Leaving Ourselves Behind

Every guide book you read actively discourages you from driving in Mexico City. In fact, Lonely Planet describes it thus: "Even more than elsewhere in the country, traffic rules are seen as suggested behaviour. Red lights may be run at will, no-turn signs are ignored and signals are seldom used. On occasion you may be hit with a questionable traffic fine." As if these encouraging words were not enough, the knowledge that street names change without warning and we have a history of getting lost made for an anxious few days prior to us taking on Mexico City. I was not just anxious, I was dreading the drive. Stephen pretended to be looking forward to it (he is a veteran of driving in Italy), but I think he was fibbing. I didn't take any photos of our drive in, but we ran into traffic like this:

We ran into this traffic several times, because at one point, we actually made the same wrong turn twice. We had a discussion about how that might have happened. We stopped about six times to ask for directions, with differing opinions. And then... our street magically appeared - we turned, drove for 15 minutes, with the map behaving the way it should and before we knew it, we were parked and in our hotel.

Our hotel Real Salamanca has small suites - each with a kitchen, living area, bathroom and bedroom. Our charming host upgraded us to a larger unit, and for at least the next week (we may stay a few days longer), we are stretched out and comfy. We're right in the Roma-Condesa area, which is leafy, residential, full of shops and restaurants, museums, art galleries and lots and lots of dogs. We love it. As with a number of other places we have stayed, we almost have the place to ourselves - it seems as though there may be just two or three other suites rented.

Yesterday, after we arrived and got over our giddiness at being alive, we headed out to check out our new neighbourhood. We were in Mexico City five years ago, and loved it then, but we stayed in a cheap hotel right in the centro and we got what we paid for - nonstop noisy street life. This time around, it feels like we're in a little village; with its own perspectives, eccentricities, and unique architecture.

There is so much to see and do in Mexico City that one week is not nearly enough. We may tag on a few more days to try and make a bit of a dent in the hundreds of museums, art galleries, current showings, music, parks, restaurants, architecture, shops, and people-watching that would take a lifetime to cover if we tried to see everything. One big attraction this Friday is Papa - Papa Francisco, to be exact. His Holiness is here for two days, and the city is pulling out all the stops to welcome him. Mexico still has phone booths everywhere, and they are covered with banners like this one:

Protests are a way of life in most areas of Mexico, it seems. They have a lot to be angry over, but I always wonder how any of it changes anything. I'm not in a position to know or guess, but I think most protests are either ignored or met with force of some kind - it wouldn't seem that they effect real change. Ongoing outrage over the missing and murdered 43 students (everywhere), the teachers' strike (Oaxaca), and today this march of hundreds of protesters on one of the main streets leading to the Palace. We have no idea what the protest was about, but it had menacing undertones to it. Many of the protesters were masked and carrying sticks. It seemed to have something to do with dissatisfaction over the state governor.

Just past the protest stand-off is the extraordinary Palacio de Bellas Artes, home to murals by Diego Rivera and Ruffino Tamayo, among other artists. The theatre shows a number of events, of note the world-famous Ballet Folklorico. The exterior of the building is a combination of art-nouveau and neo-classical design, surrounded by beautiful gardens and sculptures.

We kept walking down Paseo de Reforma, though various neighbourhoods and finally ending up at the edge of the Centro Historico. It is like falling though the third ring of hell. Gone is the sedate stroll. Hustlers come at you from all sides, thrusting discount coupons, offering tours, calling out, coming at you - I could feel my heart start to pound.

And then... we were attempting to cross a street, and a motorcycle came flying through the intersection, coming straight at Stephen. I screamed, and apparently a few birds fell from the sky. The bike went one way, Steve went the other, and all was well, but a good reminder that the onus to stay alive on the roads, streets and sidewalks of Mexico is on us.

Oh yes, Tepoztlan is a Pueblo Magico - how could it not be? Tepoztlan is reputed to have mystical powers; drawing deep from its origins 1200 years ago as the birthplace of Quetzalcoatl, the Aztec serpent god. Although it is just 80 km. from Mexico City, this small town exudes an other-worldliness. Climbing up steep hills and surrounded by jagged mountain peaks, Tepoztlan possesses a physical autonomy that has allowed it to retain its strong Nahuatl culture. That energy and mysticism has also attracted a New Age crowd that has brought with it vegetarian restaurants and health food stores, crystals, tarot and yoga. The combination of the two creates an intriguing mix.

Some of our first impressions of that magic:

Many doors (and even a few car grilles) have these crosses - remnants of their September 28th ritual. Small flowers called perote are fashioned into crosses to ward off death and bad luck. On the night of the 28th, the devil is thought to be free to roam, looking for victims. Crosses are hung to protect inhabitants from an unwelcome visit; by midnight September 29th, the threat is over, but the flowers remain ... just in case.

Temazcal is traditionally a sweat lodge, or steam bath - this main-street spa is one of many in town offering various massages and treatments. It would be tempting, but for the Zamfir-ish pan flute music wafting from most of them. Also, rather comically, in a country where cash prevails, these temples of serenity are happy to accept Visa and MasterCard.

We checked into the sweet Posada Sarita - a welcoming small inn with spacious rooms with balconies overlooking the pool and gardens. It is located on the edge of town, which provides us with several blocks of cardio-blasting hills to walk up into the centre, and blessed relief from the noise of the Carnavale (more on that later).

One of the dominant features of Tepoztlan is the Piramide Tepzteco - a 10-metre pyramid that is completely unremarkable, but for the fact that is it perched high above the town, at the very top of a sheer cliff about 400 metres above the town. As is the case with so many other archaeological sites in Mexico, the wonder lies in the fact that it was built at all. By the time we climbed up, we were tuckered out. The idea that as pyramid-builders, we would then have to spend the rest of the day hauling boulders, and piling rocks was unfathomable. How did they do it?

To access this pyramid, you must climb a very steep path, some of it stairs, but much of it rock, and most of it mercifully in shade. It is a 2.5 km. climb, which the sign warned would be "strenuous". It started off easily enough - the two of us pointing out various things to one another and stopping for water and bird-watching. The path then turned vertical, and our shared adventure turned into individual struggles of aching legs, bursting lungs and sheer will-power to get to the top. Not to make this sound like the Ironman, but it felt like an achievement and I was very gratified to see young people gasping for breath as well. Still, we were passed on the way up by a trim and energetic woman in her 50s who assured us we were just 10 minutes from the top (we weren't - it was another half-hour). We still hadn't reached the summit as she waved on her way down.

Just outside the cathedral a bizarre scene was taking place. A couple of tables had been set up, with gross banners showing the insides of people's ears, and all the ugliness that goes on in there. Participants were invited to rest their heads on pillows, and have a tin tray with a burning candle arranged over their ear - for free! I'm not sure how it works, but I guess a tiny drop of melted wax would drip into the ear canal. I wasn't comfortable taking a photo, so I'll leave it to you to imagine that scene.

TripAdvisor is usually a reliable source for recommending sites to visit, but they missed by a mile with this one. The Centro Cultural Pedro Lopez Elias
was listed as #4 of 11 Things to Do - the photos looked beautiful and the time required for a visit was 2-3 hours. I could not find this listed anywhere else, and it was not on our little guidebook, but off we went, in search of more cultura. It was supposed to be a half hour walk on the outskirts of town, but we gave up after 20 minutes and grabbed a taxi. The Centro Cultural Pedro Lopez Elias is an outstanding building on beautiful grounds, but it's main function is a library and event centre, so unless we sat down to read, our visit time wouldn't last more than 15 minutes.

Carnavale! We had no idea we would be arriving during Mexico's version of Mardi Gras; an event that is huge in Veracruz, Mazatlan and...Tepoztlan! For the five days leading up to Fat Tuesday the zocalo and surrounding main streets are taken over with tents, carnival rides, music, parades, fireworks, and vendors selling every imaginable thing from hair clips to hot dogs wrapped in bacon to pony rides. It is absolute madness for the first three days and then Monday and Tuesday becomes a little more sedate - featuring native dances - which we will unfortunately miss.

I think we could get lost in a crowd of three. Leaving Puebla was supposed to be easy, but somehow we missed a sign and found ourselves on the road to Tlaxcala, which was about a 2-hour detour to our ultimate destination, and not a scenic one at that. No matter - we shrug off such inconveniences as being "adventures." Little did we know that the mountain road to Cuetzalan was the real adventure. High up into the Sierra Madre Orientals we went. The road twisted and bucked and climbed and swooped down again - with great numbers of potholes thrown in for good measure.

We arrived in Cuetzalan, and once again were set upon by a small army of young boys determined to "guide" us to our hotel. Perhaps we looked like we could use the help. We hadn't booked ahead, and eventually, after driving slowly up and down steep one-way streets, we stopped at Meson Yohualichan. Cuetzalan is a Pueblo Magico (a designation that is handed out like candy it seems, but is intended to suggest that a town has particular cultural, artistic, architectural, historical or geographical significance). In this case, it certainly fits -it is a photogenic town that is frozen in time.

The next day, we drove out to Las Brisas, a waterfall that is one of a series of falls in the area - about a 20-minute drive away. The Cuetzalan region is geared to outdoor activities: we could have rappelled waterfalls, zip-lined, ridden horseback, or climbed down into caves, but we stuck to a more sedate pursuit - hiking. Once we left the "main" road, the signs for Las Brisas pointed us down a road so narrow, we thought there must be a mistake. We had missed a sign again! But no, we were on the right track, although our small car barely squeezed through.

We discovered this information from the very charming family that arrived shortly after us, along with their young son and triplet daughters. Steve could not resist taking their photo in black and white - they struck us as being so old-fashioned, with their identical side-parted bobs. I know I had a little coat like that as a child. Once again, we remarked on how well-behaved their kids were - which is almost always the case with Mexican children out in public. The parents and proud nonna kept a watchful eye, but chatted among themselves, and let them be.

Today we visited the Jardin Botanico, in nearby Xoxoctic. We were guided through by the knowledgeable and friendly Raoul, who is a Nahuatl native, and very proud of his work with the plants. He went to school for his training, but as he said to us, "I learned most of what I know right here." The garden is huge, and its specialities are orchids, bromeliads, coffee and spices - impossible to take it all in - it took us about an hour to get through.

My Uncle Jim used to say the "G" was for gullible, not Ginny. I was born without the skeptic gene and over the years have only developed it to a slight degree. So when I saw a man tie his two huskies to a window grill, and encourage people to come over and pat them, I thought nothing of it. When he kindly offered to use my camera to take a photo of me with the pooches - still no bells went off. It was only after I was hit up for money for the "photo op" that I realized it was all a cynical ploy. I told him I had no cambio (change), and walked away feeling vaguely foolish, and mightily annoyed.

Still, for a big city, Puebla feels safe and friendly and requires only the usual safeguards. This is an immensely walkable city, with an easy grid layout, which makes aimless wandering a pleasure. One nondescript block turns into a cozy pocket park, which unfolds into a pedestrian walkway. We crossed a busy highway, strolled for a while behind some newly renovated buildings (including the spectacular convention centre) and came upon this park:

This whole area, which includes the convention centre, an old church, a stunning luxury hotel and a spiffy new shopping plaza, appears to have undergone a fairly recent renaissance. Workmen are still on site, and a number of small businesses are not open yet. Original crumbling walls have been incorporated with modern design details, flowing paths and structural landscaping to create an unexpected oasis. One of the intact buildings, a 19th century water purifying factory, now houses La Purifacadora, a showpiece hotel and restaurant, designed by a big-deal design firm out of Mexico City.

They have mixed up old and new to great effect, with a broad black marble staircase leading upstairs, single-species plantings, columns encased in rough wood, and most interestingly, this floor, which is made of hundreds of square cut, removable wood blocks. (I'm trying to imagine the cleaning, but what a grand idea for a small foyer or sunroom back home). Travelling through Mexico is like shuffling through one big Pinterest board - DIY inspiration everywhere. Now if only I had the required talent, patience and generationally-honed craftsmanship.

One thing we have noticed in Puebla are the special-interest shops and services grouped together on one or two blocks. Our street is home to trophies and sports clothing - store after store catering to those who have moved beyond "participation". We walked down a bridal street - possibly dozens of stores selling almost identical gowns and accessories. Then there is the optician block - same thing - one small shop after another, selling frames, sunglasses, cases, and eye exams. For anyone in the market for cowboy gear - hats, shirts and boots, we have just the spot for you - hand-tooled leather boots for $60.

Today was our 35th anniversary, but we chose to celebrate last night, as a lot of restaurants are closed on Sundays. We went to a restaurant that had decent reviews, an interesting menu, and two pretty rooms; one of them out in the open courtyard. Since last night was quite chilly, we initially chose the inside room, but after listening to a large group loudly chatting (and allowing their kid to plunk listlessly on the piano), we moved out to the courtyard. Our food was good, but the service was so inept, we went from being annoyed to hysterical. The Fawlty Towers waiters lurched and ran about wildly; at one point, flinging my dirty cutlery from my plate to my placemat (rather than sedately changing between courses).

We decided our "date night" was a perfect metaphor for our 35 years of marriage. Things often do not go as planned, but there is usually something to laugh about. At the very least - there's a story.

And so, our time in Puebla has come to an end. Next stop - Cuetzalan - about 3 1/2 hours of mountain driving to arrive in the land of waterfalls, coffee plantations and birds. See you in a few days.

Some places grab you the minute you arrive - Oaxaca was like that. Puebla was the city we almost missed, and we might not have even considered it but for the fact that our friends Joy and Oscar are staying here for five weeks, and we wanted to visit them. Before our research for the trip, Puebla struck us as being a large industrial city (which it is - over 1.5 million people), with not a whole lot for tourists to see and do. We knew there would be a major cathedral and zocalo.

It took further reading as well as enthusiastic responses from fellow travellers to convince us to stay for a full week. We drove into Puebla without getting lost, which we took as a good sign. We had booked a room at the Hotel del Capitan de Puebla - and the outside looked as unassuming as do many Mexican exteriors, but the hotel is charming - 8 rooms spread out on two floors. Our room is lovely - bright, 20-foot ceilings, recently renovated, and spotlessly clean.

Once we had parked our car and unpacked, we headed out to explore a bit. Our hotel is about a 15-minute walk to the centre, and a couple of streets away from a bit of a 'hood. We were told to walk down the street for two blocks and turn onto a pedestrian walkway that would take us straight to the zocalo. As we walked along, I didn't feel nervous, but I didn't feel comfortable either. So much traffic, so much noise, so many people - we had traded the calm and beauty of Oaxaca for a big, full-on city, and it was a bit of culture shock. We turned the corner to the pedestrian-only walkway, and stepped into a Mexican sideshow - carnies, colour, smells and noise.

There are not a lot of foreign tourists in Puebla this time of year, and we felt quite conspicuous. Music blared from all corners, food odours mixed with sewer gas and men's cologne, and small packs of young men moved through the crowds. It felt very jarring, and my heart was sinking. My first impressions were quite conflicted. Stephen maintained a "wait-and-see" approach, and he was right. Puebla is a city that you need to work at. We walked around the zocalo, which is every Mexican city's "third place." We saw some reassuring sights - beautiful old buildings, fountains, respectable people sitting on benches and strolling about, enjoying the early evening.

And then we stopped to have a bite to eat at Las Ranas - billed as being "a local institution that is cheap, cheerful, and worth the wait". Their specialty is el pastor ( marinated pork slowly cooked on the rotisserie), but with a poblano twist - served as tacos arabe (or Arabic) - this meat is piled onto warm pitas, instead of tortillas. So delicious. By the time we had walked back to our hotel, I was feeling much better, although very COLD. Puebla is at high altitude and winter months have chilly evenings - a coat would not be unwelcome. Most days do not get above 20 degrees. There are very few foreign tourists here - many wait for the warmer months.

We needn't have worried about having enough to do - Puebla has a very large centro historico, with dozens of churches, museums and hundreds of buildings that are covered in the local Talavera tile, embellished with decorative brick and carved ornamentation and in many cases, high wooden windows and small wrought-iron balconies - sometimes all on the same building. The words baroque and rococo come to mind.

We met up with Joy and Oscar the next day, taking in a broad and varied range of Puebla experiences - religion, music and art. First up, the Templo de Santo Domingo, with the Rosario, built in the mid-late 17th century, and literally every square inch covered in gilt. It's beyond. As Joy observed, if even one church was stripped of its gold and that wealth redistributed, how many poor Mexicans would then have enough to eat?

We popped in to an airy glass-covered galleria to listen to a free afternoon concert. Like dutiful gringos, we showed up a half hour early for a 2:00 performance, and were the only audience for at least a half-hour after they began.

Back in the zocalo, we watched a telenovela being filmed. A young actor and actress emoted at a cafe table, while the crew attempted to control pedestrian traffic through the set. At one point, this man came over to encourage young Mexicans to become extras, but they were all too shy. We started to talk to him, and he told us he is an actor and crew for this television production company, out of Mexico City. He too, has lived in the U.S. and would like to return.

On to see World Press 15, showing incredible examples of award-winning international photojournalism.

I've added the artist's descriptions of the photos - they depict such suffering and degradation that it's hard to look at them. Most of the photos in the exhibition have very difficult subject matter - refugees, war, animal abuse, drug and alcohol abuse - these are the hardest, and most dangerous photos to obtain.

The next day, we drove out to Cholula, a magical small town that is almost a suburb of Puebla. Cholula has a pyramid, underground tunnels and 39 churches to visit, but it is also an excellent spot to see the twin volcanoes, the active and currently spewing Popocatepetl (known as Popo), and his sleeping woman, Iztaccihuatl (dormant, and snow-covered). While Popo is always active and smoking, he has been more annoyed than usual lately, and the airport at Puebla was closed for a few hours on Friday this week due to the ash. Therefore, we were quite pleased to have decent views of the volcanoes on the day we went.

To grab these photos, we climbed up to the top of the Tepanapa pyramid - the widest pyramid ever built. This is not immediately obvious, as it is more like a gigantic hill than a pyramid. You wind yourself climbing the steep steps; worth it for the view and access to the photogenic church.

We stopped for lunch in the square, and chatted with our English-speaking server - he had spent 10 years in San Francisco, illegally, and then, as he said, "I did a stupid thing." He came home to see his family, and now cannot safely return to the U.S. If he flies, he could be caught and put in jail. If he crosses the border by bus, the cartels might catch him and force him to work for them. He mourns what is going on in his country - a very common and heartbreaking story.

We spoke with another Mexican man in Cholula - the beautifully-named Celestino. We met up with him as we were leaving the pyramid, and he was so interested in hearing about our travels, and impressions.

It is frustrating to be so limited in our encounters with Mexicans. We try very hard with our Spanish, but unless our new friends speak English, our conversations can only go so far. All the more reason to keep practising this language.

Yesterday, we took a double-decker tourist bus to get an overview of the city. Puebla's downtown core is very walkable - on a grid and easy to navigate, if somewhat unimaginatively named. North and south streets are numerical, intersected by east and west, also numerical. Sitting on the top deck of the bus for an hour and 20 minutes was extremely enjoyable, informative and entertaining, and gave us a great overview of the city. Just before our departure time, a large street protest was making its way down Reforma Avenue - our intended starting point. Undaunted, our driver backed up the bus for a full block, and with the help of his assistant on the street, executed a perfect 3-point turn, then headed down another street, with overhead wires and street lamps mere inches above us.