Mexico, Part IV: winding down, then home.

And onward, south.
It didn't take me long to catch a ride coming down this coastal road, with few towns/villages along the way most traffic would head straight to Lazaro Cardenas.  Including this sleek, clean white car with a well put-together man driving with a gloved hand, and shiny crystal rosary from the rear-view mirror.
Maybe he's a drug lord, higher up on the food chain! Or maybe he's an angel..?
Turns out he's a captain in the Mexican Navy.  He's got a frigate! How freakin' cool is that??

The drive was several hours, but in daylight and I was awake for it so I could see everything I'd missed on the dark bus ride up a few days before.  Dear driver echoed the cautions of the Red Zone, and pointed out the subtle roadchecks by whatever armed authorities.  We had no trouble.  I guess I don't look like a druggie.  He spoke fine English and we talked all about our families, his work and Mexico.  We stopped for a beer at a little roadside stand, with a spectacular view of the coastline.  Said hi to Mary again.
He dropped me off in Lazaro Cardenas wishing me well, and I continued walking and catching several shorter rides.  I was glad to have good maps of Mexico loaded onto my GPS, it was so useful for navigating in and out of urban areas so I don't continue on for miles down the wrong highway.  One young fella with no English possibly mistook me for a prostitute (haha, nope!), and disappointedly dropped me off with a warning about 'other' people in this part of town.  No problem, got another ride shortly with a father+son pair that barely spoke at all but got me onto the old parallel road to the highway that I could walk on and carried me to an intersection in the desert they were turning off on.  I kept walking.  Now there was barely any traffic and no towns, and I'm running out of water in the heat of the day and _almost_ concerned about that, while optimistically following the little blue arrow on my GPS screen.
Then a trucker pulls over, sweet! I've had great luck with truckers in other countries.  This one had a full bunk with three other guys there, and I think they just wanted to practice their English and have some company.  They took me as far into Zihuatanejo as they could and still manage to turn the big rig around and back to their destination.

Zihuatanejo 
First off, find an internet spot to inform loved ones of my whereabouts, then find a geocache in town to drop more geocaching trackables, then find a BEER and some fish tacos (I still want seafood on the coast).  In that order.  Then maybe I'll figure out where I'm sleeping tonight.

Having been vandalized several times the geocache is now held behind the counter of Los Banditos and you have to request it.  The staff probably saw me coming and knew exactly what for; exhausted and thirsty, full packs of gear, clutching my little electronic device and having that proud I-found-it! look.  I greatly appreciated a chair to sit and a table to spread my assorted bits and pieces onto, a full-on blaaaaahhh.  Pause, and stare at it a bit.  Nice bar owner brought me a tall glass of very cold water I was so glad for, it kickstarted my brain.  Sign geocache logbook, inspect treasure items and swap/leave some of my own.  A plate of delicious pico de gallo and tostada chips appeared on my table quietly.  I spoke with the manager inquiring after cheap fish tacos and a cheap place to stay.  He kindly offered a menu but admitted they weren't cheap, and I agreed.  A waitress recommended two hotels, one that her boyfriend worked at.  They also said that they would have live music on later that evening.  They let me keep my bag safely tucked away behind the bar till I can find a place to settle (and cheap fish tacos), and I looked forward to the music later.

I found the beach first, and noted it looked nothing like in the movie.  In fact I think that bay looked more like Faro de Bucerias I'd come from.  Someone told be later that the script used the place name but likely filmed in some US tropical beach, like the Virgin Islands, which I suppose makes sense.  Zihuatanejo is paired with neighboring Ixtapa, a planned resort town that from what I gather can give a luxurious vacation but many tourists want a slightly more authentic experience of this country, so they gravitate towards the old town, which in turn has grown up to accommodate their needs and thus not nearly as 'authentic' as I've encountered here.  Plenty of visiting tourists, snowbirds, and retired ex-pats from America and Canada, all easily speaking English and having adopted this town as their own and were happy to give directions.  They surely figured I must be new here, as I hadn't adopted the typical sandals yet.  This likely would've been a good spot to start my Mexico trip to get my feet wet, but as is it was a gentler way to wind down my trip.  I followed some wafting music through streets to a band performing at an Italian restaurant, that manager was extra-extra friendly with no sense of personal space and rather grabby (perhaps a cultural quirk from wherever he's from?) and was smoothly inviting himself into seeing me later.  Haha, nope!

Still in search of fish tacos, the locals informed me the best place was at the fish section of the market, which was now closed by evening.  Perhaps fish tacos are for breakfast/lunch, while the day's catch is fresh.  I had an order of shaved donair-meat tacos, a bit deflated but hungry for hot cheap food.
Still navigating streets with GPS, I headed back to Los Banditos and noticed a small burger grill on the corner, and I saw a sign above saying they have fish tacos, although now I'd just eaten.  I will note this place for future use.  Coming closer for inspection, the fella working there said he'd noticed me passing by earlier, because he sees everything from his street corner.  Apparently I walk very quickly and determined over the same streets repeatedly, and he was curious what I was doing, so I told him, which turned into telling him all about my travels so far.  Since I hadn't arranged a place to stay yet, he offered I could stay at his place, so I came home with him at the end of his shift at around midnight.  I picked up my bag from Los Banditos, and was sorry I'd missed the live music which had finished by then.
Caught a cab with my new burger-flipper friend to his place.  He wants the hippie lifestyle living off his simple burger-flipping job and making jewelry and administering tattoos.  He's willing to let his skin be an experimental canvas for anyone just starting out in tattooing, so is covered in doodles that likely don't really _mean_ anything.  He even has the currently-not-working VW van in his driveway, for a someday road trip.  His dog's name translates to a colloquial "whatever", and fit the easygoing dog's personality well.  His place had no running water, so bathing was more of a simple wipe-down in the shower stall with a bowl+bucket drawn from the in-suite reservoir.  He slept on a low cot and he set up a massage table to be my bed, it was high and stark but when I'm tired it doesn't matter.

The next day he negotiated getting the day off work to be my tour guide, and we hit the beach.  It was quite a walk along a promenade that petered off into sand or road at Playa La Ropa, then over some rough rocks to Playa Las Gatas.  The sand here is as fine as milled flour, and I indulged in a rare occasion of barefooted-ness.

This dog demolishes coconuts too.

And then we went swimming! I am not much of a water spirit and haven't swam in the ocean since I was a kid, but this was a warm sheltered tropical bay that was more like a bathtub.  It was fun to bob along the waves caused by powerboats, and I could have spent all afternoon there.  We threw rocks for his intent dog, who would dive down to retrieve them.  I'm surprised he doesn't chip a tooth.

We toured an abandoned beach resort.  I'm not sure whether it's from poor construction methods or the nature of climate and weather here, but buildings and structures seem to age much more quickly than in Vancouver, this place had been closed for only a few years.  Still not sure who owns the property, it's likely purchased and private and maybe we were trespassing, but no one noticed... Not sure what future plans are for it either.  It's a waste to see it just decay.  

I'd mentioned before my craving for seafood, and he'd managed to get two snapper which he grilled at work.  He had an arrangement with friends at another food establishment to exchange making meals for each other (a burger man must get tired of looking at burgers all day), so they cooked up some sole and rice+beans+salad.

The next day we hit the beach again but just as far as Playa La Ropa, he was looking for a friend to play beach volleyball with.  Through any manner of connections or past associations, he seemed to know everyone in town and was a bit of a local celebrity.  One such friend of his offered a green coconut, which he proceeded to then hack off the top with what looked like an automotive tailpipe.  I drank my fill and the rest of coconut water was then incorporated into a mojito-type drink later back at the burger joint.  I spent most of my time there perched on a stool chatting with others; his friends, customers, locals, just anyone.  I heard some strong opinions on the American president and economy that flirted with conspiracy theories.  I can entertain all sorts of opinions either to learn from, adopt, or simply to entertain.  I also got wind of a girl who worked at the hostel who would read tarot, and since my usual tarot-reading friend would be away for our usual birthday ritual of tarot+tea, I'd visit her tomorrow before I leave.
My last day there I found my way to the hostel, which looks like a great funky place I'd stay at if I hadn't lucked into staying with the local.  Got my tarot read, that'll give me something to chew on for a while.
The all-round summary card for focus this year will be Patience.
On my way back a hanger-on tried to steer me into the bars.  His entire English repertoire consisted of "What's you're name?" "Where you from?", followed promptly with "Ohmigod!", to which I expected some bizarre coincidence or something relevant to follow... Nope. He then repeated these with seemingly no recognition that I'd answered these questions.  I have a feeling that despite his best efforts this conversation is headed nowhere.  Minor irritation.  I think from now on whenever I hear "Ohmigod!" it'll remind me of this guy.  The only time it was fitting what when a cat scampering from a trash can startled him.
Back to the burger joint, wait for my host to finish his shift, caught a cab back to his place to retrieve my bag and he escorted me to the bus station to see me off.  If I had known that I'd have ended up on the west coast I'd have booked my return flight from the airport right there, but the fee to alter flights would've likely been more, or at least comparable.  By this time I had arrived at the bus station the slightly cheaper bus had filled up and I had to catch an unnecessarily uber-comfy one for $735 Mxn that leaves a few hours later.  I found that very annoying - though really I just scolded myself for leaving it too late.  My host just cheerily pointed out that as least it'll be nicer to sleep on, what a great attitude.  We parted well and I waited alone among the crowd, mostly just hating these bus stations further for having no clocks posted for the public, and this particular bus for being late (learned later it was delayed out of Ixtapa, but no one could tell me that), and those security guards for just telling me to "Go sit".
Patience.  That which will be is already in the works, slowly becoming. Desired results hopefully, eventually.  I'm in the right place and I've paid my fare and can't make the bus move faster, so now will just Go Sit.

Mexico City
The bus fare included a premade snack, a sandwich, some cookies, water and juice, and bag of chips.  I ate that and slept as I could throughout the night.  We had some mechanical failure, I'm not sure where we were along the way.  Stopped at security checkpoints and toll booths with no problems.  Arrived in Mexico City around 10am-ish.  I managed to get their Skytrain figured out alright, and was glad 5 pesos was a lot cheaper and less traffic than the I took when I first arrived to weeks ago.  I think travel companies recommend taking a cab because they assume visitors have more luggage than I do.

View from hostel kitchen balcony - left, the Catedral.

View from hostel kitchen balcony - Zocalo Square, big flag.

I arrived at the hostel that my Zihua host recommended, found easily just where he said it would be, and in a central and popular area Zocalo; boasting the Palacio Nacional on one side and the Catedral Metropolitana on another, a large bare central square with a huge Mexican flag the military procession raise and lower daily.

Aah, a civilized cup of coffee in my new lodging. 

The hostel was like any other HI I had encountered in other countries, the familiarity a great relief.  I know the drill.  Friendly receptionist that spoke English and likely several other languages, and likely not from this country and is just working his way around his own travels.  I was early for the 2pm check-in time, so they put my bag in safe storage and I could roam freely.  Linens provided.  Free internet computers with no time limit - now in my last day I can finally write something intelligible emails and spend some time to find the apostrophe key on Spanish keyboards without carefully watching the pay-as-you-go clock.  Communal kitchen and fridge, with guests' groceries in bags clearly labeled with name and date - if I had looked further I would've likely found the donation bin of free food, a collection of leftover ingredients and condiments that the desperate can scrape together a meal from (any seasoned traveller has been there at some time).  Here had a coffee maker with a continual pot of free coffee, so I enjoyed that from the kitchen's balcony that overlooks the square, then another guest offered me an enchilada his cousin had given him to take home with him, nice lunch.  There's even a rooftop patio with a bar, and that'll serve breakfast tomorrow 8-10am.
When I checked in to my dorm room I had a shower.  Shower felt good.  Top bunk as always.
The hostel also had a posted calendar of events, a good introduction to the city and fun activities to keep one from being bored if just killing time for whatever reason.  Today was a free guided walking tour of the main market, and after that a guacamole-making contest.  Sure, I'm game.

The market is absolutely huge, and crammed full of vendors so I'm glad to have had a guide, who was gathering ingredients for the guacamole tonight.  Even just the produce section was enormous, many vendors selling the same items and it would've taken me all day to find the best quality for the best price.  There were sections for accessories and apparel, hair products, iphone covers and decals and assorted baubles.  Down one alley we found the religious icons and folk remedies, amulets, books, herbs..maybe Santeria? There was some dead animal skinned and stretched over a stick, I have no idea what that would be for.  I'll spare posting the photo here.  Plenty of little ceramic Dia de los Muertos ceramic skulls.  I got a little Mary of Guadalupe, seeing as how she'd been following me throughout my trip.  Down one street we found the livestock, pens of baby goats and tightly crated chickens, doves, and rabbits.  The vendors made a happy show of their hot and cramped animals for us tourists.  That's one of the cultural norms that I found disturbing, so I hurried on past that.  I hope someone gives these animals a loving home or a merciful end.

Mango beer.  I love mango.

Fried grasshoppers.  Salt + light oil.

Spicy crispy fish.  Try not to look 'em in the eye.

Guacamole, in a killer turtle bowl.

A full meal of snacks.

La Cucaracha.

Back at Zocalo we went to a bar that had a great selection of craft beers, and complimentary appies for our group.  I had a sort of mango-flavoured radler, very mild and fruity, and the appies were dried/fried small fish with the heads still on, and fried grasshoppers.  Also had elegant crispy tostada rolls with hibiscus flower filling, guacamole served in a heavy stone turtle bowl that one could use as a weapon, a sort of soup with cheese that we were all invited to try, and a flaming shot of kahlua+tequila called the Cucaracha.
After that we returned to the upstairs bar at the hostel and dove into the guacamole competition.  I was expecting some sort of educational instruction or guidelines maybe, but we were just given the ingredients and expected to sort out the ratios in a free-for-all to grab the cilantro before one person hogged it all for himself... our guide was the judge, and no I didn't win.  We all hung out on the couches and I wandered back to bed.  I'd had enough late nights.  One girl I'd been talking with on the walking tour came in later and quietly slunk out with her bags to spend the night in the boys' dorm.  Another girl came in at 3am with great ruckus, perhaps she's new at this whole communal-living courtesy thing, or else was so tired as to not give a damn anymore.  We've all been there.

Next morning was my last day here, I had breakfast on the rooftop and slowly the party animals surfaced back to daylight.  I checked out of my room and bags back into storage, then onto explore town.  I went geocaching around Zocalo and Alameda, and a tour guide outside the Palacio de Bellas Artes said there would be a free admission and tour at 1pm.  Very well, I shall return then.  I returned to the hostel, spent some time on the internet trying to pick seats for my flight and decided this would all be easier at the airport in person.  Returned at the appointed hour for the tour of the beautiful building and took photos for my theater-loving friend, and although I couldn't understand the presentation that was Spanish it seemed to be engaging for others.  I got that the curtain is all glass commissioned by Tiffany of New York, and the Art Deco interior had a patriotically Mexican flavour, like featuring cactus and agave instead of papyrus reeds that idolized exotic ancient Egypt.

Mosaic and fresco.

Stained-glass stage curtain, depicting the Valley of Mexico.

A sort of Montezuma-looking Jesus figure?

Prickly pear cacti, Art Deco style.

After that I visited the Catedral, the largest in Latin America.  It's a bit overwhelming, partially from the huge scale but also that it is absolutely crammed floor to ceiling with stuff - every structural element carved and gilded, flowers fruit and leaves, statues of Mary and Christ in every incarnation, as well as converted rulers and assorted saints, and some important persons' bones in a glass case.  Perhaps I was in the wrong mindset or just don't belong there, but I didn't find anything to particularly resonate with me.  Meh. 
I had glowing sand and a brilliant moon as the surf thundered on the shore.
And with that I decided it's time to go.  Done Mexico, at least for now, and don't need to linger further.

Over and over and over...

I got my bag from the hostel storage and the coat-check fella gave me directions to the airport.  Yes I'm walking.  Yes it's a long way.  And I walked, with my handy GPS to guide me.  I've got all evening, my flight doesn't leave till after 11pm.  Any trepidation about travel advisories I've moved well beyond now, I don't need the Skytrain or the cabs.  Away from Zocalo the melancholy, hypnotic tune of a busker with a sort-of hurdy-gurdy instrument faded, that repetative tune having wafted through the square morning till dark.  Colonial city blocks with high-end stores gave way to dingier buildings, but still in better condition than the villages I'd seen along my way.  I passed through neighbourhoods, talking to no one, sky darkening, getting hungry, the sound of airplanes is getting closer.  I reachd the airport with plenty of time to spare and get to the ticket counters to sort out my seating.  Done.  I passed over the walkway back to the street to a tiny taco stand and asked if I could get anything for my last few coins - from experience I know the currency exchange won't take coins, so I saved my bills to convert back to CAD, I was quite proud to have some funds leftover after my time here!  I got a singular chorizo taco, and heaped on the veggies and beans and rice.

My last meal in Mexico.

Back to the airport I waited, taking this time to clean out my papers and receipts.  Patience.  Gave a spare bottle of water to a woman waiting, I couldn't bring it through security anyway.  I passed through security when I could.  On the other side there was the duty-free and a woman sampling out tequila, more shops of souvenirs I don't need.  Then we boarded the plane and flew home, during which I tried to sleep but had a brutal sunburn from Zihua on my back that was starting to peel and was terribly itchy.  I squirmed the whole time, the fella next to me likely thought I had worms.


Vancouver was clear and cold, a far cry from living in my bathing suit bottoms+wrap for the past week!
Strangely enough while unpacking I couldn't seem to find my envelope o'money that had been in my money belt for the entire trip.  I know I had it at the MEX airport, and suspect it got lost in the shuffle between three airports and two planes, and juggling customs documents and passports and whatnot.  A bit annoying, but since I'd allocated those funds for my time in Mexico then it's not so bad that it's gone, just not willfully _spent_.  Makes up for all the free rides I lucked into (and that I'm not a big tipper), and maybe it'll be a much-needed boon for whoever finds it.

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Thanks everyone for your patience with my Mexico entries,  I hope you enjoyed them.