Monte Alban

Monte Alban sits just 6km above the city of Oaxaca. It is the site of the very first city in the whole American continent and, not coincidentially, the place where written language was first developed in the Americas. Unlike Chichen Itza (just a couple of hours drive from Cancun), Monte Alban is peaceful and it is easy to imagine the city in its former glory. The big bonus was that each sign on each building is in English and Spanish. We climbed all over the place for hours and really soaked it in. Tony and I went there on public transport (as opposed to an organised tour) and were delighted to find that most of the tourists who were there were Mexican.

The trip up the hill on the bus took us around the houses of the city, then concrete cube houses on the hillside, then what we would describe as chicken coops, but are actually houses, then up to the top of the hill where we could look back down on the town. The houses all have big water tanks, not for the collection of rainwater, but for the storage of water. There is no running water, so it has to be delivered by truck and stored in tanks. The power lines run along the main road, but at a certain point don´t go up to the houses. This means many of the buildings on the road are businesses. If you have a fridge, open a drink shop; if you have an electric light, open a clothes store; if you have a sattelite, open an internet cafe (true,I swear it). Talk about combined and uneven development!

Things we have seen
1. Women so small that when Tony stood next to them they did not even come up to his shoulders, and so old they looked almost like mummies. Of course they were carrying great baskets of whatever they were selling.
2. Young boys with the blackest, thickest, slickest hair ever.
3. Women with two long plaits tied at the back of their heads, wound around with yellow or red ribbon then tied together to make a semi-cirle loop and the back.
4. Barbequed pigs intestines. (Yes I did try them, just a bit mind you, but Tony liked them and finished the plate.)
5. Families who just sit in the main town square on Sunday afternoon, for no particular reason, except to be out.
6. Groups of siblings walking around the town square ranging in age from about 9 down to 6, each one selling a different toy, the littlest one last selling the littlest wooden toys.

Off to Oaxaca

After the boys went to the wrestling (where midget wrestling is the speciality of the arena) we got ourselves on the bus to Oaxaca. The first hour or so of the trip was a voyage through the concrete barrios of the working and unemployed people of Mexico ($6 per day is the average wage if you are lucky enough to be working). The next five hours of the trip was like a filmic landscape version from The Roadrunner, only with a few more cactus plants and some quite gripping canyons. We arrived in the town without bookings and have done as well as we would have with bookings.
The boys are paying $9 (including free internet, breakfast and bike hire) per night at the Mezkalito. Tony and I are about 500 metres up the same street in a nice hotel with potplants and courtyards etc. Fittingly enough it is called the Hotel Antonio. We are all a bit flat today, but I for one am glad to be out of the pollution. The first few times I saw people walking around with face masks on I thought they were dorks, now it just seems like a good idea if you have to live in Mexico City.

Miricles and torture

Trains
On the Metro in Mexico City we saw a blind person with a stick leading a blind person without a stick. So we actually saw the blind leading the blind. The hawkers that come through the carriages only sell one thing each, here is a sample: scissors, (good for cutting hair) for 50 cents, a book light for $1, chewing gum, CDs, lollies. The one mistake I made was to file off a busy train in the following order: Charles, Greta, Josh. (Any idiot would know that the order should have been Josh, Charles, Greta.) Big mistake! Nobody waits for people to get off before they get on. This means that the only way to get off is to push. You really have to push Mexicans (who generally are tall if they are over 5´2¨), so you feel really mean. I had told Josh about it, but I had not reminded him. So he got stuck on the train. I was yelling at him to push, he tried, but looked bewildered. I reached my arm in, he reached out and grabbed it and miricles of miricles out he popped.

The real miricle
Tony decided that even though his stomach was giving him trouble, he would do the trip to the site of the 1968 massacre, the Shrine of Guadalupe and the pyrimids. Sure enough at the shrine he went to the toilet one last time then declared himself cured. People line up to pray for a miricle, but all Tony had to do was visit the little boys room and hey presto. He impressed everyone on the bus with his modern day Mexican miricle.

Torture and Creativity
While Tony and Josh climbed pyramids, Charles lay in the bed in our hotel room making the most of the easy toilet access. In between bringing him Gatoraid, I went out to visit the National Museum and the Museum of the Instruments of Torture. The National Museum was really wonderful and I was surprised by the number of really tender European style portraits. I decided that because I had been to the very building where they held the Spanish Inquisition, that the torture exhibition had some context. It did have context, but I am not sure that I am glad I went. The exhibition had signs in English so I could read all of the information. Apart from the detailed physiological explanations, each instrument had a footnote explaining when it was last used. Of course many of them are still in use in much of the world today. The really horrible part of it was how creative and inventive the instruments are.

Coyocan

I tell myself that this blog is really just a diary, and that I don't care if people make comments, but I really like it when I get a response or two.

It was all maps and public transport all the way out to Coyacan, fours place to visit and harldy a wrong turn taken. Good on me!

We went to the Trotsky Museum and looked at the bullet holes in the walls and the little guard houses on the corners. It is really a pilgrimage for us. The photos of the couple fishing in Turkey or picnicing on Norway are really beautiful.








At the Frida Kahlo Blue House we read the original letter between Nelson Rockefeller and Diego Rivera, we went strolling though parks and markets, then back on the bus to the Palace of Fine Arts. We decided to finish the excursion with a trip to the mural discussed in the letters. The little reproduction I have stuck in the blog is nothing to go by. It really is one of the greatest pieces of art I have ever seen.

Roads well travelled

Pollution a la Mexicana

The three and a half hour double decker tourist bus around Mexico City was sedate, but did the trick of letting us relax into the high altitude and get a picture of at least some of the city. There are some really beautiful sections, architecture, gardens, lakes, parks, cultural centres stc. The public sculpture is fantastic and Mexican art continues to impress us. It was good to see the highlights of the city. It really is an exciting place and all of us are happy to be here. The bus trip did not explore the underbelly, no surprises there. It took a well travelled path and we are determined that having done that, we need to at make an effort to follow roads less travelled, or at least routes less frequently followed in the next few days. So it is down into the underground Metro, where for 20 cents we can emerge at the other end in the city without having seen the light of day.

There is just so much to see and we have promised ourselves that in the next couple of days we will try to do some major excursions on public transport, without the aid of a tour bus or guide. We are also trying to get just enough sleep and rest to allow us to approach the next thing with enthusiasm, but not so much that we lose momentum.

Today we just gave up trying to sort out lunch, went into Mexico City's only vegetarian cafe and ordered cauliflower soup because we recognised those words, then reverted to our trick of ordering the first four things on the menu because there were four of us. We got a really earthy mushroom soup, three apple dumplings (gordita manzana), some enchiladas and a big tortilla stuffed with what might have been spinach (huanzontle). We were also brought three plates of what can only be described as tamarillo soup for desert, even though we did not think that we ordered it. We had coffee, paid our four dollars each and have vowed to try to remember some of the Spanish names of the foods that we like.

Tony and I had spent the night before in the company of Horaldo the bartender at the Hostel Amigo (you might remember him from such blog entries as Luche Libre Wrestling January 2007). He recognised me from last year and for him that meant we should be given free drinks. Actually, I think the giving away of free drinks by this man is not so special an occasion but who am I to look a gift bar-tender in the mouth.

For the evening, I found a yearning for some quiet time and a copy of the New York Times to enjoy. The muchachos have gone off to the wrestling and will return to the company of Horaldo. Josh and Charles have shifted from Hostel Moneda to Hostel Amigo which is right next door to Hostel Isabel where Tony and I are holed up.

The pollution is getting to me and to make matters worse, our whole street is being dug up. This means that it is a real dust bowl and it is hard to get the smells of Mexico City out of the nostrils and believe me not all the smells are good. Still we have promises to keep, and miles to go before we sleep.

Pulque

Tony and I have done the washing, been to the bank, sorted our junk and done other mundane things. See, it is not all singing and dancing. Of course it took ages to do these things but we managed. The boys have skated and walked around town. We tried to sort out the phones but that looked like it might take hours in a queue.

The President is in town and so is the entire Mexican army and police force it seems. I have never seen so many military-security-protection-security force people in my life. I even saw an armoured guard protecting the beer truck (Corona actually) as it made its deliveries!!! There are caravans of cops, truckloads, processions, tidal waves. Mexicans seem to take little notice, but we are a bit freaked out. They are all armed with very serious weaponary and are wearing impressive protective gear. We, of course, are trying to be very good. That involves crossing with the lights, no spitting, heads down and eyes straight forward.

The boys discovered a pulqueria. This is a tiny hole-in-the-wall bar that sells beer made out of cactus. Traditionally, it is consumed by working people who cannot afford tequila. In the modern world, it is consumed by working people who cannot afford tequila and backpackers who want to be Mexican workers who cannot afford tequila. Nothing wrong with that! Unflavoured, it is thick, sweet, white and most importantly, costs $1 for a huge cup. In fruit flavours it costs $2. Actually it is not very alcoholic, but those who drink it, drink a lot if it. It is, no hint of a lie, also sold in buckets, yes pails, a la Jack and Jill.


The bar is an absolute classic. It has swinging doors, is absolutely packed (but there is always room for one more) and the atmosphere is paplable. On the bar is a bottomless stack of tortillas and salsa to which patrons help themselves. They were playing pretty good music, and because you are practically sitting on the knee of your fellow drinker, it only make sense to introduce yourself and start up a conversation. This is a real plus because it is not so easy to get into conversations with Mexican people. The people in the pub were two lecturers in political science, a young couple in the throes of early love, two other guys I could not quite identify and us. Josh and Charles think they have found the place in the world where they truely belong, so let them at it I say. They have plans that involve pails and I have vinegar and brown paper at the ready.

I could only get through half a cup and then I had to retire to the sidewalk. Now remember that Mexico is at high altitude and that I sufferred a little altitude sickness last time. Then, put me is a seriously crowded bar on a hot Mexican afternoon, give me half a drink (pineapple pulque to be precise), and you have a recipe for trouble. I did make it back to the hotel, but that is because it was only about 100 metres away. I had a lie down with a cold compress and recovered. I still feel a little dizzy and so will take it easy tomorrow.

Mexico City - again - at last

Thanks for the greetings Alex, Michele and Mum.

As I type, Josh and Charles as skating on the world's biggest ice-skating rink. The major of Mexico City has put it here to show that Mexico City is not all about crime, pollution and poverty. So now Mexico City is about crime, pollution, poverty and ice-skating.

Tony and I are staying at Hosel Isabel on Isabel de Catolica, we can probably receive phone calls, but I have not tested it yet. Our hotel is lovely, enormous 20ft plus ceilings, great organge and blue colors, wonderful courtyard and 4 beds in our room. The cost is about $40 per night. The phone number is 55 18 12 13. But you will have to work out the prefixes for yourself. The best times to call are in the morning between about 7 and 8am Mexico City time) or after about 10 at night. If you can work all that out, good on you.

Charles and Josh are at the Moneda, about a 10 minute walk away. They have a shared bunk room which includes free internet, a free tour of the city, breakfast and dinner for about $20. After dinner we are going out for dessert to celebrate Charles' birthday.