Today marked the beginning of the Intrepid part of the tour. Turns out that I am the only one travelling my route all the way through to Cuba – I join another group when I get to Havana. The rest of this group are going through to Costa Rica, Guatemala or Panama. But it appears that I will get Tanya, the tour leader, on the second of my big tours from Antigua through to Costa Rica. That’s great because she seems really nice. I have a single supplement so rooming alone which means I get to laugh at my own jokes and cant blame anybody else if the toilet gets clogged. Let’s pretend it hasn’t and move on.
This was the final full day in Mexico City and, as a Sunday, the last day for the museums to open. (They close on Mondays). So the plan was a brief guided tour of the city, followed by a smash and grab of taco joints, a trip up the LatinoAmerican tower for some views and then free time to hit any museums. Simples!
I haven’t mentioned the weather yet. You may think it’s all sunburn, bikinis and margaritas here. Big fat no. It’s been pretty chilly and yours truly only brought light cargo pants, t-shirts and a lightweight long sleeved zip up jacket for the plane. Fine during the day but I’ve been suffering when the sun disappears. My chilblains have reappeared with blotchy red ferocity. I knew it wouldn’t be hot – I do my research, come on! – but there is more of a bite in the air than anticipated and the attitude of ‘suck it up princess – run lean so you don’t have to carry a big jacket and can thus buy more skull products’ has proven more difficult to execute than planned.
The group met up early and walked to the subway station to catch two trains to the Zócalo, which is the word for main square. Fun fact about the subway – the first two cars are always reserved for women and children for a safety perspective. Yet another thing TransAdelaide can learn from the Mexicans. It was clean and safe. No idea what it cost because it was included in the tour. Bit crammed but so what?
I have to say I was tempted to ditch the orientation walk because I was plenty oriented. Full oriental if you will. In fact.. First stop was the Metropolitan Cathedral where a Chinese New Year dragon procession was partying on down one of the main drags. But I wanted to go into town anyway and the tacos were included. We took a spin inside the cathedral where I shared my wisdom about its earthquake wonkiness. I was pretty chuffed I had gone earlier because half was closed due to services. Random thought – I think Virgin Mary is like Skeletor or a Ninja Turtle action figure in that there are different versions of her with different costumes and accessories. Do you have to collect them all??? Next, tacos!
When I saw this, I knew we we going to eat the el pastor taco which is pork with a piece of pineapple. The taco famous for taking care of you after a big night on the turps. I watched a Netflix documentary called The Taco Chronicles on it before I left.
Reports were mixed but I liked them. El pastor took care of me. Stopped me being hangry at least!
Next stop, the LatinoAmericano Tower which is an observation tower with a big clock in it. Along the way, I had a good chat with Brin, the Bulgarian chap who arrived late. His shorts made me feel cold. This was an option so we had to pay but I can be uncharacteristically un-McDucklike about these things. If there’s no way I can beg, steal, scab or scam my way into something, I will pay for the experience. After all, Scrooge sat on top of the money pile, I am only partway up it and adventures require the cold hard dosh sometimes. Sometimes it’s worth it to see views like this to put a city into perspective.
The tower had three observation decks – 37, 40 and 42 from memory. The photo of Belle Arts was taken from 37 which, although not the top floor, was the best because it was unobstructed by roofing structures or protective barriers. I enjoyed looking at the cathedral and tried to see the Templo Mayor but couldn’t quite make it our. A few of us tried to go up to the next one but mistakenly took the descending lift to the ground floor and annoyingly had to repeat the entire process back to 37 and then find the alternative lift to 39. And then it was time to go anyway.
Time for more tacos!
This time, it was standing room only on the street at a taqueria serving mystery meat. My favourite! Well, nothing is really a mystery once you’ve downloaded the Spanish to English Google Translate file but that’s cheating. Tanya did solve the mystery, deciphering the strange glyphs on the wall for us. It was a slaughterhouse of horror. Stomach, cheeks, brains, tongue, tripe – you name it and it’s in this pot with the cactus. At one point, he pulled out a skull with the teeth still on and sliced and diced it all up. After revealing pork sausage as an option, people clamoured for it as a safe option. I had one too. Then the spirit of culinary risk reared its head. While the others went for another safe option, I went for a meaty grease megamix of randomness from the pot called a mixto. Yeah, baby. Protein and mystery lipids all the way. Bit of spicy verde all the way. Brin went for full tongue. (Europeans aren’t backwards in coming forwards sometimes.) I told Dave some obscene jokes not fit to print. (If I don’t say this on a blog post, just assume it happened.) Brin and I split another safe option taco. Excellent. All my wry smile, I contentedly acknowledged all my food needs were catered for gratis and I was ready to explore the city with a full stomach and a clear head.
Most people headed for the Belle Arts Museum but I had already stuck on my Zapata moustache. Brin gave me a hot tip that the post office was a hot little art nouveau number ripe for perving and right around the corner. Hock away! He was right. The architectural equivalent of a Mucha lady baring her shiny iron balustrades for all to see.
My original plan was to Uber to the Castillo Chapultepec in the park after failing to cram it into the same day as the Anthropology museum. (What a vivid imagination that I even thought that was possible!!!) But Brin told me about MUNAL, the Mexican museum of historic art opposite the post office. I looked at my watch. It was 2pm. Could I get out of the art museum and get to the park with enough time to get through the castle before it shut at 5? It was gonna be tight but if anybody can smash an art museum, it’s me. Whenever the museum hits about 1900, my interest starts to wane and I can hoon like a driver on his last demerit point outrunning the cops. Oh look, a laneway market!!!
Ok so it was a timesuck but I regret nothing! I found a blanket with a cool Aztec design on it for 100 pesos which is about 20 bucks and best of all, FIVE Mexican themed Lego men. An Aztec, two lucha libre wrestlers (one is Santo) and two characters from the movie Coco. I unashamedly love Lego. I love building the sets and collecting the Minifigures. Finding Mexican Minifigures in Mexico was my El Dorado! (There was a dodgy Trump. I briefly thought about wrestling matches with the lucha libre guys before moving on.) Art museum time!
Good news – On Sundays, museums in Mexico are free. Bueno! Bad news – the museum made me pay a fee to take photos. Malo! Oh well. Instead of a pass, they handed me a ring constructed from paper and sealed with a staple that I had to wear on my finger the whole time. Ok then. This giant sculpture was out the back. It was pretty cool.
Ok. Need to smash this museum. a complete lack of English captions helped immensely. No distractions. I was forced to glean what I could from Spanish which was surprisingly good. The first collection on indigenous voices was outstanding, including some of the Victorian era paintings of Montezuma that are romanticised but very pretty. I thought this one was a bit of a stunner too.
Other highlights included an alabaster sculpture of Colombus disembarking from his ship, a painting depicting the discovery of pulque, various landscapes and cityscapes, and a ceiling fresco on the top floor in the vein of Italianate romantic style (you know – women in flowery robes, gods, wreaths, putti flying around) but with symbols of 19th century industry like cranes and modern bridges. A tour group of at least 20 people was lying down on their backs looking up at it. It looked like the Jonestown massacre with so many bodies everywhere. After coming up empty in the shop, I hightailed it out of there and hailed a cab for the Castillo. One hour and 15 minutes. This was going to be as tight as my pants are going to be by the last day of this trip. But I might never get the chance to see the Castillo again … Rapido, por favor! (I know that from Amazing Race.)
With eagle-eyed intensity normally reserved for watching footy games on the SANFL app, I followed the blue dot on Google maps. The castle was in the middle of a huge public park. The Central Park of Mexico City if you will. The cab couldn’t drop me in there. One hour until it shut and it was 12 minutes away on foot. I thrust my 50 pesos at the cab driver, threw my backpack on my bag and ran like the wind!
Now I am pretty fit as you may have gathered from the odd comment about protein shakes and grilled chicken breast. I used to run – I loved it. I have the mentality and determination for running but I have bad legs. I am put together like a clumsy marionette with stupid McDuck feet that go in and out and make me clomp like 300 kilo graceless fat chalumpa. So I ran on and off, knowing I would pay for it. (Three days later, hello my old friend shin splints.) But it was a thrill. I bolted for it as if I was in Amazing Race headed for the finish line!
I hit a bag check and a locker dump, but no tickets and no camera fee. I did have a big hill to run up though. Out of the way, slow peasants! Stop lollygagging, as my year three teacher would say. I trudged up the hill mightily, with arms powering like pistons! I made it! 45 minutes! Game on, moles (mol-ays?)!
Immediately, I knew I had made the right decision. Another El Dorado of treasures and loot. First another mural of exploiters – this time with a top hat – vs the workers but then it was all about the history of the Spanish conquest in Mexico with a few choice objects and paintings. Again, no English. Perfect for speed. I can figure out most stuff anyway. I know that’s Ferdinand and Isabella, I know that’s Charles V and his son Phillip for example. And I know this is the Zócalo in Mexico City. I loved this painting. Precious sands through the hourglass lost here. So much detail. I have a lot of photos.
I legged it through the rest of the Castillo. Room after room of pretty things with security speaking the international language of getting antsy at the end of the day. I whizzed past these.
With a Tudor history PhD, I have seen some truly horrible portraits in my time but the Castillo takes the cake for all of them together in one place. Their impact is like stepping into a room after a dog has dropped a massive eggy fart. You can’t help but be filled with revulsion and incomprehension. Surely inbreeding was responsible for this gene pool of horror?
I just managed to see the King and Quern in front of a glittering coach.
The security guards kicked me out of the coach house. That was it. No bueno. 5pm. I could see one more area with sculptures outside but an impressive effort overall. However, during my mad cultural cram, the weather turned nasty indeed. It could be described as 70% of a good pudding down. Consistent and wouldn’t not let up. My rain jacket was conveniently located at the bottom of the hill in the locker. I made a mad dash for it but it still took me a good 10 minutes in the rain and I was soaked. I still don’t really know what any of the castle was about though. Will have to Google.
The park vendors engaged poncho and umbrella selling mode. I desperately wondered what to do. There was no shelter anywhere. I headed for the edge of the park, thinking I could find an adjacent coffee shop. That was a complete bust because the road was impassable to pedestrians so I walked along the outside of the kath. I heard a car rev up and then sploosh! Water sprayed from the gutter up my pants leg as the car sped off into the far lane with all the passengers laughing. Mexic****s! So I trudged along cold and wet in the rain until I found a coffee shop. The barista took pity on me and handed me a serviette. I must have looked a fright on par with one of the castle portraits. I holed up there for an hour before I considered myself dry enough to avoid a soiling fee in an Uber back to the hotel.
A few of us met up for dinner at this cool food court type place in a big shed. Instead of going to the counter, staff came to you with menus.
Stay tuned vigilant viewer for the next exciting instalment of HockTales featuring the escape from Mexico City to Puebla.
HockTales: a Central American Adventure 
I like your squirrel pic.
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