February 14, 2009

Been a long time.

In the last month and a half since leaving San Blas we have been to two more countries and seen and done lots. Most all of the details have all but disappeared but I will try to recount some of the things we have done. And with a bit more time elapsed and places experienced I may be able to more clearly discern between what I liked at the time and what places really stuck with me.

From San Blas we headed back through Tepic and onward to Guadalajara. The drive was gorgeous, through plantations of blue agave as the sun was setting. Guadalajara is in..I believe, the state of Jalisco, and Jalisco is to tequila as Champagne is to, well, Champagne. So the liquor distilled from agave that is made outside of Jalisco is called Mezcal, not tequila. At least this is my understanding and it is probably wrong.

We got into Guadalajara in the evening and decided that we would try to bus it into town instead of springing for an expensive taxi. After mysteriously being passed up by some buses, we were picked up and on our way. Guadalajara is an interesting town and honestly I can't remember if we liked it at first or not. It's the major university town in Mexico and the major destination for people studying abroad in Mexico. The hostel that we chose was in the center or town and our arrival coincided with the start of a new semester so there were many newly arrived students acclimating themselves to Guadalajara. Australian, Canadian, Panamanian, American, Dutch and Chinese, we met some some really cool people and had a good time running around with them for a few days.

Although the center of the city was dead at night, we were only a few blocks from the central squares and cathedrals that were bustling during the day and filled with families on the weekends. Guadalajara has more public art than any city I've seen in any country, abound with bronze busts to funky modern pieces and street performers. It's a great place to bumble around or sit by a fountain and watch the people bumble around you.

On a recommendation from our friend James who we met in San Blas, we headed to bar Santa in the more posh, student hangout part of town. All white interior with good electronic/lounge being spun and funky fluorescent Jesus murals, Santa was where we suspected the children of drug lords (anyone with money we assumed was somehow connected to the drug trade) hung out. Awkwardly interested in our waiter's physique, Rory asked him if he climbed and he told us that he didn't, but that the owner of the bar did. We were quickly introduced and we had a date to go climbing the next day.

Unfortunately we had just begun climbing and had absolutely no edurance in our forearms. So it was pretty embarrassing when we went climbing with Gabriela and her friend Daniel, but nevertheless it was our first day of hanging out with Mexicans and I was high on the fact that we were speaking Spanish the whole time. Plus, Gabi and Danny were really fun and didn't seem to mind too much that we couldn't climb a very easy wall.

A couple of crazy consecutive nights at Santa, America, then the after-after party place were enough and we decided to head out. The next stop was either Guanajuato or Morelia and at the last moment we opted for the rooftop bars and grand cathedrals of Morelia that we had heard and read so much about.

In Morelia we met an extremely friendly cab driver who helped us find the hotel we were looking for. He had lived in Chicago for years and still had family there but had moved back to Mexico because he just preferred it. As we were driving through cobblestoned and colonial Morelia on the day of the Three Kings (a holiday that we don't celebrate, but apparently it is the day when the children get their Christmas gifts) we could understand why. We were greeted by a parade and pageantry as children were receiving their gifts in the main square. Morelia is gorgeous, set atop a hill with over 300 churches and an appreciation for colonial architecture it looks like a picturesque Spanish or Italian town. In fact, we learned as we were about to leave that it was so nice that many of the big time drug lords had moved to the hills surrounding town and that only months before there had been grenade attack clashed with the police that had killed several tourists. Comforting.


Rory was on the ball and before we had arrived he had already found us a climbing gym. Morelia has some very talented climbers and they were all so interested to meet us and find out how long we were staying, with several offering to take us for a climb in the following days. We ended up going climbing with Fernando, his Canadian wife and their daughter (who reminded me so much of little Mary Pippa) and two of their friends. It was an eventful day as it was quite a drive out into the mountains, then quite a hike to the routes. We ended up only climbing once each, which was pretty disappointing but it was nice to get to know the people who were kind enough to take us out.

The rooftop bars overlooking the cathedral weren't all they were cracked up to be and the charge by the hour type hotel that we were staying in was easy to leave behind, so after a couple of more days we took off from Morelia. Our cab driver to the bus station had also lived in the States but offered, completely unprompted, that he had been deported after going to jail for something gang/drug related and let us know that his vice was “piedra” (crack). While constantly telling us stories interspersed with the stereotypical “ese” and “word, dog”, he took us on a seemingly circuitous route to the bus station (although it must have been a short cut) that took us on dirt roads that looked like they would dead end (and that we would too). We were relieved to make it to the bus station and Rory gave him an extra big tip I think because he was thanking him for not robbing and killing us (as his cousin was still in jail for that very same crime!).

From Morelia we were headed to Mexico City and unlike Morelia we had heard very bad things about Mexico City (DF) and the people who lived there. Even the admitted gang-banging convict and crack addict said that Chilangos (people from DF) were thieves and liars. Coming from him we were especially convinced.

Arriving in DF, we reluctantly stepped off the bus and immediately sneered at everyone. In our minds they were all sizing us up and preparing to take us down. We bought our taxi ticket inside the bus terminal, not wanting to get in a taxi that might rob us. We were relieved to find that our driver was an amiable older guy from Guadalajara—not a born and bred Chilango. He took us towards our destination until we decided upon arrival that we would try another spot. We ended up in a great little hotel that was an expensive place to stay but a great scene. With all of the great sites to see in Mexico City—like the world's preeminent museum of natural history, the impressive central park, the Aztec ruins just outside of town that boasts the highest pyramid outside of Egypt (and third highest in the world)--Rory and I managed to see none of it. We went out every night, spending way too much money and lazed around during the day. We did manage to see the main square with what must be the world's largest flagpole and flag and the famous mural in the Supreme Court and the Presidential Palace...but that was about it. Nonetheless, DF was wonderful. We met nothing but great people, we walked home at 5am without any problems and we found another climbing gym that we could get to using the wonderful metro system. All of the warnings although I'm sure worthy and true just didn't seem to apply to us and we had a great time.

We finally tore ourselves away from DF intent on getting out of the cities and back to being active. We took the late bus to Oaxaca on Saturday and got in time to rally and try out the night life. It was a fun town and after landing in the great “Banana Magic” Hostel, we got out and mixed it up. Oaxaca is a great place that would be worth a return trip. It's also unique in that it must have the highest per capita rate of old VW Bugs. It looked like all of the hippies had caravaned down in the 70s and left their cars...and according to my Uncle David that is pretty much how it went down. Seeing as climbing gyms had become the best way for us to meet good people and we had finally started getting better, we found a good place in Oaxaca and went out a couple of times. I didn't feel like we accomplished much in Oaxaca, either, and it felt like a bit of a pattern was forming. But really with these cities there are only so many cathedrals and squares that you can see before you feel like you've seen it all. And we were meeting the people, which I feel is the best thing you can do when you are traveling so I guess we weren't doing all that bad. Nevertheless I was happy to be headed back to the coast where the promise of more activity lay ahead.

From Oaxaca it took us six curvy hours through an impressively large mountain range to reach Puerto Escondido. Famous for being the best surf spot in Mexico, it felt like the driver of our bus was late for an appointment as he was driving as if he were Mario Andretti and passing sports cars in our over sized van. Home of the Mexican Pipeline, Puerto Escondido is a cool spot and after 2 nights in a prison like RV/Cabana complex, we moved out to the Point to a hotel right on the beach. With great rocks on the beach to climb, almost constant surf, and the reunion with our friends from San Blas—Puerto was probably my favorite place on the trip so far. Our hotel was full of a diverse group of cool people from Italy, Argentina, Canada and Mexico and there was always something fun to entertain us, whether it was a game of ping-pong, cards, beach soccer, climbing or surfing. With good people and such a great set-up it was the perfect spot. The day our Australian buddies arrived happened to be Australia Day which is always an epic holiday and dressed up like the boy band that we would soon become (Cuatequis, we all wore tank-tops and ridiculous hots) we hit the town hard. 5 shots of Mezcal later we were having dance offs in the local bar and were all rocking out as if we were Aussies.

Great breakfast, cards, ping-pong, soccer, climbing, go out and repeat for the next several days, and then, unfortunately, it was time to push on.

Within hours of their arrival I had told the boys about our plans to head to Belize to meet up with my sister Lindsay and within seconds they were on board. We decided that we'd do a quick stint through Chiapas in southern Mexico and head to the famous ruins at Palenque, then we would make it to Belize in time to meet Lindsay as she got off the plane.

In Chiapas I came down with a solid 102 degree fever and was pretty much out of commission for a couple of days—being nursed back to health. Being sick on the road is never fun, and especially when you're with such a great group. I started getting better just as we were heading to Palenque but didn't want a relapse of the debilitating fever. The boys did a good job of conquering foreign lands without me and after a rather boring visit to Palenque we were finally headed to Belize.

The trip to the island was almost too easy and Belize City was not worth the wander so we camped out in the ferry terminal almost the entire day so we wouldn't arrive too much before Lindsay. It rained all day and finally cleared up as we got on the 4pm ferry. Armed with only a street name on an island that doesn't name it's streets, I was immediately impressed by the locals who helped us by first calling the phone number that I had been giving, getting the name off of the answering machine, then sending us to another set of people who were sure to know where Warren and Deb lived. With the sand streets, the azure waters and the anticipation of meeting up with Lindsay, I was excited for Caye Caulker. We found where Warren and Deb lived and as we were walking towards their house we saw Lindsay, recently arrived. We were staying in a great place and were looking forward to good times. 9 days in the sun came and went and before we knew it it was time to say goodbye and take off again.

Rory and I left the Aussies with their new itinerary and their Scandinavian mistresses and decided that instead of going back to finish off Mexico (backtracking is never a popular idea), we would save the Yucatan for later and head directly to Guatemala. The direct bus got us here late and after a little skirmish with the bus driver trying to sell us tours, we made it onto the island of Flores. It's great to be back in a cheap, Spanish speaking (Belize is English, Creole and Spanish but mostly we operated in English) country. My outlook looked way up as we crossed the border, despite reading about the violence and dangers of Guatemala. From what it sounds like, gangs like MS-13 have free reign over Guatemala and violence against foreigners is frequent and can be pretty extreme. It's an amazing country as it just recently ended a 37 year civil war in which 200,000 people were killed and 1 million more fled. Despite the warnings, the people are very friendly and we will be sure to be extra vigilant—like not taking buses at night or wandering around the streets late. The warnings remind me of what I'd heard in Venezuela and although precaution is necessary it is not a place that should be avoided. We will be bumming around the north for the next couple of days and will head to one of the most famous Mayan ruin called Tikal tomorrow or the next day. Guatemala (and the rest of Central America) has so many amazing things to see and do that Rory and I were both salivating after a quick perusal of the Lonely Planet. Hot spring waterfalls, verdant canyons, Garifuna drummers, beautiful colonial towns, towering volcanoes to climb, and virgin coastline are just some of the things that we are looking forward to.

More to come!