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M E X I C O |
We loved Mexico, although in three weeks we only managed to see a tiny fraction of its many charms. We crossed from the USA on 13th May into the archetypal border town, Tijuana, a playground for young Americans. Most of northern Mexico is desert, and we had decided to give it a miss, so we flew down to some of the southern states:
| T I J U A N A |
We took a bus, a Greyhound, from LA to San Ysidro on the border with Mexico. Less than a mile away, over the fence, was Tijuana, the archetypal Mexican border town, and Mexico's fourth largest city, it's economy buoyed up by North America's need for cheap labour. Car parts, white goods, electronics and more are semi-assembled in Tijuana's factories at a fraction of the US labour cost. Tijuana also caters to the US's other desires of a more basic kind. Over 30m people cross this border annually to shop, drink, smoke cuban cigars, dance, or satisfy their lusts at a strip show or two. All that's denied in a puritanical North America is readily available here and practiced in excess.
Border Crossing
We actually
walked across the border, hoping to see an immigration official to get a
blue card, which essential if you plan to travel onwards into Mexico, but
there were no officials. In fact, it was as simple as crossing the street.
 First view of Mexico across the US border. |
As you enter Tijuana, you cross a footbridge and you are there, in the main drag, Avenida Revolucion. The contrast with clean, affluent and neatly ordered San Diego is immediate. The cars are beaten up wrecks, buses blast out thick black smoke. The streets are littered, and abound with food sellers cooking corn on the cob and enchilladas on greasy black braziers. Walking down Revolucion we were accosted by dozens of hawkers "buy my tourist trash", "come into my bar", "two Margaritas for the price of one". |
Tijuana Nightlife
We would have
gone into the bars, but first we needed to shed our eight ton packs, so we
made for the Hotel Catalina, on a side street just off Revolucion. This
antiquated place seemed to double as a nursing home, with crumbly old
people being wheeled around by women in white coats. Our room was
comfortable, but very noisy, and we met our first cockroach, Charlie, who
met a tragic death under my boot. RIP Charlie. We dumped our gear and went
out to check out the bar scene. Katie was in the mood for dancing. There
are dozens of bars, many of them open-air affairs on the first floor, and
all of them belting out latino music at a decibel level slightly above the
pain threshold. They all offer two-for-one margaritas or beers, and a "genuine
party atmosphere". These bars are for North Americans, not locals,
and it was not a good night for them. At most there were maybe six more
people rattling around. We met up with an American family from Pheonix: "Wow
man, that's so wild, you're from England, jeez." "It's my first
time out of the states." This kid was about 18, with his Mom, getting
well drunk, something he'd be jailed for in Phoenix. We got pretty merry
too, and went for a dirt cheap enchillada in a grubby but friendly café.
Tijuana is okay for a day, no more, so we went up to the airport in the hope of buying a ticket to Oaxaca, provincial capital of the state of the same name.
| ACCOMODATION
DETAILS: Hotel Catalina, 5th at Madero, Tijuana. Tel.66/85-97-48, it costs $25 for a double room ensuite, cockoaches included in the price. |
| We spent days in airports... |
| Unfortunately, the only flight was
at 11pm, an overnighter, stopping in Guadalajara and changing planes in
Mexico City. We bought some playing cards and hung around the airport,
in the sun, until it was time to go. We arrived in Mexico City at 6am
local time. We'd decided not to spend any time there, one of the World's
largest cities – a bit too big, polluted and imposing. The
pollution was the worst I've ever experienced. Mexico was in the midst
of its worst drought for 70 years. In the centre and south, it hadn't
rained for months. Without the rain, the pollution builds to unhealthy
levels. The air was yellow and pungent. It made our throats sore.
Our connecting flight to Oaxaca was cancelled – ostensibly due to forest fires in the Oaxaca region. It got worse too. They couldn't put us on the next flight, only on a waiting list. This flight came and went, and the next. After much hassle and badgering of airline staff , we finally got on a flight at 4pm, and we made our escape from this polluted nightmare, feeling dirty and very tired. We'd by this time spent over 24 hours in airports or planes! |
| O A X A C A |
Oaxaca is a few hundred miles south of the capital. The State of Oaxaca has the largest indiginous population in Mexico. It was one of the last to fall to the Spanish Conquistadors, the locals, putting up quite some resistance. It was inhabited from several centuries before Christ by the same Zapotec and Mixtec indians that live there today.
| A little Environmental Disaster. |
| We arrived and stepped off the plane into intense heat. We saw very little on the way in due to smoke. At the time we visited the state had 292 out of control forest fires, many started deliberately by poor peasants who practice slash and burn farming. It was a shame, because this is one of the most scenic areas in Mexico with heavily wooded mountains on either side of the valley. More seriously, the smoke was becoming a major health problem for locals with increases in pulmonary diseases and eye irritation. |
We shared a collectivo into town with some other gringos, one of whom was a fifty year old widdow who had emigrated to Oaxaca from the US. "You'll love this place" she said. "The people are so friendly and cultured. There's a big art scene here" . She also told us it might be difficult to find accommodation, since local teachers from all surrounding parishes were in town demonstrating for better pay and conditions.
| The Teachers' Demonstration | ||||
Oaxaca's teachers demonstrating in the streets |
The centre of town was like a
refugee camp. The beautiful square, or Zocalo, was crammed with people
seated on scraps of cardboard beneath plastic sheeting shelters slung
between lampposts. Trade union banners were paraded, and some of the
demonstrators were listening to a man shouting demands over a megaphone.
However, the atmosphere was more that of a fiesta than a demonstration.
Street hawkers were doing a roaring trade in ice creams, drinks, fruit,
hot food, tamales, you name it. It must have been their best day of the
year. |
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| D'Hostal | ||||
| We found accommodation at the youth hostel – known as D'Hostel, which is recommended as one of the best in Mexico. It's run by a couple of friendly young lads. You walk into a lovely courtyard filled with tropical plants, tables and chairs. There's even a bar. Our room was upstairs on the roof, where the environment's just right for soaking up the evening sun with a corona or two. They've built a few small cabins up there, which are a bargain at $9 a night for two. |  Our room on the roof of D'Hostal |
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| ACCOMMODATION
DETAILS: D'Hostal can be found at Fiallo 305, Oaxaca. Tel: 951/6-12-87. It costs: $5 for a bed in a dormitory or $9 for a double room. The showers are outside on the roof under the stars, but its hot enough for this not to be a problem. |
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After a couple of beers in one of the touristy cafes that line for Zocalo, we went looking for somewhere to eat. I almost got garrotted on the strings holding up the teachers shelters, the we found Marisco La Red, which is in my view was one of the nicest restaurants in Oaxaca, a couple of blocks south of the Zocalo. It's friendly, good value and serves excellent fish. I had Gambas a la Parilla which comes with a great picante salad. We splurged and bought cocktails.
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PLACES
TO EAT AND DRINK IN OAXACA:
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The centre of activity in Oaxaca is the Zocalo, or town square, constantly packed with locals, and lined with fine colonial buildings. From the Zocalo, we strolled up the pedestrianised Macedonia Alcala, the 'tourist street'. Lined with artesanias, jewellery shops and upmarket souvenir shops. It was all very trastful. We had lunch at El Topil, a typical Mexican restaurant, dark, with a nineteenth century "Wanted" poster for Pancho Villa framed on the wall. One of the specialities of this region is Mole, a sauce composed of chocolate, chilli and several other spices. We had Enchilladas con Mole – it was very rich and bitter, a bit much really. In the afternoon we headed south again and visited the Market. The Mercardo Benito Juarez, named after one of Oaxaca's most famous sons, is a large lively place. All manner of local produce is sold here. Huge rounds of soft doughy cheese, blocks of crumbly local chocolate, hundreds of types of chile, deep fried insects! I bought some fried insects to get my own back on the bastards that had been biting me since we arrived. They were pretty revolting. The market is also one of the cheapest places to eat in town. There are dozens of simple comidas serving up typical dishes. We had Quesadillas and of course refried beans. You get refried beans with everything, whether you want it or not, breakfast – eggs and beans, lunch – quesadilllas and beans, coffee and refried beans! In the evening we hung out in the cafes of the Zocalo watching the
local street life. Oaxaca state has the highest population of
indiginous indians. Many of them are very poor and come in from the
villages to hawk their goods. We were constantly hassled, and
ended up giving away all our change in return for handfuls of
friendship bracelets, a handmade wooden comb, a toy tortoise with a
nodding head and a clean pair of shoes. |
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| Oaxaca's
Night Life Oaxaca has a handful of nightclubs, and after a brief meal of pizza, we headed out for a night on the town. We picked a nightclub called Las Ruinas, which was pretty packed, but nobody was dancing. We had a few drinks, and still nobody danced. It was getting late, about midnight, when the dance music was switched off, and music of an altogether different sort announced the arrival of strippers! We hadn't seen anything at the entrance to indicate that it was that kind of club. "I could do better than that" said Katie. I had to restrain her from pulling off her trousers and getting out on the dance floor in front of dozens of leering wolf-whistling men. We did get to do some dancing ourselves after the strippers had left – but with our clothes on. Night club employees were pouring neat spirits into dancers throats from podia on the dance floor. Katie was game for it, but I preferred to keep my clothes dry. |
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Oaxaca is the VW beetle capital of Mexico and Mexico is the VW beetle capital of the world and we're not talking the new front engined bubble car that VW has recently started producing. We're talking about the original BUG. Mexico still manufactures these cars, having bought the designs from VW, and literally every other car in this town is a beetle. Beetle taxis, beetle police cars, beetle telephone vans, beetle ice cream vans, souped up beetles with blacked out windows, decrepit moving scrap heaps. | |||
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After a good breakfast in the Zocalo, we
took a bus to the ruins of Monte Alban, about 5kms out of town. This
is one of the oldest sites in Mexico. Some of the earliest structures
date from 500 BC. The most astonishing thing about this place is its
location atop a mountain, with no natural water supply.
There are very few structures you can actually enter, though tombs exist underneath most of the residential structures. I took a look in tomb 104, one of the larger tombs with muralled walls, guarded by a statue of one of their Gods, who looked very mean indeed. It takes a good 2 hours to explore this place, it's that big.
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Santo Domingo Church Our final day in Oaxaca, May 18th, was my birthday. Katie gave me a birthday postcard with a picture of some Mexican Bandits on a train. I had breakfast in the Zocalo of tamales, a local speciality, steamed oat pudding in banana leaves. Katie opted for a more conventional pancakes and syrup. The teachers demo – or should I say 'three day fiesta' was
packing up, leaving in it's wake piles of garbage. We walked up
Macedonia to visit the 16th century church of Santo Domingo, which is
supposed to quite ornate. Ornate is an understatement. It's
resplendent. There is a superb painting on the ceiling of a vine
depicting the 'family tree' of the Dominican order. The place was
dripping with gold leaf and elanborate statues of all the saints
peering down from lofty perches. It gives you some idea of the amazing
power and wealth that the Catholic church used to (until very
recently) possess in Mexico. |
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From Oaxaca to Palenque We checked out of D'Hostal to get an overnight bus to San Cristobal, a few hundred kms to the west, in the mountainous Chiapas State. What a way to spend your birthday night. We made up for it by buying a bottle of Tequila, some salt and limes. Katie produced some candles and slices of Pecan Pie and sang Happy Birthday to me on the bus. We passed the bottle around the bus a bit, and got soundly drunk. We both fell into restless drunken slumber and found ourselves winding our way up mountainous roads the next morning towards San Cristobal de Las Casas |
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You are
reading the story of Adrian and Katie's travels through the Americas
between May and August 1998.
Adrian and Katie put the rat race on hold for a year to travel the world.
Adrian & Katie's World Tour News - Mexico 1 Last Updated: 9 May 1999 Web Page by Adrian Ball (email: adrian.ball@virgin.net)
