Jalisco no te Rajes

03.14.2007 - 03.20.2007 0 °F
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Sometimes I suddenly find myself in a place with zero thoughts on my mind but the desire to leave. This is what happened in Puerto Escondido, and my last day was spent more or less waiting for an 8pm bus to Zihuatenejo. This particular feeling is not one of wanderlust and excitement, but rather the desire to get the hell out of a place that doesn´t seem to want me there. Last night I hung out with a couple of Norwegians and a guy with one arm. I tried to strike up a conversation with a Mexican guy wearing a Chivas shirt. He seemed positively offended that I, some American tourist, was in his town. He made it a point to speak English to me and tell me that he was from this town. I made it a point to speak Spanish to him and be genuinely friendly. It quickly became apparent that he was not amused and I said goodbye and the guy with one arm later noted that I was playing with fire, as this guy was just looking for a fight. Earlier that night, Dominic (tandem bike guy) explained an astute observation that he made while travelling through several countries. 99% of people are friendly and will respond positively to someone who approaches them with kind words. The other 1 percent, well, are not friendly and can get quite upset when someone invades their space. These are what we in America call ´´assholes´´ and those in England call ´´wankers´´ and I know we have all met some. I take his observation one step farther and say that a disproportionate amount of those 1 per centers will be hanging out in shady bars at 2:30 in the morning. For now on, I am going to make it a point of staying away from places that remind me of Koes in Stockton.

I didn´t go skydiving after all. It was too expensive and I think I will do it in a couple of months in New Zealand.

I caught a night bus from Puerto Escondido to Zihuatenejo. I have to say I am a tad disappointed to miss Spring Break in Acapulco, but I am sure I am sure the pain will fade with time. Anyway, I was watching Corazon de Valor (Braveheart in Spanish) and minding my own business, when a woman suddenly jumped into the seat next to me. I was somewhat confused at first but it quickly became apparent that she was a prostitute looking for work. I think this is the most scared I have been so far on the trip: sitting next to a hooker on a night bus, repeatedly telling her to leave me the hell alone. She finally got off the bus and I was a bit relieved to be able to stop protecting my bag like a small child.

Zihuatenejo was good, but again, very hot. I grew very tired of sweating while sitting down, so I decided to stay only one night. Most of the time I hung out with Adam from USD. That guy knows a hell of a lot about Mexican and Central American politics.

One of the best parts about travelling in Mexico is that if I ever feel even slightly down, I can be cheered up instantly with chiliquiles or orange juice. The former, for those who don´t know, is a popular Mexican breakfast made from tortilla chips smothered in salsa (if in San Diego, try them at the Super Bronco.) The orange juice is always made right in front of you with a juicer and is simply amazing.

It is quite astounding how much more bold I have become since the start of this trip. I strike up a conversation with anyone and everyone at hostels, on buses, and on the street. For instance, I started chatting with a really cool Mexican college student named Jorge on the bus to Guadalajara. My Spanish has developed quite nicely and I can hold decent conversation, with jokes and all. He invited me to a party with him and all of his friends in Morelia. Unfortunately, I had already bought the ticket to Guadalajara, and did not want to lose the money, so I had to say no. In retrospect, I think I should have gone with him as I am sure I would have had a great story to tell about it.

I made it to Guadalajara a couple of days ago and checked into a downtown hostel that is ridiculously expensive ($14 US). Anyway, the social scene here is almost non-existent, so I have been wandering the town mostly alone, looking at churches, markets, murals, etc. The other night I decided to try full Mexican immersion, but it backfired terribly. I thought it would be a great idea to go to a nearby bar and watch the Chivas game with my Chivas shirt on. They advertised 10 peso beers and that is hard to beat. Well, I walked in and sat in one of the few remaining seats next to a guy named Ramon. He was a really nice guy and started talking to me immediately. I inquired about the 10 peso beers and the bartender told me that was the bucket price. In other words, I had to order five. Well ¨no problem´´ I thought, ´´I can probably give one or two away to friends I make during the game and if worse comes to worse, five beers in two hours won´t kill me.´´ It was during the second beer that I took a good look around me and noticed two men kissing in the corner. Then I noticed that just about all the men in the bar had paired off and were either kissing, touching, or cuddling. I also noticed that Ramon was watching me more than the game. I drank all five of my beers by halftime and got out a bit shitfaced. Mexican gay men seem to come in two general categories: feminine looking/acting, and nicely dressed girly men, and cowboy hat and mustache wearing men´s men. When I got back to the hostel, I saw a guy that I recognized from earlier and immediately told him the hilarious story of being stuck in a gay bar. Well, he was gay also. I don´t think he took offense, and agreed with me that it was funny. Later, I went out looking for a bar or dance club with the gay guy and two girls I had just met. The only place we found that was open was, guess what, a gay dance club. I stuck close to the girls that night and when they left to get beers, I had to fight off a few advances. I don´t remember Guadalajara being so gay. A day later I told the story to a Japanese girl who spoke terrible English. She could hardly put together a sentence but managed to ask me in perfect English and all seriousness, ´´Is your butt okay?´´

I had dinner with Estella and Rudolfo, my host parents from summer school five years ago. They actually remembered me well and made a really nice dinner for me. They had two exchange students with them and we all had a great time talking about the old times and the new. I forgot how extremely nice they are, and am really glad I met them for dinner. We were talking about going on adventures and I told them about Dominic, the tandem bike riding Englishman from the last posting. They knew who he was because he had been in an article in the Guadalajara newspaper and was somewhat of a local celebrity. (Check out his promotional video)

Today I am doing a tour of the town of Tequila and directly afterward, to a Lucha Libre (Mexican wrestling with masks and all.) These adventures in the next posting.

Still heading north,
Tom