For starters, Creel to Los Mochis (ugh) was probably a good 400 kilometers. After spending a night in that hellhole, I boarded a bus to Hermosillo. I have a friend who lives there but we weren’t able to connect. Hermosillo looks very gringofied, but in fact being north, near Arizona actually, means that it’s more like the US. More chain restaurants. More money. Very expensive in comparison, even disgusting. And there’s not a single thing to do there. And I was there on a Friday night!

Left that dump the next day for Bahio de Kino, which hugs the Cortez Sea near Baja California. This is a popular hangout for “Snowbirds” who travel south for the winter from the US and Canada. Nobody young here, but plenty of people drinking on the beach–myself included.

Spent a night there and the whole day the next day….with the intention of heading back to Hermosillo to grab an overnight bus to Tijuana. I thought for a second that I would spend a second night at the place because the hotel owner had my passport and was nowhere in sight. But luckily after a couple of hours waiting for him, he came, and pointed out that he hid my passport outside in case I came looking for it.

Not sure about that move.

But anyway, I took a bus to Hermosillo, then hopped on a 15 hour bus ride to Tijuana.

I told you this was the most traveling.

And, as always with an overnight bus ride, I slept just a wink, and wake up in the morning groggy and very hungry.

Of course, Tijuana is a hellhole, just like most cities close to the border (what have we done to this country). And of course, I don’t want to take a cab to the border. I figure out the bus system and spend less than one dollar to get to where I need to be. After a round of tacos near the border, I put on my backpack and walk across.

And that, my friends, was it.

I crossed into San Ysidro, near San Diego, hopped on the trolley, found a hostel in San Diego (the most expensive I had to spend for a hostel), and enjoyed a fun night in the city. A friend I met in Mexico living in San Diego was kind enough to show me around the town. Since I had a super early bus to take to San Jose, I didn’t get much sleep.

To San Jose I went on the crappy Greyhound where Thanksgiving dinner and family were waiting. It was great to see them. And the normal life was from thereon to begin again….

Or was it…..

Nevertheless, I came to Creel for one reason and one reason only–to mountain bike. According to my travel book, Creel is among a mountain biking playground. The next day after I arrived, I recruited a pair of friends I met the day before to accompany on my bike journey. Really, what better way to experience nature (and a lot of it) than to be on a bicycle?

So the three of us set out, carrying food and water, along with a map, in the country, with plenty of sights on the itinerary. What would ensue would be a great time, an adventure, and plenty of relaxation. I set out with an Italian guy, who, when speaking Spanish, sounded like he spoke Italian. And then there was a fellow Mexican coming with us from Chiuhahua. Both of these guys made excellent company. The Italian was the least in shape. Like most Italians, he was a smoker. The Mexican guy had more pop in his stride. But they were all able to keep up with this crazy dude…though I did wait around for them most of the time.

We saw plenty of cool sites. We saw a famous cave, a pair of interesting rock formations, and even hiked up to the top of this tall rock that overlooked the valley. We rode and rode, resting between good climbs, or whatnot. At one point our map directed us to a very peaceful and pleasant lake. Mind you, nobody is around except for the natives. This is not like going to Lake Tahoe or anything like that. This is purely secluded, peaceful. At one point there was dissent among the group on where we should go next. The Italian guy was ready to hit the main road on the way back to the town. I was willing to go around the lake. The Mexican guy was Swedish about it. I talked them in to going around the lake…which would be an adventure in itself.

It would be quite the experience to go around the lake. We all had miscalculated the grandeur of the thing, thinking at one point that it was crossed, but we were wrong. With just a couple of hours left, we all decided to keep going until we could finally hook around the big body of water. After that, we snapped some really cool photos, hooked up with the main road, and made a quick return back. It was an experience with a good payoff. I made these guys work hard, and they would later complain at the thought of their legs being sore the next day.

Day 2 the guys left, and I was left to venture through the mountains on my own. When I rented the bike, I told the guy at the bike shop what my plans were. He strongly discouraged me from doing what I intended because of the likelihood of getting lost and becoming scared. I took his word for it, but when it came down to it, I did everything I wanted to do, not once getting lost, and returning before nightfall. Unfortunately the guy at the shop wasn’t there so that I can tell him that I did everything, but it didn’t matter in the long run.

That day I rode between the canyon along a river, spotting wild horses and cattle sipping from the river. It was peaceful, and I was just another animal passing through. I climbed a bit, until finally overlooking a monumental crevice with a waterfall spouting at one end. This was truly a magnificent site, one that was perfect for a snack and several photos. This was also very inspiring and the moment when I decided to ignore the discouragement of the bike shop owner to not continue from there. Basically, I would just have to keep a vigilant eye on my tracks and keep my internal compass in check.

After riding through the forest, I found a well traveled road and finally felt that I was on the right path to my next destination: natural hot pools. I kept going in the right direction until finally seeing the sign for these pools. It was a very difficult, bumpy descent down to these pools but once I reached them, the payoff was perfect. Nobody there, just me and about 5 warm pools with water from hot springs. After a good 30 minutes of relaxation, I set to return. It took about an hour walking the bike up (it’s impossible to ride up, too steep). From there, I found the main road that led to the town. It was a quick return on pavement.

In total, the ride lasted a good six hours or so, about 20 miles I presume. It’s hard to judge when you’re logging mountain miles and not road miles.

Creel does have the best biking in Mexico that I’ve encountered. There’s a large deal of fun involved, not just a fireroad that you ride with a mountain bike and call mountain biking. This had some really challenging trails.

The next day I was satisfied with my stay and took the next train out back to Los Mochis.

This is where I had just a few days to leave Mexico and return home.

The entire journey from one end to the other is about 655km, but I would only venture about 3/4 the way and rest in a small mountain town. I would reach Creel in ten hours. That’s one long train ride. Of course, this is one big canyon.

At one point, I had been sitting for hours, the air was stuffy in the car, my neighbor was crowding me a bit, and a baby began crying, and crying. I had to get out of there. So I got up, sauntered over in between the cars, and stuck half my body outside the train, breathing in the fresh air, letting the wind hit me. This was a cool experience. You are allowed to hang out between the train cars. In fact, there’s a little area for people to stand, usually one at a time to look out the window.

I would spend about a good two or three hours between the cars during this ride. It was a way to breathe, relax a little, and get off your butt. When we rolled through the canyon, at times I was greeted by some very impressive scenery, or at other times we would cross a bride and I would look down at a long drop below. There are also some eighty tunnels that the train goes through. All in all, my first train ride in Mexico (actually there aren’t really any in Mexico otherwise), was definitely a relief from the cramped busses.

When you traverse about 400km, you see a lot of things too. We rolled through the flat desert landscape, before climbing into the lush, rolling hills and rockfaces of the Copper Canyon. All together they provided an interest contrast of Mexico, and also a different picture of what many people see in Mexico. No beaches here dude.

At one stop, near Creel, the conductor allows people 15 minutes to enjoy a view of the canyon. What a mangnificent sight. I guess this compared to when people see the Grand Canyon for the first time. In awe and wonder.  

We climbed to about 7 thousand feet. At this point, the air was bitter, and finally the train came to a temporary stop at Creel. I got off, and would begin a new adventure at this lovely place in the middle of nowhere.

After lazing in the bus stations waiting area for an hour, I set out to explore the beaches and sand when the sun finally came up. Mazatlan is huge. The beach extends forever.

After walking a long distance along the jogger-filled boardwalk, backpack in haul, I finally found a good hotel to rest for a few days. It was nothing fancy, but sufficient for the time being.

The first day consisted of exploring and walking the beach, even taking a long walk to a lighthouse, which is the second highest lighthouse in the world. It’s actually on a hill….one of which I had to walk up in the beating heat, midday.

No worries, once I reached the top I was greeted by a great view of Mazatlan. Unlike PV, Mazatlan is flat, which a huge suburban population. You can see way out past the city, observe some neighboring islands, or until the sea meets the sky. Great view. On occassion, great breeze.

The following day I rented a bike and explored the city. Staying close to the beach and river, I rolled my two wheels for miles and miles, until I encountered a Rio hotel. At this point I was ready to rest, so I snuck past the hotel and found a lovely stretch of sand. I put the bike down, ran into the water, and played with the big waves for a while. It was peaceful and fun. The water was warm.

At this moment, like other moments during my travels, I felt very satisfied and at peace. When I bike alone, I bike very fast. I am a bit reckless, though responsible on two wheels, but I will and do scorch past cars, ride in different lanes, and have a need for speed. So when I follow that with some rest on a beautiful beach, I feel like the world stops just for a second. It’s what I need.

Then, for some odd reason, I decided to ride my bike on the beach. Not on the road, but on the sand. The secret to this is you have to ride on the hard part of the beach, which is ride where the water reaches the sand. You know what I’m talking about. I rolled probably for about a mile on the sand, passing by curious beachgoers, many of them with WTF looks on their faces.

Peace.

When I returned to my beach (by which I mean the one near my hotel), I sat for the sunset and met some new friends. That night, we went to explore the lovely Mazatlan nightlife, which to my appeasement was not expensive.

The following day, I rested, hiked a bit, met up with my friends again. We didn’t do too much, we had a late night of fun. At this point it was Sunday, and the following day I hauled my butt outta there, up north to continue my journey back to San Francisco.

Then there are the tourist meccas full of gringos (Cabo, Puerto Vallarta, Cancun) which are essentially devoid of Mexican culture (there’s fake culture to cater to tourists though).

So you’d think my favorite place in all of Mexico would be out in the country or perhaps in a big city where everything happens.

Nah, for some odd reason, Puerto Vallarta (PV) is my (gasp!) favorite place in Mexico.

Why?

For starters, the company you share your experiences with in any place will always illuminate the experience. I met two great friends on my first visit to PV about five months ago. Both best friends, Olga and Rosita, are my guides into the real Mexico amidst the bustle of the touristy PV. Olga’s boyfriend Mario was also in the hustle as we went about town, feasting like kings, enjoying life.

Second, PV just looks like a paradise. Beautiful beach, flanked by mountains, and a very welcoming boardwalk. It’s also comparatively small compared to larger tourist joints like Mazatlan and Cancun. And if you stay in Old Vallarta, that’s where all the life is. This is where people like to go to at night, and during the day for a great swim.

In PV, other than lazing on the beach and hanging out with some good company, I did three adventerous things. First was mountain biking, my new favorite pasttime which I’ve now done several times during these travels (just check out my four-day journey from Oaxaca to Puerto Escondido). The terrain is lovely for biking. You leave from the beach, head up, up, up until you’re surrounding by mountains and jungle. The scenery is lovely at some parts.

Next I went SCUBA diving. Mexico is now my third country diving, and first in the Pacific. I did two dives here, both on the same day, but the diving was sub-par, at best. A lot of ocean current jacked up the ocean visibility, meaning that we couldn´t see too far. In fact, one overzelous diver wandered off a bit too far from the group and got lost.

What a dummy.

Next, for the first time ever, I went bungee jumping. I took a bus to some spot where a crane overextends past a cliff. Not even scared, the worker geared me up, harnessed me in, and opened the gate that led me to a drop of more than 120 feet. Below, the water and rocks, awaited. It seemed awefully quick on how fast the worker prepared me for the drop, quicker than I anticipated. But there I was anyway, about to take the plunge.

I hovered over the drop, asking the worker to count to five.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

I jumped. Yelled. Lost some of my voice. Then sprung back up, down again, up, down, until finally I was at rest before I was hauled back up.

Oh man was that an exhilerating experience. I had a smile painted on my face for hours after that. Still do when I think of it. And the funny thing is that I wasn’t even nervous. Only until the worker opened the gate. From there, I knew I had to do it fast or else I would really be scared.

After that, along with the other fun activities and friends, I decided that PV is one of my favorite places in Mexico. Of course, if you come here just to laze around on the beach, that’s fine too, but there are better options that PV. You have to come here with an adventurous pallette, little fear, and just take the plunge.

Literally.

At the end of the day, you have a wonderful sunset, plenty of awesome fish tacos, and good company….somewhere.

I had visited Guadalajara just five months prior, and had met quite a few friends.

Fiona, an English friend I met at the hotel, currently living in the city with her Mexican boyfriend.

Jose Cruz, very cool Mexican friend who I hung out with for a few days before.

Some other people, who, with facebook and email, I have kept in touch with, but unfortunately didn’t see this next time around.

For the most part I had done most of the touristy stuff in the city already, so all I really cared about was hanging out with some friends and having some fun for the weekend.

Fiona, her bf, and I went out drinking my first night I arrived. Unforutunately, we had way too much fun, drank way too much, and pretty much blew our wads the first night we went out. We hit up a few spots, danced a little, and basically soaked up the vibrant nightlight Guadalajara had to offer.

Towards the end of the night, Fiona and her bf left, and I made some friends at a bar. We moved to another bar near some freeway, and these friends nearly had a scuffle after disputing the bill. They weren’t happy, but at the end of the night we all got home safely.

The next day. I recovered. Ate many tacos. Rested. Walked around. Not much else.

The following couple of days I hung out with Fiona and her bf. I had expressed interest to see Luche Libre for the second time, and we finally did on Sunday night, in the middle of the boondocks. I had been to Luche Libre before in the city but at an arena, which was strict about bringing in cameras. At this smaller venue we went to, I was able to snap quite a few pictures of the action.

Good stuff.

The following day would be my travel day to the lake, but not before hanging out with Fiona and her bf for Dia de los Muertos, or ‘Day of the Dead’, which celebrates people who have passed, normally family members. The cemetary was like disneyland, full of people, vendors, everything…especially flowers. What people normally do for this day is visit their family’s tomb, clean it, sometimes paint it, and decorate it with flowers. Some tombs were very decorative, others modest, but for the most part the place was full of culture, young and old, paying their respects to their lost ones.

It was very interesting to observe, and Fiona and I were both very appreciative of it. Back home, when someone dies, that’s it. Maybe you visit the grave again, usually not. Death is usually a subject people try to avoid, but in Mexico, it’s not a bad thing to revisit.

Later that day, I headed out to Lake Chapala, which is just an hour outside of Guadalajara. The plan was to hang out there for a few days, relax a bit. My first full day there I rented a bike and biked down the road about 5 kilometers, visiting the main town, riding along the boardwalk, and just being a bum and lazing around. It’s good once in a while, when traveling, to just stop moving and be, be, be. I’ve traveled thousands of miles already, it seems, so staying near the lake, with little to do but watch baseball or whatever, was just what I wanted to do.

And that’s what I did.

Next!

I stayed in a nice youth hostel for about four days during my visit, soaking up the culture and the scenery of this lovely city.

Guanajuato is easy to get lost in. The streets and alleys curve and it’s no difficult to get turned around and confused. My hostel was beside the University, and a couple of times I thought I was heading in the right direction (which was often times up several hills), only to discover that I overshot my destination big time. It wasn’t until the second or third day where I was easily able to pinpoint my location based on local landmarks…that’s how you have to do it.

I also met plenty of locals during the festivals, especially some Mexicans from Guadalajara and Sonora in my dorm room. They were very polite, young, and easy to get along with. A few times we would go out and eat street food, check out the local arts, and basically just spend the day walking around.

Like San Francisco, Guanajuato has steep streets. There this little mini train that takes you up to a vista point that reveals most of the city, a la Twin Peaks or Coit Tower. I snapped some good shots of this city, observing the multi-colored houses form the landscape. Very lovely. On my way down I stopped by the Calejon del besos, which is a super narrow alleyway, that, according to legend, was the location where two neighbors shared forbidden love between their houses, from their balconies across the alley. So sweet, but their fates met the same end as Romeo and Juliet. So it goes.

I took some pictures. Took a moment of silence for the matyres of love. Then I ate a taco.

Guanajuato was medicinal after the kwaziness of the Big City. It’s good to take a break from the madness and soak in a clean, youthful, and cultural city. Not that DF isn’t cultural…..but dang it can be a headache after a weekend.

And besides, Guanajuato was sandwiched between two big cities….the next up for me being Guadalajara in the great state of Jalisco……

Orale Cabron!

I first visited DF three years ago. I remember it fondly. It was my first trip alone, out of the country. And for some reason I decided to go big.

Really big.

I learned something from that trip:  you don’t need plans, DF will just take you somewhere. Go out at night and you’ll meet people, and there’s a million different things to do….everywhere.

I put myself into a hostel that was very near the center Zocalo…a prime location. I struck up a friendship from a guy from Germany and we set out on a Friday night to grab some food and to see what would happen next. After asking about 4 people where we can find some good food, we decided to ask a couple of girls on the street walking in front of us. Next thing we knew, we made instant friends who we would hang out with for the next few days.

We went to a good place to eat some tacos, followed by some live music and drinking. One of the girls is an English teacher and invited me to visit her class the following day as a guest speaker.

Sure. Why not.

The next day I met her just before lunch to head to her class. As we were walking, I asked her: ‘so what do you want me to do.’

‘Oh, just talk about something interesting for a half hour.’

One hour later, I finished talking.

The next hour involved a Q and A session where everyone had to ask me a question….all thirty of these students, ages 15 to 45, more or less.

This was probably some of the most fun I had in Mexico City. I was a human specimen, specially picked because of my English prowess. The kids looked at me like a god. Ok, not like a god, but they defintely looked up to me.

That night I went to a very gothic 80′s club with some friends…which was amazing. I was wearing my green polo shirt (I don’t have many shirts to choose from), and boy did I stand out. Everybody and their moms were wearing the most black, morose colors in honor of death and sadness. Not me. But everyone was cool, and it seemed like I was at a Marilyn Manson concert or something, or even a Halloween party.

The following day, my German friend and our new Mexican friends went to Mexico’s Central Park, Chapulapec. You’d think that going to the park would be a good respite from the madness of the city, but when you have 20 million people crammed into one place, you can’t escape the crowds no matter what. Still, the park was great. We visited a castle, took a bunch of pictures, and walked for miles around town. It seemed like everywhere there was a live show. It’s so interesting.

Unfortunately, DF is plagued by smog, smog, smog, probably among the worst in the world. When you look up at the sky you don’t see blue. You see this hazy type of orange mixed in with a faded blue. It’s not a pretty sight and many times you can smell the pollution as though you had just inhaled fumes coming from a truck.

Since I had been to Mexico before, I didn’t care about doing too many touristy things. After three nights, I left the big city completely satisfied.

You can’t plan anything in this city. There’s just so much going on that you should just go with it and see where the tide takes you. With good company the experience is heightened twofold. Always.

I had high hopes for Veracruz City, but in all honestly, I was a bit let down. The first night kind of sucked, and the beaches were nothing to write home about. The center plaza is only a square block, really tiny, and at night it is swarming with young and ugly old prostitutes. One guy even wanted to know if I wanted to meet some ladies for a lap dance. No thanks. I’ll watch baseball instead.

I made the most out of my situation during the day and visited a pretty cool aquarium and a naval museum. I walked a long way along the malecon (boardwalk) but really wasn’t all that impressed. Oh well. When I get bored and unsatisfied, I move on….

And the next place I visited was Xalapa, which atoned for the lameness of Veracruz City. Xalapa is set up in the highlands and is very reminscent of San Francisco: hilly streets, chilly weather, and most of all, fog. The nights required me to wear some pants, which I hadn’t done much.

Xalapa has a huge plaza to hang out in, and also has lakes and walkways to pass the time. It’s also a young city with a huge university. I visited the university’s Anthrolpology museum which was a good way to waste a day.

After the museum I walked up one of the national parks which at the top has amazing view of the region, including a volcano which is the highest peak in Mexico and third highest in North America.

Xalapa was relaxing and defintely worth visiting before visiting the next crazy city on my list: DF.

Since I had to desire really to spend much time in Escondido or even do much, I put myself in a private room and just relaxed the entire time. I made a few trips to the beach for a couple of days but that was pretty much it.

The beaches out there are very beautiful. There’s this one long rock path you can take from one beach to another that welcomes you to the majestic Mexican Pacific. Waves crash against the rocks and will at times spray you as you walk by. I remember this path very vividly. It was the place I had become very sick when I had first visited three years ago. It was, to this day, the best puke ever because the scenery was amazing. Much better than hovering over a toilet or vomiting on the street.

I made some friends with some workers at a local comedor (local food joint) and I ended up frequenting the place about 5 or 6 times.

After Escondido I returned back to Oaxaca City (this time in a shuttle). I spent one night in the City before heading up to the Gulf Coast.