Panajachel, Guatemala, 12/10/07-12/12/07

Panajachel, more commonly known as Pana, and derogatorily known as "Gringotenango", is a tourist trap of a town on Lago de Atitlan. Lago de Atitlan is beautiful lake in the southwest of Guatemala between Xela and Antigua. The lake is ringed with 3 dormant volcanoes and is itself a crater lake.

The things to do in Panajachel are look at the lake, take a boat across the lake to other little towns, and hike. Unfortunately, due to robberies and the like, one needs to hike with an armed policeman provided by the government. I usually like to hike, but somehow thought that the serenity of the natural beauty would be spoiled by the presence of an armed guard.

I stayed two nights in Pana in a hotel on the lake shore. My room was on the upper floor and had a great view of the lake and volcanoes. Well, except when I woke that first morning to see freshly washed towels strung in front of my window.

I went to the lake shore the first day to watch the sunset. Who should wander by but a guy I was talking to at the hot springs a day or two before.

I had dinner at a restaurant whose front was open to th street. While waiting for my food, people would come by trying to sell things. One of the child vendors saw my PDA and was obviously curios. He was maybe 8. He went to the other side of the table and looked some more, not hiding his curiosity as an adult would. He asked if he could see it. I showed him the screen which had the solitaire game I was playing. He came back around to the other side and I kind of shooed him off. He was back a moment later on his way out of the restaurant and asked if he could have a piece of the buttery toasted bread that was sitting in the basket at my table. I said that he could and he quickly grabbed one and ran away like a squirrel scampering off with a proffered nut. Several minutes later after my food came, another kid came by. He was sort of standing at a little distance and saying something. He would sort of say it coyly and dart away. I realized that he was asking if he could have some bread. I guess word got around. I asked if he wanted a piece, he said yes, and I held the basket out for him. He grabbed one and ran off, kind of giggling. For this kid, I think it was more a game than a desire for the bread. I didn't mind. I was entertained.

The next morning I decided to walk to the next town. When I left, I carried only the bare essentials and my cell phone. I did not want anything vital stolen if I was robbed on the way. This meant leaving the camera at home. The walk was fine, but no real glorious views materialized. When I got to Santa Catarina Palopo, I walked to the shore. It was a beautiful view. When I sat near the water's edge and saw the volcanoes framed by willow branches with tufts of water grass in the foreground, I really wished that I had had my camera.

I decided to have lunch at the little restaurant overlooking the lake there. It was more for the view than because I was hungry. I was the only person in the place. This was definitely not another "Gringotenango".

On the walk back, I passed some kids sitting on piles of firewood. I remembered them from the walk there. The oldest was probably 12. As I approached, he asked, "Agua pura?"

"No, gracias," I said, thinking he was trying to sell me some water.

"No," he said. "For me."

I still had a lot of water left so I pulled the bottle out of the plastic bag I was carrying. He drank enthusiastically and handed it to the two other little boys. They handed me back the little that was left.

As they drank, I asked if they were out here all day with no drinking water. He said yes and I clucked my tongue as they drank. I don't know if that was true or if they were just trying to see if they could get the gringo to give them water. But they seemed genuinely thirsty. The oldest (who did all the talking) asked where I was from.

I went back home and chilled. After a while, I realized that it had gotten dark and I was missing the sunset. I ran to the rooftop to watch the remains of the sunset. As I watched the sun setting behind the volcanoes, I had this burst of appreciation of how lucky I am. Not that many people have had the chance to see the things that I have.

That night, after dinner, I had the waiter pack my leftover pizza in case some kid wanted it. I went to use the net, and sure enough some kid came in with his baby sister on his back. He asked for something and I asked if he wanted pizza. He took it, but a little hesitantly, and then told me to buy him a coke. I said, no I wasn't buying anything.

Fuentes Georginas Hot Springs, Guatemala 12/08/07-12/10/07

Fuentes Georginas is a hot springs near Xela, Guatemala. They are set in a mountainous cloud forest a few miles outside of the small town of Zunil (whose patron saint drinks and smokes.)Most people go to Fuentes Georginas as a day trip, but there are about 10 small cabins there for people who want to stay the night. I decided that I would kill to get some peace and quiet, so I booked a cabin for two nights-about US$12 a night with access to the bathing pools all night.I was the only passenger in the shuttle from Xela to the hot springs. The driver sort of acted as a tour guide. He is an American who fell in love in Xela and decided to stay. He told me how the locals switched from subsistence corn farming to growing vegetables. He pointed out all of the (very small) irrigation pipes. He pointed out where the new hydroelectric power plant was being built. He even went with me to make sure I got checked in and I showed him the cabin since he had never been in one and was curious.

The ride between Zunil and the hot springs was pretty amazing. Cloud forest covered mountains and valleys with a layer of mist rolling in from the unseen ocean many miles to the west.

I was totally pleased with the place. The hot springs were pretty basic--no spa resort here. I was very glad of that. There are 3 pools--the top one is the largest and hottest. It drains to the second pool which is shallower and cooler. Finally, the water runs to the third pool which is shallowest and coolest. Alongside the big pool is a restaurant/bar. The end of the big pool is an almost vertical wall up the forest. The spring comes out here. The whole place was shrouded in afternoon fog. There were maybe 20 people there, a mix of whites and latinos.

After the place closed and I had finished bathing and eating, I went back to my cabin. It had gotten quite chilly, so I decided to light a fire in the fireplace. (The cabins are not heated. In fact, I have not stayed anywhere with heat since I left the US.) It was my first time lighting a fireplace, and after an hour of frustration and my last piece of kindling, it was blazing.

Since they turn of the power at 10pm, I peaked outside around 9:30 to listen if anyone was out and about. When I stepped out my door, it was pitch black. There was no way I was going to walk the 20 yards to the pools in this. I could not see anything. I lit my LED flashlight so I could walk out far enough from my door to see the sky. I thought there would be mist obscuring the stars, but it was clear. The starts were amazingly bright and sharp. I read on the net that day that there was a meteor shower reaching its peak in a few days. I looked for some, but only stayed out for a couple of minutes. It was way too cold out to hang out long.

I awoke around dawn--7am or so. There was a bit of shouting a bit later, similar to last night when it got dark. All in all, there is not much shouting around here when it is just the cabin dwellers. When I first heard the shouting the previous night it did foster the thought: What is it about human nature that when we encounter a beautiful, tranquil, quiet setting, we feel compelled to spoil it by shouting at the top of our lungs? It is a truly an annoying characteristic.

After a morning bathe in the pools to defrost, I walked up the hiking paths into the surrounding hills. It was pretty in the cloud forests, but not much in terms of views. What would have been fantastic views were obscured by trees. It was kinda cool walking through the bamboo part where bamboo leaves carpeted the ground pretty thickly. I was surprised to find a lone grave up there marked with a simple wooden cross.

I took one snapshot of a vista. When I turned around and came back, what was a clear vista 15 minutes earlier was now just a wall of fog.

In the evening, I met a guy named Ken in the pool. He and his girlfriend are super low-budget travelers. I got to talking with them. In the end, it was decided that I would get to Xela tomorrow with them via pickup and chicken bus.

The next morning, after our morning bathe, we hopped in the back of a pickup truck in the parking lot. The girl (Adrien?) negotiated the price--US$6 for the 3 of us. Someone else I talked to yesterday payed that much per person.

The ride back to Zunil in the back of that truck was fantastic. Surprisingly, I was not freezing. It was great to see the views in 360 degrees. The couple and I talked about the vegetables in the fields we passed. They are small organic farmers in Maine.

Once in Zunil, we hopped on a bus destined for Xela. It was my first "chicken bus" (long distance, no frills bus) in Guatemala. In fact, I think the only other one I've been on was in India. It was actually quite nice. The owner clearly took pride in his vehicle. It was spotless inside and out. It was an old Blue Bird school bus, but the outside had been painted, a little chrome added, and some adornments placed around the driver's area. All of these buses in Guatemala seem to have names--usually women's names.

The bus took us to the main bus terminal in Xela. When I say bus terminal, it was not like a nice airport-like building like in Mexico. It was basically a wide point in the road with several long lines of buses parallel to each other. It was slightly organized chaos, with a minor market forming around the buses and vendors wending their ways through and on the buses.

This was where I parted ways with the Maine farmers. I was so encouraged by my travels so far today, that I decided to just get on another chicken bus and head to Panajachel. I wandered through the maze of buses and market stalls until a guy asked me where I was going. He then took me to the appropriate bus. The bus was scheduled to leave at 10. I got on at 9:45. It leaft at 10:20. I breathed a lifetime's worth of exhaust in that period.

The ride to Panajachel was fine. There were a couple of 10 minute stops for road construction. I did find that by the end of the 2 1/2 hour trip, my knees were a little achey (these were school buses made for kid-sized legs) and I was getting a mild headache. Nonetheless, I am a convert. For the most part, it is now chicken buses for me. It is just so much easier to schedule them than shuttles or "luxury" buses.

Quetzaltenango (Xela), Guatemala 12/06/07-12/08/07

I am falling behind in my blogs, so I will be doing them out of order. I am writing this in Antigua, Guatemala. Prior to getting here, I was in Oaxaca, Mexico; Tehuantepec, Mexico; San Cristobal de las Casas, Mexico; Quetzeltenango (Xela), Guatemala; Fuentes Georginas Hot Springs, Guatemala; and Panajachel, Guatemala.

I'm in Guatemala because, well, it's on my way. Several people have sung the praises of Antigua, so I am curious to see it.

I'll start this blog entry from my departure from Mexico.

I woke up early in San Cristobal, packed, and got picked up by the shuttle to Guatemala. I was the second to last person to be picked up and when we picked up the last group, there was some shuffling. Two shuttles where driving together (a good safety precaution) and I got shuffled to the second one while my baggage stayed in the first. This was fine, but it meant that when we got to the border, I had to wait for my luggage before getting on the shuttle on the Guatemalan side. Because I was in between the two groups of people, I caught up with the first group and asked where to get my passport stamped. There was a miscommunication (with another American) and I was told that the next shuttle would take me there. If I had just opened my eyes, I would have realized that this was not true. I was 50 feet from the immigration control point. Once we were on our way in the shuttle, it shortly became clear that I was screwed. I was in Guatemala without my visas stamp. A week and a half later I would end up making a run to Guatemala City to get this fixed.

The mountainous scenery in Guatemala was beautiful.

My destination in Guatemala was Quetzeltenango, known more commonly in Guatemala as Xela (SHELL ah). Xela is a highland town and is the second largest city in Guatemala. The focal point of the town is the central park, which although small, is quite nice. It is surrounded by old colonial buildings. Unfortunately, that is pretty much the only interesting part of Xela. It is definitely less touristy than Antigua and less grungy than Guatemala City. Not a bad city, just not overly exciting.

I checked out a guesthouse recommended by the guidebook. Although my Spanish is not great, I can usually pick up quite a bit of what people are saying. With the young guy who showed me the room at the guesthouse, I was thining, "Is this guy even speaking actual words?" If this was how all Guatemalans talked, I was going to be in trouble. Fortunately, it was not. I did not stay at the guesthouse because the room was right off the kitchen and I did not want the noise.

Instead, I stayed at an even dumpier place that ended up being just as noisy. No matter.
That first evening I ended up having dinner with four women, two of whom were waiting outside for the restaurant to open when I arrived. The other two were the pair from Maryland whom I talked to on the shuttle.

After dinner, I picked up a SIM card for my phone at a little store next to the restaurant. It was with the phone company Claro. It only cost around US$6. Unfortunately, it kind of sucked. Most of my calls in Xela were not completed. I had to try many times before I could send a text message. People had to try many times before they could reach me. On many calls, I could hear the other person, but they could not hear me (both local and international.) When I got to Panajachel and Antigua, things worked much better.

I spent half of the next day sick in bed. I felt exhausted, my stomache was a bit woozy, but mainly, I had the trots. Six hours later I was fine. I think my immune system has gotten very good at fighting off foreign bacteria.

It turns out that the guy who runs/owns/lives in the house where I was staying lived for several months in San Mateo, California which borders Belmont where I used to live.

By the second full day in Xela, I was making plans to leave. I made a reservation for a cabin at the hot springs nearby. I was going to arrange a shuttle there, but there was a miscommunication between me and the guesthouse owner (who also runs a tour agency).
I went around town taking photos, which I had not yet done. Not much to take, other than the square.

I had dinner at this "Middle Eastern" restaurant, Cafe el Arabe, which I only mention because I swear that the meat was carved out of salt. I was warned that the food here can be salty.

Here is today's bullet list: Concepts not understood in Guatemala:

• A full bus
• Too much salt
• Peace and quiet

Except for the one about salt, they apply to Mexico as well.

I was very tired and tried to sleep early, but the house's owner had the morning's tour group staying over, so there was an hour of noise and mayhem. After that (around 11 or so) it was fine.

The next day, I discovered that the shuttles to the hot springs only ran if two or more tickets were purchased. I purchased two and killed several hours until the afternoon departure. I walked to a point overlooking Xela and snapped a few pictures.

The Pyramids of Teotihuacán, 11/20/07

The pyrimads of Teotihuacan are about an hour away from Mexico City by bus. There are some very nice pyramids and platforms and lots crumbled ruins of which little remain.

My journey started with a ride on the Mexico City metro to the northern bus station. There is a bus line that has a direct bus to the pyramids. It also serves a nearby town, and I was surprised that I was the only person to get off the bus at the pyramids. (Thankfully, the bus driver gave me a little prod at the appropriate time.)

There were not many people at the ruins when I got there. As such, I got even more attention from the people selling trinkets. They didn´t try the hard sell, though.
When I go on these little excursions, I always make sure that I pack some food in my bag. Except that day. I had the food but forgot to put it in my bag. After about 10 minutes of walking around, I was really kicking myself. And the museum snack shop was closed that day, naturally. I managed to make it through without too much trouble.

You can climb up a large number of the ruins, including the two big pyrimads--the Pyramid of the Sun and the Pyramid of the Moon. The Pyramid of the Sun is the larger and is quite a climb. You can go all the way to the top and get a 360 degree view of the surrounding countryside and the other ruins.

One can only climb part of the way up the Pyramid of the Moon, but it is still a good view. While up there, I took a picture for some German guy who in turn took the picture of me you see here, with the Pyramid of the Sun in the background.

When it came time to leave, I had to ask where to catch the bus. The guy at the entrance told me which exit to use to catch the bus, but there was no marked bus stop. I asked the guard there where to catch the bus. I asked in Spanish, but he responded in English. I guess that shows how good my Spanish is.

I waited across the street to catch the bus at the unmarked bus stop. I was the only one to get on the bus. It was an uneventful ride back to Mexico City, where I finally got some food, after way too much walking to get to a restaurant.

Mexico City 11/17/07-11/27/07

I Recently visited an interesting city--see if you can guess which one:

• I was in a Wal-mart packed with Mexicans. (No, I was not back in Mountain View.)
• While walking down the street, I found myself in the middle of a hundred or more nude protesters wearing nothing but a picture of the president covering their goodies. (No, I was not back in San Francisco.)
• I wandered through a mall that was totally devoted to all things Jesus. (If you need a reliquary, I know where you can get one.)
• A few blocks away, I ran into another mall that was devoted to all things sexual.
• I went to a subway station to see a miracle--a piece of concrete with a water stain in the image of the Virgin Mary. (It had to be removed from the subway and placed outside in a little shrine because thousands of people were clogging the metro station to see it.)

If you guessed Mexico City, you are correct. If you did not guess Mexico City, you have problems--I gave you the answer in the title of the post.

I have gotten some feedback on previous blog entries. One was essentially, "Be more narrative." Another was, "Tell us more about your motivations rather than just what you did and saw."

So, here is some of my motivation for going to Mexico City: First of all, it is the second largest city (metro area, aglomeration, whatever you want to call it) in the world after Tokyo. That in itself made it interesting. On top of this, it has a reputation for a vibrant cultural scene. It also has many historical buildings, (some ancient,) varied neighborhoods, and is the melting pot of Mexico. Admittedly, one of the major factors was that Mexico City was on my travel route anyway.

Mexico City has some downsides, most notably, its famous crime rate. I was a bit intimidated by the city.

My bus ride to Mexico City from Guanajuato was uneventful. Upon arriving, I had the option of taking the metro (subway) to my hotel or taking a cab. Given the city's reputation for crime, I decided to take a taxi rather than the metro.

I was pleasantly surprised by my hotel (Hotel Rioja)--it was right in the center of the historic district, was quite nice, and was only US$20. However, when I took my first walk around the historic district, I was disappointed. I guess I had an image derived from guide books and other cities in Mexico. The buildings here were not as grand as I expected, everything seemed dingy from years of pollution, and things seemed kind of dead.

The fact that things were dead could partially be explained because it was a Mexican holiday weekend. Lots of people were out of town. When I went out that first evening to find something to eat, I was really creeped out. The streets around my hotel were practically empty. Before turning down a street, I had to make sure that there were other people walking down it as well. For the center of the second largest city in the world, it was like a tomb. I was not getting a good first impression of the city. I was later told that that part of town was not generally very lively after dark. It did get much better later in the week. The empty streets were somewhat mitigated by the fact that there were police at practically every corner. (It is the heart of tourism for the city, after all.)

The metro in Mexico City is great. For 2 pesos (about US$0.20) you can get to most places in the city.

I met several people in Mexico City and became friends with couple of them. First was Jorge. Jorge is a 37 year old professional who is very helpful, very open to suggestions, and very stable. Jorge did the most to show me around town. We spent a Sunday afternoon having lunch in the upscale yuppie neighborhood of Condesa, and then we went to the quaint old neighborhood of Coyoacan. From there he drove me to the new financial district in the Sante Fe neighborhood. This consisted of a few skyscrapers and very little else. There were some condos which are apparently exhorbitantly expensive. We made a bathroom stop at the mall there. It was large and very upscale--think Prada, Coach, etc. We ended the Mexico City tour in Zona Rosa, which is simultaneously upscale and kinda sleazy.

Jorge and I ended up having several meals together throughout the week. One was at a Thai/Vietnamese/Malaysian restaurant in the Condesa. It was OK, but I did not recognize most of the things on the menu. The food was fine, but not as I would have expected. And it cost 4 times as much as the same food in the US. Food is not particularly cheap here. It was at this restaurant, where we discussed foreign food and some travels, that Jorge made the statement that I have heard a few times in my travels: "You are not like other Americans." I asked him how so, but the only thing that came across clearly was that I liked trying different things.

The other person I hung around with a lot was Julio. Julio is a very independent, but very responsible and decisive, 29-year-old who is self-employed as an event planner. (He is currently arranging corporate sponsorship for a rock concert.) One night, he decided to show me one of the bars near my place--the Oasis. When we walked in, he stopped in his tracks. We were easily the youngest people there. We decided to stay anyway and had a couple of beers and chatted. We left there just after midnight (he had just turned 29 at midnight) and walked to Plaza Garibaldi, which I had not yet seen. We were surprised to see the place packed after midnight on a Thursday. There was a mariachi band on the stage and tons of people and vendors around. I had forgotten that there was a music festival in town this week.

The following Saturday, Julio, two of his friends, and I went to the dance club Living. When we got there, the guy at the door asked for my ID. I did not have one. When I am at home, I never go anywhere without ID, so I never have to think about it. When I am traveling in other countries, no one ever asks for ID, so the fact that I leave my ID locked up in my hotel room is not usually an issue. The guy at the door decided it was an issue. Julio suggested that we go to another club, to the visible disappointment of the other two. Instead, I told them to go inside and I would take a taxi to my hotel and get some ID and come back. Fortunately, I did my homework before they picked me up and I knew that there was a taxi stand right next to the club. I got a taxi, went to my hotel, got my ID, came back, and rejoined them. I managed to make my requirements clear to the taxi driver in Spanish.

At this point, I should say a few things about taxis in Mexico City. You know how I had that post about how I hate taxis? The taxis in Mexico City are so bad that even locals are wary of them. Taxis are one of the more dangerous things in Mexico City. Taxi drivers are involved in robberies and kidnappings on a regular basis. I only felt comfortable taking the taxi from the bus station and the nightclub because they were "sitio" taxis--that is, the taxis were associated with the taxi stand. The trips made by these taxis are recorded and dispatched through the stand. The prices are fixed, so there are no "scenic drives" to run up the meter. These are much safer than hailing a taxi on the street. When I recounted my tale of taking the taxi from the club to Jorge, he was impressed--both by the fact that in my limited Spanish I managed to communicate with the driver what I needed and by the fact that I was so careful about my taxi selection. He recounted a story of how he hailed a taxi in the street which then stopped in a bad neighborhood where the driver's accomplices robbed him. They made him get out of the taxi in this bad neighborhood where another guy immediately tried to rob him, refusing to believe that he had just been robbed already.

Anyway, back to the story. I met the guys in the club. By this time it was probably 1:00am. (They did not pick me up until about midnight.) The club was actually quite nice. It was in an old historic building whose interior had been done in a more modern style with state of the art lights and sound. There was a large main dancefloor with a smaller dancefloor around the corner. There were several smaller side room used for bars and small, casual lounge areas. There were also a few small balcony areas. The place was ludicrously expensive, though. The cover was US$20 and drinks were over US$9. We ended up leaving shortly after 3am.

The day before I left Mexico City, Julio showed me a few more places in the historic district. However, before he got there, I decided to go see the Virgin of the Metro--the miraculous piece of stained concrete I mentioned at the beginning of this post. Well. What can I say? I think I saw the image. It was hard to tell with all of the glare from the plexiglass covering it.

On the way to and from the Virgin viewing, I saw the nude protesters (also mentioned previously) for the second time that week. Fortunately for you, I had my camera this time. The first time I encountered them, I was walking down the street when someone tried to hand me a flyer. This happens all the time everywhere in the world, and my response is always the same--a shake of the head and I move on. I just do not want to carry around extra paper or fill up a trash can, particularly if I probably will not understand what is on the paper anyway. However, in this case, after shaking my head, I looked up and noticed that the woman handing it to me was naked. "That's odd," I thought. Then I saw another woman a few yards away also naked and handing out flyers. And these were not women that you would particularly care to see naked. I had been hearing a drum beat for the past several blocks but thought nothing of it. There was usually some sort of noise-generating event going on downtown. As the drum beat got closer, I noticed a hundred or more naked guys at a major intersection dancing (well, jumping around) to the drum beat. They all had pictures of Mexican President Calderon used as a sort of loin cloth. In order to cross the street, one had to walk through them. Usually, protests have a somber, sometimes menacing tone. Not this one. Most were smiling and dancing. I guess the thing was to make a spectacle and get their message across.

Anyway, I went back to my hotel, Julio showed up, we had lunch and he showed me around the palace a few blocks from my hotel. Inside are many murals by famed Mexican artist Diego Rivera. Julio seemed very knowledgable about the paintings. It was like having my own private docent.

After the palace, we ducked into the lobby of the Hotel Ciudad de Mexico. It was a very nice old building with much wrought iron and a ceiling made of a sort of domed stained glass skylight. Julio mentioned that the hotel was a popular spot for photo shoots. Indeed, on the stairs opposite was a photo shoot in progress. The model was wearing a hat and a trenchcoat. And nothing else. The photographer was capturing all of the man's features, but nothing was visible from the lobby except that he was, indeed, naked.

While we walked around, I mentioned the "Jesus Mall" to him--a moniker which made him laugh--and somehow the subject of the sex mall came up. He was surprised that I knew about it. (Lonely Plantet is a very thorough guide book.) Then he got it into his head that we had to go see it. He had never been there and was curious to see what it was about. After walking way out of our way, he asked directions and found out it was about 2 blocks from where we started. It was nothing very impressive, but it was interestingly non-sleazy in feel. We were actually kind of bored by it.

Later in the day, Julio and I had dinner in the Casa Azul (Blue House) which is an old historic building covered in blue and white tiles. It is now owned by the department store chain Sanborne's. (This chain is owned by the Mexican telecom magnate who is poised to become the richest man in the world.) After dinner, we headed to a well-known all-night churro shop (it was about midnight) for churros and hot chocolate. These are the only items on their menu.

Also, while I was in Mexico City, I took a day trip to the pyramids of Teotihuacan which are an hour outside the city. I will talk about that in a separate blog entry.

Well, I could go on, but I have discovered a salsa stain on my shirt that looks just like the Virgin Mary and I need to contact the Vatican.

P.S. Since Mexico City, I have been to Oaxaca, Tehuantepec, San Cristobal, and am planning to head to Quetzaltenango, Guatemala tomorrow. Eventually, I will catch up on my blogging.

San Miguel de Allende, 11/10/2007

I decided to visit the colonial town of San Miguel de Allende on Saturday. The town is about an hour away from Guanajuato by bus. Many people told me that the town is beautiful and that I really should go.

I got up way too early and was at the bus station about an hour early. When I got there, I ran into 3 of the young Asian girls going to school with me. They were headed to the town of Morelia, which is about 4 1/2 hours away. (I later found out that they got stuck overnight with no hotel and ended up buying toothbrushes and taking the morning bus back to Guanajuato.)


A little later, the two women from Oregon that were in my classes showed up at the bus station. They were headed to San Miguel on my bus as well. We were all chatting until our buses left. We were joined by a pair of Alaskan women who were taking Spanish classes at another school and were also on my bus to San Miguel.

On the bus, I sat next to a 24-year-old German woman named Sybilla. We chatted most of the way to San Miguel.

Once I got to San Miguel around 11:00am, I decided to go by foot from the bus station to the central plaza. It was an easy walk that took 15-20 minutes. The central plaza is quite nice but the church there is amazing. I only walked around for a few minutes before I realized that I was starving and getting weak.

Looking around for a restaurant, it was clear that the nicer establishments were geared toward the gringo population. San Miguel has been transformed by it´s large number of retired expats. The population of the town is clearly stratified into two groups--old gringos and Mexicans. The Mexicans in San Miguel seem more rustic than in Guanajuato or Guadalajara, making the contrast even sharper.


Even after eating, I never really regained my enthusiasm. San Miguel is nice, but not all that it was hyped to be. The redeaming thing about the town are the churches. There are several very nice churches. It also has a nice park by the river (or creek, or whatever it is.) There is supposedly a path from the park to a lookout point high on the nearby hill, but I couldn´t find it. I walked around town quite a bit, but after being there for about 2 or 3 hours, I was ready to go.

I think the reason many people like San Miguel is because it has lots of places to shop for artsy stuff and many nice restaurants. Shopping for precious little things is the last thing I want to do when I travel.


Eventually, I headed back to the bus station. I thought that I would not see any of my companions from the ride there and that I would have to explain to them on Monday why I didn´t stay in San Miguel longer than I did. Much to my surprise, they were all on the same bus back, except for the Oregonians who had reserved a hotel for the night before arriving. Sybilla and the Alaskans all had the same impression of the town that I did--nice, but after a couple of hours there, there was not much more to see.


I ended up seated next to one of the Alaskans and we chatted all the way back to Guanajuato. When I arrived at the bus station in Guanajuato and hopped on the local bus to get back downtown, Sybilla was on the same bus. We sat next to each other and talked on the way back to town and she invited me to hang out with her and her friends that night, which I accepted.

Guanajuato 10/31/07-11/13/07

In my last posting, I completely failed to mention Halloween, All Souls Day, and Day of the Dead (Dia de Morte). In Guanajuato, I saw few kids in the streets on Holloween. The ones I did see were almost all witches and devils. The few adults in costume were almost all zombies, except for one Fred Flintstone.

On the night of All Saints Day (November first for all you
non-Catholics) I saw more kids in costume than on Holloween. A few of them came looking for candy at the restaurant where I had dinner.

The big holiday of the week was Day of the Dead (November 2). Traditionally, this is a day where graves of departed loved ones are decorated and places are adorned with skeletons and the like. For days leading up to Day of the Dead, there were scores of stalls in the street selling candy skulls, "dead bread", cemetery wreaths, flowers, and all manner of death-related trinkets.


On the night of Day of the Dead, the plazas and restaurants were packed. I don't know how much of this was due to the holiday and how much was due to the fact that it was simply a Friday night.

On weekend nights in Guanajuato, a group of professional musicians in costume called callejoneanadas (a callejon is an alley) wander through town with a following of people (mainly tourists). The play music, sing songs, and stop in various plazas to tell comedic stories. I caught a bit of them as they were in the plaza outside the internet cafe I was using. It was quite enjoyable, but I found when I got out of the cafe, I really had no desire to follow them around. I ran into them again in another plaza a few minutes later.


Guanajuato is big on street performers, and by that I do not mean the noisy beggars you find in most cities. There are the usual bands of singers with guitarists wandering through restaurants for tips (which I abhor). There are also actual bands that play in the bandstand in the Jardin de Union (I caught one doing Strauss pieces one night and another doing more traditional Mexican music on another.) People dance around the bandstand as the band plays.

There are other musicians that plant themselves in other plazas around town or in front of the Teatro Juarez. There are often clowns entertaining children and adults (not this one) in front of the theater.


There are, however, a few unfortunate instances of music. While I was in an internet cafe, there was someone strangling a bagpipe in the plaza outside. Bagpipes are never the most harmonious instraments, but this one was so bad that I had to put on my headphones and drown it out with some music. I would have preferred to listen to a leaf blower.

Speaking of noise, there are some interesting noises in town. The church bells seem to ring at random. Firecrackers go off a lot. At first, I thought this was leading up to the Day of the Dead. Then it continued for the next week. I found out that the churches light the firecrackers to call worshippers to mass for their particular saint.


All in all, however, Guanajuato is a pretty quiet town. Even though there is a lively nightlife with many bars, there is not a lot of noise pollution from them.

Speaking of which, I finally got to experience some of the Guanajuato night life. I had taken a one-day bus trip to San Miguel de Allende (see a forthcoming blog entry for details of that trip) and was seated next to a German girl on the bus ride there. The girl, Sybilla, and I talked quite a bit on the trip, ended up on the same bus back to Guanajuato later that day, and then ended up on local bus with me from the bus station to town. She invited me to go out with some of her friends that night.


I met Sybilla and her friends at a bar called Bora Bora behind the Theatro Juarez. This bar was filled pretty much with gringos. It was a nice enough place, kind of trendy. Sybilla's friends consisted of a friend of Sybilla's mother and this woman's daughter, Julia. The pair have lived in Guanajuato for the past 3 years and apparently go out to bars together regularly.

The next bar was Alkatraz, around the corner from the Jardin de Union, which I had walked past about a billion times. When we entered, it was playing very Mexican music, but by the time we left, it had morphed into more US-style bar music. Larlo, a member of the Mexican family in whose house Sybilla is staying, joined us there.


I commented to Julia that she looked awfully young, which led to everyone (except the mother) revealing their ages. Larlo and Sybilla are both 24, and Julia is 17. This did not prevent Julia from knowing the workers in the next two bars and getting us in without paying the cover.

After Alkatraz, we headed to the dance clubs. The first was Guanajuato Grill. It was a kitchen disco--no dance floor. This makes it rather hard to mingle with anyone other than the people you came with. We bought a bottle of vodka and a couple of containers of juice. This put us back about US$65.

After Guanajuato Grill, we went to Capitola, tucked away in the far corner of Plaza La Paz. This was another disco with a more open floor plan, but still not as open as I would have liked. All of the places we went were crowded, but this place probably more than the others. Like many dance clubs in San Francisco on a busy night, it was so crowded that it was less like dancing and more like frotage. I was up since 7am, so I was the first to leave, just before 2am.

The next day was spent sleeping.

I'm sure David C. is disappointed that I have not mentioned diarrhea yet on this trip. Aside from a minor bout lasting only a few hours in Puerto Vallarta, there hasn't been any. However, since I have been in Mexico, I have been releasing so much gas that I expect to be mentioned by name in the next Kyoto treaty.


Spanish school has been going well. I decided to take a second week of classes, both because I need the practice and because I like the city. People were surprised to hear that I had never taken a Spanish class before. I'm definitely holding my own. Although I can converse with other students and teachers in Spanish, I still can't understand what most of the people say to me on the street.

My first day in class, I met a septegenarian from Seattle name Marriete. We ended up taking the same route back to town (the school is a 25 minute walk from the town center) and she asked if I was in a hotel or staying with a family. When I told her I was in a hotel, she told me about her homestay and asked if I was interested. The next day, the family invited me for dinner and the following day I was living there. The room is nice, the food is great (if a bit overabundant), the location is right in the town center (near where my hotel was) and room and board is about US$22 a day. I get a private room with a bathroom. And, as importantly, I get lots of Spanish practice.

Well, this entry has turned into a book, so I will end here and post next time about my trip to San Miguel. This weekend, I intend to head to Mexico City.

Guanajuato 10/29/07 - 11/05/07

My blogs have finally caught up to where I actually am.

I am now in Guanajuato, Mexico. I was not originally planning to go to Guanajuato, but every Mexican that I hung out with told me that it was great place and I really should go there before heading to Mexico City. Since it is halfway between Guadalajara and Mexico City, it seemed like a good choice.

The bus ride from Guadalajara to Guanajuato was pleasant. A few mesas, a few valleys and canyons. There was a little confusion in Leon because I did not realize that I needed to change buses there.

While waiting for the second bus to show up, I chatted with a couple on the same bus. They had stayed in a hotel two doors down from me in Guadalajara. Someone slashed their luggage in their room and stole some (but not all) of their money. That is why I carry a Pak-Safe. It is a strong wire mesh that I wrap around my bag and then lock. My bag cannot be opened or slashed, and I try to secure it to something in the room like a bed frame or metal table. Of course, someone could steal my bag out of the bus cargo hold.

When the bus arrived in Guanajuato, I took a look at the town and was really disappointed. It turns out that I wasn't really seeing the city proper. The city is in a valley. When I got around the hill into the city proper, I was no longer disappointed. I was amazed.

The bus station is a few kilometers outside of town. This is one annoying little oddity about the cities I have been to so far in Mexico--the bus stations are not in the center of town like they are in many other places. You either have to take a taxi or a local bus to get into town.



I had decided on a place to stay before arriving in Guanajuato, but I decided to let the guy outside the tourist information office at the bus station tell me about other options. I decided to check out one of the options he suggested. My experience in the past has been that hotel touts try to sell you overpriced dumps, but I have, on occassion, gotten decent deals by listening to them. The suggested room supposedly normally went for 350 pesos but I would get it for 180. Being the shoulder season, such a discount would not be unheard of, but I had my doubts as to whether the room ever went for 350 pesos.

The most interesting thing about my conversation with this guy was the realization I had a few minutes into it. I realized that I was having a conversation in Spanish and was actually following most of it. Unfortunately, I couldn't understand a word of what almost everyone else said that day.

While riding into town, I got a call from Anthony in San Jose on my cell phone. I had picked up a Mexican SIM card for my phone in Guadalajara--100 pesos (US$9) for the card plus 50 pesos worth of air time. It was my first phone call in Mexico. It was short-lived since I had to get out and go to my hotel. We picked up the conversation later as I was wandering around town.



As soon as I got out of my taxi, another tout championed my cause of finding a hotel. He ushered me to the hotel the first tout had suggested--the Hotel Juarez. I looked at the room. I cannot imagine that anyone would pay 350 pesos for that place. I let the tout show me a couple of other places. The only one I would have considered was full.

Finally, I decided to just go to the place I originally intended to go--Casa del Tio. This meant walking across town (which was not that far) with my luggage. I put my rolling backpack on my back and started walking. Why is it that the only times that I get lost while hauling my luggage is when I am in a city full of hills? It was Darjeeling all over again. Eventually, I got my bearings and found the hostel. I got the only single room with a bathroom.



I dumped my stuff and walked around town. Guanjuato is one of the most beautiful cities that I have ever seen. It is full of immaculate little plazas connected by small streets surfaced with paving stones. These streets are lined with well-preserved colonial buildings in a wide array of colors. The most recognized building in town is the old basilica on a manicured plaza along a pedestrian street. There are several other well-preserved old churches, an attractively fronted university, a statue-lined old theater, a more modern theater, and many sidewalk cafes. All of this is in an area of probably less than one square mile.

Take a lot of the nicest parts of Paris, shrink them, put them in a small area, and replace the sometimes difficult Parisians with friendly Mexicans and you have something like Guanjuato. (Oh, and reduce the costs by about a factor of 10.)

My favorite passtime is to just walk in the maze of paved alleyways. I have yet to find one in the town center that is not immaculate. Even walking around the perimeter of town and dipping down side street I have not seen anything like a "bad" part of town.


Overlooking the town from the top of the southern hill is a huge statue. One can get there via the funicular railway or just walk up an alley (quite a workout.) I have walked up there twice so far. From there, one can see over the city. Being in a valley, there are many points in the city with such birds-eye views.

On my third day in town, I walked to the Academia Falcon to sign up for Spanish classes. It is a very laid-back school on the southeast side of town. It is about a 25 minute walk from my hotel in the center. For US$110 I can take 4 classes a day for a week. I may stay for a second week of classes.

Guanajuato is a university town as well as a tourist town. The arts seem to be a primary focus of study. Many times I have seen students with sketch pads in front of some of the grander buildings.

Although Guanjuato is definitely a tourist town--I'm sure the economy would collapse if the stream of tourists dried up--it is not touristy in a bad way. At least in this season, it does not feel exteremely touristy. It feels more like a college town. I don't know how this would change in the high season.



The main plaza is the Jardin de Union. It is not a big plaza, but is very nice. It is in the shape of an isoceles triangle. The sort side of the triangle is demarcated by the street Calle Juarez. Across the street is the grand old Teatro Juarez. One of the other legs of the triangle is lined with restaurants and their outdoor seating. The third leg is a row of shops and indoor restaurants. Within this outermost border is a wide tiled walkway lined with benches. Within the walkway is and unbroken triangle of trees whose tops are cut square so it looks like a giant hedge lifted off the ground. Within this border of trees is the innermost landscaped triangle, which contains a small fountain and an octagonal bandstand. Many evenings there are musicians performing in the bandstand or across the street in front of the theater. It is a great place to just park it on a bench and bask in the ambiance.

I'll be in Guanjuato for at least another week taking classes, so I will end this entry here and save the rest for later.

Gudalajara, 10/24/07 - 10/29/07

I am in Guanajuato, Mexico right now, typing this on my PDA at a coffee shop. My table is sitting atop a narrow archway over a pedestrian alley surfaced with paving stones. It is mid-afternoon, the temperature is perfect, and it is a holiday--Novermber 2, the Day of the Dead.

I'm a student again. Ok, not officially until Monday. While in Guanajuato, I decided to take some Spanish classes. But enough about Guanjuato, this blog entry is is about Guadalajara.

As I mentioned in my previous posting, Guadalajara seemed more appealing to me than Puerto Vallarta even before I got off the bus. This feeling only increased as the day went on.

I took a taxi from the bus station to my hotel in the town center. I think they specifically assigned a driver that could speak English--I fuddled through the whole "getting a cab" process. Not my finest moment of speaking Spanish. On the ride to the hotel, I struck up a conversation with the driver. It started with things along the lines of "How well do you speak English?" and went on to stuff about family and the like. I found out that he is 23, got married when he was 18 (which he chalks up to the stupidity of youth), is divorced, and has a 4 year old son. He lived in Atlanta briefly. He offered to help me with my Spanish on the ride to the hotel. I asked a few questions, more to make conversation than to get an education.

When we got to my hotel and I went to pay him, he reminded me that I already gave him 5 pesos at the bus station toll booth. Yes, Virginia, honest taxi drivers do exist.

My check-in at the hotel was made easier by the fact that the lady at the desk spoke English. I opted to get a room with a shared bathroom (190 pesos vs. 290 with a bathroom.) The hotel was situated right in the historic town center.

After checking in, I dumped my stuff, chatted with a Japanese girl who had also just checked in, and then walked around town. It was early evening. The weather was a little too chilly for a short sleeve shirt and I would later put on my jacket. I was told that the colder weather just started a couple of days before I arrived.

I felt so much more comfortable in Guadalajara. It is a real city with 4 million people. When I walked down the street, I felt invisible. I like that. The streets and plazas were full of people. It is a very lively town.

The biggest landmarks in central Guadalajara are the twin-towered cathedral (which seems to be the symbol of the city) and the theater (Teatro Degollado). Both are beautiful old buildings.

The historic district contains a collection of plazas connected with pedestrian walkways, all quite nice, surrounded by historic building and containing several statues of historic figures. Almost all of my time in Guadalajara was spent in this part of town.

I did not eat out at many restaurants, opting instead for pizza-by-the-slice, or stuff from the grocery store.

After being in Guadalajara a couple of days, I started meeting people. Mauricio is a 25-year-old whose family owns a construction company in Colorado. He just moved back here from Colorado last month and works at the Guadalajara office of the family business. We chatted over coffee in one of the outdoor cafes in the plaza in front of the Cathedral and then walked around a bit. When we parted, he asked if I wanted to go to a popular Mariachi place the next night (Friday.) I said "Sure" and we agreed to finalize plans online the next day. When chatting online with him the next day, I asked if he still wanted to go to the Mariachi place, and if so when and where we should meet. No response. Ever. That was the last I heard from him. I guess he picked up a few behaviors from his time in the US. Too bad it had to be one of the ones that never fails to piss me off.

The next day I met Alfonso. This was a bit more interesting because Alfonso spoke very little English and I spoke very little Spanish. I got a lot of use out of my Spanish-English dictionary during our conversations. Alfonso is a 37-year-old psychiatrist specializing in child psychiatry. He occasionally teaches classes to teachers from a classroom attached to his house.

Alfonso and I ended up having dinner in Zona Rosa--a rather posh neighborhood that is a 20 minute walk from my hotel. For dinner, he suggested that I try a somewhat-spicy chicken stew, whose name I cannot remember, which was quite good.

After dinner, we watched the parade that happened to be passing by the restaurant. October is a month of festivals in Guadalajara.

It was Saturday, so we decided to go have a drink. We walked a couple of blocks to his house to get his car. His house is huge, but practically empty. He has 5 bedrooms upstairs, only one of which is fully furnished, most of the others are completely empty. His kitchen is big, but 3/4 of it is completely empty. His office is on the ground floor, along with his kitchen, an empty dining room, and a small living room.

His yard is giant by city standards. In it is the classroom where he teaches classes.

After getting the house tour, we headed to California's--a bar near my hotel. I was shocked to discover that one could actually park a car without having to search forever for a spot AND could park near one's destination.

California's was much more Mexican in flavor than the bar I went to in Puerto Vallarta. I may well have been the only white guy there. It was packed, and it was not a small bar. It was a pretty basic, homey kind of place--not at all trendy. It definitely seemed like the kind of place that people went to meet their friends for a beer. Several TVs were showing Mexican music videos. Alfonso ran into several of his friends there. I chatted briefly with one of them who spoke reasonable English. I left after about an hour and a couple of beers. (Yes, beer. When in Rome...)

The next day, I felt totally lazy and lounged around in bed until late afternoon. I had planned to go to the festival, but just felt too lazy. Instead, I studied Spanish and listened to NPR podcasts. This was surprisingly satisfying.

I went to use the net and post my first blog entry. Alfonso was online and we chatted and decided to hang out later, even though I was pretty tired.

The next day I woke up and decided to leave town. Originally, I was going to go straight to Mexico City from Guadalajara, but people kept suggesting that I go to Guanjuato first. I grabbed a taxi to the bus station (the driver actually used the meter, much to my surprise), bought a bus ticket to Guanajuato, and 15 minutes later I was on the road to Guanajuato.

Details for travelers to Guadalajara

The hotel in which I stayed was the Posada San Pedro on Calle Madero. It was within easy walking distance of the Cathedral (maybe 5-10 minutes), around the corner from several bars of a certain flavor, and about 3 blocks from a supermarket.
I asked for a quiet room and ended up with a second-floor room overlooking the busy street. Noise-wise, this was actually better than the ground floor rooms around the lobby. That is because every time someone goes in or out of the building they have to get buzzed through the security door. Usually, there is no one at the desk, so the person entering or leaving has to ring a bell, which you can clearly hear in the rooms around the lobby.

I actually did not mind the traffic noise in my room. At night, it was pretty minimal, and the room had a fan that provided a great source of white noise. I liked the place, although the getting buzzed in and out was kind of tedious.

For 190 pesos (about US$17.50), I got a fairly large room with a shared bath, a small balcony overlooking the street, and tons of furniture. The doors to the room and the bathroom are the kind that split down the middle. Unless you open both sides, you have to step through sideways. Another 100 pesos would have gotten me a private bathroom.

The hotel has a rooftop terrace that does not seem to be used much. It is surrounded by rooms. (These are probably the most quiet rooms.) My room had a cozy sitting area right outside.

All-in-all, I would recomment the place for someone looking for budget digs in the historic district.

As far as eating, I cannot recommend much because I ate in very few restaurants. There is a chain called Sanborns which is either inside or near a Sanborns department store. I only ate inside two restaurants in Guadalajara. By coincidence, both were Sanborns and both on the same day. (The second one was chosen because of its location as a place to meet--not by me.) The food is fine. The one near the cathedral looks like a Denny's. The one inside the Zona Rosa Sanborns department store is nicer, but the same food.

There are plenty of quick food options along the plazas--pizza, tacos, ice cream, etc.