I stumbled out of Guadalajara's Miguel Hidalgo international airport at 5am on November 20th after a sleepless night of short-hop flights. I was feeling a bit nervous and out of my element, but tried to put on that air of confidence that has served me fairly well in past travels as I walked the 5 miles from the bus station to the center of town. It became immediately apparent that Guadalajara was a bit too big of a city for me, so I grabbed a cheap hotel and started my plan for the next day. I wandered around town a bit, slowly adjusting to the flow of things, found a few bites of food, and then crashed embarrassingly early.
The next day bus ride to Morelia was comfortable and quick. How is it possible that Mexican buses are so much more comfortable than any mode of transportation back in the states? I reclined my oversized seat, watched a bad movie on my personal entertainment screen, and rolled into Morelia refreshed. Morelia was a great little town, but nothing too exciting happened. I spent two days wandering from park to park, peering in the churches and old buildings, and getting lost in the market. Food highlights included eating huge cups of vegetable and fruit gazpacho (with lime, chili, and orange juice added), way too much dessert, and more tacos than I'm willing to admit. Also I've been missing the simple pleasure of a cup of esquite, which is surprisingly hard to find back home.
From Morelia I hopped a bus to mexico city, with the plan of making a quick connection to Tlaxcala. I should have known that nothing in mexico city happens quickly, and my transfer ended up taking forever due to traffic. I didn't get out of town until after six, which meant arriving in an unfamiliar city after dark, which I usually try to avoid. I got that good old nervous feeling as I got off the bus in the dark, but luckily, Tlaxcala was a manageable size, and I found my way to the center of town without too much trouble.
Since Tlaxcala is relatively small, i was able to do a good bit of exploring on foot. More churches, markets, and parks. Whenever I get tired of walking, I'm never far from a little park to sit down in and catch up on some reading and people watching. I'm about halfway through H.P. Lovecraft's "Bloodcurdling Tales of Horror and the Macabre" and sadly, my blood has yet to be curdled. Maybe Chuck Palahniuk has ruined me. I'd say the amount of mayonnaise and cheese slathered on my daily cup of esquite is far more horrifying than anything ol' H.P. has come up with. The most entertaining people watching came from an old man with a strange box hanging around his neck with what looked like a copper handled jump rope sticking out. Eventually three kids ran up to him, gave him a few pesos, and then all held hands in a line. The two kids on the outside each grabbed one of the copper handles, and then they all screamed and crashed to the ground giggling. Would this sort of thing take off in the states? Can I get paid for shocking children? A career change may be in order.
