Friday, March 6, 2015

Mexico, Part I: In search of butterflies


And so the story begins.

Off to a confident start, I've done this before - the ride to the airport (we stopped to pick up trackables at a geocache along the way), I had no baggage to check, airport security was fine with my carry-on pack+purse, found correct boarding gate, and now we wait.  Excited yet relaxed.




Yes I tried sleeping here, briefly.
On what was to be a theme throughout the trip, much of my direction and decisions were based on hearsay.  I arrived in Benito Juarez airport (MEX) at 10:55pm, and because I had heard that Mexico City was unsafe at night I opted to 'sleep' in the well-lit and thoroughly security-patrolled airport and get moving at dawn.  Aside from the criminal element, I was also considering the sprawling size, my unfamiliarity with the city and the lack of a tourist office or any English-speaking person to assist me at that hour at night.

Any angel will do, even slightly creepy ones.
The airport seems rather basic and minimalist; clean bright tile floors and fluorescent lights.  Much like a shopping mall.  Functional and well maintained, but not inducive to sleeping.  And cold - Mexico City is on a mountain plateau.  I wandered around aimlessly, tried to email from a small cafe with ipad tablets with Spanish settings and staff that spoke no English.  Took me over an hour to send a bitter email back home.  Don't ever get me an ipad tablet, I need a REAL keyboard.  After that I found a dark hall behind an art exhibition where the other travellers/bums had already discovered and "slept".  I lay there awhile just to be quiet in the dark.  After what seemed like a long night I got a taxi (this is a good time to note the currency change, so $270 pesos) to the western-bound bus station, Poniente.  Fast driving till we're stuck in morning commuter traffic coming into the city, good thing I wasn't paying by the minute like taxis back home.
I arrived at the bus station and was overwhelmed with choices on carrier lines, luxury coaches, and buses heading to all points west.  I was hungry and finally bought food - a torta, = sandwich on a Portuguese bun, I chose chorizo and trusted the lady to load it up with whatever mostly unidentified spreads, sauces, veggies - there was mayonnaise, black bean spread, guacamole, and spicy beans.  'Twas good, but then I was starving and would've been fine with likely anything..
Onto buses and carefully selecting a bus; I read their exotic destination names and saw prices, and I aimed to go to Zitacuaro for no other reason than to be the first to find a particular geocache, and then spend the next few days heading to Angangueo for a Monarch butterfly festival I heard about...? So I approached a service desk and asked for Zitacuaro.  A man there nodded "Si, si", and the confused young woman at the till seemed to agree or at least trust this man to translate.  Through whatever vocabulary I could find I thought I made clear my plans and direction, and they sold me a ticket ($184 Mxn) that read Destination: Angangueo.  Hmmm, interesting.  Perhaps they're taking the southern Route 15 around the Biosphere Reserve and only the final destination is printed, and I'm supposed to just hop off at Zitacuaro along the way.  I waved the ticket at them both with "Zitacuaro??", to which I got more "Si, si".  Alright, good enough for me...

Angangueo
...Apparently not, as the bus took the north road around teeny towns I know not, and the road deteriorated from highway to side road to tiny trickle as it climbed up the mountain and deposited me directly to Angangueo, a week ahead of schedule and altogether missing Zitacuaro.  The bus driver was clearly not privy to what the man at the bus station counter had promised, and would be taking the bus back to Mexico City directly the way we'd come, and then not till very late at night.  And of course spoke no English for any further troubleshooting or assistance.
It is at this point I fell into the common traveller's fallacy of Why Don't You Speak My Language In Your Country?! which was thankfully brief.  I huffed around the town a bit grouchy and still tired, looking for a hostel/cheap hotel that the locals couldn't agree whether it was up this street or down this street.  As this is a hilly town, I wanted to keep my aimless walking to a minimum till I can at least put my packs down.  I walked down the street (not many options of street here, it's a long skinny town nestled between steep slopes), and a fella called out to me to come see his rooms (400 Mxn) and eat at his restaurant.  His friend across the street also had rooms available, and for a better price (250 Mxn).
Hotel manager controls the hot water.



My brick bunker.
The lodging I was aiming for cost more than both of them combined, so I picked the cheapest one. Owner spoke no English but seemed nice enough, still trying to communicate and be helpful.  He offered to drive me to and from the El Rosario butterfly reserve the next day, and wait while I hiked to see the butterflies at the top, all for another 250 Mxn.  Seemed like a good deal if it saved me hiking another several kilometers just to get to the base.  I was still exhausted and had a headache, I went to the fella's restaurant across the street and ordered a single quesadilla - something cheap on the menu I could pronounce - and some hot water, which generally makes me feel settled.  They brought cold water.  I tried to clarify _hot_ water, and they brought back lukewarm water.  Thanks for trying though.  I returned to my room, had a brief not-hot shower and went to sleep through another cold night, but at least I had a bed+blankets.
The next morning we drove up to El Rosario along a winding cobblestone road.  Upon seeing the village community based at the parking lot I understood why there was not an official website and only minimal information and customer reviews online about this operation; there seemed to be no main office, just an entrance and ticket booth (45 Mxn), and some guides either on foot or horseback (80 Mxn).  I opted for the horse just for the novelty since I haven't been horseback riding in ages, and was surprised that they just sat me atop a horse and it's led up the hill by a guide on foot, huffing and puffing to keep ahead of his own animal.  I asked if we would pass by the geocache there, and got "Si".  Would we have time to dismount and get it? "Si".  What's your horse's name? "Si".  This is beyond annoying now, and I just shake my head and laugh, nevermind.  We didn't get the geocache.
Those dark masses weighing down the boughs are all butterflies.
We found the butterflies.
I walked down without a horse to take my time and savour what I'd come all this way for, but a walking guide (also no English) was still with me so I felt kinda that I was keeping him waiting as well as my driver.  It felt like someone _watching_ me have a religious experience, it somehow deflates the magic.  We're still just paying customers through the turnstyle.

Strange that the goals and quests you have built up in your head are never what they seem when you achieve them.  I guess I better just do everything alone - most seem eager here to help but will agree "si" to everything not knowing what they're agreeing to.
Overall that afternoon felt a bit sterile and rushed and lacked... something.  However, I was proud of myself for fulfilling the trek to my destination.  I wanted to be here, and here I am.

The next morning my driver offered to take me for the same price to a different butterfly reserve in the other direction, Sierra Chincua (45 Mxn).  I had heard that this was less developed/popular, and thought I'd give it a go since I'm there.  This time I didn't opt for the horse ride (the walking guide seems obligatory), I climbed up and it reminded me that I'm not much of a hill climber.  The heat and altitude are very taxing.  One of the guides walked his horse beside me, almost taunting me or waiting for me to change my mind.  Clearly he doesn't know how stubborn I can be on my self-imposed hardships.  This is my pilgrimmage, dammit!
Butterflies on boughs and tree trunks.



We found more butterflies.
The viewing space was right in the midst of them, and if a butterfly landed on the viewing path the guides just pick them up and CHUCK THEM off to the side so they won't get trampled... While we weren't allowed to handle the butterflies at El Rosario, I handled them with a little more sensitivity to help get them off the path.  The audience here was quieter, this site was better, I'm glad I went.

That salsa was impressively hot!
At the base the villagers had a yummy-smelling fire-
oven kitchen, I got a quesadilla of special grey/blue mushrooms that affect the corn.  I just learned in English this is "corn smut".  I assure you it tastes better than it looks and sounds!
On our way out my driver stopped to bless a fella at what looked like a bus shelter.  He is some sort of priest, with a laminated ID badge that makes him look like a roadie on tour, and he carries a special little tub of dirt for drawing crosses on peoples' foreheads.  I'm in Mexico during Lent.
If you fall in it's your own fault.
Thanks Mary!
That afternoon I wandered through town.  Brightly colored yet crumbling buildings.  Sidewalks are a patchwork of stairs, landings, driveways that are a hike in itself, not discounting the gaping holes - unmanned and unmarked, they trust the general population can watch where they're going.  Good thing we're not all staring down at our smartphones while we walk.  The streets were mostly empty in the heat of the day, I'm the only stupid gringo wandering around in the sun.  I saw a large white structure on a hillside, and upon investigation found it was a sort of outdoor temple/shrine to Mary.  No doors, no one around, just accessible to anyone so I had a seat and a nice chat with Mary for awhile. 
That night I got REAL hot water for my shower, first priority was to fill my water bottle and wineskin with water I figure had been boiled/heated enough to be safe - ever-mindful of the tired advice Don't Drink The Water.  Had a lovely long hot shower, and steamed up my room enough to keep me warm till I fell asleep.  Stray dogs bark from evening till midnight, a confused rooster crows at 1am nowhere near morning, and songbirds start at dawn.  Around 8am vehicles with LOUDSPEAKERS mounted on them drive down the street advertising gas to heat homes, or tacos, or the upcoming political campaign.  Mexico is very noisy, even in the picturesque mountain town, it takes some getting used to.
Great to see ya, Mary!
The next morning I'm on my way out on foot, leaving Angangueo.  I'd seen butterflies in two different spots, and had no reason to stay further.  I've had an invitation to attend a couchsurfer's daughter's 4th birthday near Ciudad Hildago to the northwest, that's in a few days and I allotted two days to walk/hitchike there along Route 34, as I now have little faith in their buses.  Leisurely pace, hot sun, curious onlookers smiled politely with ¨hola¨ or ¨buenos dias¨, which I can handle and which is more than we afford people passing on the street in Vancouver.  I found another Mary alter along the road which gave reason to pause, and a pointsetta bush taller than I am. 
I've seen the butterflies I'd come all this way to see, within the first three days of my 16-day time in Mexico.  Now what? Stay tuned for Part II.