and have more tortas. On our second day we didn't waste any time and just ordered two. Each.
The one thing that will stick with me the most was the girl that I spoke with from Guatemala. It was another reminder (although they come daily) of how lucky I am. She was 24 and had a four year old son who lived in Guatemala with her parents. She was working in Comitan as a stripper and sharing a very small and dirty apartment with another girl from her country doing the same thing. She simply could not make any money in Guatemala and had to work in some hideous club on the outskirts of town. She kind of dodged the question about whether or not they made her work as a prostitute although it was all in Spanish so I could have missed something. All she wanted was to buy a computer for her son. She said she had 4000 pesos saved which was a fortune to her (about $300). Everyday is a struggle for her and she was such a lovely person. Her story really moved me and I gave her 1000 pesos and made her promise me that it would go toward the computer. All she wants is another thing we all take for granted - an education for her son. She dropped out in 9th grade. She's not proud of that. She called it a loan and said she would pay me back some day. I told her that would be fine.
Then it was back to Oaxaca.
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