The Real Deal (December 31)

(Map of the day.)

We made our way early in the morning to the bus terminal, to catch an 8-ish bus (there's no schedule displayed anywhere, so we just showed up hoping for the best) to the town of Zaachila. This town has a very large traditional market every Thursday, supplying goods for neighboring towns. We had our standard pastry breakfast and enjoyed the 40-odd minute ride. As we got further from Oaxaca, more and more locals (withered old ladies, stooped men, all faces deeply lined, families with small children, all clutching bags both empty and bulging with wares to sell). For the remainder of the day, until we returned back to Oaxaca, safely assume that we were the only white people. Children stared openly at us. I'm not kidding. The best part of the ride was the music pumping through the bus: classic 1990's dance music like the Vengaboys. I couldn't think of a weirder juxtaposition.

The bus pulled into a dusty lot; we got off and entered the tarp-draped marketplace. We were a little early (the market gets hoppin' between 10-11) and a few stalls were still setting up. The market was huge, and seemed to go on forever. Tables and tarps on the ground were covered with (but no limited to, by any means): piles of clothing, shoes, hats, bras, toys, furniture, tools (new ones sitting beside rusty relics), produce of every shape/size/type, seeds in large burlap sacs, dried chilies, flowers (both cut and potted). In an arena-type building, there were slabs of raw meat and sausages hanging on hooks and pig heads complete with eyeballs. Across the aisle were baked goods and chocolate. Dogs wandered through the stalls. The press of people made it difficult to walk and slightly disorientating. There were live chickens and turkeys, held upside down by their owners. Goats on ropes being lead around. We didn't even make it to the cattle corral. Raw fish lay on blocks of ice. It really cannot be described. We lasted for 2 1/2 hours.

We couldn't really get any pictures of the market, as we were already fairly conspicuous. However, we managed to get a few. Fish on ice:



A pile of cilantro:



The fabric 'stall':



There was one small archeological site in the town, and we checked it out before leaving:



We left Zaachila behind, and boarded a bus that claimed would take us near to our next stop: Monte Alban. This site was not directly on our route, but we figured we would be able to catch a second bus the rest of the way to the site. The driver dropped us at an intersection that he indicated would take us to the site. We managed to hop a second bus to take us closer to the visible mountain, but then they dropped us really in the middle of nowhere -- then, laughing, the driver pulled a U-turn and drove back the way he came. We were really stuck without any recourse, but at least he didn't charge us. Unsure how to proceed, we started walking down the road without any indication that we were moving towards our goal. A colectivo car came towards us, and we flagged it down and explained where we were trying to go.

The driver deliberated, and finally conveyed to us that it would be cheaper for us if he took us back to Oaxaca and then we take a bus from there. Apparently access to Monte Alban was on the other side of the mountain. So really, we don't know what either bus driver thought we were going to do after they each dropped us off...

At the bus terminal in the city, we asked every window and bus if they went to Monte Alban; none did. This of course made Andrew more determined to get there, and he dragged me out front of the building and began flagging down cars until he bargained one down to a semi-acceptable price. The road up the mountain was long, steep, and winding. We arrived to a lot filled with cars and tourists. We made our way inside the gates, and began our exploration of the very large site (only Teotihuacan was bigger; our pictures don't do the size justice):





Monte Alban is also a recognized UNESCO site:



The site also wasn't as restored as Teotihuacan, but it also wasn't as excavated, meaning there weren't very many temples that we could actually climb on or touch. Here's a steep one you could climb:





What stood out at this site was the number of carved obelisks, including one that was used for telling the date and time of day, sundial-style. This is an obelisks commemorating one of their rulers:



Also, on the walls of the observatory (used obviously for star-tracking) were glyphs representing the surrounding settlements, with an upside down head painted underneath. These represented successful conquests; the heads specifically represented that the people in the town had been killed.

The ubiquitous ballcourt:



We left the site, via a shuttle bus that we sprinted to secure a seat upon. The bus careened down the road and the breaks squealed the entire way.

We changed at the hotel, and made it time for our New Year's Eve dinner reservation at a italian place called Mezzaluna. When we arrived, we tried to convey that we had a reservation for the rooftop; they just gestured for us to head right up. At the top of the stairs, one server whispered urgently to the other "Senor Andrew!" We were led through the white-linen covered tables to a table for two, right on the corner of the building. Strings of light gently lit the area. We had a view of a cathedral (which had an excellent brass band playing in front of it) and also of the city lights spread out before us and up the hills. Two bottles of wine, dessert, and a brandy later, we strolled down to the Zocalo for the festivities. (They remembered what brandy Andrew had ordered from when we were there before! Best. Service. Ever.)

There wasn't a countdown, just random noise and whistle-blowing. Strange, that Mexicans would be disorganized about something....

Expedition (December 30)

(Map of the day.)

Andrew and I set off to see some of the temple sites that weren't included in yesterday's trek. The first challenge: finding the second-class bus terminal. This place provided new definitions for the words 'seedy' and 'rundown.' The terminal itself had many wickets to buy tickets, however you just pay the driver money when you get on the bus; we never bought a single ticket. As we were just figuring this out, a corpulent man asked us if we were going to Mitla (all of our destinations were on the road to Mitla, so a Mitla-bound bus was what we needed). The man quickly ran back outside, and proceeded to chase down and whistle at a departing bus. It didn't see him, and left him in the dust. This was highly embarrassing, as the area was full of people waiting for their rides; they stared at him and us. And it turns out, the next bus was coming in 20 minutes. Hardly a big deal.

When we boarded the rickety bus, we managed to convey that we were only going as far as Yagul, an old temple site. The ride was pretty short; the unceremoniously let us off in the middle of nowhere at an intersection along the highway. I think they were laughing at us as they drove away. The temperature was about 30 degrees.

Across a field were cliffs that had a painting that is 3000 years old (at least according to yesterday's tour guide; he had pointed it out as we passed it on the highway). Click on the pic to enlarge it, and you can see the light beige figure in the centre of the frame:



We started up the small road that had been pointed out for us, and began a two kilometre uphill trek. We passed two guys digging a ditch beside a field; they stopped their work to stare at us. We arrived at Yagul drenched with sweat, and delighted to find we were the only visitors. The site was quite large, had an excellent example of a ballcourt, and had tombs that we could explore (they aren't nearly as exciting as they sound), although these ones had some great stone faces flanking the entrance:



A view from above; you can see the ballcourt to the left, and the white-walled maze of a bunch of walls to the right:



A closer-up of the walls. What is unique about this site is that many of the stone walls were plastered over:



Yagul's ballcourt; I'm standing where games were played whose outcomes were used to predict everything from the weather to upcoming battles:



We spent about two hours exploring before making our way back down to the highway. On the way, Andrew tried his hand at filmmaking:



Our plan was to try and flag down another bus or a colectivo heading towards Oaxaca. Luckily, randomly, some guy was at the intersection (I have no idea why; there is nothing nearby that he could have come from), and he had just hailed a bus. We sprinted, got on, and caught our breath during the short drive to Dainzu.

We were again let off at a lonely intersection. We set off down the curving side-road, and found Dainzu after about two kilometres. It was even more deserted than Yagul; there wasn't even a parking lot and the ticket booth was abandoned (although the groundskeeper found us later -- he had been chillin' in a little shack in a far-off corner of the site).

The site consisted of one temple and some foundations:



The temple ruin had a large tomb that had unusually high ceilings and a wide large stairwell (most of the other tombs have been hobbit-sized):



There were also excellent carvings on the outer walls of the pyramid:



And yet another ballcourt:



We headed back to the highway, and caught a colectivo (a taxi that continually picks up people until the car is full) back to the city. Due to traffic, he couldn't get us to the bus terminal, so he dropped us near-ish, and we managed to eventually find another colectivo that would take us to the town of Atzompa for $70Mxn (our return trip only cost $14Mxn, so we were clearly given the Gringo Rate on our way out). This town is known for its green-glaze pottery and was not located close to any other sites or towns that we would be visiting (hence hiring a car to take us there).

The town seemed fairly small and a few packed of dogs, often fighting roamed the streets. We wandered the streets and just walked into open doors into rooms stacked high with wares. We were literally walking into people's houses and workshops:



After visiting a few places, we found a few items worth their tagged price. It was clear from looking at the people that life was really hard in this town.

Handheld (December 29)

(Map of the day.)

We had booked a day trip through Agencia Transportadora, and would take place from 10-5. We would be traveling with two other couples, who were wealthy, older, and from New York. We all piled into a shiny SUV with a driver and a ring-wearing guide.

Our first stop: the town of Santa Maria del Tule, which is home to the widest tree in the world. They estimate that the tree is more than 2000 years old, and the trunk's diameter is 138 feet (30m). It is located beside a (relatively) small church:



There are lightning rods around the churchyard that contains the tree, and special underground water systems are in place to provide the tree with enough water (it consumes 40,000L per week). The tree, which is a cyprus, had a very unusually-shaped trunk. It had odd corners jutting out and many crevices. Some trunk detail:



Its canopy was similar to that of a weeping willow; long flowing branches hung quite low. It was impossible to get the whole tree in the camera's viewfinder:



Our next stop took us into a home in the town of Teotitlan del Valle. This town is re-known for woven carpets. At the home/workshop, we watched a demo on wool preparation and then some actual weaving. First the raw wool is washed in a nearby river, then it's pulled between two paddles to smooth out the fibers, and then the wool is run onto a spindle:





The wool's natural colour is dark brown or beige. To achieve the other colours, the wool is dyed using: moss for green, marigold for yellow, indigo for blue. To get red, a parasitic worm from the prickly pear plant is crushed. For some of the plant sources, the plant is fermented for 26 days and then boiled to get the colours out. Additives like lemon juice or baking soda also create different hues and tones. These are all dyed naturally:



Using a foot-operated loom, the carpet is woven. The desired pattern is copied onto the strings, and then the coloured yarn is passed back and forth as the peddles are depressed:



The carpets were stiff and prickly. After the demo, the weaver tried to sell us some of his carpets. One that was about two square metres was priced for $8500Mxn ($850Cdn)! Even the New Yorkers scoffed at that price, although apparently it does typically take about 2-3 months to complete the rug.

Next on the tour: the very remote Parque Estatal to see mineral pools and a petrified waterfall of Hierve el Agua. The drive was about an hour from Teotitlan, over rough roads and by careening drop-offs. The villages we drove through seemed indescribably poor, down-trodden, and without hope. It's funny that no matter how remote we go, we can find Coke and ornate churches... . Kids on the dusty roadside were selling grass-woven knickknacks.

The view of the petrified waterfall was amazing. It looked like water had literally been frozen as it cascaded down the cliff. The phenomena is caused by the same process that creates stalagmites: minerals in the water deposit themselves and grow into the unique formation:





Andrew and I broke from the doddering group and took a trail that lead away from the main pools, which looked too family-friendly for my tastes:



We found a smaller pool, whose water was cool and bubbled/foamed out of the rocks. The water felt very soft. We continued down the trail, descending uneven steps that eventually curved around the bottom of the waterfall:



The view was awesome:



Here is a field of Agave plants, which are used to make Mezcal (more on that below):



However, after a good amount of time hiking around, we realized that this trail would not lead back up to the main pool area, and we only had about 20 minutes to get back to the SUV. The distance was about two kilometres, in searing heat, and up and over hard ground... . This is before we realized that we were out of time:



Next we hit the pyramid site of Mitla. The town of Mitla had tight, winding streets and there were vendors galore on-site. The site was disappointing. It really only had two buildings with large courtyards, and little else. The claim to fame of this place is the geometric carvings on the walls; however, to us, they looked restored and inauthentic.





Perhaps we had been spoiled by the excellent sites of Tula and Cacaxtla??



We were whisked off to a Mezcal store/distillery to see the process of making the potent alcohol. (Note: all tequila is a type of Mezcal, but not all Mezcal qualifies to be tequila.) First, a mature (nine year old) Agave plant is harvested and its leaves are removed, leaving a pineapple-shaped stump:



The plant is then chopped up and put into a fire pit where logs have been burning and smoldering. Water is added, and the whole thing is covered and left to smolder for three days. The softened chunks fibers are the pulverized by a large stone wheel, usually pulled by a donkey:



The liquid that seeps out is distilled, producing an alcohol that is 98% pure. It is further distilled and aged to produced drinking-quality Mezcal. Here's some of that pure stuff:



The tour complete, we were dumped off in the city centre, and we ended the day with dishes of ice cream in front of the Basilica de Nuestra Senora (aka: another large and lavish cathedral) just down the street from our hotel.

Oaxaca (December 27)

(Map of the day.)

We checked out of the hotel, and boarded an executive-class bus for the six-hour ride to the city of Oaxaca (pronunciation: wah-ha-ka). The landscape, after we were beyond the far-reach of metropolitan Mexico City, was stunning. Hills, mountains, valleys, sheer drop-0ffs, cacti of every shape and size -- it was a topographer's dream. The elevation was increasing so quickly that my ears couldn't stay pressurized. On the steep highway, we would be passed by a pickup truck with two men in the front, and the back open truck bed full of women and children. Most of the sharp curves in the road did not have any type of guardrail or safety measure; there was just a sheer drop-off.

Oaxaca was larger than I thought it would be, with a lot of visible poverty. We were staying at the lovely Posada del Centro. The location was excellent, only a few blocks from the Zocalo. We discovered that it was definitely tourist season in town, as we went from being a visible minority to one of the crowd. We strolled to the Zocalo, which was packed and a stage was being set up. We wandered up a pedestrian road, and noted that this area of the city (ie: the tourist-y city centre) was clean (by Mexican standards) and free of graffiti. As we left the Zocalo behind, more beggars and vendors crawled out of the woodwork. Instead of manning an established booth, like in Mexico City, these 'salesmen' just stood on the street, vying for eye contact with prospective buyers.

We had a pizza on a balcony overlooking the street, meandered back to the Zocalo, and took in the sounds from the stage while enjoying gelati. The music was excellent traditional acoustic guitar. We snagged two empty folding chairs in front of the stage, and enjoyed the clean(-ish) air and warm evening.

We Hate Ameca (December 26)

(Map of the day.)

We headed by bus to the town of Amecameca (known as Ameca), which was to be our jump-point to visit two volcanoes: Iztaccihhatl and Popocatepetl (known simply as Izta and Popo). We were dropped by the bus at the town's bus station, and our tour book offered us very little in the way of directions from there. We found the town's Zocalo, and from there the volcano's tourism office. It was closed.

We had been depending on this office for guidance on how to actually get to/up the volcanoes. A helpful guard let us know that to get to the summit, we needed to go arriba, which means, helpfully, 'up'. We threw caution (and money) to the wind and hailed a cab. He said he'd take us up for $300Mxn (which is about $30Cdn). We talked him down to $200. We felt a little bad about this after it turned out to be a 45 minute ride up the mountain's twisting, unmarked roads. The way up the hill was steep; there were no hiking trails that we could see, but there were plenty of food stands. We asked the driver to return for us at 5, it being 11:30.

The park entrance was a dusty parking lot with a pavilion, Spanish signs, and nothing else. We were in a flat-ish large field, bordered by volcanoes/mountains. The elevation change on the way up was such that my ears were clogged:



We started off on one of the wheel-chair friendly paths, hoping to get away fro the swarms of families and loud children. We cut off of that trail, and followed a dirt road that wound its way around the hill. We weren't actually climbing either volcano; they were both too far away.



We ended up reading in the tall grass just off of the road:



Andrew tries his hand at filmmaking:



We explored the rest of the park, but quickly discovered that there wasn't anymore park to explore. Inadvertently, we had seen it all. Keep in mind that parts of Popo are a World Heritage Site. We wandered around, killing time waiting for the cab, which was late. The driver of a colectivo offered to take us down in his empty van for $45Mxn each. We hopped on, and felt bad when about ten minutes later we passed our taxi as he made his way up the mountain...

Back in town, we found out that the restaurant we had planned on going to was far out of town. We asked around for a recommendation (this is harder than it sounds, trust me), as there weren't any restaurants in the visible vicinity. Our new place was 4 kilometres away, so we hopped onto another colectivo, which tried to pull away without Andrew.

The restaurant, the El Castillo de los Venados, was part of a hotel and spa.



It should have been the nicest in town. We were instead stared down when we walked in. They insisted on giving us an English that only had a handful of choices (compared to the full Spanish menu) and all staff really seemed put out that we were there. The food sucked too. It was hands-down our worst meal yet.

We managed to get back to the bus terminal, and enjoyed a bus ride back to Mexico City that was crowded, standing room only (for a 2 hour ride), and humid -- > the smell was not dissimilar to that of a post-game locker room with an extra dash of BO thrown in for good.

Aside from our relaxing time reading atop the mountain, the day was rife with obstacles and strife. In spite the flowery description on Wikipedia, we never saw anything other than 'seedy' and 'rundown.' We hate Amecameca.

Staircases & Wrasslin' (December 25)

(Map of the day.)

Seeing as it was Christmas Day, we slept in, and then headed to the Convent del Carmen, to see their mummified corpses. But, because it was Christmas, the museum portion of the convent was closed.

On the long trek back to the subway station, we cut through a large (and groomed) park. In the middle, was a large edifice. We decided to check it out, so the trip to this end of the city wouldn't be a total loss. It was tall and narrow, with one set of stairs leading up to a dark, open doorway. Two large, carved figures flanked the door.



Inside was a circular marble room; there was a round opening in the middle of the room. Looking down, there was what seemed like a glass-bottomed pond. The interior was so gloomy, that trying to take any pictures was pointless. Opposite to the door was a statue of a general with its right hand missing. A small man with white cowboy boots seemed to work there, and he was very excited to see us. He gesticulated and indicated in Spanish that we should head down the dark marble staircase.

There was nothing in the bottom level except the empty pond-thing and a case set into the wall which contained the statue's right arm. Bear in mind, there weren't even plaques or signs indicating what any of this meant.

We headed back up, and now the little man wanted us to go up a tiny, dark, off-limits-to-the-public looking spiral staircase. He lit a candle for us, and gave us his box of matches (in case the candle went out). Candle in hand, we slowly made our ascent. The stairs were extremely steep and narrow, and with the exception of the candle, completely dark. After what seemed like forever (and remember we had no idea what awaited us), we emerged onto the roof of the monument. The view was amazing, but we were still unsure why the man sent us up. A view of the city from our private perch:



The entire episode was really bizarre. Leaving the park, we headed to the area that would be hosting the evening's Lucha Libre match. Scalpers pounced on us as we approached to wicket, trying to convince us to buy ringside seats. We opted for the legal choice and made our way for our next destination: Chapultepec Park.

We wanted to see the Castillo de Chapultepec and its gardens in addition to the Museo Nacional de Antropologia. Given the start time for the wrestling match, we opted to skip the castle, and hit the museum, as it houses the famous 12-ton Aztec Sun Stone. Unfortunately, this enormous park had simply the worst, most confusing signage I have ever encountered in my life. We would have more luck if they were all in Mandarin and Arabic. Also, further proof of Mexico's forethought in terms of planning, there is not one, but 2 freeways running through the middle of the park. This does not inspire easy exploration of the park. A final factor that was working against us: it was Christmas Day, so everyone and their dog was at the park (including stall after stall of junk).

We spent about 45 minutes trying to find their famous nationally recognized tourist-draw of a museum. When we finally found it, I was not impressed:



Because we were low on time, we bee-lined straight for the Sun Stone. This is the stone that is the Aztec calender that people reference when they say the world ends in 2012. Upon my close, unprofessional inspection, I found no indication that the end of times is neigh:



All the other artifacts were culled from the temple sites we had already visited, except that they were in better condition (apparently the museum sweeps in and gets to take all the better pieces). With that, we headed back to the wrestling arena.

After both of us were patted down thoroughly (I'll let you come to your own conclusions), we were escorted to our seats. Vendors milled around, hawking the standard beer, pop, popcorn, candy, hats, etc. The wrestling matches themselves were pretty solid. They contained fewer strength-based moves and had more holds, but didn't have as much acrobatic work as I had anticipated. Most of the wrestlers wore Lucha Libre masks. Every one of the 7 or so matches (with the exception of one) was tag-team. One match was women; and they really fought. Some of their stage names: Lady Apache and La Nazi. Another match had a midget fighting on a tag-team. The headlining match had an obese man ("Porky"); not a single person could get out from under him when he was laying down on them.

Each match was awarded as best out of three bouts. Each bout was announced by a scantily-clad girl with a sign --> pure boxing style. The crowd wasn't nearly as rowdy as I had thought it would be, but overall, not a bad way to spend Christmas.

Roadside Adventures (December 24)

(Map of the day.)

We had an early start for the pyramid site of Cacaxtla, which is near the small city of Puebla. We headed for the East bus station (as opposed to the North one, which we had been using so far), and got first-class tickets for the 2 hour ride. Free drinks and snacks, and the bus was even clean. Bonus!

We arrived at CAPU, which is Puebla's bus terminal, and tried to find what bus line would take us the rest of the way to Cacaxtla. No luck; each bus company kept directing us to another counter. Finally, someone managed to convey to us that we should take a micro-bus, which were stations at a seedy hotel across the freeway. We boarded a rickety minibus whose driver indicated to us that he could get us were we wanted to go.

(These minibuses are a major means of transportation for the public. At intersections, or even as they drive, the driver's partner is leaning out the door, yelling out to pedestrians the direction in which we're headed. If the bus is going your way, hop on, and tell the driver your end-point. From that, he'll charge you an appropriate amount of money -- it's very cheap. If they don't have enough change for you, you give your large bill, and then have to sit and wait while they take more fares, hoping that enough change will collect before you disembark. Also: every one of these buses has religious iconography on the dashboard, windshield, ceiling, seat-backs, etc.)

The ride turned out to be an hour of lurching through streets, which gradually turned into remote countryside. Eventually, the driver stopped at the bottom of a steep hill, in a little town, and pointed up the hill for us. There was no pyramid in site (and needless to say, no signage). We began the hike up, and eventually saw the pyramids about 2 miles away, across a road-less valley. The road we were on did not in any way lead to them. It was already about noon; much time had been lost in CAPU and on the minibus (whose top speed seemed to be about 40 km/h).

Andrew was in favor of trekking cross-country to the site; instead we stopped a passing colectivo van (similar in function to the micro-bus, except it's a van), which took us back down the hill. We then took the next bus that the van driver indicated to us, but after 5 minutes we saw we were driving away from the pyramids. We got off this bus, flagged down another bus, which dropped us at the same start point again. Andrew hailed a fifth van, which finally got us to the gates of the site.

The pyramids were about 600m from the gates, but it was all worth the effort. The site has one enormous pyramid (which was in the midst of excavation), the remains of another pyramid, and a distant third pyramid, located about 30 minutes away (we didn't get to this one, as the time was now 3pm, and we were worried about getting back to Puebla. The sun sets at about 5:30, and we didn't want to be flagging down rides in the dark in the remote country).

There were only a handful of other visitors, but there were three different ticket check-points, with armed guards...

Who wouldn't want to give us a ride:



A set of wooden steps took us to the top of the pyramid, which they figure was inhabited from 400-1000AD. There were the remains of foundations everywhere, and very little had been restored (which was nice after Teotihuacan):





Walkways took us all over, and there was a section of wall that was latticed:



Impressive stonework:



Many murals had also survived the ages, which is amazing because they were dated to be about 700 years old:





These two murals were side-by-side, behind protective glass. On the left picture, note the carved stone to the right of the painting:



The unvisited pyramid. I guess there's always next time (ha!):



We left the site, hailed a bus, and had a quick, uneventful ride back to CAPU. We hitched a ride to the city's Zocalo, and as we approached the city centre, the buildings became more colonial, and beautiful. As it was Christmas Eve, most of the stores and tourist sites around town were closed. We headed on foot towards the Cathedral of San Francisco -- the site of an actual canonized saint, San Francisco. Not only was the man a saint, but his body is incorruptible.

With the help of the gift shop girl, we found the body. It was kept in a glass and silver coffin behind the church's alter (there wasn't a mass going on, so we could approach freely). The body was dressed in monk's robes. Francisco was accepted into the Catholic order at age 75 after devoting his life to the church, and died in 1600 at the age of 98. They discovered shortly after his death that his body had become waxy, and remained flexible. Letters were written to the Pope, and after investigations (and whatever other hoops existed back then), he was canonized.

The body did indeed look waxy. There were no bones or decay, except for on his feet, which just looked fibrous. The man himself:



For supper, we headed back to the crowded Zocalo, and ate at an Italian place called Vittorio's. Our Christmas Eve meal was spent enjoying the mild air, soft lights, bustling people, and live guitar while we sat at a sidewalk table. The funny thing, is apparently this place held the world record for largest pizza back in the late 1970's.

We caught our bus back to Mexico City, but were dismayed to see that the subway was no longer selling tickets (although they were open for another hour). At the encouragement of two seedy looking guys, we jumped the turnstiles, and bolted for our train...