Mexico City in photos

Mexico City is a great one. A cultural melting pot with a rich history and once home to the brilliant Frida Kahlo, you’re never short of something to do – people gazing in the enormous Zocalo, admiring a Rivera fresco or having a history lesson at the magnificent Teotihuacan site. For me, Mexico City round two was every bit as exciting as my first visit, except this time by the end of the week my feet were in agony after walking what felt like every inch of the city. Perhaps I’m being a bit lazy (considering all the blog catch up I have), but I’ve chosen to make this post a visual one, mainly because I find Mexico such a visual country with its colourful culture, it’s Capital is no different. See if you agree…

'El Palacio de Bellas Artes'; the 'Blue House' Frida Kahlo shared with Diego Rivera.

The 17th century 'Templo de Santiago' church at Tlatelolco; view from the Virgin Guadalupe's shrine.

 A piece in the Diego Rivera Museum; the ubiquitous bettle in a Taxco plaza.

 The Chapultepec Castle in Chapultepec park; our first try of the crispy-shelled tacos 'dorado'.

 The site of Teotihuacan from the Pyramid of the Moon; having a break.

On a day trip from Mexico City we just beat the rain in Taxco, Mexico's silver capital.

Surf's up, in a really big way!

A friend of mine who’d been to Puerto Escondido on Mexico’s Pacific coast had told me that unless I was into surfing, there wasn’t much else to do besides chill out over a Corona on the beach. Sounded good to me. What we soon found out was that if you’re not into surfing, you shouldn’t really be into swimming either, if you want to enjoy Puerto Escondido at this time of year. This is mainly because you’d need flippers and a tail if you want any chance of surviving in surf that size, at least that was how this little city girl felt. On top of the surf situation we had the rain situation, which made sun baking or visiting Puerto’s calmer surrounding beaches a little difficult.

So what did we do in the five days we were there? Well that’s a good question. Let’s see, there were a fair few beers consumed, as predicted, at the ‘Osa Mariposa’ hostel where we got right into the creative vegetarian menu – ever tried carrot and coconut soup? It's good. One afternoon was spent under a threatening sky on the beach, watching the trials for a Quicksilver pro-surfing competition, all the while searching for Kelly Slater, but alas, not finding him (does he even surf anymore?). We did make the most of the surfer infested nightlife one night, and enjoyed the company of a couple of Scandinavians who’d been knocked out in the first round and were intent on spending the rest of their time posing as Ben Affleck’s security guards ("Ben Affleck" being an unfortunate Dutch look-alike). They did manage to score some free shots at the bar for "Ben" and his posse, so perhaps the Dutchman wasn't so unfortunate after all.



So when I look back on Puerto Escondido it was a nice enough place for a non-surfer to relax, but it’s probably a better idea that the non-surfer avoid the rainy season. By day five we’d watched a little too much ‘Sex in the City’ and ‘Dexter’ episodes while cooped up in our hostel room. We were itching to get outdoors in Mexico City where the forecast for the week ahead was sun, sun, sun!

Dancing in the street (BYO pineapple)

There’s no better time to visit a place than during a festival. There’s always an air of excitement and anticipation, people are happy, plazas are buzzing, and in Mexico, it’s all about music and colour. We arrived in Oaxaca City as it was preparing for its annual Guelaguetza festival, when representatives from local communities perform regional folk dances in traditional clothing. Most people associate this festival the female dancers from the Papaloapan region who dance with pineapples. So you can imagine that at this time, the city is a buzz with activity and although we actually missed the formal parade, we were there for a pre-festival run-through down the main street, and got a preview of the costumes, colours, and of course, the pineapples.

We arrived in Oaxaca after an overnight bus ride from Puerto Escondido. Once we got over our annoyance at a local policeman who’d given us wrong directions and caused us to catch a cab three blocks, and over our giggling at a room mate’s insistence on detailing the past sample she’d produced for a traveller’s diarrhoea trial, we were able to appreciate our hostel. ‘Hostel Don Nino’ was a far cry from the grubby place we’d stayed in San Cristobal. This place was anal about cleanliness, in a good way, and was more like a hotel than a hostel. And, after doing the red eye on a bus, who wouldn’t appreciate hot, high pressured showers pimped up a bit with shampoo, conditioner and body wash pumps. We even had our beds made each day, which usually took place while we were enjoying a hearty Mexican breakfast. So we were off to a good start in Oaxaca City.

Unfortunately, however, the rain followed us, but thankfully nowhere near to the extent of San Cristobal. So with the weather in our favour, we spent a lot of time cruising around the city centre and enjoying the festive vibe. We worked our way from the main plaza to what we thought was the ‘Palacio Gobierno’ (but which turned out to be more of a children’s interactive museum) and continued on to the main market where we resisted offers of dried grasshoppers, apparently a specialty in these parts. We made the obligatory visit to the beautiful Santa Domingo church and also explored the cultural centre next door, which had an impressive view of the botanical garden and its impressive number of cacti species.

And a typical day for us isn’t without some form of culinary experience. Although we drew the line at grasshoppers we did get stuck into the street food, which is amazing all over Mexico. I also fell in love with a gorgeous little café called ‘Pan & Co’ which served up a pretty good cappuccino (difficult to find in Central and South America). One night we enjoyed the cuisine at ‘Café Real’, where the menu offering of lamb chops was irresistible to my Australian lamb-loving pallet. We also fell victim to the café’s wine list, which had us enjoying an uncharacteristic night out on the town with a 52-year-old divorcee from Seattle!

Clockwise from left: the Convent attached to Santa Domingo,
activity in the Zocalo, balloons in the Zocalo, Santa Domingo church

One thing that comes to mind when people think of Mexico is - yep, I know you’re thinking it - tequila. Since our visit to Oaxaca we’ve learned that tequila is made from the blue agave plant and the very similar tasting mezcal is made from any variety of agave. The week we were in Oaxaca was also the week the International Mezcal festival rolled into town and it happened to be in the plaza directly opposite our hostel. It would have been silly not to have gone, but was it a little over the top to have gone twice, the second time just hours before an 11 hour night bus to Puerto Escondido? All I can say is that life is one big learning experience. After many a ‘tasting’, one at 48% alcohol, I now know how to do a tequila/mezcal shot without getting the gag-worthy sting at the end. The Mexicans sure know a thing or two when it comes to the art of drinking Mezcal! In hindsight though, I’m wondering if perhaps the festival contributed to my sleepless night on the bus to Puerto Escondido, or maybe it was just Murphy’s Law, that the last overnight bus trip I took in South and Central America be my worst.

Rain, rain, go away!

Every country has one and we happened to arrive in Mexico smack bang in the middle of its rainy season. While it didn’t seem to bother us in our first couple of weeks, in San Cristobal de las Casas the rain was ruthless. The good side of this was that we caught up on a lot of sleep and blog writing (so much for that now), and a few sessions of ‘Sex in the City’ for good measure. The down side? Walking around a city in ankle deep water isn’t the biggest crowd pleaser and the thought of a sleep in or a warm cup of coffee in a cosy cafe was far more enticing than looking like a drowned street rat. So while this colourful place had many an activity to keep us occupied, we spent the majority of our four days there indoors, listening to the sound of the rain outside. Ice-cream shops got a good run, vegemite toasties became a morning ritual and the local restaurants got some business. My favourite was the authentic hole-in-the-wall ‘Napoli Ristorante’, the Italian born owner serving up a mean cannelloni and Hawaiian pizza, it really was exceptional.

The colours of San Cristobal

We did, however, take advantage of the sunshine on the rare occasion when it would emerge. Mornings were the best bet at which time we coupled sunshine with sightseeing and exercise, stair climbs being the torture of choice. One morning we made a dash up to the Church of the Virgin de Guadalupe and had what felt like an asthma attack at the top, forgetting how high the altitude was (nearly 2100m). On another morning we went to the ‘mirador’ (viewpoint) where we found outdoor gym equipment, just in case our legs hadn’t had a good enough workout on the way up.

On our last day we got lucky. The heavens took a day off and gave us a full day of sunshine, making it the perfect day for a trip to the ‘Canyon Sumidero’, which at points is 1km high. We spent two hours lapping up the sun in the motorised tour boat, getting up close and personal with the spectacular waterfalls while at the same time keeping a safe distance from the crocodiles sunning themselves on the bank. It was kind of reminiscent of a family camping trip to the Katherine Gorge, except that unfortunately parts of the Canyon were quite polluted due to the rain having brought rubbish from other water sources. Despite that it's a really worthwhile day trip for anyone visiting San Cristobal.

What was not worthwhile was approaching the local tailor about replacing a zip on my backpack, a process he said would take a day but which instead took four. In the end I had to harass some other tailors for his home address, knock on his door (opened by his teenage son) and demand that he give me back my bag back. This was only a few hours before we caught a night bus to Oaxaca City, so I was a little stressed. Had I not put on my angry pants I think backpacking without a pack would have been quite a challenge.

Back on board

Blogging while travelling is a difficult task. Often we're in a new place every second or third day, seeing new sites, all the while trying to keep an up to date record of it all. I’m surprised I’ve come this far without throwing in the towel, but in saying that, now that I’m almost six weeks behind on posts, lately it's been tempting. But with the thought of returning home with a colourful record of my year-long adventure and my Dad’s favourite piece of advice in the back of my mind – ‘persevere’ – I’m back on board. So I'm here, sitting on a bus from Madrid to Valencia, taking myself back to Mexico and our July 8 arrival in San Cristobal de las Casas…

Ruined out

Yes, there. I said it. I'm completely ruined out. That's right, me and the Mayan pyramids need some space. Don't get me wrong, I'm so lucky to have been able to set eyes on these ancient marvels and it's been fascinating wandering, and in some cases climbing, through civilizations that have remained amazingly intact for centuries, but quite frankly I'm exhausted! There's an art to visiting ruin sites. First you have to beat the hoards of tourists who show up in buses at 9am, or thereabouts. This often means a pre-dawn wake-up call, because once these guys are on the scene any chance of capturing the greatness of a solitary pyramid or enjoying the silence of the jungle goes out the window. Hand-in-hand with tourists are the haggling vendors. These guys reserve spaces within the national parks and one by one attempt at convincing you to purchase a 'treasure'. Do they think I came all the way to buy a ceramic plate? Next there's the question of whether to get a guide or not and, from much experience, for tours lasting a couple of hours I'm going to go with no. A guide usually means being in a big group (more competition for people-less pics) and too often their personal anecdotes make something which could be enjoyed in three hours labour on for a frustrating five. Finally, at those sites that are unrestricted, there's what I'll call the ruin workout. It may not sound like much but if you're like me and have to explore every nook and cranny, coupled with being a tad out of shape, climbing these masses can be strenuous. Think stair climbs x 20! I sound negative don't I? I'm not really. In ruin talk, over two weeks I saw a true backyard jungle, some seriously primely located real estate, a seventh wonder and a hieroglyphs heaven! So while I may not be booking the first flight to Egypt, I don't regret a single minute spent at any of these sites (except maybe hours four and five with our guide in Tikal).

Clockwise from top left: Tikal, Tulum, Chichen Itza and Palenque

First was Guatemala's Tikal. If you're familiar with Tikal you'll have images of enormous stone structures poking out onto the horizon from underneath lush jungle. People had told us the site was amazing and, as our first ruins visit in a while, we made Flores our next stop. The plan was to, once in Flores, take an hour long bus to the Tikal National Park where we'd sleep the night and get up at the crack of dawn to watch the sun rise from one of the ancient temples. The only problem was that it was a Sunday and by the time we'd got there the last Tikal-bound bus had left. Now to be honest, Flores isn't a place you'd spend more than a day in, and we certainly weren't about to exceed that, so we cut our losses and signed up for a tour which would pick us up from our hostel at 4:30am. Cue early wake-up.

And henceforth the organised-tour-induced frustration commenced. First it was the waiting 40 minutes to collect other tourists from within a 200m radius of where we sat parked. Sunlight emerging. Then there was the announcement that, 'oh the park entry fee isn't included', at which point most of those who took 40 minutes to get to the tour bus retreated to their accommodation for extra cash. Sun appearing on horizon. Then there was the inescapable petrol station stop. Sun rising. In short, my painful early morning - a sacrifice for the sake of watching the sunrise atop a temple - was all but lost in the back of a tour bus. I did get one measly through-the-grubby-window shot of what was a brilliant sky.

Irritation aside, we reached Tikal in one piece and, being pre-9am, we were one of the few tourist groups there. Also putting aside the gag-worthy onion smelling ceiba trees and a guide who said in a twisted Guatemalan/US accent: 'you get what I mean guys?', after every sentence, Tikal was a truly extraordinary place and surpassed my expectations, well all but the sunrise one. The immensity of the temples which sit undisturbed in the middle of a monkey-filled jungle was at times unworldly. A friend of mine described it as like a scene from Star Wars, maybe a little greener and without the space ships. Added to the enjoyment of it all (and possibly to the future detriment of the site) is the fact that you can climb all over these age-old relics, which is what we did over the next five hours, scurrying over small scale pyramids and hauling ourselves up steep temple stairs to marvel at the stone studded horizon. As the opening act to our highly anticipated ruins circuit, the once kingdom of King Moon Double Comb - love that name - was going to be pretty hard to beat.

Tikal

The next stop on the ruin itinerary was Tulum, Mexico. This meant another day-long bus ride, a few border crossings and, as we're now used to with Central America travel, a few surprises along the way. Surprises like a stopover in Belize City which we were asured would not happen, making the seven hour journey eleven. Oh, and then there was the illegal 'border crossing fee' we were charged when we crossed from Guatemala to Belize, just another one to addto the list. It wasn't until 1am that we arrived in Tulum and crashed at 'The Weary Backpacker' hostel (appropriate name considering the state we were in), although the blood-stained sheet I discovered I'd been sleeping on when I woke up made the decision to move on an easy one (yuuuuuukk!!). We were much more comfortable staying at the 'Papaya Playa' beach resort where we gladly succumbed to happy hour, the Spanish bar tender throwing in a few freebies. The best part about this place was that it was nesting season for sea turtles and on beach walk one night, from a distance we saw an enormous turtle haul herself up the beach before laying her eggs in the dunes and returning to the ocean.

Swinging bar seats at Papaya Playa and sea turtle nesting tracks

But what we'd really come for were the ruins, and let me just say that if I'd been a Mayan back in the day, Tulum would have been the ultimate beach-town getaway. Although nowhere near the incredible scale of Tikal, the draw card is all about location, location, location. Perched high on the coastline and surrounded by the oh so familiar Caribbean turquoise, Tulum is like a picture postcard. And considering we could only withstand the Mexican heat for an hour or so, the hour we did spend there was well worth it, it was stunning.

Tulum

With Chichen Itza and Palenque on the horizon we decided to give the ruins a breather and take a stab at the cheesy Cancun and Isla Mujers. Turns out there was a little too much cheese for us there (except at the amazing 'Comono' Turkish restaurant where the Mediterranean cheese plate was exquisite) and, having spent less than 24 hours in the tourist infested hubs, we settled on the quieter city of Merida, close to the west coast. This was definitely more our style with its leafy family packed plazas and music filled streets. The icing on the cake was the 'Hostel Zocalo' which served up an impressive spread of fresh fruit and cereal to kick start every day and had a fully equipped kitchen for our love of cooking. Big tick!

For us, Merida was for relaxing. We spent our days wandering the streets, enjoying the weekend festivities and watching the pensioners-only salsa club dance up a storm. On one day we ventured to the nearby Celestun where we were tempted by the promise of Flamingo sightings but were disappointed when, on arrival, we were told that because it was 'low season' the flamingos preferred to stay out of public view. Perhaps, we thought, this was a sign that we should have stayed on the relaxation train in Merida or maybe should return to our scheduled ruins visits. The latter prevailed and the next day we were awake by 5am and at Chichen Itza by 8am.

Charged by a $5 cappuccino from the exorbitantly priced coffee cart, I was ready to go. And Chichen Itza gets straight down to business. Staring at us on entry was the object of the seventh wonder title, 'El Castillo' or, 'the Castle', a huge four-sided pyramid in the centre of an expansive green lawn, its plumed serpent carving guarding the steps to the temple at the top. Had we visited in April we might have caught Elton John performing alongside the massive structure. And such carvings are definitely one of the most striking things about these ruins, similar ones can to be seen all over the site, my favourtie were those of human skulls on the Tzompantli. We wandered through the ball court, having fun with its acoustics along the way, and left the 'Caracol' or 'snail' (sometimes referred to as the observatory) just before the bus loads of tourists piled in. As we self-guided ourselves through each stone structure, what I found astonishing was how evident the sophistication and mathematical brilliance of these people was. For example, in the observatory which was built specifically around the astronomical path of Venus, or the Castillo which was constructed in a way so that, during the Spring and Autumn equinox, the shadow of a plumed serpent appears on the pyramid's face. These people were brainy!

Chichen Itza

At this point, and as the subject of this post would suggest, we were almost ruined out. We'd visited three major sites in under two weeks and my body shuddered at the thought of another early morning, us against the tourtist buses. We discussed over our last dinner in Merida, 'should we or shouldn't we?' After Palenque we were off to San Cristobal de las Casas and it was tempting to go straight there. There must have been something in the delicious sun-dried tomato and goat's cheese sauce that topped my spaghetti at Cafe Chocolate because there was a change in my mood, I was determined to conquer Palenque. Our new plan was relatively straight forward: we'd finish dinner, catch the night bus to Palenque, be there by 8am, see the site and hop on a bus to San Cristobal. And that's just what we did. The added bonus? The local drunk who insisted on accompanying us to the Merida bus station. 'Welcome, I've been looking for you guys', he said to our blank faces. 'I am the light and the way'. At this point, I was pretty sure he wasn't Jesus Christ. In any case he made our final hour in Merida a good one, and as we said our goodbyes and he waded through the ankle-deep water that had flooded the road, his last words were reassuring: 'Don't worry about me, I'm a Warrior'.

So at this point of our travels, we were getting pretty tired. Night buses are never good news, I'd like to meet one person who has slept the whole way through on a night bus. We wanted food, showers and sleep in that order and what we were about to get was humidity, naggy vendors and stair climbs (Palenque is another site where climbing the ruins is permitted). So I'm not going to lie, I can't say we realised Palenque's full potential. We were there by 9am, did some wandering around the spacious site, took some pics of the unspoiled hieroglyphics and decided to make a dash for the 11.30 bus to San Cristobal. Maybe next time I come back I'll dedicate a couple more hours to poor old Palenque, but I'd survived an intense fortnight mastering the art of ruins touring, and let me tell you, it was no mean feat.


Palenque