San Christobal to Palenque or bust!

Surprise, surprise, after a disturbed nights sleep due to be freezing cold and having to wear my woolly hat in the night, I woke up this morning with a nose bleed!

After a hearty pancake breakfast (sin refried beans!!) we set off on the Zincantan and Chamula village tour. Neil warned us that our guide for the day (Cesar) does tend to go on a bit about the 7th Day Adventists that come to their village and try to convert the indigenous people, but the tour itself would be really interesting and not to take photos of any of the villagers unless asking first, as they feel quite superstitious about it.

We arrived at the first village where a Mayan tribe known as The Chamula live and the first thing we found was a funeral taking place. Surprising enough at the head of each grave was a cross, some were green, some blue, some yellow and some white. Apparently each colour denotes the age of the person buried there, ie child, adult or aged person. However the crosses were nothing to do with Christianity, the edges of each were rounded and represented North, South, East and West. The higher the mound on the grave, the more members of the family could be found buried beneath. (Graves would be dug up each time someone new was to be buried). 

The indigenous people don't actually practise Chrisitianity, In fact there religion is a cross between their ancestors original religion and Catholicism, hence the church at the end of the graveyard. However, when we entered we were surprised to find all the pews had been removed, the ground was covered in pine needles (also placed on the graves) and lit candles. The villagers were gathered in groups on the floor, eating and drinking and praying silently to statues of various saints adorning the walls. And when I say drinking I mean either coca cola or Tequilla! (And that included the young children). I looked around and saw a lonesome chicken running around. Cesar told us that if there were any chickens it mean there was going to be a sacrifice and that because no blood was allowed to be shed in the church, the Shaman would hold it by the neck and ... He then began to describe in graphic detail how it's neck was to be rung - we all stared at him with horror struck faces!

After we recovered from the images of dead chickens circling around in our heads, we quietly left just as a procession of mourners entered - there are no actual funerals (or in fact weddings) allowed to take place inside the church, instead the crosses are brought inside, blessed then taken back out again.

Cesar took us to the main square and explained each of the buildings and how the leaders were chosen. Basically the villagers gather in the square in front of the main building, the representatives step out onto the balcony and step forward one at a time. If the villager likes that person they cheer, if not they boo and throw stones at them. One wonders if that may in fact be something we should introduce into our electoral system? Could solve a lot of problems from the start!? 

In the picture below you will be able to see the shattered clock and panes of glass in the windows.

Cesar told us all about the Mormons that come to town regularly and try to convert the villagers, telling them their beliefs were false and how they will go to hell unless they converted, apparently thousands have done in the past and have since been ostracised by the rest of the villagers. Then we were taken to the Zinacantan village, here the people were happy to have their pictures taken. 

The church here was completely different, there were pews, loads of flowers, no pine needles and NO chickens! (Outside was a sign saying that it was strictly forbidden to sacrifice chickens in the church!!)

Nearby was a Shamans house, we were allowed inside and Cesar took us through the rite and rituals of this tribe. It was particularly hard to concentrate for the most part as a special type of resin was being burnt in a bowl on the altar, in order to keep out evil spirits. The smoke was quite consuming and those of us that managed not to run outside in the middle of a coughing fit, remained teary eyed as we were offered a sip of the holy Tequilla! Then Cesar told us again all about the Mormons that come to town regularly and try to convert the villagers, telling them their beliefs were false and how they will go to hell unless they converted, apparently thousands have done in the past and have since been ostracised by the rest of the villagers!

Next stop was a local weavers house were we were invited to also sample some freshly made tortillas with ground pumpkin seed - may sound revolting but actually quite delicious.

Outside one of the local women sat weaving, hanging all around her were the most beautiful vibrant fabrics, all hand made and tempting to take home - if it weren't for the fact that my rucksack was already bulging with colourful bags bought in the market I probably would have come back with enough table cloths and mats to put John Lewis out of business!

Later on that afternoon, after we returned to the hotel, we went out to watch a short documentary about The Zapatista - a large guerrilla group who took control of San Christobal and four other municipalities in the state of Chiapas on New Years Day 1994. They were mainly indigenous people that wanted to put an end to the terrible treatment of the indigenous people in Mexico, such as starvation and dying from lack of water. The bloody battle continued for many years, only resulting in a small change but highlighting to the rest of the world the terrible corruption going on in the Mexican government. 

I wouldn't say I found the film uplifting in any way, in fact quite the opposite. I left the cinema feeling disheartened and saddened; yet again proof of how cruel and greedy man can be. I wanted to go back to my hotel room and just be alone, but TC persuaded me otherwise and dragged me along to a local restaurant where we met up with the others, everyone was feeling quite solemn, but after a couple of Quesadillas, tortillas and various other corn based dishes we were back in holiday mode, laughing and joking. Next thing I knew we were at a bar where I was downing a hot chocolate made with Mescale! (Well I was cold) and by the end of the eve my 'NBF's' Anne and Heather (the Irish girls in our group) had nick named me Catherine Tate!! 

"Bloody liberty"!!!!

Following morning (yes I had a nose bleed) we set off on our five hour coach journey to Palenque! All getting excited that we were finally going to a warmer climate. 

We climbed on the bus laden down with a few snacks to keep us going until we got to our destination that afternoon, only to be told there was a blockade along the route where a political protest was taking place, so we would have to be re-routed. TC started to panic about not having enough food while I started to have a flash back to India where TC and I had got caught up in a political protest crossing the border from Kerala to Tamil Nadu, resulting in our 3 hour journey become 24 hours and a picture of me on page one of the local paper! But I was drawn out of my reverie when Neil informed us that our five hour journey was now going to last eight hours without any stops - now I started to panic about getting travel sick and TC continued to panic about not having enough food.

Then on top of that we were driving into the tail end of two cyclones that were on their way out of Palenque - two cyclones called ... Colin and Ian!

We survived the journey, TC didn't starve and I didn't throw up and that evening we stepped off the coach in Palenque. Colin and Ian had been and gone and left behind the sunshine. We all looked at each other and grinned as we started peeling off our layers of warm clothing, finally we were out of the cold!

Coaches to Christobal ...

And so we set off on our long coach journey. We were travelling in style - executive class!! Which basically meant that on our coach we had seats that could recline (into the lap of the person sat behind) and we had the choice of a bottle of water or can of soda.

TC and I luckily managed to get seats two rows from the front, I popped my travel sickness tablets (Since India I find I get travel sick quite easily) and we watched the first episode of Broadchurch that I had downloaded on my iPad, as a distraction whilst the pills kicked in. 

If you've never seen Broadchurch I would highly recommend it. We were completely hooked from the start and forty five minutes later totally frustrated I hadn't downloaded the next episode, so we settled back in the coach to sleep. 

All was quiet and whilst I didn't feel sick I did feel wide awake - the sophomoric effect of the pills hadn't kicked in yet and my safety belt was pressing on my full bladder, so I decided to carefully make my way to the toilet at the back of the coach. 

It was quite a difficult manoeuvre bearing in mind everyone was asleep, some half hanging out of their chairs into the aisle as the coach made its way along a very, very windy motorway. But I managed to make it to the tiny little cubicle at the back, (over the rear tyres), and I closed the door behind me, only to face my biggest challenge yet: I was finally able to get my trousers down without knocking myself unconscious on the sink as I was being thrown from side to side while the coach picked up speed along the very, very windy road! I then had to draw on what little strength I had in my core stability muscles as I sat down and was flung from left to right with each lurch as the coach avoided the pot holes on it's way along the very, very windy road and all the while trying to hold down the sickness that was now desperately starting to rise up from deep within my belly!

Luckily I passed the challenge and returned to my seat safe (and dry). I sat down next to TC munching away on her sandwich and hoped the nausea would pass and I'd be able to fall asleep.

Drowsiness finally overtook me and after a long sleep broken by moments of waking up panicked that the driver had fallen asleep at the wheel and we were heading for the edge of the cliff, we arrived ten hours later at our final destination. 

It was 7:30am and we were in San Christobal in the state of Chiapas.

We were allowed an hour to recover from the rather harrowing road trip before gathering in the hotel lobby where Neil took us out for our orientation walk. First stop - the laundry!! 

The town we were in was lovely but for the most part very cold ( we were still in high altitude) and extremely geared up for tourists, resulting plenty of cafés, bars, restaurants and shops! And most important of all, a huge market, perfect for my holiday shopping addiction. 

However, TC and I were in agreement, shopping would have to wait and we hurried back to the hotel room to watch episode two of Broadchurch! (We have expressed concern that this new addiction may get in the way of our trip!!)

After a group dinner at one of the local restaurants we were taken to the local theatre to watch a 'dance performance' with 'amazing light and sound effects' about one of the ancient Mayan Kings. His name was Pakal and he came to the throne at the age of 12 around 650 BC.

The play funnily enough, was called Pakal. The performance quite amateur with the actors often not standing in their lights, the lights often came on late anyway and as for the dancing, well Craig Reval Horwood would have had a field day followed by a heart attack! The story, as I understand, kind of goes as follows:

Pakal was king of Palenque, he had a few sons, he was an arrogant King, he thought he was the sun, the moon and the stars - oh and the heavens and the earth etc... He pissed off a neighbouring tribe, they argued over the Jaguar God, (the jaguar is highly revered over here), there was a ball game between the sons and the other tribe, Pakal's team won, Pakal castrated himself by way of a sacrifice to the gods, he died telling everyone yet again that he was the sun, the moon and the stars oh and the heaven and the earth etc... The end.

My verdict: great costumes.

Friday was a day off from seeing the sights ... TC and I shopped, then watched another episode of Broadchurch (it really is addictive) both of us now completely hooked and having deep conversations about it with others in the group whether they've seen it themselves or not - or for that matter even heard of it.

Later on that eve, after an early dinner we all assembled at the Salsa bar, geared up and ready to 'Rock and Roll'!!

It doesn't matter how many hundreds of temple steps one may have climbed in a week, it still doesn't make you any fitter for a salsa class led by a Mexican with skinny legs, malleable hips, excellent footwork and a sense of rhythm that would make Craig Revel Horwood look like a complete amateur. Within ten minutes I was ready to pass out! That was the best Salsa lesson I have ever had!! 

An hour and a half later, feeling completely parched we made our way to the revolution bar, where I devoured a plate of Nachos and drank plenty of beer - to rehydrate of course!?

Whilst standing at the bar and waiting and waiting for the drinks (the saying out here is, "It'll be two minutes - a Mexican two minutes".) I got chatting to a guy from Wales and he joined us at our table. Turns out he is a Neuro scientist from Cardiff University doing research into Huntington's Disease. His work is really quite fascinating - even though I may not have understood half of it - but when a couple of us asked him if he did dissections and experiments, the blood drained from his face and he looked at us with open eyes, "oh my god" (Welsh accent)  "You're not a group of animal rights activists are you? I'm not really supposed to talk about my work like this you know, seriously are you?" We smiled at him and shook our heads. "Oh god." He said. "You are aren't you?" I looked at him teary eyed and told him that I really wasn't, but that I was a vegetarian!

Three days on....

Today we are in San Christobal, in the Municipality state of Chiapas, having arrived here yesterday after an eleven hour coach journey! But before I tell you more about our first stay in Central America I need to go back a few days as I have been rather remiss in my blogging.

When last I wrote we were on our way to Puebla, having eaten a four course Mexican meal in Teotichucan (pronounced Teeohteewakan) and all feeling completely stuffed - all that is except TC who was starving and munching her way through a packet of biscuits! 

After a few hours we reached the hotel, dumped our stuff in the rooms and gathered for an orientation walk around the main square (Zocola).

Puebla is the capital of the state of Puebla, it is East of Mexico City, with two main Volcanos: Popocatepetl and Ixaccihuah - try saying that after a few tequilas, or even before! Luckily the names can be shortened to Popo and Ixta. I read that Popo has still been a rumbling since 1994 causing the whole city to be on yellow alert since then - I didn't tell TC that bit.

It is the fifth largest city in Mexico with architectural style ranging from Renaissance to Mexican Baroque and in 1987 was claimed a world heritage site.

There were plenty of churches to see but to be honest I am feeling a bit Churched out and only managed to take a quick peek in at the Church of Santo Domingo, then hurried off for a hot chocolate, due to the rather low temperature in the city.

Puebla is known for its special dish of Mole (pronounced Molay), which is a sauce made from chocolate and chillies. However, I was quite tired that night and opted out from joining everyone for dinner and had an early night. And by all accounts from everyone else's reports on the food the following day, it sounded like my packet of corn chips was the better option.

The following morning (Tuesday) I woke up freezing cold and with another nose bleed! (I think I am built for sunnier and lower places?!) breakfast was served in the hotel, which consisted of two Melba toasts and a packet of strawberry jam! I was starting to crave cheese and refried beans!!

Then we were back off on the coach for a long journey over to Oaxaca (pronounced 'Wohaka').

Oaxaca is the largest city in the State of Oaxaca. South East of Mexico City, it is at this point that we start to travel into Central America leaving the North behind us.

Oaxaca relies heavily on tourism, it is also the city where there have been many teachers protests held. Some of you may remember hearing back in 2006, during one of the 'peaceful' protests the police/government clamped down pretty hard and many of the protestors were gunned and mowed down.

It took another three years before tourists started returning and thankfully since then, all protests have resumed to non-violent ones. (The last protest TC and I were close to while travelling was in India and I ended up on page two of the local newspaper!)

After dropping our belongings off at the hotel, we gathered in the main square - yes you guessed it, The Zocola - and Neil took us on an orientation tour of the local area.

He took us into a shop selling Mezcal (type of Tequilla) where we were each offered a shot of your commoner garden variety, followed by a shot of creamy mango flavour, then a shot of chocolate, then coconut, then pineapple and finally strawberry flavours too! Heather, one of the Irish girls in the group (I was delighted to find out earlier that she is a Gastro- entomologist, so now I have someone I can chat to about bowel movements! Those of you that know me will know it is my favourite subject and those of you that followed my blog through India will know why - oh ok I admit it, I was always a bit obsessed before then) anyway, she and I were starting to feel a bit 'squiffy' after six shots and happy to move onto the next stop, giggling together at the back of the group. However we sobered up pretty fast when we reached the Fried Cricket stall! I politely refused the 'local delicacy' of crunchy insects, hoping I hadn't insulted the stall keeper, but as I am sure you can imagine TC was quite happy to participate. She even seemed to enjoy it?

Next stop was to try out the local cheese, which I had no probs with, nor the final stop ... The chocolatier! I was quite happy to sample the various kinds of chocolate bars, syrup and finally chocolate milkshake - which eventually soaked up all the Mezcal. (Though I have to say, I still prefer Cadburys).

The Zapotec and Mixtec are the main indigenous peeps in this area and it was to the archeological site of Monte Alban that we were headed to the following day ( yet another World Heritage site).

Built by the Zapotecs, who leveled out the top of the mountain, they built their city and raised their pyramids and altars - without the use of the wheel!

We were taken over to see the ball court, laid out like a capital 'I' where opposing teams would play a game involving hitting a ball from various parts of the body up against the outside walls and seeing how long they could keep on going til the ball dropped. The winning team however didn't win any kind of trophy or bottle of champagne, instead they would have the honour of the team leader being beheaded and sacrificed to the gods - go figure?

There were more steps to climb up to the observatory, my only incentive at this point was that it would firm up my gluteals, we reached the top and gazed at the amazing view across the ruins.

All round us we could see more mountains and hills, most of which would probably have more ruins within them!

That afternoon TC and I went for a walk around the square again and ended up at the cultural museum. Unfortunately for me, nothing was in English. It was getting a bit tedious and difficult for TC to have to translate everything for me, so instead we split up and went at our own pace, so I just dealt with making up my own stories behind the artifacts I was looking at - needless to say a lot of them were obviously from the time of The Inquisition.

Then it was back to the hotel to get layered up for the 11 hour coach journey to San Christobal. With comfy clothes on, snacks in my bag, the first episode of Broadchurch downloaded onto my ipad and a stack full of travel sickness tablets and an emergency sick bag, I was raring to go!!

Teotichucan, Tortillas and Tequilla!

So we made it to the meeting on time and luckily enough it looks like a really friendly group of people we are going to be travelling with, 15 of us consisting of Aussies, Chinese, Northern Irish, Scottish, English and a couple from Bulgaria who now not only live in London but literally round the corner from me!

Neil our tour guide (yep you guessed it, he is not Mexican) gave us the official introductions, safety advice and a rough idea as to what lies ahead over the next three weeks, then he took us out for a traditional Mexican meal. 

There was a whole assortment of goodies on the menu and every single one involved cheese! Thank goodness I am not dairy intolerant as cheese seems to be a staple part of Latin American food, along with the refried beans!

I ordered a veggie Burrito which came with all the expected vegetables including cactus! I tried it, I won't try it again!! I can't exactly describe what it tasted like, but needless to say I missed the refried beans to cover the taste!

After dinner, TC and I returned to the LatinoAmericano to appreciate the view by night 'sin' (meaning without - bit of Spanish for you there) the full on Altitude sickness, that seemed to have subsided.

It was an absolutely stunning view, seeing all the buildings lit up in the night sky, but it was also rather cold, so before too long we were rushing back to the hotel for a good nights sleep before getting on the coach at 6:50 the following morning.

I woke up before the six o'clock alarm with a nose bleed! Altitude sickness was back! And I hurried off to the bathroom before my room mate noticed and freaked out.

We met up with the rest of the group an hour later and climbed on board the coach then set of for the  pyramids at Teotichucan (pronounced Teo-to-wakan), the largest of Mexicos archeological sites.

Neil had bought us a Rosco de Rey (remember the wreath shaped cake?), to sample later in the day. But he said if anyone was feeling a bit hungry earlier on, not to be shy and just ask for some. The coach set off and within 5 minutes TC was asking politely. (For such a petite person, she has the appetite of a giant, even before leaving for this trip she had sent me a list of restaurants she had researched in Mexico City).

Our tour guide for the day was a Mexican guy called Ricki, who's family are Indigenous Mexicans; his father and uncle being well known Shamans in the area.

He greeted us with a big smile and a couple of jokes then led us over to La Ciudadela - an enormous sunken square in the centre of the mass of pyramids. (Most of these pyramids are actually pyramids that have been found within pyramids, rebuilt every few hundred years).

We climbed the steps and looked at the ruins around us - out of respect one has to walk seven steps to the right, then seven steps to the left, therefore never actually turning your back on anyone).

Ricki explained the history of his people and the Aztec pyramids. He talked about the Mexican peoples attitiude to death and how it was a positive thing, birth, life then death when you finally travel up to paradise. There is no hell for sinners, but how you live your life will result in how long it takes to get to paradise. 

In Mexico when someone dies, they party and celebrate for nine days. He looked at us and said "As the saying goes; Today is a good day to die",  we stared at him with surprise and he smiled and said "well maybe not today".

We laughed and heaved a sigh of relief at knowing he was planning on finishing the tour rather than popping off to paradise and leaving us stranded?!

We walked further along the Causeway of the dead (Calzada de Los Muertos) towards the Pyramid of the Sun - a huge structure at 70m high and 245 steps to climb! Yes,that's what I said, 245 steps to climb! Ricki explained that as we climbed if we found our hearts beating fast as though they wanted to explode, not to worry, it was just from the high altitude. I don't know about the others, but my heart was already trying to rip itself free from my chest with just the thought of it, in fact I am so unfit that I am usually on the verge of collapse climbing the three flights of stairs back home!

I'd like to say that I saw it as a challenge and went and attempted it, but it was purely out of embarrassment at being the only pathetic weakling, that drove me up those steps! The first ten were ok, it was the other 235 that were hard and I think you should know in my defence that each step juts out at a 92 degree angle not your average 90 degrees!

I struggled, my poor heart struggled, my tired legs struggled and I was on the verge of giving up when I saw my little companion smiling down from the top and I thought its now time for my 'magic rope'! This is a technique that entertains my housemate Sandie no end back home, when of an evening I am too tired to get up out of the armchair, I hold out my arms and winch myself up with an invisible rope! Apparently it's not a normal thing to do? Maybe I picked it up from my time in drama school, or maybe I am just not normal, but either way it works and it certainly did whilst climbing up the side of Piramide del sol! ( I admit I may have got a few funny looks from other passing tourists).

I almost past out but I made it to the top!! ( the photo has been destroyed as I did actually look half dead in it, so I am afraid you will just have to take my word for it).

Next was a visit to the Pyramid of the Moon - I refused to climb this one - then we set off in the coach for Ricki's house where his cousin was preparing a typical Mexican lunch for all of us.

Ricki lives in a road where all his next door neighbours are his relatives! Well it's hardly surprising seeing as his grandfather had seven wives who each had at least three children!

The lunch was delicious, if not a bit spicy at times, though I did manage to avoid the cactus this time around. Then we were treated to a shot of home made Tequilla, made by his uncle. This was an unusually sweet kind without the traditional worm floating in it, but an assortment of nuts. I rather liked it, but had to refuse the second shot for fear that my lightweight drinking habits would result in me dancing on the tables wearing nothing but the brightly coloured table cloth and I really didn't know the group that well yet!

At the end of the meal we were invited to cut into a rather large Rosco de Rey (the wreath shaped cake), guess who got the little baby Jesus hidden inside? Me! The only Jewish person in the group - my parents would be so proud!

We left there filled to the brim with food and slightly high onTequilla - or maybe that was just me? And we set of for Puebla.

Just one of those days.

This morning was an early start but not by choice, purely by jet lag - the UK is six hours ahead. However we decided to make the most of it and cram in as much as possible before the group meeting tonight at six.

Our first port of call was the hotel restaurant for a quick breakfast. I ordered an omelette which arrived with the statutory refried beans on the side! I wasn't exactly sure that was the kind if thing that appealed first thing in the morning and maybe not such a good idea for us both to be eating them three times a day, with the erm, 'repercussions', especially whilst sharing a room, but hey, I was starving and TC and I had travelled India together for two months and nothing could beat those 'repercussions'.

After breakfast we made our way towards the Latinamericano building. Completed in 1956 it was the tallest building in Mexico until the late 80's and apparently the worlds first skyscraper.  We were struggling slightly, both feeling a bit rough from the high altitude in Mexico City, with headaches, nausea and general irritability, so of course going up to the 43rd floor of a skyscraper is probably not the best remedy for altitude sickness?

We reached the observation deck and looked around at the stunning views through pained eyeballs, grunted at the vista, noticing the vastness of the highly populated city and lack of grassland - then slowly made our way back down.

The best thing to do was go for a walk to try to clear our heads, avoiding the crowds that were building up in preparation for 'The Festival of the Kings' that was being celebrated over the weekend which culminates with the children opening more Christmas presents on Sunday. A special cake is eaten over this period, it is wreath like in shape, covered in sugar and dried fruit and supposed to have a tiny image of baby Jesus in the middle. However, nowadays you can find miniature plastic baby Jesuses hidden in parts of the cake? Not sure how busy A&E is this time of year with choking incidents?

Feeling a bit better we then made our way over to the Palacio de Belles Artes (the fine art gallery), one of the 75 museums open in Mexico City (with more being built), to see the magnificent and world famous murals painted by Rivera, Orzoco and Siqueiros. 

The building is absolutely stunning - Art Nouvieux style, built in Italian white marble but it was the inside that captivated me, with its red marbeled Art Deco design: sweeping black staircases and long tall pillars with a touch of Aztec style at the top of each one.

Excitedly we climbed the stairs to wonder at the massive murals covering the walls, TC was getting overly zealous and then suddenly stopped in her tracks as she stared up at the wall in front of us. I followed her gaze, eager to see the famous artwork I had heard so much about, and there it was, one of the largest murals I have ever seen, completely covered in plastic!

Apparently renovations were taking place and every single mural was covered over for the next month! 

Completely disappointed we left the building passing under a statue of a giant spider - part of the Louise Bourgious collection that was on display for all to see. But for those of you interested in checking out her work, I found it quite dark and depressing and we were wanting to see the bright colours and lively music of Mexico, desperately in need to be drawn out of the High Altitude fugue still hanging over us. 

And so we made our way over to Plaza Garibaldi, a large square surrounded by cafés and bars and filled with hundreds of Mariachi Bands competing with each other.

As we approached along the boulevard, we could see various Mariachi stood around in the streets chatting and smoking with each other, their musical instruments slung over their shoulders as they passed the time of day.

We turned the corner and entered the main square, prepared to be pounced on by the hundreds of musicians performing for their audiences filling the tables outside the bars and cafés. 

But the square was empty, most of the cafés and bars were shut and there was a deathly silence that filled the air.

It really wasn't our day; no murals, no mariachi, not even the slightest sight of a Pinyata hanging from a tree branch for us to take our frustration out on. 

Fed up and starving, we sat down at the only restaurant serving food and drinks, took one look at the menu, then glanced over at the tiny kitchen and ordered a beer! Suddenly five Mariachi appeared and surrounded us, they said something in Spanish, my travel companion translated, I nodded and they sang us a song. Picture it dear reader, a huge square, devoid of people, surrounded by closed shops except for one small and slightly grimey restaurant outside of which sat one Mexican family at one table and two fed up English girls at another, drinking a beer whilst being serenaded to about love by five Mariachi ...

With about four and a half hours to spare before meeting the group back at our hotel, we thought it would be nice to do something different. And that involved getting onto the Mexican Metro and making our way over to Xochimilco - the floating gardens. We studied the map carefully and worked out it would take about an hour to get there via three trains, we could then take the hour trip on a boat, for what was described in the guide book as 'one of the most memoriable experiences of the city' and that would be a great way to end the day and turn it into something positive.

The metro system is not only complicated but imagine being on London Underground during morning and evening rush hour rolled into one! It was quite a scary experience but we managed to make it onto our third train before looking at our watches and realising we had 17 stops to go and had already been of the metro for nearly an hour!!

Worried we were not going to make it to the meeting in time we toyed with the idea of turning back, but having come so far and not managing to achieve anything else we had intended to that day, we refused to give in and thought that the least we could do was get to Xochimilco, admire the river and the flowers, have a quick bite to eat, listen to more Mariaches, then come back.

We lept off the train at the end of the line and hurried through the street trying to cut the ten minute walk down as best we could, pushing past the market stalls and street sellers and finally we reached the 'embarkation point'. But there was no lovely open river to look across, no river side cafés to sit at, no Mariaches (again), just what seemed like hundreds of red and yellow boats crammed next to each other moored up side by side floating on the water.

A man walked over to us trying to sell us a river ride, after a bit of bartering we agreed to squeezing in a thirty minute trip at a discount, still giving us time to enjoy it, have something to eat on the boat and get back to the hotel in time for the meeting.

Yet again things didn't go as planned: no food was provided on the boat, the river ride itself was far from relaxing and beautiful as the water, it was still crammed with other boats all trying to make their way through and we were running out of time, then suddenly TC realised she needed the loo, desperately!

Our 'captain' managed to turn the boat around and we headed back to shore, I was worried we wouldn't make it back in time to catch the train and make the meeting while TC was worried we wouldn't make it back in time for her bladder to hold out. I could hear here anxious breathing and groaning behind me and kept telling her to think of other things to keep her mind off a full bladder, but I guess that probably wasn't an easy thing to do when we were surrounded by water. This truly was a race against time. 

We got to shore, she lept off the boat, I lept at the Boat master paid him and hurried after my poor panicked travel companion who had managed to find a loo just in time! Passers by were laughing and calling out to her in panic - I think they knew!!

Once relieved, we walked back towards the train station, still starving hungry but laughing and exclaiming " It's just one of those days".

But at least we made it in time for the meeting ...

Hola amigos!

Today has been a long day, considering it started  yesterday! 

I arrived at TC's house where a cab was due to pick us up at 3:00pm in order to get us to Heathrow for 4:20 - plenty of time. By 3:03 the cab had not arrived and TC started to panic - the pacing started and the voice became high pitched - remember she was going to remain chilled during this trip!? I tried to calm her down but to no avail, by 3:05 there was nothing I could do, as far as she was concerned we weren't going to make it in time for our flight at 7:20!!! She grabbed her mobile and dialed in a frenzy then rapidly explained to the person on the other end: "... The cab hasn't arrived, we're going to be late, I called to check early this morning, where is it, we have to get to heathrow! Oh sorry, sorry. Thanks, Andrew, take care". She hung up looking sheepish, I gave her a questioning look and she told me that she had accidentally dialled Andrew, The hairdresser! 

Needless to say the cab arrived and we got to the airport with plenty of time to spare and seventeen hours later we arrived in Mexico City, just in time for breakfast.

Mexico City is one of the largest cities in the world with a population of over 20 million people! And it seemed like every single one of them was walking along the streets today - think Nottinghill carnival and times that by ten! Couple that with an altitude of over 2400m above sea level and a high rate of pollution and you can imagine how delightful it was for two (young) ladies with severe jet lag from little old London Town, to attempt a peaceful stroll. 

I have to say at 5'5 and three quarters I feel like a giant here! As I make my way along the crowded streets all I see is a sea of heads in front of me, even my petite travel companion says she finds it weird not to have to keep looking up at people when she talks to them. 

Unlike our previous trip together, we have managed to stay out of trouble on our first day, I am pleased to say that so far there have been no incidents with the police, apart from being told off by a couple of them for wearing sunglasses as we entered some of the protected sites! 

We managed to get to The Zocalo - the huge central square, (third largest in the world) which had some kind of fake tobogganing event going on in the middle - obviously? We stepped inside the Palacio Nacional and saw some of the stunning Diego Rivera murals and we checked out a few Cathedrals. 

I am pleased to report that up til now we have not been held up at gun point or kidnapped by bandits, (according to one of my clients I should beware of all men with moustaches - I think she just meant out here?)

And apart from a slight bit of concern over the authenticity of a fruit smoothie, my travel companion has managed to stay calm with regard to food poisoning issues - not bad so far!

But exhaustion has got the better of us and so at 6:30pm I am turning in for the night, with no energy to write any more for now.  Tomorrow we meet the rest of our group and then the tour officially begins ...

Hasta La Vista Highgate! Mexico here I come ........

Hola mis amigos, he vuelto!! (Hopefully translated as 'Hello my friends, I am back!' But if not I apologise should I have actually said anything offensive;  please blame it on the Spanish/English translator on my ipad!?)

Yes, once again it is that time of year!! The time of year when "I pack up my troubles in my old kit bag and ..."  fly off somewhere exotic and exciting and preferably much hotter and drier than over here!!!

Previously, I have vicariously taken you East, through a few countries in Asia, but this time round we are going WEST!!! To the continent of America.

We fly out tomorrow to spend a couple of days in Mexico City, with the intention of squeezing in a few sights in the largest city in the world before meeting up with a group of 14 other fellow travellers and spending the next three weeks travelling with them through Southern Mexico, into Belize and finishing in Guatemala.

After which, everyone goes on their merry way and I fly back up to Mexico, to spend a few days chilling out on a beach and drinking Tequila!!

But who am I going away with this year? I hear you ask. Well my partner in crime has asked to remain anonymous and would like to be referred to as 'The Girl with the Golden Curls'!! However, I feel that may be a tad too much to keep typing, so from here on in she will be known as 'Travel Companion' or 'TC' for short - (Suffice it to say, those of you that travelled with me through my blog in India two years ago, may well recognise my feisty little Travel Companion and her little idiosyncrasies - need I say more)!

I feel I should also point out, that whilst I was happily planning on returning to Asia and exploring some more of that amazing continent, it was 'TC' who suggested going to Mexico instead, just like she had chosen to go to India the last time we travelled together. And just like that last time, she has been quite adamant that she will be unrecognisable during the said travelling, by promising a new stress free attitude to life, as well as ensuring to remain in complete control of her OCD issues ... but dear reader, you and I have heard this all before haven't we? And we all KNOW what happened in India!

Since last I blogged, the year has been a whirlwind of ups and downs, tears and laughter, fun and follicks and accidents and emergencies (a trip to the hospital on a tiny Island in Greece in order to retrieve a rogue ear plug stuck down my lughole this summer was an hysterical experience). 

The highlight of the year was my sister's wedding!! It was such an amazing day that will be etched in my memory for ever more - particularly when the Groom's mobile phone rang just after the Registrar asked if anyone had anything to say against them becoming man and wife - but luckily it was just the AA and apparently they had a special offer on that day!!!??

Sadly the lowest point of the year was a few months back with the news that my lovely dad has Motor Neurone Disease. Understandably devastating to all of us. And yet again the love and support we are receiving from family and friends has been overwhelming and amazing and I thank you all.

My mum has told me not to cancel this trip, in her words 'Don't you dare, I want you to travel the world and do as much with your life as you can - while you can!'.

And so I  have packed my brand new ruck sack (unfortunately I couldn't find a pink one), put my passport in it's new protective cover (yes a pink one) and strapped on my new walking boots (yes you got it, partially pink), I am now excited and raring to go.

Whilst travelling through India two years ago, I received an email from my dad. He had never really been one for expressing gushy sentiment, but instead will always have a joke and a story to tell. So this particular email kind of took me by surprise and because of that I wanted to share it with you:

My darling Rosalie,
You astound me. Your writings are magnificent I honestly believe you could  have a new career writing.
My love we miss you like mad but it's lovely to know you are having such a  fantastic time.
My love to you both and Ros, keep up the fab blogs.  Keep up the good work and enjoying yourselves so much.
All my love
Dad

This time round, I am dedicating my blog to my wonderful father Melvyn, who I hope manages to read this years installment and if so 'Dad, it seems I have inherited your ability to tell a story and laugh at an awkward situation - as well as myself -  and that has been my saviour in so many ways. I love you too'!!!

And so now back to 'the story' ...

My Travel Companion is fluent in Spanish (as well as French and Russian!) and I have asked her to be aware that I only know two Spanish phrases: 'Donde esta la mantequilla', which means 'Where is the butter' - I don't know why I know that phrase, I just like how it sounds!!! And 'Quien es tu papi?!', which means 'Who's your daddy?!' Don't ask me how I know that phrase, but suffice it to say I went out with a Mexican many years ago and apparently it's generally ill advised to go using it out on the streets of Mexico - it kinda gives out the wrong impression!

I promised TC that I would try and learn some more Spanish if I possibly could and tried to explain that unlike her, learning languages has never been something that I have found easy or in fact possible. To which she replied:

"Well I don't understand why, I mean you picked up English pretty well".

Ho, hum ... we have a long journey ahead ...