Traffic and Tlaquepaque

Today was our day to look around the city of Guadalajara, including the artisan suburb of Tlaquepaque. Trying to distill a metropolis of over four million people into one day’s worth of sights and experience isn’t possible. But we did our best to try to get a general sense of the sights and atmosphere.

The tour we planned to take didn’t depart because we were the only customers. So we found ourselves instead on the tacky red double-decker buses. We couldn’t have been more obvious tourists if we’d stuck signs onto ourselves. But the upper deck did provide a good view over the city, and especially of the traffic that we seemed to be continually stuck in.

We drove along the bus route, taking in the monuments, the fountains, the old Gothic churches and buildings, the parks where young couples made out and older people strolled, the businesses and the long rows of bright, noisy cars.

We sat in the direct, blazing sun, the force of the heat burning us to a crisp. We covered River with a blanket, as if he wore a burqa to protect his young skin.

We spent most of our time strolling the streets of Tlaquepaque. Compared to the hustle and bustle of Guadalajara, it is peaceful, tranquil, quiet, flowered, marked by artisan shops, beauty salons and fruit stands. We enjoyed an excellent meal of fish stuffed with shrimp and shrimps grilled with garlic and chili peppers, as well as the first margarita we’d had that didn’t skimp on the tequila.

Back in Guadalajara, we made a quick stop at the Cabanas. Our final meal in Guadalajara was an ice cream sundae at a local café. Then it was a long trip back across town to the bus station, back onto a comfortable ETN bus to spend one last day in the Morelia area. Tomorrow is the day I’ve been looking forward to most during this trip – a visit to the monarch butterfly sanctuary.

Viva Tequila

Tequila, the birthplace of Mexico’s national drink, is located only 38 miles from Guadalajara.

Upon leaving the city, the land became dry and golden, dotted with squat trees and occasional mountains. Our entry into agave land became clear with the first rows of the blue green plant. They grew in rows in the valley, surrounded by low mountains and extinct volcanoes.

We stopped at a roadside stand, where Tres Mujeres (3 Women) tequila was sold. We were able to walk through the fields, touching the sharp thorns on the spindly leaves. We learned how the plants are planted as babies, cut off from the mother plants and sowed elsewhere. They mature for seven to ten years. Then all the spindly leaves are cut of with a coa and the heart of the plant (called a head or pina, pineapple) is dug up. This weighs between 35 and 150 kilos.

The owners gave us pieces of fiber, what’s left after the juices and sugars are pressed out, to try. It was stringy and looked like beef jerky, but tasted like yam. We also sampled the tequila, made from 100% agave. It was very smooth and while it had the typical afterburn of straight tequila, it was good.

From there we continued on to the town of Tequila, population 35,000. On the way, we passed several distilleries, small and larger. We were going to visit the factory that produces Jose Cuervo tequila, called La Rojena. It is said to be the first tequila distillery and is the most touristed in the area.

There we learned more about the tequila production process and got to see it in action. Unfortunately, no photos were allowed. It was really cool. The giant heads rolled out of trucks and onto the ground, where they were loaded into ovens. Steam hissed out from the oven doors and the smell of agave hearts steaming in hot ovens was overpowering. The building, an original from 1795, had the spirit of colonialism, with the arches and columns at the unloading area, the maize color and the wrought-iron lanterns. We saw the fiber being loaded into a truck like so much hay, on its way to be used for furniture, paper, animal feed and fertilizer. We saw the white oak barrels the tequila ages it, stacked up to the ceiling. And we were allowed to sample each stage of the process – the fiber, the mosto juice, tequila after distilling, white tequila, aged tequila, and at the end, a Jose Cuervo margarita (though with very minimal alcohol content).

I learned about the different types of tequila. And during a visit to the Tequila Museum, also in town, I learned about the cultural relevance of tequila in local life.

We topped off the day with a mariachi concert in a central square, under the backdrop of the illuminated 17th century cathedral. It was great to see so many people out in the center of town on a Wednesday evening – families, couples, friends, al having a nice time.

Then we went to check out a restaurant we’d passed earlier that day, La Chata (Av. Ramon Corona No 126; near Juarez; Tel: 3613-1315 and 3613-0588 and Av. Terranova No. 405; Fracc. Providencia; Tel: 3641-3489) While passing by, I noticed the line of patrons that extended out to the street, and the eight short women, dressed in white, who molded and pressed fresh tortillas, fried meat, and scooped beans, rice and guacamole onto plates. We also stood in line, behind a single woman who like us, was attracted to the hubbub. The people in line appeared upper middle class, well dressed, confident, professional.

The line moved quickly, despite the small size of the restaurant, and we had a table within 30 minutes. The servers and bussers, all men, shook off yellow tablecloths, lay down new ones, took orders and brought food efficiently prepared by the upper middle aged women in white within a matter of minutes. I copied the people around me and ordered a white fruit drink, the water from aquachata (I can’t figure out what this is, if anyone knows, please fill me in). The meal was greasy, but tasty. Most fun of all was the atmosphere, watching how an operation could be so fast-paced, so efficient, and generate such enthusiasm.

On to Guadalajara

After spending a day in Morelia working, an interesting chance to see the professional life in the city, early this morning we moved on to Guadalajara. We traveled on the ETN luxury bus line, a route suggested by a colleague of mine. I was very impressed when she sent me a link to their site and I saw I could purchase tickets in advance with a credit card, and even select the seats. The wide seats reclined fully and had a sizeable foot and leg rest. Both shades and curtains covered the windows, helping us to get some sleep after the 6:30 a.m. departure. The staff provided each passenger with a soda, a sandwich and headphones with which to listen to the on-board movies. The driver drove safely and in a little under four hours, we had arrived in the second largest Mexican city.

Approaching Guadalajara, I looked out onto lots of empty land, a sight that always amazes me. There were arid, golden plains filled with short, stubby trees, some bare with twisted branches, others baring green leaves. Hills were striped yellow, brown and rust, like layered cakes. The city appeared suddenly – a gas station, a small enclave of pastel gated residences, and then a vast metropolis.

Guadalajara has a population of 1.6 million in the city and 4.1 million in the metropolitan area. In what I’d read about it before coming, it was said to be the business and technological capital of Mexico, the Mexican Silicon Valley. I read it had many of the positive aspects of Mexico City – the culture, the urbanity, the industry – without the drawbacks of pollution and high crime. In addition, it carried the distinction of being the home of mariachis and tequilas – two things I looked forward to experiencing.

We decided to try to get to our hotel by bus – a decision taken lightly while River was sleeping quietly in his carseat, a decision we later regretted as he began to scream on the crowded bus. During our long ride across the city, I noted the pickup truck with an electric saddle seat in back, a Walmart, a Pizza Hut, a Seven Eleven, narrow, two story houses, usually painted in pastels, with black gates and frequently graffiti sprayed on the walls. I noticed the heavy traffic, the high quality cars and the fact that most people carried their babies and their children simply in their arms, even if they had to lug a backpack and suitcase as well. People were friendly, with both the bus driver and the passengers ensuring that got off at the right place and headed in the right direction for the second bus.

Since River was upset by that point, we took a taxi the remaining distance. Guadalajara is located at 5200 feet, 1300 feet below Morelia. While Morelia is cool in the evenings and warm in the day, Guadalajara is warm in the evenings and hot during the day.

We’d had some trouble finding a hotel at the last minute. We were willing to splurge for our two nights here because we’ve mostly stayed in motels and private homes during this trip and because we were celebrating our anniversary. But all the hotels we called yesterday were booked, apparently due to an expo taking place. We chose a place we found on the internet (Posada San Miguel (Av. Hidalgo 1082; Col. Ladron de Guevara, 2 cuadras de enrique Diaz; tels: 3827-13-27 and 3827-13-17). It’s well located, but seems to have seen better days. While called a bed and breakfast, it doesn’t serve breakfast, the service is unimpressive and the room musty. For $75 it’s overpriced. But the location is good, the beds comfortable, and the cheap chandelier and cherubs painted on the high ceiling are at least amusing.

Everyone was tired from our 5 a.m. wake-up so we took it easy today. Our sole excursion was to visit the Casa Bariachi, a restaurant that hosts regular performances of ballet folklorico and mariachis. I called ahead and was told there would be performances at 3:30 and 4:30. We arrived at four, in time to catch the tail end of the dancers. I wondered who would be there on a weekday afternoon. Then I remembered my colleagues telling me that the Mexicans eat lunch between two and four. Still, there were only four other customers when we arrived, though more had come by the time we left.

The restaurant had a vast seating capacity and I imagined it gets packed on evenings and weekends. The performances were excellent. A twelve member mariachi band came out in purple suits, carrying a collection of instruments. The singers had rich, romantic voices and the musicians played upbeat tunes. Mark and I ordered margaritas, beef stewed in a spicy sauce, and shrimp in a mango sauce. It was our celebratory meal of our one year anniversary. Best of all though, was when the mariachis began to play Time to Say Goodbye by Andrea Bocelli. It was the Mexican version, with a mariachi twang. But the singer delivered the full power and passion of the song. And I was blown away by the coincidence. That was the song we’d walked down the aisle to exactly one year earlier. Our initial wedding plans (which didn’t happen), involved hiring mariachi singers in Nicaragua. So on our anniversary celebration in Mexico, to merge the planned mariachis with the actual opera song we’d chosen was a wonderful celebratory tribute.

We walked back to our hotel, taking a look at the neighborhood on the way. It appeared to be an upscale neighborhood, with offices of integrated psychology, many banks, and a Berlitz language school on the way. Most prominent of all however were the wedding shops. We must have passed at least ten bridal shops within several blocks. Many of them were housed in ornate buildings, painted pink, gold or white, with arches and elaborate rooftop balconies. Large plated glass windows showcased the stylish dresses – white bridal dresses and colored ballgowns. There were also photographer’s, floral shops and fine fabric stores. We seemed to have stumbled upon wedding central.

Life here seems to be quite modern, well developed, and rather expensive. Our meal was almost $50. Mark was thrilled to find his favorite diapers, Pampers Snugglers. A series of brightly lit convenience stores, filled with colored packaged products, Oxxo, appear every couple of blocks. The foreign presence is substantial. As my colleagues yesterday told me, here it is no big deal for a young person to be offered a job with a foreign institution. There are so many of them that it lacks the prestige it carries in other developing countries.

Of course, what is nice about it is seeing that the quality of life for the locals seems pretty high. “It’s great not having to see really depressing destitution all around you,” my colleague Annika said, who has spent years in Central America. “And unlike a place like Nicaragua, where people will always be poor, here you can see people are given a chance, that they can move up.”

I’m really enjoying being back in the mystery and excitement of a different country, and of course, having the opportunity to speak Spanish. I’m also glad for River to be exposed to Spanish, even if he can’t distinguish languages yet. We have two more days in Guadalajara. Having checked out the mariachis, tomorrow we’ll focus on tequila, taking a tour to the town of Tequila, where the beloved beverage is produced. On Thursday we’ll tour Guadalajara itself and try to get a grasp on this large metropolis.

Almost on the Road

Tomorrow we leave for a 3.5 week trip. Our itinerary includes Seattle, a drive down the West Coast through Portland and San Francisco, Morelia and Guadalajara Mexico, and Chicago. It’s my first big trip since returning from Bolivia last September. And it’s our first experience flying with River. We’re attempting to inaugurate him into world adventures and are crossing our fingers that he accepts it with enthusiasm.

I’m so excited to get on the airplane, to see the new scenery, to sleep in various hotels, to try new restaurants and cuisine every day, to reunite with old friends and to meet new people, to speak Spanish and to learn. Nine weeks and six days after childbirth, I’m ready to hit the road and to resume my travels.