So the good thing: We were on the bus from Chihuahua to Mexico City and the reserved seats we got were the really small ones. That is, the seats had different amounts of legroom, and my long gringo legs were incompatible with the short space. No, that´s not the good thing, I´m coming to it... Then the movie started, and since it was Bourne Identity, we wanted to watch it, so we traded seats again in order to see. Thus, we ended up next to a Mexican woman who was silent for a long time.
We weren´t very happy about the Chihuahuenses bus experience and bitched a bit in English about it, thinking that she couldn't understand. After a bit more bitching, I asked her where she was going, and she said Mexico City, which reassured me a bit, because we weren't the only suckers on the lame bus. I asked her why she took that particular bus, and she said that it was the only one at the right time, but Chihuahuenses was pretty poor in general. We struck up a conversation, which was greatly assisted by her utilitarian if not eloquent grip on English. We talked well into the night about various topics, and it turned out that she lived in Colorado, but was visiting Mexico to buy wedding dresses for her business to take back to Colorado to sell.
When we stopped at a little restaurante along the way, Luz insisted on buying us some comida, which was really kind, and the food was surprisingly good. Luz opined that the food in Mexico is the best anywhere, and I don't disagree- not that I´ve been everywhere... yet.
After a fitful night on the lurching bus, we talked some more and rolled into Mexico city's north terminal. We were getting ready to say a gracious goodbye to our new friend when she surprised us by inviting us to her house for a shower. Cool. Not only that, but she insisted on paying for the taxi, too. That seemed a little much to me, but she insisted quite forcefully. Her house was a rather large place, most of which she was renting out, but she had a good chunk of it reserved for her when she came to stay in Mexico. The neighborhood looked like shit, frankly, with lots of dogs, garbage, and delapidated houses, most of which looked like they were falling down, halfway built, or some combination thereof.
Having seen enough movies about big, bad Mexico City, I was a little bit apprehensive to be staying in a barrio thereof. If you´ve ever been to Compton, or some parts of Oakland, you know what I´m talking about. But everyone we saw was polite, cheerful, and totally nonthreatening. People constantly called out "Buenos Dias" to each other, and seemed all in all really happy and sociable. Again, my recurrent lurking fears were dispelled by the warm embrace of a safe reality.
Luz took us on a collectivo bus to the Metro terminal. Okay, again, before descending into the Metro, I had visions of being simultaneously shot, stabbed, robbed, and called a "pinche gringo" in a sarcastic tone of voice. None of the above happened. Instead, the dreaded Metro turned out to be a nice, clean, and respectful experience, even if it was pretty crowded at times. We got a few looks, as not many gringos ride the Metro (we were the only ones we saw) but it was cool. A couple of young guys looked tough, as young guys try to, but no big deal at all. We resurfaced downtown, and Luz proceeded to take us on the Grand Tour of Mexico City, including the Palacio des Bellas Artes, (beautiful indeed) the Torre Latinoamericano, (once the tallest building in the world, or at least the tallest somewhere... Couldn´t quite get that one...) the Zocalo with the Cathedral and Governor´s Palace, (can´t remember it in Spanish, sorry) El Correo Mayor (the amazing colonial post office) the Plaza de Mariachis, with its statues of famous troubadors and competing mariachi ensembles cranking all night long for a mainly Mexican audience... And on and on. Best of all, being a local, she took us through bizarre back alleys and to all sorts of little nooks and crannies like the best street vendor food and little odd shops... It just went on.
Around every corner, there was another surprise, like a printing place that was still using actual ancient printing presses instead of computer stuff... Car repair shops with thousands of parts hanging from the ceilings like metal sausages, typewriter repair shops, and way too much to list or remember. I got the feeling that every trade on Earth must be represented in Mexico City, and I told Maryse that if technological society collapsed tomorrow, most Americans would lay down and die, having no idea how to do anything useful, while the Mexicans would blink twice and set about making it work. And they would succeed, I have total faith.
We used every means possible to get around the city, and since Luz apparently had the entire transportation system memorized, we could hop buses with impunity. Once, we took the wrong one, and ended up after dark getting dropped in what Luz said was one of the worst areas in the city. No problem- we walked a few blocks and got to where we were going. My fear was still whining in my belly, but I could sense it losing its grip.
Everything was amazing, and there was a lot of it. The traffic was rather impressive, and if you´ve never experienced DF traffic, it´s pretty thrilling. The streets are filled with every description of vehicle, of every vintage. Brand new Porsches are mixing it up within inches of decrepit old buses hulking along spewing smoke; the millions of VW (and increasingly, new Japanese "Urvan"- get it?) collectivos joust with taxis and old musclecars; Oval-window Bugs (lustful shudder) trade paint (or almost) with new Ka´s, and the whole thing somehow works. Despite the total lack of respect for lanes, speed limits, turn signals, or much of any other vestige of law and order, we never saw an actual crash, although it seemed like we missed them by inches a couple hundred times in our short stay. Rather than driving smoothly, the goal of Mexican drivers seems to be to drive as frantically as possible, creating the maximum amount of chaos in the process without actually killing anyone. Judging by the amount of dented cars we saw, they are meeting their goals. However, the hundreds of junkyards lining the roads, filled with the twisted wreckage of every sort of vehicle, bear mute testimony to the fact that accidents do in fact happen. The insane intersections, nonexistent merge lanes, gigantic potholes, de facto launch ramps, and other road hazards add still more spice to the soup. In short, takng a collectivo or taxi in the DF is more thrilling than most amusement park rides, and much cheaper to boot.
After that thorough exploration of Mexico city, we were ready for some sleep, and returned to Luz's place for a shower and sweet dreams. Mexico City had been kind to us, but we were ready to move on. It was not to be.
The next morning asd we were getting our packs together, Luz said, "why are you taking all that with you?" We said that we were leaving, and she got rather distressed, and said no, we couldn't leave! She only had a couple things to do that day and could spend the rest of it with us. How could we say no? So again, after a great breakfast of huaraches con nopalitos at the little stand just down the block, we went out on the town, and had a great time. Luz let me pay for a couple things this time, but otherwise functioned as our tour guide, host, interpreter, etc. It was amazing.
After another night at Luz's place, we went via Metro to the TAPO, and bid a fond farewell to our new dear friend. Mexico had been very, very good to us.