"TIMMY! TIIIIIMMY! You'll never...*laughing*...fucking believe...*more laughing*...what the fuck just happened!"
"What?"
"*laughing* Dude, thank god for fuckin pesos, dude."
"What? I thought you went to the bathroom?"
"I DID!"
You'd think it would be all downhill for the day after The Legend of El Gas. It was pretty epic, after all. But...you'd be wrong. Less than an hour later, Milo had managed to worm himself into a situation that sounded oddly familiar (and gross), but almost as funny. And it didn't take long for me to sympathize with him (kinda).
I should probably set the scene for this conversation so it'll make sense. After Milo calmed down about the El Gas truck, he washed up accordingly and we got our stuff together so we could get up and on our way to Taxco de Alarcon, which was about 5 hours by bus from Puebla. After taking a cab to the bus station, easily buying tickets by writing down what we wanted (Milo's idea, and an excellent one), and Milo eating what was apparently the hottest chicken sandwich of all time, we made our way to our correct gate to wait for our chariot. Not long after he went looking for a bathroom, the above convo started. Here's how it continued...
"If you went to the shitter, what do pesos have to do with it then?"
"Dude, so you have to pay 3 pesos to get into the bathroom, but that's not what I'm talkin about. I sit down to do my thing, and there's NO toilet paper. None. The bathroom is full of Mexicans so I can't go search for any, so..."
"Please tell me you didn-"
*laughing* "I used a 20 peso note. I HAD TO!"
"You're the grossest human being alive!"
*uncontrollable laughter from both of us* "Freak!"
I soon had my own experience with that particular bathroom. As Milo noted, it's 3 pesos to get in. Once you put in your coins, you push through the person-sized triple-barred turnstile to get in. Well, most people do anyway. I waited in line, put in my pesos, pushed the turnstile, and...nothing. I pushed and pushed...nada. I put in 3 more pesos...nyet. I just walked away, confused and defeated, thinking I must have missed something somehow. After witnessing the next two angry dudes unable to get through the gate, it became obvious. Nope, I didn't miss anything...
I broke the motherfucker.
After scurrying away from that shitstorm (pun intended), it was soon time to board our bus. And what a bus it was. Comfiest. Bus. Ever. Plush leather recliners for all. Eventually, we arrived in Cuernavaca, the intended stopover. We knew we had to switch buses here to get to Taxco, another 90-odd minutes south. We didn't realize we had to go to another bus station though, so after some confusion, we went and talked to a cabbie chillin in the parking lot. We were in a lot that stretched directly off of a highway, double-laned in each direction, each direction divided by a grassy ditch about 30 feet wide and 6-8 feet deep. Why the hell would I point out this much detail?
Because a fucking car doing about 60 km/h flew off the road right into said ditch while we were standing right there talking to the cabbie, that's why.
You can guess our reaction. In unison: "HOLY SHIT!" The typically-Mexican cabbie didn't even blink. Why would he? He had a couple of gringo-fish on the line. Pablo just hustled us into his taxi. We had to go in the direction of the car to flip a bitch (U-turn) back the other way to get to the other bus station. I shit you not, in the 2 minutes it took us to get in the cab, drive down, and turn around, there were 6-8 people that had stopped their car on the side of the highway and were helping to push this car out of the ditch (with its driver fully alive and unhurt) up onto the road again...with no front left tire.
We laughed at the insanity of the scene, but looking back on it, it was pretty inspiring. I'm not sure North Americans would stop on a dime and help out their fellow man like that at all. It was cool...although I have no clue what they hoped to accomplish by pushing a 3-wheeled car back onto the highway.
Mexican logic at it's finest.
Upon arrival at the correct station, a quick perusal of the board showed that the next bus to Taxco left in 20 minutes. SWEET. And there were 22 people in line in front of us to buy a ticket. NOT SO SWEET. We figured we were doomed (because Mexican customer service is a gigantic oxymoron), but we lucked out. We breezed through in due time, despite my bitching and whining (par for the course), and lucked out with a really cute english-speaking girl as our ticket agent. One strange baggage check later, we were on our way to Taxco. The guidebook said it was "one of the nicest cities in Mexico"...but that was the underestimation of the century. By far.
The guidebook didn't really clearly identify that Taxco (pronounced Tassco) exists on the side of a gigantic mountain. The bus ride sure did though. Milo laughed at me while I took like 9000 pictures of the valleys we were coasting over, but he wasn't laughing anymore when we approached the city, because it was fucking unreal. I've never descended into a mountainside jungle town any other time, so I don't have a point of comparison, but it was fucking cool. The road weaved around hairpin turns along the side of mountains until the bus suddenly stopped, apparently in a town. A town beyond my wildest imagination.
The first person we met was an old man tout trying to pimp the hotel we were dropped off at. We couldn't afford that place, despite the view being crazy insane. He called us a cab to head up into the heart of town to another hotel he touted. Cool, right? WOW. We get in the back of a gutted Volkswagen Beetle, and the cabbie immediately turns left into an alley we didn't even see...that went STRAIGHT DOWN. It was so steep that we both involuntarily lurched towards the windshield and had to hold ourselves in place. You see those fancy highway signs that say "10 degree grade, air brakes required"? This was 35 degrees, easily. Seriously. And we're in a '75 Beetle. And I'm huge. Scary, you ask?
That was just the warm up.
After 10 minutes of a literal Beetle rollercoaster, we were dropped off and hastily walked into the heart of the town. Across the vista from the hotel we were just at, looking back at it. We grabbed cash and used the net for a bit, then eventually settled on a hotel right off the Zocalo. We stayed here partly because of the location, and partly because I was an overheated crybaby and I flipped out for no reason. Sorry Milo. He has more experience than I do with 3rd world countries though, so he got us a good discount by bluffing that we'd go somewhere else. He's better at this stuff than I am.
After being led into the dungeon where our room was, we walked across the Zocalo to check out the insane church that is the centerpiece of the city.
We were lucky enough to run into a guy that gave us a tour in English, and also directed us to the silver market so Milo could buy some trinkets. Whatever commission he collected was worth his time and attention. Milo then threw out a great idea: "We should get a taxi to give us a tour of this place". I've never been anywhere that a taxi tour was even an affordable option, but our English-speaking friend translated, and we had the services of a car and driver for an hour...for 12 bucks. So awesome.
He didn't speak English, but that didn't matter. He spoke Spanish slow enough for us to get the basics, and he knew where to go. Basically, we went up. WAY UP. Like I said, the town is built on the side of a mountain. We went up countless alleys and streets with insane slopes, barely missing buildings and people, while laughing and enjoying the shit out of it. Milo waved at everyone we passed, and everyone looked at him like he was retarded (which made me laugh). Eventually we emerged out of the city and went up a bunch of dirt roads until we got to Cristo.
Cristo is Christ. There's a gigantic statue of him that overlooks the town, and the entire valley. Sorta like Rio, but less iconic. The statue sits on a massive flat platform that also serves as a tourist lookout, and I shit you not when I tell you that it's one of the craziest things I've ever seen. I felt like I could see half of Mexico...it was fucking awesome. Taxco sits at about 1650m (5500 feet, or about a mile high), and Cristo has to be 1000 feet above that easily. I cannot express to you what I saw there, it was that awe-inspiring. I can show you pics, but they don't do it justice. People, I never say this, but...YOU NEED TO GO TO TAXCO, MEXICO. ASAP.
After Cristo, we went back down into the vicinity of town and stopped at a bread store (holy foreshadowing) and a few other places. The town was so unique and nice, it's hard to express. We were so impressed, we didn't even get drunk. After dinner and chillin in the Zocalo (the main hangout in town), we just went and sat on the roof of our hotel for a while, admiring the view and bullshitting about stuff. It was raining, but we didn't care. I know Milo would agree with me that we were just happy we found a place like this, so fucking unique and crazy. We didn't need beer or absurdity to make it better. Taxco truly is what traveling is all about.
The next day was another example. We got up and took a taxi down to the bus station. Ticket-buying was easy, but someone alerted us to a situation we had completely missed somehow - Netherlands was playing Brazil. WHOA. Milo happened to be wearing his ugly orange jersey, the game was about to start, and the bus was leaving in 2 hours. But...we had nowhere to watch the game. We searched high and low, no dice. No restaurants or bars were open at 10am. We just walked until Milo saw a TV...and absurdity reigned once again.
I'm walking behind Milo, and all of a sudden he disappears. Okay...I retrace my steps, and he's in a bread store. With a TV. Wildly gesturing at the TV and saying "We watch! We pay!" Obviously they had no fucking clue what he was saying, but they were smiling and laughing. His jersey gave him away, they got it. They grabbed us plastic chairs, and we settled into a working bread store to watch Brazil/Holland. Seriously.
People came in, bought 10 loaves of bread, and laughed at the gringos in bright colors freaking out in the corner. I feigned embarrassment, but I'm not gonna lie - it was super entertaining. It was an experience, that's for sure. I just kept saying "HOLA!" to everyone that came in. Milo didn't even notice other people, he was way too into the game.
Brazil scored first, but Holland evened it up and scored late to take a 2-1 lead, which was a HUGE upset and completely crazy. True to form, Milo went absolutely bonkers after the second goal and ran around the bread store, high-fiving all the people inside and tackling me out of my chair. Then ran outside onto the street and danced a jig. It was pretty epic. Milo-worthy, if you will.
Our bus was due to leave right around final whistle, so we lasted as long as we could, then hauled ass to the bus just in time. Holland won. They were now in the semis, with a dream draw to win the World Cup. Milo couldn't be happier. I had 22-1 on a Spain/Holland final so I was happy too, but that didn't matter that morning - I'll never, ever forget watching a World Cup knockout game in a bread store in a Mexican mountainside village. That shit doesn't happen to regular people.
The last few days in Mexico City couldn't compare to Taxco, but they didn't disappoint either. I'll write those before I go. More Lisette craziness is next.
"What?"
"*laughing* Dude, thank god for fuckin pesos, dude."
"What? I thought you went to the bathroom?"
"I DID!"
You'd think it would be all downhill for the day after The Legend of El Gas. It was pretty epic, after all. But...you'd be wrong. Less than an hour later, Milo had managed to worm himself into a situation that sounded oddly familiar (and gross), but almost as funny. And it didn't take long for me to sympathize with him (kinda).
I should probably set the scene for this conversation so it'll make sense. After Milo calmed down about the El Gas truck, he washed up accordingly and we got our stuff together so we could get up and on our way to Taxco de Alarcon, which was about 5 hours by bus from Puebla. After taking a cab to the bus station, easily buying tickets by writing down what we wanted (Milo's idea, and an excellent one), and Milo eating what was apparently the hottest chicken sandwich of all time, we made our way to our correct gate to wait for our chariot. Not long after he went looking for a bathroom, the above convo started. Here's how it continued...
"If you went to the shitter, what do pesos have to do with it then?"
"Dude, so you have to pay 3 pesos to get into the bathroom, but that's not what I'm talkin about. I sit down to do my thing, and there's NO toilet paper. None. The bathroom is full of Mexicans so I can't go search for any, so..."
"Please tell me you didn-"
*laughing* "I used a 20 peso note. I HAD TO!"
"You're the grossest human being alive!"
*uncontrollable laughter from both of us* "Freak!"
I soon had my own experience with that particular bathroom. As Milo noted, it's 3 pesos to get in. Once you put in your coins, you push through the person-sized triple-barred turnstile to get in. Well, most people do anyway. I waited in line, put in my pesos, pushed the turnstile, and...nothing. I pushed and pushed...nada. I put in 3 more pesos...nyet. I just walked away, confused and defeated, thinking I must have missed something somehow. After witnessing the next two angry dudes unable to get through the gate, it became obvious. Nope, I didn't miss anything...
I broke the motherfucker.
After scurrying away from that shitstorm (pun intended), it was soon time to board our bus. And what a bus it was. Comfiest. Bus. Ever. Plush leather recliners for all. Eventually, we arrived in Cuernavaca, the intended stopover. We knew we had to switch buses here to get to Taxco, another 90-odd minutes south. We didn't realize we had to go to another bus station though, so after some confusion, we went and talked to a cabbie chillin in the parking lot. We were in a lot that stretched directly off of a highway, double-laned in each direction, each direction divided by a grassy ditch about 30 feet wide and 6-8 feet deep. Why the hell would I point out this much detail?
Because a fucking car doing about 60 km/h flew off the road right into said ditch while we were standing right there talking to the cabbie, that's why.
You can guess our reaction. In unison: "HOLY SHIT!" The typically-Mexican cabbie didn't even blink. Why would he? He had a couple of gringo-fish on the line. Pablo just hustled us into his taxi. We had to go in the direction of the car to flip a bitch (U-turn) back the other way to get to the other bus station. I shit you not, in the 2 minutes it took us to get in the cab, drive down, and turn around, there were 6-8 people that had stopped their car on the side of the highway and were helping to push this car out of the ditch (with its driver fully alive and unhurt) up onto the road again...with no front left tire.
We laughed at the insanity of the scene, but looking back on it, it was pretty inspiring. I'm not sure North Americans would stop on a dime and help out their fellow man like that at all. It was cool...although I have no clue what they hoped to accomplish by pushing a 3-wheeled car back onto the highway.
Mexican logic at it's finest.
Upon arrival at the correct station, a quick perusal of the board showed that the next bus to Taxco left in 20 minutes. SWEET. And there were 22 people in line in front of us to buy a ticket. NOT SO SWEET. We figured we were doomed (because Mexican customer service is a gigantic oxymoron), but we lucked out. We breezed through in due time, despite my bitching and whining (par for the course), and lucked out with a really cute english-speaking girl as our ticket agent. One strange baggage check later, we were on our way to Taxco. The guidebook said it was "one of the nicest cities in Mexico"...but that was the underestimation of the century. By far.
The guidebook didn't really clearly identify that Taxco (pronounced Tassco) exists on the side of a gigantic mountain. The bus ride sure did though. Milo laughed at me while I took like 9000 pictures of the valleys we were coasting over, but he wasn't laughing anymore when we approached the city, because it was fucking unreal. I've never descended into a mountainside jungle town any other time, so I don't have a point of comparison, but it was fucking cool. The road weaved around hairpin turns along the side of mountains until the bus suddenly stopped, apparently in a town. A town beyond my wildest imagination.
The first person we met was an old man tout trying to pimp the hotel we were dropped off at. We couldn't afford that place, despite the view being crazy insane. He called us a cab to head up into the heart of town to another hotel he touted. Cool, right? WOW. We get in the back of a gutted Volkswagen Beetle, and the cabbie immediately turns left into an alley we didn't even see...that went STRAIGHT DOWN. It was so steep that we both involuntarily lurched towards the windshield and had to hold ourselves in place. You see those fancy highway signs that say "10 degree grade, air brakes required"? This was 35 degrees, easily. Seriously. And we're in a '75 Beetle. And I'm huge. Scary, you ask?
That was just the warm up.
After 10 minutes of a literal Beetle rollercoaster, we were dropped off and hastily walked into the heart of the town. Across the vista from the hotel we were just at, looking back at it. We grabbed cash and used the net for a bit, then eventually settled on a hotel right off the Zocalo. We stayed here partly because of the location, and partly because I was an overheated crybaby and I flipped out for no reason. Sorry Milo. He has more experience than I do with 3rd world countries though, so he got us a good discount by bluffing that we'd go somewhere else. He's better at this stuff than I am.
After being led into the dungeon where our room was, we walked across the Zocalo to check out the insane church that is the centerpiece of the city.
We were lucky enough to run into a guy that gave us a tour in English, and also directed us to the silver market so Milo could buy some trinkets. Whatever commission he collected was worth his time and attention. Milo then threw out a great idea: "We should get a taxi to give us a tour of this place". I've never been anywhere that a taxi tour was even an affordable option, but our English-speaking friend translated, and we had the services of a car and driver for an hour...for 12 bucks. So awesome.
He didn't speak English, but that didn't matter. He spoke Spanish slow enough for us to get the basics, and he knew where to go. Basically, we went up. WAY UP. Like I said, the town is built on the side of a mountain. We went up countless alleys and streets with insane slopes, barely missing buildings and people, while laughing and enjoying the shit out of it. Milo waved at everyone we passed, and everyone looked at him like he was retarded (which made me laugh). Eventually we emerged out of the city and went up a bunch of dirt roads until we got to Cristo.
Cristo is Christ. There's a gigantic statue of him that overlooks the town, and the entire valley. Sorta like Rio, but less iconic. The statue sits on a massive flat platform that also serves as a tourist lookout, and I shit you not when I tell you that it's one of the craziest things I've ever seen. I felt like I could see half of Mexico...it was fucking awesome. Taxco sits at about 1650m (5500 feet, or about a mile high), and Cristo has to be 1000 feet above that easily. I cannot express to you what I saw there, it was that awe-inspiring. I can show you pics, but they don't do it justice. People, I never say this, but...YOU NEED TO GO TO TAXCO, MEXICO. ASAP.
After Cristo, we went back down into the vicinity of town and stopped at a bread store (holy foreshadowing) and a few other places. The town was so unique and nice, it's hard to express. We were so impressed, we didn't even get drunk. After dinner and chillin in the Zocalo (the main hangout in town), we just went and sat on the roof of our hotel for a while, admiring the view and bullshitting about stuff. It was raining, but we didn't care. I know Milo would agree with me that we were just happy we found a place like this, so fucking unique and crazy. We didn't need beer or absurdity to make it better. Taxco truly is what traveling is all about.
The next day was another example. We got up and took a taxi down to the bus station. Ticket-buying was easy, but someone alerted us to a situation we had completely missed somehow - Netherlands was playing Brazil. WHOA. Milo happened to be wearing his ugly orange jersey, the game was about to start, and the bus was leaving in 2 hours. But...we had nowhere to watch the game. We searched high and low, no dice. No restaurants or bars were open at 10am. We just walked until Milo saw a TV...and absurdity reigned once again.
I'm walking behind Milo, and all of a sudden he disappears. Okay...I retrace my steps, and he's in a bread store. With a TV. Wildly gesturing at the TV and saying "We watch! We pay!" Obviously they had no fucking clue what he was saying, but they were smiling and laughing. His jersey gave him away, they got it. They grabbed us plastic chairs, and we settled into a working bread store to watch Brazil/Holland. Seriously.
People came in, bought 10 loaves of bread, and laughed at the gringos in bright colors freaking out in the corner. I feigned embarrassment, but I'm not gonna lie - it was super entertaining. It was an experience, that's for sure. I just kept saying "HOLA!" to everyone that came in. Milo didn't even notice other people, he was way too into the game.
Brazil scored first, but Holland evened it up and scored late to take a 2-1 lead, which was a HUGE upset and completely crazy. True to form, Milo went absolutely bonkers after the second goal and ran around the bread store, high-fiving all the people inside and tackling me out of my chair. Then ran outside onto the street and danced a jig. It was pretty epic. Milo-worthy, if you will.
Our bus was due to leave right around final whistle, so we lasted as long as we could, then hauled ass to the bus just in time. Holland won. They were now in the semis, with a dream draw to win the World Cup. Milo couldn't be happier. I had 22-1 on a Spain/Holland final so I was happy too, but that didn't matter that morning - I'll never, ever forget watching a World Cup knockout game in a bread store in a Mexican mountainside village. That shit doesn't happen to regular people.
The last few days in Mexico City couldn't compare to Taxco, but they didn't disappoint either. I'll write those before I go. More Lisette craziness is next.
