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After the hectic rush around LA, we arrived back at LAX, offically the worst airport in the world ready to board Air Mexicana. Not quite as baked bean can like as I was expecting the flight flew by (haha) as I attempted to use my bad schoolgirl spanish to translate the in-flight magazine.
My first impressions of Mexico were not exactly what I was expecting, no-one waiting to greet us in a bashed up old beetle wearing a sombrero and poncho with a bottle of tequila and taco in hand. Instead a yellow cab, with electric windows and a pretty good standard of driving. None of this overtaking on the left (Kiwis) or just driving like lunatics (India). Checked into Hostel Amigo, Mexico City a couple of blocks from the Zocalo and within about ten minutes got our first shot of Tequila poured down our necks, no choice there! This was more like it! After several more two litre bottles of Corona (sharing!) we hit a salsa club. The tequila gave me dutch courage to get on the dancefloor and convince myself I was actually a fantastic salsa dancer. In retrospect I think a few lessons are definately in order.
Few days in Mexico city spènt wandering around and visiting markets (pigs head for dinner anyone?) & the beautiful Blue Frida Carlos gallery, a complete oasis and then out to Teotihucan to visit the amazing pyramids and climb the Piramide de Sol, the third tallest in the world built on the sight of a pre-aztec sun-worshipping ground (think that is the right phrase!). Photo opportunities galor!
Within a these few days I realised my basic spanish was not going to suffice the two months here and definately not impress anyone so Jess and I decided to go back to school for a week and grasp what we could. We parted at the Estacion de Autobus, Jess taking the seven hour coach to Guadalajara and me the slightly shorter journey to Guanajurto. At this point I couldnt´t even pronounce the city´s name; with this in mind my espanol could only improve!
Instantly fell in love with the city, the brightly coloured houses and winding callejons (alleys) with leading to tiny little plazas all the way up the hillside. Within a couple of hours of arriving was sitting having a Cerveza when a carnival procession started winding its way up the hill with numerous bands and masked dancers.
Signed up for a week´s intensive spanish at Escula Mexicana, with dreams of being fluent in one week. Ok didn´t quite happen like that but by day five could manage a basic conversation and kind of make myself understood. Have realised us English speakers actually have a bit of a raw deal when it comes to pronoucation in Spanish, all the vowels are completely different and apparently whereas we spit our words out the Spanish exhale softly, rolling the r´s etc. Am going to use this as an excuse for a good while!
Learnt over the week that the Mexicans hate the Spanish even more than they hate the Gringos (Americans). To quote my teacher, the Spanish conqueror Hermes Cortez is not one of the most hated men in Mexican history, he is THE most hated man. The Mexicans have his body buried in Mexico City and refuse to return it to the Spanish even when they asked nicely in the 1960´s, as they like to ´keep theír friends close and enemies even closer´. Not a whole lot of love there!
Anyway after a week of school and a weekend of partying Mexican styli, with extra salsa, I have boarded the excellent bus (even get a packed lunch and the latest films) to Morelia, waiting for Jess (minus her trainers) to arrive. It is the anniversery tomorrow of the city´s founding day so I think there is a big procession and firework display, eso bueno!
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