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.