Aztec Ruins Trip...Says It's Not His Fault

Don’t worry, I’m not talking about Moctezuma again, I promise. This post is only about our recent trip to see some more Aztec ruins. This time it was a mysterious temple on top of a mountain in the small village of Tepoztlan. But first I have to recap the rest of the weekend.

For the past month or so that I’ve been here I have been trying to find die. By now it should be obvious why. Normally, this isn’t a problem for me because I either carry one with me or know exactly where I can get one at any given time. However, in the midst of my all-night pack-session before my early morning flight, when I spent about seven hours prepping myPod and about 20 minutes packing, remembering to bring die just slipped my mind. This does not mean that die is not important to me or that I don’t need die. I have a history of forgetting things that are important or necessary. For example, going into my last semester of college I forgot to bring pillows. Those of you who mock me and think this is funny should be so kind to remember that I DIDN’T forget my pillows seven times in a row. Don’t be so negative. Also, you could load a moving truck halfway full (or halfway empty for all you downers) with all the things I’ve forgotten in my life. They range from leaving my Cal Ripken baseball glove at the field to forgetting to bring my little sister home from school. Guess which one I still get shit for. The point is I still love die even though I forgot her.

That is why on Friday afternoon Bryant’s Myth and I went to our thirteenth, fourteenth, and bizteenth stores in search of die. I don’t know why Mexicans hate die, but I’m trying to use my work connections to put more die in their plans for the future. To give you an example of just how taxing and how strange the search has been, last weekend I bought a board game called “Big Biz” that had a picture of two dice on the box thinking that it was fate, only to go home and open it up to find the two tiniest dice I’ve ever seen. That’s more ironic than writing a song about irony that mislabels ironic events. Anyway, on Friday I ended up buying a $20 game of rummy just so I could have a normal, beautiful die to play with. So Friday night I finally got to play beer guy on Mexican soil and then we went to a bar to watch our new friends La Floridita play a concert. We also met a rapper named Emsí Burron, who, I’ll be honest, has a certifiable, club-banging jamb on his hands. I know that nowadays it seems like everyone wanna rhyme, and there are a lot of imitators out there, but he had the whole bar singing his song, including me, because I practiced in the car on the way over.

This weekend we split up the two days because Bryant always wants to do boring stuff and I always want to do incredibly fun and amazing stuff so it seemed like the fair thing to do. He had Saturday (except for one event I chose, try to guess) and I took Sunday. So Saturday morning, after I spent over an hour trying to “buy” tickets to the Virgin FreeFest in September and eventually getting them (WHEW), we metroed into the neighborhood of Coyoacán. Coyoacán is the trendy, artistic neighborhood where Frida Kahlo and Leon Trotsky lived. We went to the Frida Kahlo museum and immediately spit in their faces by asking how to get to Leon Trotsky’s house. We moseyed around his house/museum, saw where he lived and died, and just generally took our time. We weren’t exactly Russian to get out of there.

This is where Trotsky worked and Mariela the cleaning lady works.

Once we saw everything there was to see we wandered around the streets looking for chocolate and churros, eventually found some, and sat inside, sheltered from the rain. After that delicious snack we took the metro into the center of the city to the National Museum of Art.

Blah, blah, blah, art, art, art. From there we went to a pulquería to try a traditional Mexican drink I’ve wanted to try, pulque. Pulque is a thick, white drink made from the fermented sap of the maguey (agave) plant. It looks, feels, and tastes like someone chugged a bunch of sour milk, haucked up a bunch of loogies, and spit them in a glass. And it smells worse. As you gulp down a gob of the liquid, it remains connected to the rest, so as you bring the glass down and the pulque levels out you can feel some slide out of your throat and back into the glass. But before you say “I’m about to pulque,” you should know that it’s really not that bad, kind of healthy, and is pretty popular with the indie crowd. Saturday night actually ended up being kind of disappointing once we got home because all of our friends flaked out and Lucy, my Mexican girlfriend, never called me back. We were originally going to have a going away party for our friend David, who is leaving for Singapore, but then that turned into going clubbing, and then that turned into people staying in, which turned into Bryant and I playing beer guy by ourselves, slowly realizing that our night was not going to progress beyond that. Not that that’s a problem, because I love beer guy and we needed to rest up for my day, but it would’ve been nice to say a proper goodbye to David, especially since he is a Mexican guy who likes fun. (the band).

Before I begin talking about the glory of my day, you all should know that I do enjoy going to things like Leon Trotsky’s house and art museums, but more than anything I enjoy the work of my favorite artist, Mother Nature. Which is why on Sunday I dragged Bryant out of bed and onto a bus to Tepoztlán, a small town about an hour south of the city. We got off the bus and walked about a kilometer (that’s 20% of a 5k) into town. Tepoztlán has a really cool small-town feel and the street we walked was lined with tiny shops, restaurants, $4 massage and steam houses, and all sorts of mystical stuff. At the end of the main road is the trail that leads up to the town’s main attraction, el Tepozteco. El Tepozteco is an Aztec temple on top of a mountain that was built to honor the god Tepoztecatl, who just so happens to be the god of pulque. We made the not-so-easy climb up the steep rock trail to the temple, where we sat on top of it and ate sandwiches as our legs hung over the edge, the sun shined down on our faces, and we enjoyed the beautiful views of the mountains and the town down below, just as I had planned. After lunch we pranced around the area around the temple and chased the monkey/lemur-type things that we hanging around looking for food before heading back down the trail. On our way down we stopped at a stream and decided to get off the trail and follow the stream to a waterfall, where I had to be talked down from climbing up the waterfall to sit on a ledge about 30 feet up. There was a trail near the waterfall and obviously we decided to take it. I’m SO glad we did. We kept climbing and climbing and we eventually found ourselves above the temple, looking down on the peasants below. It seemed like every time the trees opened up the view was even more beautiful and even more panoramic. It wasn’t long before I started hearing that familiar PS22 voice urging me higher and higher and higher. It was such a great climb. We had to do stuff like squeeze through a narrow rock opening to get to a tiny cavern that we used a root to get out of and keep going (and we used to rappel on the way down) and free-climbed a 30 foot rock wall. We spent about six hours on the mountain and were so high up. The views were just amazing.


Look how much higher I went than Bryant.

After making our way down we speed-walked back through the town (unfortunately I didn’t have time for a massage) to make it back to catch the last bus. I must again stress how cool the town was, especially as in the twilight hours as everyone was finishing up dinner. A couple of guys sitting outside a restaurant even called out, “Americanos! Bienvenidos!” and gave us a thumbs up as we walked past. Local kids were all running about, looking like they were about to get a massive game of Manhunt going, and I just knew that some kid was about to sneak his first kiss down by the creek with his next-door neighbor of ten years, Graciela, whom he just realized, that after years of playing in the streets together, was blossoming into a beautiful young woman. I just knew it. The town oozed a distinct summer night feel that really hit me hard in the memory box…and I loved it. It was a beautiful end to a beautiful weekend, and certainly one I won’t forget.

Besitos,

Jim

P.S. Those boys down at the Google have been working hard at gadgets to make this blog better and I’ve decided to start incorporating them. At the bottom you’ll notice a Picasa photostream of my latest pictures and a link to an album that holds all the pictures I’ve taken so far in Mexico City. So check them out and see just how vain Bryant and I really are. Just another reason those Google Boys are going sttrrraaiiight to the top.

Ten out of Tenochtitlan

I don’t know how to begin to describe last weekend. Bryant’s Myth and I attacked the city with an unmerciful ferocity that could only be described as Cortesian. Seriously though, we did so much that both of us felt like it was one of those weekend trips in Europe where we would try and cram everything into two or three days. So bear with me, I’ve got a feeling this is gonna be a long one. I guess I’ll just start on Thursday, or “Juebebes” as the kids call it, when we went out after work to a cantina for some drinks and a little bit of food. There I continued my quest to become tequila connoisseur, which is going along just fine.

Moving on to Friday, or “Bebiernes” as the kids call it, when I crossed off one of the most important things on my to-do list: a Lucha Libre. For those of you who don’t know what Lucha Libre is, or aren’t familiar with the work of Rey Mysterio, I suggest you check out this video. Needless to say, I was pretty excited:

We worked it out so we could go with a group from a hostel, which included transportation, a beer, a shot of tequila, a trip to a cantina before the matches, and the ticket. So we got off work early, got back to the hotel/apartment, changed into more appropriate attire (tanks), and drank as much as we could before metroing to the hostel to meet the group. There we had our “free” drinks while we met the rest of the group, which was made up of the usual hostel patrons from all over the world. Our guide, Pepe, then took us to a cantina across the street from the arena where everyone drank enough beer and tequila to ensure that this match would be the greatest match of all time. And that is exactly what happened. They pulled out all the stops and even involved a little person. The wrestlers are way more athletic than their U.S. counterparts and I reacted to every high-flying move like it was a double rainbow all the way across the sky. Most of the rest of the crowd was also really into it because I was only told to sit down once. After the matches, we bought some souvenirs, and since we were closer to the hotel/apartment than the hostel, we decided to take a cab back home. We didn’t exactly achieve that goal, but we did get a guy to drive us home who wanted to practice his English. I’m convinced I had a good reason for determining that this was a safe decision, but I can’t remember it. Most likely I just gave him an ocular pat-down and cleared him. I know that wasn’t the best decision I’ve ever made, but in the end it worked out fine and I was able to talk him down to a GREAT price. Trust me, parents, family, and those friends who care about my well-being, I will never do anything like that again. I can’t say the same for our nice driver, because he seemed pretty encouraged by the special “safe ‘n sound” tip I gave him.

The next morning I woke up at 7 am because I was so pumped for our tour of the ancient pyramids a Teotihuacán. Apparently Bryant used all of his excitement the night before because we got to the metro a little late, hopped on the first track we saw, and nearly missed the tour. Our first stop was the Plaza de las Tres Culturas, where we ran into Pepe, who was way too excited to see us, who said he was so worried about us the night before. He then explained how the plaza, which includes ruins from the Aztec temples of Tenochtitlan, a Spanish church dedicated to Santiago (remember him?), and buildings from the modern city, was named for those three cultures. He then turned very daaark and said that it was filled with negative energy because not only were a bunch of Aztecs slaughtered there by Cortés, but it was also the site of the Tlatelolco Massacre, when student protesters were gunned down by police ten days before the 1968 Summer Olympics.

From there we went on to the Basilica of Guadalupe, where we saw the image of the Virgin Mary that appeared on the poncho of the peasant Juan Diego. It is the most visited Catholic shrine in the world and we saw a few pilgrims making the journey, some coming in on their knees. Kinda crazy to see that kind of devotion. Next, we took a bit longer of a ride to a tequila and obsidian shop where a nice lady told us all about how they use the maguey or agave plant to make pretty much everything they need. She showed us how easy it is to get a needle and thread from the plant, make paper, and of course, tequila, mezcal, and pulque. Then we ate lunch and shopped and, admittedly, I went a little nuts with the shopping.

After lunch it was finally time for the main event, the pyramids of Teotihuacán. It was amazing to see these huge, old-ass pyramids built by people that historians, and even the Aztecs, know nothing about. The pyramids are so old (How old were they?) that the even the Aztecs know who built them. Not good enough? The pyramids are soooooo old (How old were they?) that even the PYRAMID OF THE SUNNNN is a grandfather. ...I think I just broke the internet. Moving on quickly, we toured the pyramids for two hours with a guide then we were given an hour of free time to explore on our own.

FREE TIME!!!!!!!

After we took all the pictures of the pyramids we could take, we loaded into the van, the driver passed around a bottle of tequila, and we rested up for Saturday night.

Saturday night, or “Sabadrinking” as the kids call it, we had big plans. Our new Mexican friends (not to be confused with our New Mexican friends) came over to pregame on the roof of our hotel/apartment before we hit up a house party. We played games, I spread the word of the Biz, and then around 12:30 or 1 we headed out to the party. The party was around 45 minutes away, and they had no idea what was coming for them. We pulled up at this huge house with a security gate and a security wall and strolled into the party, immediately turning heads. We stood around for a little bit, drinkless, as the other partygoers stared at the only white people for miles, and then we decided the party needed a little something extra. Good thing I brought the $11 handle of tequila with me. The rest of the night was unreal. Bryant’s Myth and I patrolled the party, doling out bottle shots to anyone that needed them, and definitely some people that didn’t. Everyone was having a blast and we felt like heroes. The party got so good that I’m pretty sure some SEC football players showed up. It was seriously like a scene from a movie. The party was like the Hollywood Hills party from the movie Swingers, except instead of everyone being stuck up they were high-fiving and getting tequila poured down their throats. The house was so nice and the party was half on the lawn/half in this open-air-type area, with the only two white kids as the center of attention as drinks were flying and people were jumping, and then the camera swirled up overhead and everything went in slow motion as Kings of Leon’s “Velvet Snow” played. At least that’s how I remember it.

Finally, on Sunday, or “Dormingo” as the kids call it, we slept a little late, I made tortilla Española, and I dragged Bryant’s Myth out for a hike. We took a cab to the Desierto de los Leones National Park, where we visited an old monastery and then climbed up a 12,000 ft. mountain for about two hours before having to half-jog back down in order to beat the storm and darkness. I felt like I was in Apocalypto. It was nice to get out of the city and climb through the trees that keep the city from being a smoggy mess.

Well that’s it, I’ve left some things out, but with them it would be even longer. Anyway, I’m pretty proud of what we were able to accomplish this past weekend, and how much fun we were able to have. That is why I say last weekend was a 10 out of 10. Biz stars out of biz stars. Or as the kids call it: perfect.

Besitos,

Jim

Where D.F. Am I?

I'm sure you all will be happy to hear that I'm feeling much better and I might have actually adjusted to my new settings here in the D.F. For all you monolinguists (squares), Mexico City is not located in any of the 31 United Mexican States, but is a Federal District, which in Spanish is Distrito Federal, or D.F. So it's a lot like D.C., except they have representation and a lot more Mexicans.

I’m going to start this blog on last Thursday, right after I watched LeBron tell the people of Cleveland that God, his mother, and Chris Bosh all hate them. After streaming the self-indulgent spectacle from the Internet, Bryant’s Myth and I decided to take our talents to the restaurant down the street, Villa Maria. As soon as I looked at the menu and saw that they used El Jimador tequila for all their margaritas I knew we were in for a grade-A, fine dining experience. Right as usual, we enjoyed steak in a tequila-cilantro sauce as the waiter showed me different customs of drinking tequila and mezcal, which included sangrita, oranges, and worm salt. From what I understand, worm salt is fried larvae ground with chili peppers and salt. That part was kinda weird. The meal was capped off by a mariachi band performing while the waiters set off fireworks indoors. At least that’s what we thought was happening until we ran over to see they were just whistling and clapping menus together.

On Friday we told Alfredo he could have the evening off and we went out right after work with the other two interns, both Mexican, who we just found out are 29 and 31. I sure hope I’m not interning at that age. Despite their ages, everyone still managed to have a pretty good time bar hopping. The music, people, and jokes were all on point (all key), but the highlight of the night was definitely the late-night tacos. In Mexico they don’t frick around with that Taco Bell, fourth meal buuulspit, they’ve got the real deal. And cheap too. The late-night taco places have a fun atmosphere with the cooks out in the open, grilling like crazy, the waiters hustling around, Frisbee-ing plates onto tables, and the constant chatter of drunk people buzzing about the room. We all ate our fill, and then went back for seconds before piling into one of the intern’s cars to head home. On the way home we experienced our first Mexican DUI (DÚI) checkpoint, but because 31-year-olds don’t get DUIs we passed through without a problem.

Saturday we woke up kinda late and a little lazy so we decided to take the metro to Chapultepec Park, even though it’s pretty close to our hotel/apartment. From there we climbed up Chapultepec Hill to Chapultepec Castle. Though having nothing to do with my boy Moctezuma, the castle contains the “Halls of Moctezuma” referred to in the Marine Corps Hymn. Another interesting fact that I’ve just read off Wikipedia, is that the castle was used as one of the main sets in Leo’s version of Romeo and Juliet. So there you go, there’s your excuse to rent it. It also gives you an excuse to watch this video. I enjoyed strolling around the castle and my favorite part was the garden on the roof. Not only are there beautiful views of the city, but there is a perfectly manicured lawn and hedges that would be perfect for games of boy, waffle ball, and many other activities.

After the castle we strolled through the park, bought some souvenirs (I’ve got a feeling you’ll see them in a future post), and made our way to Mexico City’s world class National Museum of Anthropology. Since we had to get back with enough time to eat, shower, change, and get drunk, we only had two hours to spend in the museum. Once we entered, it was instantly apparent that two hours would not suffice and we would have to return. Not only because we only made it through about one-and-a-half rooms, but because the thing I was most excited to see was inexplicably missing. I was already excited about seeing an Aztec statue of their god, Xochipilli, the god of music, song, flowers, love, games, and basically anything cool, but then I saw this plaque:

Fate. Unfortunately, this is what the statue looked like:

So, we have to go back.

The night before, we made plans with Alejandra, one of the other interns (31), to go see her friend’s band play at this club. She picked us up introduced us to some of the band members as we were waiting in line to get in. We really didn’t know what we were getting into, but I’m so glad we went. The beers were cheap (about $1.50), the girls were easy (es más fácil ganar en México), and the music was really good and so much fun. We spent the evening laughing and drinking and smoking and singing. And dancing. Oh did we dance. There were about biz bands and my favorite was the band we met and were there to see, La Floridita, and they also delivered my favorite moment. The rain was pouring down outside and you could hear it on the roof of the tiny club, while we were inside dancing with a bunch of Mexicans, listening to these young people sing about the current situation in their country, about how times may be hard and a lot of bad things are going on, but they’re not going to give up. I thought it was really cool and it felt really real, not at all touristy. And I loved it. I also loved the last band, which featured the Mexican Justin Bieber on accordion and lead vocals. It was a close second. After the show we hung out in the club for awhile while Bryant’s Myth talked to a group of ugly girls and I entertained a lovely, albeit Humbie-sized, lady while her friend desperately tried to find out what MJB was doing after the show.

To end the night we once again piled into Alejandra’s car and started home. Unfortunately, we saw that cherry flashin’ his high beams and ran into our second DUI checkpoint in as many nights. I can tell you from experience that they have more important things to worry about. Anyway, this time Alejandra looked younger or something so they made her step out of the car and blow, which of course turned out fine because I don’t get in cars with drunk drivers of any age (not even Clare), but we were all nervous anyway. It’s a joke, Mom. Minor incident aside, everyone made it home safe and sound.

For some reason on Sunday I woke up a 9 am. For some reason on Sunday we didn’t leave the hotel/apartment until 1 pm to watch the 1:30 pm World Cup Final that we were so pumped for. …I don’t know. I had picked out a sweet cantina to watch the game in where we could root on the only other country we could ever call home, but, of course, by the time we got there it was already packed so we had to find somewhere else. We found it right across the street in a Burger King. Though it wasn’t what I envisioned when I knew I would be watching the World Cup Final in Mexico, this Burger King did have flat screen HDTVs, comfy leather chairs, and a dessert bar, so I’m not complaining. As you all know, Spain won and we didn’t look like fools walking around for the rest of the day in our Spanish gear. Multiple people actually mistook us for Spanish that day.

After the game we went to the Palacio de Bellas Artes museum, where we saw an exhibit on the Belgian surrealist painter, René Magritte. He’s the guy who painted that picture of the guy with the apple in front of his face. I actually really liked his work and enjoyed the exhibit. After the museum we continued wandering around the historic center and eventually stumbled on this guy:

As sit now, remembering the weekend, I seriously can’t help but wonder how I got here and where I’m going to go. The Magritte exhibit ended Sunday night, but this whole experience has been surreal.

Besitos,

Jim

South of the Border

¿Qué onda? Oh no, it’s back. That’s right, I’m out of the country and that could only mean two things: more wordplay and more self-indulgent blogging. If you’re confused about where I am, that means you probably didn’t send me anything for graduation, which means you didn’t get my standard thank you note that included a little nugget on my summer plans. And you definitely don’t follow me on twitter. Neither are acceptable excuses, but I’m glad you’re here anyway. I am spending the next two months here in Mexico City interning for the Secretary of Public Security, working on information security type stuff.

Some of you might have heard already, but there are some problems going on here south of the border. We have earthquakes, hurricanes, storms, and eruptions of violence. Those of you who watch the news might think I’m talking about the 6.2 quake in Oaxaca, Hurricane Alex, and cartel violence. But I’m not. Those of you who’ve brushed your teeth or taken a shower here, or stay up on my gchat statuses know that that’s not what I’m talking about. I am currently struggling through a second round of natural disasters and brutal carnage taking place in my digestive system, all thanks to Mr. Moctezuma II. Those of you who know me well, and to be honest there are probably too many people on this list, know that I am no stranger to the bathroom. I don’t mind spending some time there, but this is ridiculous. I think they might make me stay an extra week from all the time I’m losing at work.

Anyway, on to more pleasant things; more adult things. Like the personal chauffer that Bryant and I have to drive us to and from work everyday. Oh yeah, I’m here with my strawberry/daywalker friend I was in Spain with, Bryant Smith (Bryant’s Myth). Back to the driver. His name is Alfredo Gonzalez. Like Alfred. He’s awesome and I know that we’ll become best friends and he’ll extend his duties to picking us up from clubs late at night, and sometime soon we’ll all ditch work so the three of us can head down to Acapulco for a few days. So look forward to that blog.

So Alfredo picked us up at the airport, and once we realized he wasn’t going to kidnap us we had him take us to what we thought was our hotel/apartment. It turned out that it wasn’t it, so he drove us to where the lady there said was our hotel/apartment. The lady there gave us a key and we went upstairs only to find that the hotel/apartment they gave us was way too nice and we didn’t want to pay for it. This led to me being thrown right into the fire, having to find out that our reservation was cancelled for some reason and negotiate another hotel/apartment in another building, all in Spanish. Long story short, though I struggled, we were able to get the right type of hotel/apartment in a different building, and though I’m not sure yet, I may have knocked 1000 pesos off the monthly rate.

As for the job, all I really know so far about the job is I get my own office, work from 10 am to 8 pm with 3-5 off for lunch, and that there are bathrooms down the hall out the door to the left, both upstairs and downstairs, and should those be full, there are more across the courtyard on the right. The building we’re in is pretty sweet and modern, with glass and greenery everywhere. I tried to take a picture, but a couple of federales came up to me and made me delete them.

This is my office where I make the money…

…but this is where I do most of my work.

After a boring, orientation-type work week (well the President did visit, but of course we weren’t allowed in the building), we tried to do some touristy stuff this past weekend. After watching Spain win we went to Zocalo, which is a huge square with a huge Mexican flag in the center. There was a free FIFA fan party going on, and we bobbed our heads to the Mexican version of the Pussycat Dolls then popped into the Metropolitan Cathedral. After walking around a bunch we went back, ate dinner, hung out on our roof terrace, and then checked out a nearby hip-hop club, which was actually pretty cool.

Sunday, our Independence Day, we were able to do some touristy stuff, but still incorporate some Fourth of July staples as well. We went back to the Zocalo area and went in the National Palace and then to the Templo Mayor, which is the museum and ruins of Tenochtitlan. We were able to come face to face with the guy who was causing all our problems. Not ones to be intimidated, we splurged for some good ol’ fashioned hot dogs, three for 15 pesos. That’s a little more than a dollar.

What's this guy's deal?

This first one is going to be out before I get to number three…

After exploring a little more and unsuccessfully trying to find fireworks, we took the metro back home (25 cents anywhere) to get ready for dinner. Since we couldn’t see a firework show, we had to settle for my America playlist, dinner at the Hard Rock Café, and Budweiser. While it probably isn’t my favorite Fourth of July memory, it was still a solid day. Well, mostly...

Besitos,

Jim