Un Dia en DF

I have to say, I really kicked off my trip in true Mexican style. I arrived at my hostel last night to find it virtually empty. I wandered up to the rooftop terrace/bar, lamenting the fact that I probably wasn't going to get the beer that I'd been dreaming about, and just as I had resigned myself to the fact that I was going to have to attempt to go to sleep at 7 pm BC time the bartender walked around the corner. He's a Texan who's been living in Mexico City for a year, so we chatted, drank a beer (and more than one shot of tequila - don't ask how that happened) and then headed over to another hostel where things were a little livelier. One liter of Sol, another shot of tequila and a solid couple hours of semi-drunken Spanish conversation with an Argentine academic and a rather sweet young man from Monterrey, and I had closed out the bar. Not my usual style, but a good time was had.

I was awoken at 7 am (5 am BC time) not quite ready for the big day I had planned in la capital. Once I set out on my first mission, things didn't go much better. My goal was to find a ticket depot where I could book my trip to Oaxaca. After searching in vain for the Ticketbus location, I resorted to asking for directions. In typical Mexican style, I asked six people and got six different answers. None of them were right. After three hours of pounding the pavement of el centro, I asked yet another person and got yet another set of directions, this one much further away than the others. Despair was setting in. So I walked. And I asked for more directions. I seemed to be getting close. As it turns out, the Ticketbus vendor was located inside a parkade, behind an unmarked door. Go figure. Have I mentioned that I love this country?

It was time for food. Steak tacos drowned in lime and a giant glass of pineapple juice. Perfecto. Sweaty and tired, I returned to my hostel and then spent the next hour trying to make a phone call to Oaxaca. When all was settled, I headed for my room to hit the shower. A new roommate had just arrived and we decided to go to the zocalo so that I could get around to my original plan: a hot date with Mexican muralist Diego Rivera (ie a trip to the National Palace to see his work). We stopped first at the main cathedral, which is stunning both inside and out. Construction began in the late 16th century and the cathedral is filled with incredibly ornate detail and pious Mexicans.

We pushed our way through the crowded zocalo, past vendors and protesters and throngs of people. The Palace did not disappoint. It was a history nerd's dream. There is currently an exhibit running in the Palace on 200 years of constructing a country. Upon entering, we were ushered into a room where a collage of video was projected onto all four walls and the ceiling. Birds flew overhead as desert landscapes faded on and off the screen, followed by photos of the Revolution, indigenous groups and the modern Mexican architecture. After the four minute presentation we headed into the exhibit. Peter Ord, if you're reading this, I was thinking of you. It was amazing. Two hundred years of Mexican history is a lot, and I tried to summarize it for my friend, only to realize how muddled it's become in my own head. (For those of you who aren't familiar with Mexico's history, I suggest you give it a quick glance.) In addition to the exhibit, there were the aforementioned Diego Rivera murals, which were incredible; a tour through some of the main rooms of the palace, where I found numerous things I would have liked to take with me on my way out; and a walk through the hall of presidents. Feeling more than satisfied, I exited the palace only to find a giant cactus garden on my way out. Could this place get any better?

Another quick walk through the zocalo, a few more pics, and we headed back to the hostel for dinner. A solid conversation was had with two of the Mexican staff members, and I'm feeling a little more confident with my Spanish. And then, the football game. Mexico versus Guatemala and I'm watching with two Mexicans. What do I do? I have to say, I was pretty stoked when Guatemala was up 1-0 at half-time, but it went downhill after that. I wish I had an audio recording of what was going on beside me during the game. Mexican slang is like nothing else. Love it.

And so, here I sit, tapping out this post before I go to bed. All in all, it was a fantastic day in Mexico City. Tomorrow: Oaxaca.