A Note for Newman

Part VIII - Ten Day Jaunt in Mexico

When all is said and done, the enduring memories from this trip result from the generosity and kindness of my "hosts", Marco and Hector, in Guanajuato and Queretaro, respectively. Both had never laid eyes on me previously but had graciously agreed to our common friends' request to show me around. Their company made my trip much more fun and laughter-filled than I had ever imagined, and provided an insight into local life and ways of thinking as well. Then there are the fellow travellers I met at the hostels - the comical Crazy Su and the extremely nice Swiss girl Simone. (Somehow I always meet a Swiss national on recent trips...what's up with that?).

I had gotten Hector's contact info from Katherine, and had sent him an email before arriving in Queretaro, informing him of the dates I would be staying at Hostal K'angi. His reply was prompt, but much to my puzzlement, it bore the signature "Omar". I assumed then that I had probably confused his name with another one of Katherine's friends who lived in Mexico, and looked forward to meeting Omar. That night, Simone and I had dinner at a Thai resto and upon returning to the hostel the proprietresses Ana and Isabel waved me over.

Isabel: "Hey Eric, is your last name Newman?"

Me (taken aback): "Noooo...why do you ask?"

Isabel: "Someone came around asking for a "Newman" who was supposed to be staying here. We thought it might be you".

Me: "What?! I am expecting someone to call for me, but I thought he knew my name was Eric, because we had exchanged emails previously".

Isabel: “No no, he was asking for a Newman". (Ana nods in agreement)

Me: "Was his name by any chance Omar?".

Ana (looking at me strangely): "No! The guy's name was Hector".

Me (shocked): "Hector?! Yeah, that might be him! But I thought his name was Omar".

At this point, the two girls were laughing hysterically at the confusion of me and this mysterious caller who couldn’t get each others names right. I hastened to explain the situation and why I had assumed Hector and Omar were two different people. Luckily enough, Hector (his full name is Hector Omar...duh) had left a note stating that he would be at a lounge called "La Casa de Cuerva" as part of a student arts group performing a tango show. As I stood there mulling how to find this place, Ana read the note and exclaimed, "Oh, its just right down the street at the corner". Indeed it was, about a thirty-second walk from the hostel! Crazy coincidence.
 
So I went over to La Casa, just a few minutes before the show started at 10pm. Had to pay the cover and drink yet more beer while watching the show which was pretty good. The ticket seller pointed out Hector to me, and after the we got to meet and chat for a few minutes. We agreed to meet the following night at the hostel. Ana and Isabel (pictured) greeted his arrival with more laughter at the remembrance of the previous night's confusion, and I got more ribbing from them. Along with Simone, we spent an enjoyable night eating French crepes, checking out the flood-lit Los Arcos, and conversing about a wide range of interesting topics.


P.S. This concludes the series of posts from Mexico. My next trip awaits.

Salsa in San Miguel

Part VII - Ten Day Jaunt in Mexico

Stumbled upon quite a find today. Literally across the street from the hostel is Juan's cafe, a small (4 tables) cafe/restaurant serving the best coffee I tasted on the trip - strong, tasty and smooth. Later, in answer to my inquiry the owner said the coffee came from Oaxaca - I should find some back home, probably at Whole Foods. He's quite a jazz aficionado too - at another table three middle-aged American women were poring over his voluminous records collection, and he indulgently played the ones they chose.

Knocked myself out sightseeing today. In addition to walking around San Miguel de Allende, I opted to take the hour and a half-long trolley tour to learn more about the town's history. Won't bore you with the sordid stuff, but easily the highlight was going up to the mirador, from which one has a panoramic view of SMA. In theory, it's only a few blocks away from El Jardin, but quite a steep uphill walk, so I couldn't imagine doing that.

Despite my fatigued state, I found myself at Mama Mia's bar at 7pm for the FREE salsa lessons, given by Roberto and Trish on Tues and Wed nights. I found out about it thru Salsa Power, and fortunately they taught the style (on the 1) that I was familiar with. Pretty soon the duo were demonstrating a series of turns to us seven or so students crowding around the smallish dance floor. The 2 hours of lessons were jolly good fun, practice and exercise, all rolled into one (oh...my aching feet). Since I had stopped taking lessons back home, it was exhilarating to do salsa once again, and my spirits soared when they started playing my favorite salsa song, "Lluvia" (listen). After the lessons ended, Roberto invited me to return the following night (Wed) for the classes and group outing afterwards to El Ring, but unfortunately I would already be in Queretaro by then. Went back to the hostel hungry and barely standing, but with a big smile on my face.

Gringo-landia

Part VI - Ten Day Jaunt in Mexico

On hindsight it was probably the worst day for travelling to another town. Today was Nov 20, Day of the Revolution, thus any town worth its salt held a parade. True enough, central Guanajuato was blocked off to vehicles. Just stepping outside the hostel brought me face-to-face with marching bands and curious onlookers. Taking the advice of the hostel manager, I walked across town towards Mercado Hidalgo carrying my stuff and chanced upon a cab there. Right on!

San Miguel de Allende is one of those small, lovely colonial towns that tourists fall in love with. For all its charm however, I found it a bit of a letdown after visiting Guanajuato. All the elements were there - hillside setting, colorfully painted houses, winding cobblestoned streets, majestic church domes - but somehow it didn't have the "Wow" factor. Not for me, anyway. San Miguel is incredibly popular with American retirees though, thousands of whom have settled here and consequently driven up prices - real estate and otherwise. To give you a rough idea of their presence (and purchasing power), quite a few upscale restaurants offered a prix-fixe Thanksgiving holiday meal package. Only in San Miguel de Allende!

Pictured above is the pink, pseudo-Gothic Parroquia de San Miguel Arcangel, on the south side of El Jardin in the center of town. Looking nothing like any other church in Mexico, this over-the-top building has an even more incredible history. Legend has it that the architect of the distinctive facade, which was added only at the turn of the 20th century, was a self-taught Indian stonemason who did not even possess the necessary degree and license, and came up with the design solely by looking at postcards of Europe's gothic cathedrals. He then drew up the plans on the sand in front of the church site to explain to the workers what he wanted. Other detractors have claimed somewhat sarcastically that, with its turrets and spires, the Parroquia served as an inspiration to Walt Disney in creating his magical kingdoms.

Da-Da-Danzon

Part V - Ten Day Jaunt in Mexico



Sadly, it is time to move on from lovely Guanajuato. I truly will have fond memories of this town and the gang, without whom my stay wouldn't have been half as enjoyable. As a parting shot, here is a short video (53 seconds) of couples dancing to danzon music. Marco, Crazy Su, and I had stopped for an early dinner at one of the numerous restaurants surrounding Plazuela San Francisco. Little did we know that on Friday nights, a band plays danzon music and couples dance right on the plaza, thus we unwittingly had front-row seats to the spectacle. Although Marco derided danzon as too slow and “for the old folks”, it was nevertheless a delight to experience this slice of local life. One couple in particular (featured in the clip) was quite nifty with the footwork and turns, and elicited strong applause from the numerous onlookers after each number (including yours truly :-D). Neither Mario Lopez nor Emmitt Smith has anything on this guy! The other couples weren't so dynamic and just sort of shifted their weight listlessly from one foot to another. Well, time to see and judge for yourself. (Slackers accessing the video from the workplace, please remember to check the volume level first).

The Guanajuato Gang

Part IV - Ten Day Jaunt in Mexico

This was my gang in Guanajuato which made my stay very memorable. Beside me is Ryan, his wife Lily, then Marco holding the couple's baby whose name and gender I immediately forgot, and of course Crazy Su.

Marco was waiting at the hostel when we arrived. We got introduced (I had only been in touch with him via email before the trip) and along with Crazy Su, we quickly set off to explore central Guanajuato. We were led by Marco to most of the major sights - from the Alhondiga, Mercado Hidalgo, Jardin Union, Baratillo, University of Guanajuato, and much more. He did an outstanding job in showing off his hometown, and I interrupted our tour a few times to take pictures - blown way as I was by Guanajuato's mixture of architectural styles, colorful facades of the houses including the ones on the adjacent hills (Marco's house itself was painted green), and fun, lively vibe. Although his native language was Spanish, Marco spoke passable English, actually even better than Crazy Su’s. At times our trio's communication became quite comical - I'd talk with Marco en Espanol and reprise the convo for Crazy Su's benefit, and vice-versa. Probably explains why I needed a stiff drink afterwards.

The next day, Crazy Su and I spent the entire day sightseeing. We stopped at the Museo Casa Diego Rivera, where Mexico's most famous painter was born and raised until age 6. The museum contained mostly his early works, in a variety of styles - Cubist, Pointillist, and Impressionist. The portion of the mural (see picture) shows a poor native family being denied entry to the Alameda (Central Park), while the affluent, lighter-skinned and fancy-dressed upper class exchange smirks.

Another highlight was taking the funicular up to the Momento al Pipila on the hillside which affords fantastic views of Guanajuato. Pipila ("the Turkeycock") was Guanajuato's Independence Day hero who helped overthrow the Spanish, and whose statue looks like one of the Fantastic Four. It is indeed quite an incredible view - you appear to be standing directly on top of the Jardin Union, and the Cathedral seemingly so near that just by reaching out you can touch it. Was really glad Crazy Su was around, who else would take my picture? LOL. We also climbed up a steep, narrow staircase to a point immediately behind the statue's shoulder, where the view was much worse. She was terrified of both the climb and the funicular ride, so I unmercifully teased her and had a good laugh at her expense while she clung to me for safety.

The gang met up for dinner at a pizza place with cheap Corona beer. Marco proposed going to a club afterwards, and though I was pretty tired was prevailed upon to accompany them to smooth out the communication. So we all (except Ryan and the baby) walked over to Colorado, a disco popular with young Mexicans playing mostly Norteno and cumbia music. Marco, for some reason, bought an entire case of beer (24 bottles) which the four of us obviously couldn't finish. After dancing – or rather, flailing her arms, bopping her head, and generally just hurlting about – for a few songs, Crazy Su declared that she didn't like the music at Colorado. I inquired why that was so. She said she wanted to hear English songs played and actually instructed our waiter to call the manager. Unable to resist this opening, I pointedly remarked, "Well, last time I checked we are in Mexico". In the end, Marco suggested that we head to another place, and I quickly backed up his idea. In truth, I wanted to simply disappear - due to Crazy Su's complaints and the attention her "moves" was attracting - the other dancers were stealing sideways glances at her, and after having their mouths agape for seconds would invariably turn away and cringe in horror. It wasn't hard to notice her style, or lack thereof. The only worse dancer I've ever seen was Elaine in the Seinfeld episode, "The Little Kicks". Lily, on the other hand, is very talented and possessed smooth, creative moves. Heard that she even won some salsa competition in the past.

So finally, we stepped out and walked ten minutes to the next stop, Chel-Oh's. More of the same really, except they had two jampacked dance floors, and the crowd seemed to consist mostly of teenage Mexican girls on a school clubbing field trip whom I'd have trouble believing are at least 18 years old. Same as in Colorado, the locals kept looking at Crazy Su and wondering what the hell she was up to. Inexplicably, Marco bought yet another case of beer. To this day, I have no idea what happened to the unopened bottles as I excused myself at 1:30am and flagged a cab back to the hostel. Nor did I care.

Happy Hostelling

Part III - Ten Day Jaunt in Mexico

WHAT is that?! If you guessed "tool shed" or "storage room", I wouldn't blame you. I myself thought the same but in fact it is my private room (the only one!) at Hostal K'angi in Queretaro. Notice the number 6 above the door? Comes with its own toilet and shower facilities too, all for a nightly rate of roughly $17 - not a bad deal. Colorfully painted in a combination of blue and fuschia, Hostal K'angi is located in a nice, quiet, upscale part of town, and was recently opened in early 2006 by two young entrepreneur women (yes, I spent half my time in Queretaro flirting with them and didn't get to see much :-D). The faded "look" was not done on purpose but rather was caused by rains that washed away the improperly-mixed powdered paint, according to Ana.

So what was I doing staying in cheap hostels, in some cases sharing bathrooms down the hall with strangers? Well, the operative word here is "cheap", as in "cheap bastard". LOL. I figured that since I got a free flight, I'd take the cheapo-fest further and stay in hostels for the entire trip. Also, hostels are the best way to meet other travellers on the road. So all I was after were basic, clean, and safe rooms. Of course, sometimes you also get weird (I prefer the term "unique") room interiors like this Martian floating above my bed at Hostalito Guanajuato, painted on the flimsy room divider that doesn't do much to suppress the sounds emanating from the adjoining bedroom. Kinda creepy having someone (something?) peering down at you in your finest sleepwear.

In some cases, guests take matters into their own hands and express their artistic talents on the walls, like my room at Hostel Moneda in Mexico City. The Lonely Planet guidebook actually said that, although it didn't indicate if they were stoned as well. After staying at four different hostels, I can wholeheartedly recommend all of them, and not just as a form of self-inflicted torture for my enemies. True, a little sacrifice in comfort is necessary, but this is offset by the hostels' central location, value for money proposition, free high-speed Internet (!), and opportunities to interact with other travellers.

Nowadays, checking hostel facilities, amenities and rates, reviewing previous guests' feedback, and even making bunk/room reservations worldwide has become easy. (I pre-booked all my rooms). Some websites to consult are HostelWorld and Hostels.com. I wouldn't expect much info regarding interior decoration though.

Damsel in Distress

Part II - Ten Day Jaunt in Mexico

Today's plan was to travel to Guanajuato, a five-hour bus ride away from Mexico City. One of the more picturesque and gorgeous colonial towns in Mexico, according to my Rough Guide, "Guanajuato is home to one of the country's finest Baroque churches, a thriving student life, and a relaxed cafe and bar culture". As if that wasn't enough to entice any tourist, the historic town center was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Zone in 1988. With no traffic lights and no garish neon signs, Guanajuato was recommended to me by my friend Pei, who took Spanish courses there last year and who simply insisted that I had to see it for myself.

The taxi was late of course, this being Mexico. This thought crossed my mind as I waited impatiently at Hostel Moneda for the cab to take me to the bus terminal Norte. Yes, it would have been easier to just hail one of the ubiquitous green-and-white cabs on the street, but at the risk of your safety. Every guidebook strongly advised against doing so due to unscrupulous or fake drivers looking to relieve tourists of their belongings. Taking the subway was also an option (only 20 cents!), but it involved two transfers and not something I looked forward to while weighed down with luggage..The girl at reception finally got hold of the driver who arrived 15 minutes later, and in due time I was deposited at terminal Norte.

As I boarded the Primera Plus first-class bus, the ticket checker asked me which drink I preferred, at the same time pointing to the selection laid on the table in front of him. Thinking that they were for sale, I declined. He then burst out in his best English, “It’s free!”. Pleasantly surprised, I chose the Boing! Tamarind drink, which he duly put in a plastic bag along with the free sandwich. Wow, can this get any better?. Well, in fact it could. The seats were comfy, the legroom was to die for and akin to sitting in the exit row of an airplane, the interior was very clean and airconditioned. Moreover, English movies (of questionable taste with children present) provided entertainment during the ride.

Another surprise was in store – this Korean girl I spotted at Hostel Moneda was also taking the same bus to Guanajuato. I introduced myself, found out her name was Su (let's call her "Crazy Su", an apt nickname as I found out later), exchanged some pleasantries, and told her that if she was interested we could split the cab from the Guanajuato bus terminal into downtown. She was travelling by herself for three months in Latin America, on a yet-to-be-decided itinerary, and spoke no Spanish and barely any English. Props to her for bravery.

A little later, the conductor approached Crazy Su with a grave look on his face. Indicating to a ticket stub in his hand, he explained something to her in rapid fire Spanish, only to be met by a blank stare. Su called out to me and asked, “Do you speak Spanish?”. I replied in the affirmative, and walked over to her seat to try and help out. The conductor explained to me that Crazy Su's bus ticket was expired, invalid, and thus she couldn’t go to Guanajuato!!! Simultaneously amused and shocked at the situation, I translated this to her, repeating the key parts slowly until she understood the implications. Shocked, Crazy Su looked on the verge of tears, and wondered aloud, “Why???”.

The conductor pointed out that the ticket was for the previous day (Thurs), and not for today’s (Fri) travel. As I translated back and forth and asked questions, the crux of the matter came out. Apparently, Crazy Su had bought the ticket a day in advance (Thurs), but due to her limited language skills had been unable to explain to the ticket agent (whose English no doubt was flawless) that she wanted to travel the next day (Fri), and not on the same day as most travellers usually do. To resolve the issue, the conductor explained, she had to pay an additional half-price of the original fare ($12.50 more on top of the original fare of $25). At this point, Crazy Su almost burst out crying, but in the end had no choice but to shell out, and the conductor was kind enough to accompany her to the Primera Plus ticket counter to prevent any more mix-ups.

After the brief delay, our bus departed terminal Norte, and we were on the way to Guanajuato. I could barely contain my excitement, at the same time pleased that I had saved the day. Recounting the events in my mind made me chuckle, as I sipped the Boing! tamarind drink and tried to ignore the gory movie being shown.

Sightseeing in D.F.

Part I - Ten Day Jaunt in Mexico

For some reason, most of my friends thought that I had already been to Mexico. This was a reasonable assumption, given that I had visited a few countries in Central and South America, and in the words of one, "You always seem to be going somewhere in Latin America". However, the fact is that I hadn't been south of the border for one reason or another, thus I was excited to embark on this brief (relatively), solo trip. I admit to being a bit surprised at my friends' confusion - somehow I thought they paid more attention to which countries I actually visited on "yet another vacation". Aha! Now I know its just feigned interest and fake enthusiasm. LOL. Oh well. Anyway, this post kicks off the memories, musings, and funny happenings on the trip. Each post in the series will have a "Part X - Ten Day Jaunt in Mexico" header to make it easier to view the posts in sequence, though for the most part the posts will be unrelated.

My first day was going to be spent in the capital, Mexico City, known among locals as Distrito Federal. To feel like a local, simply refer to it as "D.F." ("de-effay"). The taxi deposited me right at the Zocalo (main square), which was amazing at first sight. I was like, "Whoa, this IS huge!". Surrounding the Zocalo are the gigantic Cathedral Metropolitana, Templo Mayor, and Palacio Nacional, among other important buildings. I had to walk a block or so to Hostel Moneda, situated on a side street right off the Zocalo. No location can be more central than this. Right outside on the street was one of the street markets or tianguis, a noisy sidewalk marketplace for anything and everything. The hostel itself was not bad - clean, basic accomodations at cheap rates - the main asset is the location and the rooftop terrace affording great views of the Cathedral. The tiny speck in the distance resembling the Empire State building is actually the Torre Latinoamerica, at one point the tallest building in D.F. - and featured in the enjoyable film "Solo con tu Pareja" as the setting for the ill-starred lovers suicide attempt, for film buffs out there.

Pretty much the entire afternoon was spent walking and taking pictures around the Zocalo, mainly of faith healers working their magic on the populace. I got a kick out of watching people actually lining up for the healing session, closing their eyes and standing with palms open and facing upwards, while the healer circled the customer and waved the incense pot up and down, left to right over the customer's entire body. Unfortunately I didn't ask how much they charged, but from the looks of it quite a steady business. Patrons came from all walks of life - from the cellphone-totting executives clad in business attire to the middle-aged housewives to the everyday Joes stopping on their way to the Zocalo subway station.

The next destination was the Palacio de Bellas Artes, constructed in grandiose Art Nouveau style of Italian marble. Inside are impressive murals by the "Big 3": Diego Rivera, Jose Clemente Orozco, and David Siqueros. Mind you - these murals are not your ordinary paintings. For one thing, they're colorful, detailed, large-scale works of art spanning entire walls. The fun lay in examining the specific details of each section of the mural, and figuring out what it intends to convey to the viewer. Small placards described each mural and its significance, though alas only in Spanish. The one pictured is either by Orozco or Siqueros (forgot to jot it down), and you can probably figure out what its all about.

All that sightseeing can be tiring, not to mention waking up early for my flight. Hey, got a free ticket using my miles, so I'm not complaining. (Sorry, I had to throw that in and gloat). As I sat on a bench and drank a soda at the nearby Alameda (Central Park), managed to strike up a conversation with a father-and-son clown duo, Eduardo and Juanito respectively, getting ready for their act. They graciously allowed my request to take their photo. Eduardo told me about the Chinese community concentrated a few blocks away and warned me to keep my eyes open for pickpockets, simultaneously pointing to his own eyes for emphasis. After a few minutes they left to start their act on the streets, while I returned to Hostel Moneda to sample the free dinner special.