I am sitting in a little cafe in Mexico, drinking a very good cafe americano, typing away on my little computer with the unbearable hum. This city is without a doubt one of the most beautiful cities I have ever seen. And that from my accidental touring yesterday, when I was lost and grumpy and very, very tired.
This is part of the view from my room at the Casa Mexicana, which is so empty it's almost strange. I guess it's low tourist season - winter is over, summer isn't quite here. It's great not to be surrounded by rowdy Americans, but at the same time I will certainly be looking for an English speaker of some sort to be my friend before I start to get too lonely.
A little more about my journey so far. I arrived at the Guanajuato airport to be greeted by Antonio, the school’s driver, holding a printed sign with my name on it. It’s so nice when that happens. A total stranger somehow becomes the person you desperately search for in a crowd – and then the stranger shows up!
Antonio drove me into the city in a blue pickup truck with a cracked windshield. He wasn’t one for words, Antonio, and I couldn’t tell if he was just a quiet guy or if my Spanish was actually that bad. (Likely the latter, but I can’t let that rattle my confidence.)
Antonio and I drove through the dry dusty countryside, on a well-kept highway packed with shiny cars. There was a man selling cowboy boots out of a van of the side of the road – an incredible selection, I might add, given that his store was a truck. Then there was another man, a big, bald man selling ornate furniture in front of a van covered in tacky gold mirrors. Horses galloping in a field of yellowed grass, their heads tied to their front legs with rope, which pulled their noses down with each stride, I'm not sure why. The small, makeshift houses of poverty. Restaurants with hand-painted signs, businesses that may have been closed for 20 years, or may not have.
Through to Guanajuato, under dark, never-ending tunnels dug right through the rocky landscape. The buildings getting progressively nicer. I actually would have been quite happy to settle near the outskirts, where occasionally a beautiful home outshone its neighbours. But no – no, no. The centre of this city, with its winding stone roads, beautiful buildings painted only the brightest of pastels, trees with purple blossoms, parks with fountains, Mexican students playing guitar and singing on the steps of the massive orange cathedral...I really couldn't have asked for more.
Like I said, I spent some time getting lost and found and lost and found again. Basically it went something like this - I had to buy a map to find my way back to the hostel (I had darted out with Antonio to the school without bringing my guidebook or anything, then couldn't find my way back). I got a map but couldn't pay because I didn't have any pesos. The toothless man selling newspapers let me take the map on the honour system, so I went off to find a bank. One bank my card didn't work. Then I decided to just exchange my Canadian money, and the next bank didn't do that...and I swear there aren't many banks in this city, and my the time I finally got pesos, and change, and found the man again, I still didn't know where my hostel was and it was at least an hour and a half later. Phew.
The people have so far been very sweet. I'm trying to speak Spanish but it doesn't always pan out. Most people have been patient. They are used to gringos coming here to learn their language, which I would imagine to be a better form of tourism exploitation than some others. At least that's what I'm going for.
I had a very long sleep last night. Just as I was drifting off I was startled awake by a tremendous racket of drums, yelling, singing, and maybe even bagpipes. I swear the whole city was outside my window, having a grand old time. I probably should have went out and joined them, but instead I put on my headphones and waited for the travelling band to move on.
Lots to do and see today. More soon.
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