TallGrove

Howdy!

Mom will be happy to know I´ve made it to Mexico City (or as it´s known locally, D.F. — District Federale). The approach is truly revolting: monstrous chemical factories belch out a soupy haze which settles into the valley. In comparison, a pulp mill smells homey and pleasureable. I can´t stress the pollution enough: here, there are no blue skies, just white.

I´m afraid the pictures are still forthcoming, as these computers are way too crappy to actually upload my pictures. Will the situation become better in Bolivia? Ha!

Now let´s see here . . .

Mexico City has some truly amazing architechture. Even the plain old apartment buildings are incredibly ornate in the Spanish colonial style. Just wait till you see the pics. However, like massive cities everywhere, the vibe of the place is not exactly pleasant. No smiles, no pleasantries, just glares at this long-haired gringo. I was walking around downtown today (looking for this awesome chicken place — a quarter chicken, fried onions, potatos and tortillas all for 19 pesos, or $1.90), and I realized I had stumbled into a not-so-nice section of town. As it´s my laundry day I was (still am) wearing my flowery beach shorts and flip-flops, and I started feeling very uncomfortable (in Mexico nobody wears shorts, only the gringo tourists). Fortunately, there is quite the police presence here (there’s a shotgun-armed cop every 20 or 30 feet), so I decided to ask one for help. Yes, he knew where the Hotel Canada was (the major landmark next to my hole-in-the-wall chicken place), and yes he knew how to get there. But did he tell me? No, he fell mysteriously silent, and I realized he probably wanted to be reinbursed for his assitance. After 10 or 15 seconds of very awkward silence (I couldn’t stop looking at his 12-guage), he waved me on. Prick.

My advice: stay in Guadalajara. Plus there´s way more babes there.

Oh yes, I´ve decided to write descriptions for selected photos on Flickr, instead of putting it in here. So now you have to look at them ALL! Hahahah.

Anyways, tomorrow morning at 6:50 am I leave on my 17-hour journey to La Paz, Bolivia. Honestly, I´m more than a little concerned about getting to the airport by 4am, but such is life, I reckon.

Oh yes, one other noteworthy item I´d like to share, and also receive some feedback on. It seems that everybody here in the hostel is travelling with a cell phone. Does that seem strange to anybody? Are they expecting calls while they’re travelling? I honestly thought that to travel was to disconnect from that which know, but it seems to be normal to sit on one’s laptop and chat on MSN while in the hostel. I mean, this place even has a Playstation 2 and a wide selection of English language DVDs — why would you come all the way here to watch movies??? It’s crazy, I think, but maybe I’m the crazy one. Pfft, as if.

Anyways, the next entry will be from Bolivia, so I shall end my Mexican Prelude with an empatic ¡VIVA MEXICO!

Howdy all,

First off, apologies to Conman for my irresponsibility.

Second, no new photos this time around. Why? I´m too lazy, and I forgot my camera a few times. I´m giving Yvonne and my sister access to my Flickr account so they can upload some sweet pics.

I love Mexico. There is always music, you can drink beer anywhere you want, and people are so damn friendly. We took the equivalent of a Greyhound from Ricon de Guayabidos to Guadalajara, and let me tell you, Greyhound needs a few pointers from the Mexican bus system. Air conditioning, spacious seats, violent movies (in Spanish) and tacos at every stop just plain kick ass.

Guadalajara is the second largest city in Mexico, weighing in at about 2 million people. We stayed in the incredible Hotel Frances (still haven´t figured out the accent over the ¨e¨), which was built in 1610. It is incredibly grand (wait until you see the pictures), and the best part is that hora feliz (happy hour — two for one drinks) is actually ocho horas feliz, from 1 – 9!!! Sadly, even in this super-posh bar, the only gin they have is the repulsive Oso Negro, so there´s no good geeandtees until Canada, it looks like. Fortunately, I´m developing quite a taste for tequila.

Honestly, I´ve been mentally filing away so many interesting and insightful things to write about here: I´m not interested in doing a blow-by-blow account of my travels, but more of impressions and feelings I have. Sadly, now, in the moment of truth, I forget them. Mom, you remember me talking about it, why don´t you put some in the comments box? Good thing I just bought me a bolsa (shoulder bag), and I´ll start packin my notebook around.

Oh yes, the family has left and now I´m on my lonesome. Tomorrow I head´er to Mexico City, and on the 15th off to Bolivia I go! I´m out of internet time, though, so more on my impressions of the place soon (once I remember them) . . .

Hasta lluego!

Howdy pards!

Flying is only really exciting during take-off and landing, but fortunately it´s a mere six hours from Vancouver to Puerto Vallarta. One of the biggest eye-openers for me was the sheer immensity of Los Angeles. This place is seriously HUGE, and plus it´s the home to one of my favorite bands, Sublime (not to mention legends like Dr. Dre and Paris Hilton!). I also find the airport code funny . . . at LAX it´s all smooth movements.

Soon enough, though, we were in Mexico. I stepped out of the plane wearing my new Stanfield´s shirt (La Paz is very cold — check out the Weather Report at the bottom of my blog), and instantly started to sweat. Fortunately it was only a quick taxi ride to the resort (unfortunately we (my mom) got ripped off majorly — we polite, inexperienced Canadians didn´t know to bargain), where I donned my swim trunks and hit up the bar.

The resort was excellently fun, but I´m glad we were only there for three days. After a while being around all these gringos gets boring . . . I wanted the real Mexico. But in any case I made the most of it and drank to my heart´s content. A word about the drinks: sure, they´re margaritas, but it´s just not the same served in a dinky plastic cup. And I myself brew much better wine than the swill they served us. I quickly learned my lesson and stuck with tequila and cerveza Indio from then on.

The resort had a disco, but it was actually pretty lame. I am a mere 22 years old, but I was the oldest person in there by about 8 years. Very weird.

Eventually we headed off to Ricon de Guayabidos, or just Guayabidos for short. It´s a nice little town with numerous taco stands and mostly Mexican tourists, so the place feels very authentic (hell, it is authentic). Sadly, I´ve yet to have many adventures here, as I made the mistake of ordering tacos con chorizo (just writing that word makes me want to spew). All day yesterday I suffered from traveller´s diarrhea (the Mexicans aptly call it tourista), which means regular hurling (11 times for me) and extra-juicy stools. Today I feel vaguely better but still I´m just hanging in there thanks to Immodium and Pepto-Bismol. How I´ll eat another taco is beyond me.

Anyways, check out my new photos (click on any of the pictures in the ¨Photographic Documentation¨ section in the sidebar and choose a set), write me a comment, or send me an email to turvyc at gmail dot com! Soon we´re off to Guadalajara, where there is the Tequila Train — 16 distilleries, three free shots at each . . . you do the math! Woot!

´K Bye