I’m now stretched out on my belly on my ‘cama’ (bed) in my ‘cuarto’ (room) on the top floor of 7 calle Cima. This is going to be my home for the next fortnight while I take Spanish classes at ‘The Spanish Cat’ language school. As I look out at the sun beginning to set over the craggy peaks and verdant foothills surrounding Tepoztlan, I've got a pretty good feeling about the 2 weeks that lie ahead of me here. It’s little more than 24 hours since I arrived in Mexico but it already seems like so much has been crammed into that short space of time. This is the kind of sensation that I’ll probably get a lot, I suppose, over the coming months...
After landing at Benito Juarez airport in Mexico City yesterday I made my way here using the 3-step instructions sent to me by the school (an airport pick-up was possible but it was fairly pricey and, knowing that I will have to face Mexican public transport sooner or later, I thought this would be a good ‘warm up’).
Firstly I had to get on a coach to Cuernevaca, about an hour and a half away - easy and straightforward enough, and, I have to say, pleasantly surprising as my first experience of Mexican coach travel. Although it was a bit bemusing having to go through a scanner, and having to have my luggage checked and my photo taken before boarding (apparently these buses have been held up in the past), once I got onboard the seats were comfy and spacious. About 10 minutes into the journey a ‘coach hostess’ bought round complimentary soft drinks and biscuits, and they started to show a film on the TV screens that were visible from every seat. A shame it was some inane dubbed American nonsense (with those Olsen twins), but I ignored it and just looked out of the window.
In what seemed like next to no time we were out of the city and driving into the vast hills that encircle it. I hadn’t really anticipated the geography being like this, and the greenness kind of surprised me. I didn’t want to read or listen to my i-Pod, as I usually do on long coach journeys. Instead, I just wanted to peer out of the window and take it all in. As we passed through small suburban towns I saw many signs of modernity and Americanisation (Starbucks and giant Wal-Marts), but I also sensed a lot of simplicity (colourful concrete-block casas and makeshift roadside shacks). There's a certain type of antiquity here that I couldn't fail to absorb. The coach, for example, in spite of its mod-cons, had a slightly granny-ish smell that took me straight back to being a kid and visiting my Auntie Vi in her doily and lace tablecloth strewn bungalow!
Changing to a taxi to the ‘zocalo’ (square) in Tepoztlan, was the second stage of my journey, and this was pretty painless as well. Although I’d felt a bit nervous about taking a taxi to an unknown place in an unknown country using a language I was still struggling with, the system at the coach station really helped. Taxi coupons could be purchased in advance at a set price, which avoided all that awkward price fixing, haggling, and fumbling around for money that often happens when a foreign taxi journey ends. I jumped straight into the cab with the driver (who turned out to be a bit of a boy racer!) and started the eye-opening and, at times bumpy, ride to Tepoztlan. Just as night was falling and it was getting dark, this felt like the beginning of a real adventure. We raced past more roadside shacks serving up tacos, tortillas and 'cervezas' (beers) to the locals and, bizarrely, I saw lots and lots of little makeshift hair salons. These seemed to be little more than people’s front rooms, opened up onto the streets and decorated with glossy pictures of the Latino celebrities whose hairstyles could evidently be recreated. I’m guessing my fringe is going to need trimming pretty soon so maybe, if I’m brave enough, and my Spanish improves, I could try one of these places out (who knows, perhaps I will emerge like Shakira or J-Lo!).
Some 40 minutes or so later, we arrived at Tepoztlan’s main zocalo where I was told I needed to change to a local taxi to reach the school. It was a lot later than I thought it was going to be when I arrived (almost 9.00pm) and I hadn’t been able to call ahead, seeing as my mobile is not working here at all. Therefore, I was feeling a little bit concerned about whether anyone would actually be able to meet me, and whether or not it would be a reasonable time for me to move in with my host family (I’ve opted for a ‘homestay’ here rather than staying in the guesthouse or school itself – I just thought it would provide more ‘immersion’ for my language learning).
Luckily, though, although no staff or teachers were around, 2 students from the school who were actually staying in the villa where lessons take place, let me in. Alan (originally from Glasgow but currently living in Vancouver) and David (from Montana) welcomed me in and made arrangements (through calling one of the teachers) for me to stay the night in one of the spare rooms there with them. I was absolutely fine about this as the villa was very luxurious and I was feeling pretty exhausted. Alan and David heated me up some veggie lasagne that was in the fridge in the well stocked kitchen (where midday meals for all students are apparently taken) and then showed me my room. With wi-fi in the villa it was great to be able to quickly check my e-mails before crashing out on my bed with a sense of positivity. Both Alan and David had spoken very highly of the school, describing it as small and professionally run, yet laid back and friendly in terms of atmosphere. I'd obviously read good things about it on the internet before coming here, but sometimes you never know..
Well, this morning I awoke to birdsong and a fabulous view. I found time for a quick Skype chat with Mum and Dad before heading down to breakfast, which was cooked up for us by the staff in the villa – delicious sliced papaya followed by ‘huevos revueltos’ (scrambled eggs) mixed with a spicy kind of minced pork. These were served up with the tortillas that I have been told are pretty much ubiquitous as far as Mexican food is concerned – thin, flat, saucer sized discs of corn or wheat (not quite bread but not really a pancake – good for scooping or wrapping up whatever they come with). It was all very nice in a Sunday brunch-y kind of way...
Not too long afterwards, Juan Carlos, the appointed school taxi-driver/caretaker took my bags and drove me off to my ‘family’, which is actually his family! As soon as I hopped out, after he had pulled up on the driveway, I was greeted by Socorro, his mother, who gave me a warm embrace that just seemed to indicate that she would be the perfect hostess. Together they showed me around the ‘casa’ (house) which, through a bit of tentative questioning, I discovered had been handed down through Socorro’s family and extended in various ways to create separate little family units (Juan Carlos and his wife occupy one quarter, Socorro’s daughter, Liliana and her little girl another – plus there’s room for guests like me). The place feels a bit like lots of colourful and decorative Lego blocks all stuck together, and I am very happy with my room which is right at the top with a little balcony.
There was time to kill before dinner so, after sitting and reading in the courtyard for a while, I decided to amble around Tepoztlan a little and, in particular, to explore the market held there every Sunday and Wednesday. I had heard that Mexican markets are a sensory phenomenon and this was a great introduction to them. First of all I wandered through fruits and vegetables (many of which were completely unfamiliar to me – the huge assortment of chillies and peppers being a real novelty), then it was assortments of dried beans. Meats (a bit smelly - apparently Mexican meat isn’t all that great in terms of quality), sweeties and nuts followed before the food gave way to toiletries, knock-off DVDs, clothes, knick-knacks and that general kind of market fare that crops up pretty much anywhere in the world.
I left the market for a bit at this point and strolled around Tepoztlan itself – a place that seems a lot bigger than I first anticipated, and which seems to attract a sizable weekend tourist contingent (particularly those into new age-y stuff - there are lots of herbal remedy stores, and adverts for yoga classes, and I had to fend off some guy who was trying to sell me the opportunity to have my aura photographed!). I then found myself back in what seemed to be the market 'canteen' (the area where people sit to eat things that are cooked up and that can be purchased there). Many Mexican families were sitting down at ramshackle tables around stalls serving tortillas, tostadas, vast cone-shaped corn on the cobs (served smeared with mayonnaise and salsa) and a dubious looking dish that I soon realised was sheep’s head (this is proudly served up with the poor sheep’s severed head beside the cooking pot – although I’m no longer a vegetarian I think I’ll be giving that a miss!).
I was tempted to try something, but knew that I was going to be fed properly relatively shortly so I resisted. Well, kind of… I took a risk and decided to have an ice-cream from ‘Tepoznieves’ – a famous place listed in my guidebook (‘nieves’ literally means ‘snow’). The place is pretty renowned and has a multitude of flavours including fig and mescal, which is what I went for. I knew it was dicey (ice-cream is notorious for bringing on stomach upsets and, although I feel my stomach is pretty cast-iron, I hear that an attack of ‘Montezuma’s Revenge’ is pretty inevitable here in Mexico). However, I can never resist trying the local specialities and am prepared to take my chances in this respect. A couple of hours later and I haven’t been doubled over on the toilet, so I think I got away with it – maybe the mescal killed off all the bugs!
After walking about a bit longer, taking a few photos discreetly where I could (I didn’t want to mark myself out as more of a ‘gringa turista’ than I inevitably looked though – and unfortunately the women making tortillas seemed particularly shy about being snappeed), I headed back 'home'. On my way back to the casa, I was particularly chuffed to find a great pair of denim shorts for about £2.50 (I had hunted high and low for the right pair back in the UK but hadn’t been able to find them – maybe Mexican ‘chicas’ share the small waist but comparatively big bottom/thighs thing with me that European shops just don’t seem to cater for!). I think things are going to be pretty cheap and cheerful here – the going rate for a beer (my usual measure of foreign costs of living) being less than £1, hurrah!
Dinner back with Socorro and the rest of her clan consisted of soup, then more tortillas, with black beans, pork chops, green and red salsas and salad. 'Muy bien' (very good) – although, not having done the whole tortilla thing before, I did make a bit of a mess trying to scoop and roll it all together (knifes and forks don’t really seem to be used here, even for things like pork chops). I felt pretty clumsy, and as if I was making a mess, and I almost said that I felt ‘sucia’ (dirty – the only word of Spanish that came into my mind at that point). However, I suddenly remembered that this has slightly dubious connotations, so I held back for fear of damaging my reputation in front of my new hosts! I have to say that I did feel a bit stunted in terms of my conversation at the dinner table, but I guess this will come with time and practice, and the family were very kind and patient as I stumbled along with my 'sort of' Spanish.
Well, think I will call it a day here and perhaps go for another early evening stroll around the zocalo. I’ll be starting at the school tomorrow so no doubt there will be more to report during the week…
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