Tuesday, October 30, 2012

WELCOME TO THE JUNGLE

(FK) One of the main reasons we were keen to come to Mexico, other than to eat our body weight in tacos, were the mystical Mayan ruins. Having recently watched the 'Ancient Aliens' series on Sky, I was brimming with excitement and intrigue about Maya culture and the many theories about their civilisations. Yes I am a geek. 

A guy we met in the Barefoot Hostel in Mexico City, James, suggested we should go to Palenque and stay at Margareta's and Ed's. This recommendation turned out to be one of the best we've had so far. We have to come to realise that one person's idea of a fantastic must see, is not always ours and that we can't actually see and do absolutely everything. Anyway that was a lesson learnt by the time we got to Cancun, having seen and done everything that was mentioned to us, but we'll come onto that later. 

Armed with just a name we drove into the state of Chiapas and followed signs for the ruins. As we came to the National Park gates I noticed a sign for the cabanas pointing in the direction of the jungle down a sandy path. As we turned the corner, it was like being transported into a secret rainforest never land. I was like a giddy kipper, this was the kind of place I'd been hoping we'd find, bit of a hippy vibe, couple of places to stay with cheap cabanas and a shack bar and restaurant, all set into and merged with the forest.                          

Margareta and Ed's Cabanas

Margareta was a no nonsense, warm Mexican lady who had spent time living in the US with her family, but was keen to settle back into her homeland. Boy can she talk, even I was outdone! After showing us around we opted for a basic (but clean and comfortable) cabana for a couple of nights and it was so good to relax for a couple of days having been on the road constantly. 

So like proper Brits abroad we went for a few beers. Palenque attracts some interesting characters, I was in my people watching element. When you are hopping from one place to the next, conversations with people you meet are a little like ground hog day. "So where are from? Where have you come from? How long have you been travelling for? Where are you going to next?" As you know, I love to talk, but even I was getting bored listen to my own voice! That changed when we met Ben, Moon and Sebastian. People we have met on the way have thought that what we are doing is a pretty mental adventure but some people make it look like a two week all inclusive package with Thomas Cook. 

Ben, who is from Cornwall originally, has been travelling around for the last five years, often with next to no money, but gets by with selling hand made crafts, working in exchange for digs and generally knows all the tricks to see and do what he wants without spending a penny and has just learnt to live with the basics. We have not met nicer, more genuine people in a long time, despite Ben being on a seven day fast (day five when we met him), him and Moon gave a great Spanish lesson and told us bits about their adventure. This included building a raft in the British Virgin Isles made from unwanted junk (including some bits from Richard Branson's Necar Island) and sailing it around the Caribbean all the way to Venezuela (dickbrano.blogspot.mx). They told us about places that weren't necessarily on the backpackers route, one of which was a Middlesborough gent and his floating island off the Isle Mujeres. We hadn't  planned on going but that's the beauty of having a car and loose schedule. Anyway back to ruins. We decided to do a whistle stop tour of the main ones that had caught our eye.

Palenque
We got up early to beat the heat and the crowds and what an amazing (I'll try and use this sparingly!) experience. Me and Neil aren't sure if it was because it was our first Maya ruins, but whatever it was, this is one special place. Set in lush rain forest, the many temples and pyramids are huge and packed tightly together. 


The main palace


Temple of the Sun
They can still all be climbed, which we since found out is a rarity with ruins. It is believed that Palenque is actually the main centre of Maya culture in the Yucatan Peninsula, it definitely has an energy and spirit like no where I've been before. In true Neil style, we had some races to the top, not for the feint hearted or those suffering from vertigo!  
Reps after a sprint to the top!


Step race
The path through the ruins is topped off by a walk through the forest following waterfalls and Mayan bathing pools.

The queen's bath

Uxmal
This site was very different to Palenque, set in lower land it was more arid and warm, but very impressive nevertheless. The Maya people may have deserted the city over 1000 years ago, but in their place it is now home to hundreds of iguana. Reincarnation anyone? It didn't quite have the Palenque magic, perhaps that was the hoards of US tourists, but the buildings are beautiful and ornate and give a real sense  of the civilisation, its grandeur and architectural might. 


The step race to end them all!


But what does it mean?


Arty, farty in Uxmal
Before hitting our next ruins we stopped of at a Cenote, a freshwater sinkhole that are considered sacred by the Maya with some having an unknown depth.  Luckily we could camp at this one and we ended up having the place all to ourselves, a rarity considering most of them have been made into mini theme parks. A sunset dip was intruded upon by hundreds of swallows who did a few circles above us before flying off into the night. It was incredible, we felt like we were in a David Attenborough documentary (except we had jazzy life vests on which were compulsory).

I'm pretending it's not cold and really dark water

Where's my cocktail Niles?

Chichen Itza 
The most famous of all the ruins and fondly referred to as 'chicken pizza'. Unfortunately, like its fast food namesake, it was over priced and left you feeling a little unfulfilled. To be honest, after three ruins in the space of 4 days, we were feeling ruined. 


Apocalypto style head rolling temple

The famous serpents 
The main temple was huge and very impressive and fed the imagination with images of human sacrifice as too was the largest known ball court, but the tat sellers outnumbered the tourists ( and there were loads of those too) and it just didn't do it for us. Maybe our expectations were too high, or we'd been spoiled with Palenque and Uxmal, but we were a little disappointed with one of the New Seven Wonders of the World.

The beach was calling us! 

MEX E MEX E CO! I WANT TO BE. A MEX EEHHH CO!


(NK) The start of our Mexican adventure has definitely been more Karl Pilkington than Michael Palin. What does HE want now? Has been an overused term, normally aimed at Mexican police and military.

After our drama at the border, we put in some big driving that took us through the picturesque Querataro and onwards to Mexico City. Driving in Mexico is like playing Mario Kart for real.  There are unnecessarily huge speed humps called topes, many of which come with no warning or markings, potholes that will swallow a car, fellow drivers that go out of their way to get in yours, pigs, dogs, cows, chickens, iguanas… Mario Kart! It helps to sing the song in the title of the blog at the top of your voice to the macho man theme tune. It's a song that is now wearing thin on Fi.

As an added booby trap the police are very hit and miss. It was driving into Mexico City (the hardest level on Mario Kart) that we encountered our first taste of police corruption.

Two coppers were chatting away on their little scooters but as soon as they saw Uncle Sam’s number plates on Trisha they were all over us. We pulled over and one strutted to the window. Jesus, he looked liked a Mexican version of my Dad. This was going to be difficult. Buenos Tardis! After reeling off various ‘infraciones’ in Spanish he told us we needed to cough up $400usd. We both did our best Manwell impressions. Que? Que? Porque? No entiendo?

He asked how much money we had so I pulled out about 50p in change. No no no, we need more said Mexican Paddy and went to chat to his pal. He came back again trying to squeeze whatever money he could from us so I reached for the credit card and asked if he had chip and pin on his scooter (this back on forth continued a while).  I then offered to go to the police station, clearly something he didn’t want. This was a pretend fine not a real one, and he definitely didn’t want to have his picture taken for the blog.

In the end we were let loose but this was the only chance we were going to get. How we laughed!

Many people have said that you should give over 100/200 pesos and hope it’s enough. We would much rather play this little game. It’s more fun than throwing your money away. Play dumb, feign innocence (well, we were innocent) and offer to pay by credit card as a last resort. We’ve had plenty of police stops and military searches since, which included one guy tasting the dirt in the footwell to check for Marijuana. Maybe he’s watched too much TV. All he needed to do was check my pockets.

Once we’d settled in Mexico City we sampled some of the amazing streetfood which included Tortas(mexican sandwiches), fish tacos and quesadillas. We were staying in the Condesa neighbourhood which was very relaxed, but also did our tourist bit, visited the Zocalo and wandered around the huge park and Zoo. To be honest we didn’t really like the place. If we’d spoke more Spanish it may have been different and we’ve definitely improved on this lately. Fi had Mayan ruins she wanted to climb so we didn’t spend too long in the interior and began making our way East. 

Roadside BBQ pollo, beats KFC
We stopped at a couple of amazing places en route including a small village called Tlacotapan, a UNESCO site of four streets and two plazas. The place was very quiet and peaceful and the beautiful plazas so typical of Mexican towns came to life at night with vendors selling tacos and people meeting up for a gossip.






We were the only Gueros (slang for fair skinned folk) in town so a bit if novelty but we managed to find a small hostel for the night before our long drive to Palenque. 

Sunday, October 7, 2012

Once Upon a Time in Mexico

(FK) After New Orleans we began to work our way West through Louisiana stopping at Oak Alley plantation and spending a night at the Sam Houston-Jones State Park. It was quite an eerie swampy place but after a walk around it grew on us. Even more so when the day-trippers and joggers left at sunset top leave us with the Gators and raccoons as the only campers in the park. Surprisingly we slept really well and set of for Houston the next day.


Oak Alley Plantation

Sam Houston-Jones state park

Call me Al


We stayed for a couple of nights with Sarah Robbo’s cousin Daniel (well he was away) but his lovely wife Bridgitte and family took care of us. We also made a new best friend, who nearly came on our travels with us… Chester, the five month old King Charles Spaniel! He was so cute and a bundle of fun and excitement that had us entertained non stop.

The Garstangs

(NK)From there we set off south and stopped off at The Alamo for a bit of Mexican/American history. 


Our true destination that day, however, was Laredo, for our crossing into Mexico through the infamous Nuevo Laredo. 

Laredo Campsite

Sunset over Laredo

End of pictures. Every American we’d spoken with had tried to put us off crossing into Mexico on the North East border. Many labeled us crazy. Even worse, some seemed to fear for our lives and gave us a sorrowful look as if they were already mourning our death. The media is rife with grotesque images of these border towns - beheaded bodies, men being hung from bridges; it’s basically hell on earth. Uncle Paul had warned against crossing in Laredo. I didn’t want to cross in Laredo. Every internet forum, advice page etc had warned against it.

So why the hell were we in Laredo? Three reasons.

1.     Whilst researching border crossings in Houston, Bridgitte, in true Aussie fashion, pretty much said, “Nah, no worries, it’s just the Americans being a bunch of pissy pants cry babies.” Not her exact words but the jist of it.
2.     I was planning on driving a little further to Pedras Negras, which was considered semi safe. A quick search for recent news revealed the town was now under Martial Law and in a constant state of war. One local woman was quoted saying “the devil has come to Pedras Negras.”
3.     Fi had said “Let’s just cross at Laredo.” I said to her “If we are kidnapped, robbed, tortured and/or killed then it will be your fault.” She was happy with that so with all the pressure off me, I acquiesced and there we were in Laredo.

We drove into town and the mood was Mexican. All the people were Mexican and everyone was speaking Spanish though we were still in the US. There was also a quiet apprehension. A sense that something might happen at any time though this could’ve been in my head, everyone was still very friendly.

That night we pitched our tent at the Casa Blanca State Park to the melodious sound of automatic gunfire from across the border. Hmmm we thought, perhaps the Americans were right. Our nerves frayed slightly. “It’ll just be at night that happens, we’re crossing at first light.”

The next morning at around 8am over our scrambled eggs, the same symphony of death dealing came ringing across the Rio Grande. Ah, not just at night then.

We had stuff to do, so off we went to get our Mexican insurance from Sanborns. The lady that served us was really helpful and she drew us a map of where to go once we’d crossed the bridge. We needed to go into the town, take a left and come back on ourselves towards the bridge to find the immigracione offices to get tourist cards for us and temporarily import Trisha. We’d never have found it, as it’s not really sign posted over the border. We also looked to her for some morale support. She was very balanced about the whole thing. We’d be fine as long as we went straight to the office, got our paper work done and got straight out of there.

Next we took Trisha for a transmission flush and an oil change and even decided, let’s relax this afternoon. Lets treat ourselves to a movie.

So off we went and we picked a real nice film called End of Watch, which I thought was a cop film. It was a cop film, but it also featured Mexican drug cartels, Mexican gangs, human trafficking, drive-bys, car jackings, beheadings and torture scenes. I’ve never needed Disney so much in my life.

We went back to the campsite in tatters and still the gunfire could be heard. We were still doing this. I felt like I do the night before a fight, senses heightened, mind somewhere else.

At 6am we were up under cover of darkness and broke camp in 10 minutes flat (new record). Beef jerky was for breakfast as we made our way to the border.  The sun was rising as we crossed the bridge and zigzagged through a slightly chaotic crossing and onto the streets of Nuevo Laredo. It was a ghost town and we worked our way around to the bypass that would bring us back to immigracione.

Even though the lady in Sanborns warned us to stay right we some how ended up left going back over the bridge. Argh. Someone flagged us down as we slowed. I wasn’t happy, as every man in Nuevo Laredo was out to kill us in my mind.

Wrong. This guy just wanted to help us get back on track. After being directed through some barriers we were on our way to immigracione.

The whole process was pretty painless if a little lengthy. We were the only white people (gringos). The rest were US of Mexican dissent coming back to the motherland. Looks like everyone else has been scared off. We chatted to a few people in the queues and to the really nice immigration officials. Then we did as Sanborns lady said and got the hell out of Nuevo Laredo, dropping some dollars with a couple of homeless people on the way to keep our karma intact.

We did encounter a lengthy traffic jam due to military road blocks that involved big hummers with mounted machine guns and helicopters but apart from that, it was plain sailing all the way to the Hacienda in Saltillo. Sorry for the big build up and all the drama. When we arrived at the Hacienda, Rancho El Morillo, our amazing hostess Norma simply said, “Now you are here, I will look after you.” And look after us she did, it was the perfect place to stop after a day of tension. We were her only guests, no doubt due to a lack of tourist traffic from Laredo. 

See, after all that I wouldn’t say I was angry but my suspicions had been correct.  Americans in real life and online had done their best to scare us, even make us feel stupid for crossing the border. I’m not denying there aren’t inherent risks with what we did, however, we weren’t the prey profile. There’s always wrong place wrong time, but this wasn’t our fight. The drug cartels, the military and the Policia are all fighting and life is cheap, but tourists are not targets. The day we crossed I remembered a great piece of advice from my boxing coach Phil O’Hare – Be quick, but don’t rush. Simple, but when people are scared they rush and do silly things.

If I said we weren’t scared a little I’d be lying, but it was hard not to be after all the fear mongering and sympathetic looks, much from people who’d never even been to Mexico. And that’s the annoying thing really. We were grateful for some balanced words of caution but felt some of the fear mongering was a bit over the top. Regurgitating the hype spoon fed to us by government and media is wrong. Think more independently, question more often, get perspective.

Just remember America.
Where does the demand for the drugs come from?
Where do the weapons come from?

Drugs and guns, the world’s biggest moneymakers.

The build up to our crossing was very dramatic. The reality was very ordinary (apart from all the military presence). Some might say we were just lucky. I say we just used common sense. We’ve only been in Mexico for a day but already it’s starting to work its charms.

Saturday, October 6, 2012

NEW ORLEANS, THE BIG EASY, NOLA


(NK) The big easy is one of America’s oldest cities, but we found a big melting pot of a port town that really knows how to party.

We arrived in New Orleans not quite knowing what to expect. Our guesthouse was a B&B in the Marigny area, which is just next to the famous French Quarter.

We’d be lying if we said we weren’t pleased to see a bed again after a week of camping. Having an ensuite bathroom and lightswitches again felt like luxury.  The Crescent City Inn owned by Matthew and Lynn turned out to be the perfect location and our hosts couldn’t have been more friendly and helpful. And New Orleans… it blew us away.

Friday
We arrived at 3pm and decided to get straight into the mix and wandered down Decateur St towards the French Market. After a PO Boy sandwich and some Gumbo we grabbed a frozen Margarita and wandered along the banks of the ‘Muzzuzippi.’ The open cup laws in New Orleans mean you can carry drink in and out of bars and drink while you are walking. Being out of practice with the boozing, this was to be our downfall.

The French Market


Feeling a little tipsy from some seriously strong Margaritas it was on the banks of the Mississippi that I was scammed for the first time on this trip. It probably won’t be the last but I doubt anyone will do it again whilst making me laugh so hard. Scene went like this:

Enter young African American male.
Man: Hey brother, how are you today?
Me: We’re good thanks
Man: Oh, where you from?
Me: England
Man: Hey they some nice shoes, I bet you I know where you got doze shoes.

I bought these shoes in England, obviously he didn’t know. Can you see it coming? I fell completely into this trap.

Me: Erm, I bet you don’t.
Man: I know exactly where you got ‘em.
Me: I bet you don’t
Man: Ok, if I can guess. Then you gotta let me give you a shine. Hey, you an honest man, let’s make a deal on this? If I guess you gotta let me shine.
Me (drunken idiot): If you can guess that you can have them.
Man: (laughs) just a shine will do brother, OK, you ready? I don’t care where you bought them, purchased em, stole em from, who you borrowed em off. I asked you were you got ‘em and you got ‘em on you feet. Now get your shoe up on my knee.

What followed was a number of tales about his five kids and various cowboys that he charged extra because of their big boots. “That’ll be 10 for the shine and 10 for the lesson.”  Many more tried that weekend but I was more than happy to respond with, “I bet you do!”

The rest of the night we wandered down the raucous Bourbon St, which was full of the party atmosphere and massive 24oz cocktails. Bit full on with its tacky neons and crazy 3 for 1 drinks offers but it had to be done. What’s that? Oh, it’s a naked woman riding a mechanical bull, a crazy stoned man called Donald and other related sights.

By the time we reached the other end of Bourbon St we were absolutely trollied beyond any clear memory for me to recall much else. I do remember and I’m ashamed to say, we were passed out in bed by 9.30pm after an oyster burger on Frenchman St (and another Hurricane).

Saturday

After a long nights sleep/alcohol induced coma, we were feeling surprisingly spritely and on a recommendation from our new friend Mr Jim Gipson we went for brunch at The Country Club , located in the Bywater. It was Fiona’s birthday so we intended to start it in style.

Say cheese! After our 8th Mimosa!
(FK) Jim’s recommendation did come with a “take a towel, it’s nude swimming in the back and it’s quite a delight!” Said with an all knowing wink to Neil. I wasn’t feeling quite that fresh, so put on a party frock and some slap, my first face in over a week.

The County Club Brunch 
(NK) Just a little note about Mr Jim Gipson and his partner Bill, they came with the best recommendations all weekend. Upon leaving they gave us an address and simply said, if you’re ever nearby, in trouble, out of money or just need a place to stay you’ll be welcome here with us. And it’s not like that before anyone starts, they were just very genuine lovely people.

The walk through Marigny to get to the Country Club was quite special and the houses all had different quirks and intricacies that had Fiona snapping away. The brunch was something else. The bottomless Mimosas (posh for Bucks Fizz) were back but the food was spectacular and by far the best we’ve had since being in the States. We were even given a big plastic cup of Mimosa each for our walk back to the French Quarter. I think that was to be our undoing... again. The rest of the day is just another drunken blur involving Hurricanes, frozen Margaritas, line dancing to rap music with some locals and more Oysters.

Bywater Neighbourhood and a drunk Neil 
Building obssession
They like flags in NOLA!
(FK) Well that’s entirely true, I ended up going for a disco nap to refresh mysleft for the night ahead, however I passed out for 4 hours, woke up in daze and Neil had been putting the world to rights with Jim and Bill. Not one for missing out I managed to get my drunk/hung over self together and we went out for dinner. The rest of the night I spent pucking! I will never learn, even at 35!!

Sunday
We were determined to stay sober and get some culture in on Sunday. Fi was feeling a bit worse for wear so I took a walk to the above ground cemetery to visit the grave of Voodoo queen Marie Laveau. It’s a spectacular cemetery and a good warm up for the historical ghost (FK and vampires!!) tour we went on that night.

Voodoo Priestess Marie Laveau tomb
 We needed to eat first and our new friends had strongly recommended the Gumbo Shop. Our no booze policy was soon drowned by a Hurricane and a Cajun Bloody Mary and again the food was amazing. Shrimp Creole and Crawfish Etouffee hit the spot and readied us for a night with ghosts and stuff.

My unanswered question of the weekend - what came first Forrest Gump or Bubba Gump Shrimp Co?!
Being a port town at the centre of slavery, the civil war and various disease outbreaks has given New Orleans a rich history of ghosts, vampires and Voodoo both old and more recent. It would seem that some of the more grand houses in the French Quarter are cursed, specifically one Nicholas Cage bought before he had trouble with the IRS. There’s even a Vampire hangout bar called The Dungeon if you’re into that sort of thing. Fiona nearly was until I changed her mind.

We capped off our stay with some live bands and a taco on Frenchman St, which is known as the Bourbon St for the locals. It’s a much more sophisticated night out with plenty of that New Orleans soul.

It poured down with rain the whole weekend but that doesn’t stop anyone in New Orleans. If anything it makes them more determined to get drunk and have a good time. The bars are full of bands and live music and the street corners are always throwing up surprise performances. Nothing can really dampen the spirits here and it’s stolen the place from New York for being our favourite city and one we will be back to.

Some culture, Rodrigue's famous Blue Dog (I didn't know this at the time of taking it though!)