Mexico City: Days 1 and 2: It's a big'un

Both the city and this post is what I meant by big'un. I apologize dearly that this is so lengthy. I promise that they will be much more brief in the future. I also write this so I remember what exactly I did for three months when it is all over. Thank you.

Well, I made it. Hopefully this comes out alright. I have very little oxygen flowing to my head at this 7,300 foot elevation. I knew this city was on a plateau (ironically also in a basin) but I didn't think about it until I started losing my breath frequently. On the plus side it will probably save me money on beer.


I got off my direct flight at...well, I really have no idea. It was supposed to land at 3:30, but my clock said two....Is this city two hours ahead or just one? Are we a half an hour early or late? Didn't really matter. All I cared about was getting to a bed before it got dark.

I had my couchsurfing only moderately arranged. The guy who I was planning to stay with never gave me his address. I figured that if I couldn't find it I could simply go to one of the other two couchsurfing people I had contacted. They had actually given me directions. Juan, on the other hand simply gave me a metro stop: Patriotismo on the number 9 line in Condesa. My guide book is no help for the metro, but after a couple of errors I got stumbled out of the metro cave and onto the street, disappointed to find that I had missed daylight. Farmacia Joaquin to my right...to my left, a fairly dark street, though not intimidating.

After a visit to the internet cafe and several phone calls on a pay phone, Juan picked me up with his girlfriend, Maritere, and we headed back to their place. I gave Juan some of the orange spice tea that mama makes for the holidays, then I bought them some tamales from a guy sitting on a bucket. The mole tamal (my first tamal of this variety) was one of the most amazing I have ever put in my mouth. The rest of the night was relaxing, just chatting with them and watching House of Flying Daggers, an awesome flick that I highly recommend.

This is Juan. He is cool.

This is Maritere. She is also cool.

The interesting thing about moving about this city, for me, is that I do not stick out. I can pass as being a chilango (one from Mexico City), surprisingly. People speak to me in Spanish without considering that I might not be from there. I assume, however, that my shorts and t-shirt might tip them off somewhat. I have the same complexion and hair (and even eyes sometimes) as many chilangos. But being noticed, as one constantly is in a place like India, definitely has its advantages. People that do speak English will go out of their way to help you out, or just start a conversation. However, the plus side about this is that I am not being offered stuff on the street any more than the chilangos. Beggars aren't more aggressive to me and there is not as much of an incentive (or ability) to rip me off.

I began my day somewhat late at about 11:00. There is so much to see, so I was disappointed in myself that it took this long to get up and out. I enjoyed a chicharron and cheese quesadilla made with a blue corn tortilla. It was served with a red chili sauce that put me into a trance of flavor euphoria...flaphoria if you will.

When I finally came to and realized I was in Mexico City, I hopped on the metro, took the 9, transferred to the 2 and got off where Juan said would be a cool place to start off the day. I was very disoriented but I saw a sprawling area with trees and vendors and fountains. Me gusta.

A father buys his son some tazos, the Mexican version of pogs.

I started walking, not really knowing or caring where I was going. There was a market with some handicrap...ahem handicrafts and food vendors. Photos were taken food from a cart was consumed and eventually I decided I should do something with my day. I figured out that I was in one of the city's biggest parks, Alameda central.

Bellas Artes

I was on the edge of the historic center of town so I started walking to the Zocalo, or main plaza or square. This one is called the plaza de la constitucion. Rumor had it (well I saw it on the front page of two of the newspapers) that for the holidays they put in a huge ice rink right in the middle of the square...rumored to be the world's largest.

Anyone who knows me should also know that I have a fetish for chicharrones (fried pork skins). In the states they come in bags like chips, in Mexico, they come in big man-sized sheets!

I got sidetracked on the way there several times by markets, public art and some great architecture (did I just say that)? Yes, there were times that I felt a bit like a European traveler with my camera around my neck taking pictures of all this historic architecture and cultural art...whatever. As much as I don't want to be that, I was that today...for a while.

I got to zocalo and that place on the weekends is a zoo. I stepped inside the catedral metropolitano, which was began construction in the 1500s.

Catedral Metropolitano at the zocalo Then, on my way to see the ice rink I had to stop. There was music...well, where isn't there music in Mexico, seriously, it's why I love this country. But this was something different. First of all it was live and it was mostly just a loud repetitive drum accompanied by yelling. It was Aztec dancers, traditionally dressed, just going absolutely nuts. On the side I noticed one of them partaking in a religious ceremony. He had a bowl of smoldering incense that he was blowing on people as some sort of blessing. Well I got in line for my blessing. When it came my turn I tossed a few pesos in the donation cup and he proceeded to instruct me as he blow this smoke all over me. Turn half way. Turn all the way. Lift your arm. Your other arm. Shake your hands. Rub you belly and pat your head...jk....then he asked what I wanted to ask him....I had no idea. I thought this was a blessing not a fortune telling, I almost blurted out, donde esta mi padre? and something about having been separated from him at a young age. I chickened out and just said I dunno, (in spanish of course). He handed me a large arrowhead made from obsidian and said something about keeping it close to the heart, high in the air and away from the ground. I couldn't tell if I made a fool of myself or scored a sweet keepsake. Either way it was worth it. Hopefully I am well-blessed.

After noticing that the line to start ice-skating would have taken at least an hour or more, and that it didn't look like that big of an ice rink at all, I decided to press on.

By this time I have mastered the metro. I swear, this is the easiest big city to navigate that I have ever been in. And it only costs $.20 to get anywhere. ANYWHERE! 4th biggest metro in the world too.

I took 4 different trains to get to my next destination: Tianguis Cultural del Chopo. Don't ask me what that means, but I know that it is a weekly street market for the local punk scene. I had noticed a few emo/scenester looking kids on my train, so I followed them instead of looking at the map. As we walked, I noticed more people in ridiculously tight pants. A few "alternative" hair styles. Slowly I became the only person walking in this direction not wearing all black. Faces became white, not from race, but from makeup. Hair became long...and frequently pointy, and occasionally in dreads. It got crowded, I soon found myself back in that awkward white-guy-in-a-rickshaw feeling. Camera on my shoulder, khaki shorts (so ya know it's good) extremely basic hair, and that obnoxious little nike swoosh on my shirt. I tried to cling to the fact that a lot of the stalls were selling Jim Morisson shirts and that I had, for a brief several days, had dreadlocks of my own. But I had no visible street cred here. And I can blame this on my poor photos. I could not bring myself to ask any of these intimidating mohawked-goths with dog-collars to take their picture, let alone in Spanish with my American accent. On the other hand, I figured that since they all seemed to be idolizing American and British artists, I should get at least a little bit of respect. No go. It was a fun two hours though. LIke someone's first time on Broadway in Seattle...except 83x more crowded.

I wonder what the corner shop guys in India would say if they knew that the cheap bidi cigarrettes were being sold in Mexico city to punk rockers as a hip "natural" tobacco...at what I am sure is an exorbitant markup for the occassion

On to the street markets. More subways and eventually I was reborn at mercado la merced, one of the larger markets in the city taking up about 4 city blocks. I wandered through there, not looking for anything in particular until I found the Mercado de sonora, which supposedly specializes in the mystical, the witchcraft, the voodoo. Well, if that means selling herbs curing prostate ailments, lots of incense, candles and for some reason having African-American cabbage patch kids on display (or for sale, I couldn't tell) then I guess that's what this was. There was also a section for animals...pets or food one could not tell because there were rabbits, dogs, turkeys and chickens all right next to each other. Enough, when I found myself back in the first market, I must have passed through some secret door or wardrobe or something because the market seemed way cooler now. Stalls of fresh fruit (I purchased guavas, like I haven't had since Nepal), and chiles. CHILES CHILES CHILES! DRIED CHILE PEPPERS. I cannot explain how many peppers I saw today. And so many different kinds too. Blew me away. I just wanted to stare at all the crazy foods the whole time, but if I lingered too long at one stall I would hear "que buscaba, joven", what are you looking for, young boy? Yes, in Mexico I am addressed by strangers as joven. Love it.





Sidenote* something interesting to see in markets: Religious items like candles and statues of Mary in one booth next to a booth where pirated pornographic dvd's line the walls....Harley, no, I'm bringing you a sombrero or something.

I stopped for some tacos de cabeza. Yep, all the head meat cooked up barbacoa style, barbecued on maugey cactus. Not gonna lie, it was not great. In fact, not even that good. Head meat is not that flavorful, and the varied textures just keep reminding you of what you are eating. I'm still working on this whole bizarre foods thing.

Does anyone know how to rotate these in blogspot?...well, there's my dinner, cow head tacos.

On the way out of the market I had a chapulin, which is like a cricket or grasshopper or something, but cooked and seasoned. I sampled one from a stall selling them by the bag. It was not bad, but it did have a very strong flavor that would not let me commit to purchasing a bag.

My next stop was the plaza Garibaldi. It was dusk and it seemed as if a fiesta was a-brewin. Mariachi band members were scattered thoughout the plaza as I made my way toward the pulqueria fimiliar. Pulque is an old low-alcohol beverage that was popular among the lower class during the colonial era. It is made from the mague cactus (see barbacoa tacos above) and was invented by the Aztecs back in the day. I was afraid of the plain kind because I am sure there is a reason that there are only a few pulquerias left. I had the strawberry flavored version and hung out in the plaza for a while. After a couple glasses, I decided to come back to Juan's and see what was up for a Saturday night.

Crossing walk on the way back, there was a dude performing in the crosswalk in front of stopped traffic. His shtick was to go in the street without a shirt on, lay down his shirt, which was full of shards of glass, then lay on it and roll around for a while. Crazy. This city is crazy and I am all about. Tomorrow=bullfight.