Today began fairly normally. I woke up with a crudo from yesterday's adventures. Wandered to Starbucks for coffee and the most reliable internet connection I've found in Mexico. Played frogger with the traffic. Passed the chiles oaxaquenos guy on the bike. It ended fairly normally as well. Trip to the grocery store. Hanging laundry on the roof. Lamenting the fact that my internet connection at home isn't strong enough to watch last week's episode of 24 again.
In between, the guy chasing me with a big rock, the strange military base I accidentally wandered onto, and my complete inability to figure out how to escape the maze-like network of paths in the Bosque de Chapultapec reminded me that I am still, in fact, in an unfamiliar city, however many routines have entered into life!
The aforementioned Bosque de Chapultapec may be my favorite part of Mexico City. It's the second largest urban park in the world--bigger than Central Park, and second only to Philadelphia's Fairmont Park. It's filled with museums, gentle paths, lakes, benches, a zoo, and countless things I've yet to see. One of my Sunday rituals has become a long run through section one. Today, with the help of google maps, I made a small change. Just one little turn extra. Of course, had I looked closer at Google maps I would have realized that the one little turn took me onto some bizarre convoluted network of overpasses, underpasses, and pedestrian bridges.
Fast forward to a lost and confused Matt running past a boot-camp-looking obstacle course, a guard with a large automatic rifle, and the several dozen soldiers behind him. After explaining in broken spanish to the one gunless man at the gate that I was horribly lost and just needed directions to the Bosque, I took off running again. The drugged out looking guy I had passed on the street earlier, however, had apparently started following me. And picked up a rock. And, for no apparent reason, seemed very angry.
Fortunately, the guards encougaged me to return to their side of the which gave me an easy way around my newfound crazy friend. Whatever chemicals fomented his craziness also made it pretty clear that I'd be able to outrun him without too much challenge. And, I think it requires quite a few drugs indeed to throw a rock in the direction of underpaid guys carrying assault rifles.
For the next hour or so, I found myself completely lost in section two of the Bosque, which helped build both my appreciation for how large the place is--the first 15 minutes of being lost were spent running around the perimeter of a Six Flags, one of two amusement parks in this section--and how much cleaner section 1 is. So, next week, back to la primera sección y sus calzados limpios. Much more exploring left, and only three weeks to go!
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Fotos
An entry? Not really... but, photos at last!
http://picasaweb.google.com/mthomaspsu/MexicoHighlights?feat=directlink
http://picasaweb.google.com/mthomaspsu/MexicoHighlights?feat=directlink
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Me he mudado
When I first moved to Mexico a few weeks ago, I did so feeling quite secure in the fact that I had an apartment ready for me when I arrived. It was recommended by IPADE. It was filled with other students and just a few minutes walk to the school. It was cheap. And based on the (pictureless) description I received by email, it sounded quite acceptably nice.
Now that I've settled into a very different apartment in a very different part of town, I'm comfortable sharing my first major lesson from Mexico: Never move into an apartment without seeing it. Ever. Especially in Mexico.
For those of you reading this from Tuck, Buchanan is a good starting point for your mental image. For those of you not from Tuck, picture old cinder blocks and mold-tinged carpets. Then, imagine a bed suspended in the air by something resembling old drainage pipes, a crawl space underneath with a bar for hanging clothes that I believe was meant to replace a closet, and a tiny desk complete with broken chair.
Now, that by itself probably would have been highly tolerable for a few weeks. I've slept in worse places. And, even the lack of insulation and unexpected presence of 40 degree (Fahrenheit!) nights in Mexico probably would have been tolerable. And the fact that the walls somehow magnified rather than dampened the sound from the parties downstairs. (After all, the noise from parties downstairs meant that there were parties downstairs.)
Alas, after a few days of being told by kindhearted classmates and the landlord that it was entirely unsafe to leave after 7pm, I decided my time in Mexico might be better spent in a happier part of town. Perhaps the broken down Pontiac that marked the entrance to the apartment should have been a sign that I wasn't in the nicest part of town, but what did I know?
That said, this story has a happy ending. Thanks to Craigslist Mexico, I found an apartment Thursday morning, moved in Thursday afternoon, and took off for Aculpoco at 5am on Friday to celebrate. My new neighborhood is called Polanco (for those of you super familiar with DF, it's technically Anzures, right on the Polanco border and directly across from the Liverpool). All the streets are named after famous authors--I'm on the corner of Eucken and Rosseau--, most are lined with trees, and other than the daily game of frogger I play to cross the streets, I feel completely safe. The apartment isn't anything to write home about, but I have hardwood floors, a few windows, many blankets, wifi, hot water, roommates from Mexico and France, and a bed on the floor. What more could a gringo want?
Hasta pronto, amigos!
Now that I've settled into a very different apartment in a very different part of town, I'm comfortable sharing my first major lesson from Mexico: Never move into an apartment without seeing it. Ever. Especially in Mexico.
For those of you reading this from Tuck, Buchanan is a good starting point for your mental image. For those of you not from Tuck, picture old cinder blocks and mold-tinged carpets. Then, imagine a bed suspended in the air by something resembling old drainage pipes, a crawl space underneath with a bar for hanging clothes that I believe was meant to replace a closet, and a tiny desk complete with broken chair.
Now, that by itself probably would have been highly tolerable for a few weeks. I've slept in worse places. And, even the lack of insulation and unexpected presence of 40 degree (Fahrenheit!) nights in Mexico probably would have been tolerable. And the fact that the walls somehow magnified rather than dampened the sound from the parties downstairs. (After all, the noise from parties downstairs meant that there were parties downstairs.)
Alas, after a few days of being told by kindhearted classmates and the landlord that it was entirely unsafe to leave after 7pm, I decided my time in Mexico might be better spent in a happier part of town. Perhaps the broken down Pontiac that marked the entrance to the apartment should have been a sign that I wasn't in the nicest part of town, but what did I know?
That said, this story has a happy ending. Thanks to Craigslist Mexico, I found an apartment Thursday morning, moved in Thursday afternoon, and took off for Aculpoco at 5am on Friday to celebrate. My new neighborhood is called Polanco (for those of you super familiar with DF, it's technically Anzures, right on the Polanco border and directly across from the Liverpool). All the streets are named after famous authors--I'm on the corner of Eucken and Rosseau--, most are lined with trees, and other than the daily game of frogger I play to cross the streets, I feel completely safe. The apartment isn't anything to write home about, but I have hardwood floors, a few windows, many blankets, wifi, hot water, roommates from Mexico and France, and a bed on the floor. What more could a gringo want?
Hasta pronto, amigos!
Sunday, January 17, 2010
El tráfico
Mexico city has a population hovering somewhere around 18M people. Bigger than New York. Bigger than Mumbai. Bigger than pretty much anywhere except Tokyo, depending on which definition of size one uses. All things considered, Mexico does a surprisingly good job of dealing with that volume. It's subway system handles over 7M people a day, and costs only 3 pesos a ride -- about 25 cents. But, when you have 18M people all trying to move somewhere at the same time, not even the most well planned system of roads can keep traffic moving smoothly.
It turns out that, in DF*, everyone decides to move at the same time right around 6:00 PM on Friday the 15th. Of course, you're probably thinking. Everyone is anxious to leave work and get home. No no. That would be all too simple. It turns out that Friday the 15th is payday in Mexico... all of Mexico. And it turns out that on payday, Mexico... all of Mexico, heads into the city to spend as much money as possible getting drunk.
Not knowing this, I thought Friday would be a good time to head to Teotihuacan, one of the oldest and largest complex of pyramids in Mexico City. The pyramids were incredible. The bus ride back, almost three hours. The volume of traffic, impossible to describe.
In fairness, only part of the congestion can be blamed on value. The other culprit is driving style. In Mexico City, there are plenty of traffic signals, clearly demarcated lanes, stops signs and directional information aplenty. But none of this really seems to matter. Stops signs are more gentle suggestions than they are a requirement. Turning right from the left hand line, or left from the right hand lane, seems to be a perfectly acceptable mode of driving. So, our bus driver had no issue cutting off three lanes of traffic to try to shift a bit to the right. And the truck we passed (lord knows why a truck thought Friday night was a good time to move through the city). Of course, the upside to traffic being frequently frozen completely is that jumping out of the bus in the middle of the street was made much easier--our driver didn't even bat an eye when my friend Dan and I requested to get out once I figured out where in the city we were. And being Friday night, having just sat in a bus for three hours, waiting for the traffic to fade provided a wonderful excuse for going to a bar and learning about Micheladas.
*DF = Distrito Federal = Mexico City
It turns out that, in DF*, everyone decides to move at the same time right around 6:00 PM on Friday the 15th. Of course, you're probably thinking. Everyone is anxious to leave work and get home. No no. That would be all too simple. It turns out that Friday the 15th is payday in Mexico... all of Mexico. And it turns out that on payday, Mexico... all of Mexico, heads into the city to spend as much money as possible getting drunk.
Not knowing this, I thought Friday would be a good time to head to Teotihuacan, one of the oldest and largest complex of pyramids in Mexico City. The pyramids were incredible. The bus ride back, almost three hours. The volume of traffic, impossible to describe.
In fairness, only part of the congestion can be blamed on value. The other culprit is driving style. In Mexico City, there are plenty of traffic signals, clearly demarcated lanes, stops signs and directional information aplenty. But none of this really seems to matter. Stops signs are more gentle suggestions than they are a requirement. Turning right from the left hand line, or left from the right hand lane, seems to be a perfectly acceptable mode of driving. So, our bus driver had no issue cutting off three lanes of traffic to try to shift a bit to the right. And the truck we passed (lord knows why a truck thought Friday night was a good time to move through the city). Of course, the upside to traffic being frequently frozen completely is that jumping out of the bus in the middle of the street was made much easier--our driver didn't even bat an eye when my friend Dan and I requested to get out once I figured out where in the city we were. And being Friday night, having just sat in a bus for three hours, waiting for the traffic to fade provided a wonderful excuse for going to a bar and learning about Micheladas.
*DF = Distrito Federal = Mexico City
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Puma King, Chingas a tu Madre!
I imagine there is only one event where a group of otherwise highly educated, congenial MBA students could be found screaming in unison at overweight men in spandex who have branded themselves with names like Puma King, Astro Boy, La Mascara, or El Utimó Guerro, or Gato Everready. Lucha Libre.
I've never really seen American professional wrestling, so I have little to which I can compare the Mexican version. Over the course of five matches (each consisting of three official "falls"), I watched the wrestlers become slightly less out of shape and slightly more sophisticated in their costuming, and the Mexican fans get increasingly... entertaining.
This might give some indication of the costuming. Round one began with a man dressed in white spandex and angel wings purchased a WalMart and his sidekick who looked vaguely like a cat. In lieu of costumes, their opponents wore beer belly's and masks. Masks seemed to be the most essential element of the show. Well, perhaps second only to what might be my new favorite Spanish phrase: Chingas a tu Madre!, best said with a large group, in unison, and repeatedly.
I've never really seen American professional wrestling, so I have little to which I can compare the Mexican version. Over the course of five matches (each consisting of three official "falls"), I watched the wrestlers become slightly less out of shape and slightly more sophisticated in their costuming, and the Mexican fans get increasingly... entertaining.
This might give some indication of the costuming. Round one began with a man dressed in white spandex and angel wings purchased a WalMart and his sidekick who looked vaguely like a cat. In lieu of costumes, their opponents wore beer belly's and masks. Masks seemed to be the most essential element of the show. Well, perhaps second only to what might be my new favorite Spanish phrase: Chingas a tu Madre!, best said with a large group, in unison, and repeatedly.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Acawhatwhat?
One of the universal truths of travel--at least as far as I can tell--is that people will try to sell you things. The more touristy the area, the more people will try to sell you. The lower the per-capita GDP in aforementioned tourist area, the more people will assume you need to buy an umbrella or a langosta, despite the fact that you already have one. All this is to say, touts are a small price to pay for a weekend in Acapulco.
Fortunately, Mexican business school isn't much harder than second year of regular business school. And, even more fortunately, thanks to Tuck's policy on accrediting courses, I had nothing to do on Thursday or Friday. So (after moving apartments!), I woke up before dawn, woke my new roommate to let me out of our house, and took the five hour bus ride with a few friends from Tuck and a few new friends from France and Germany to the beach. It was glorious.
Why the beach is glorious probably needs no explanations. But, one important fact is missing. It turns out that Mexico City is freezing. Since its warm here most of the year, no one puts insulation or heaters into their homes. So, it's cold. And it's cold inside. The beach, on the other hand, is hot. And wonderful.
Fortunately, Mexican business school isn't much harder than second year of regular business school. And, even more fortunately, thanks to Tuck's policy on accrediting courses, I had nothing to do on Thursday or Friday. So (after moving apartments!), I woke up before dawn, woke my new roommate to let me out of our house, and took the five hour bus ride with a few friends from Tuck and a few new friends from France and Germany to the beach. It was glorious.
Why the beach is glorious probably needs no explanations. But, one important fact is missing. It turns out that Mexico City is freezing. Since its warm here most of the year, no one puts insulation or heaters into their homes. So, it's cold. And it's cold inside. The beach, on the other hand, is hot. And wonderful.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Soy vegetariano?
Coming to Mexico, I thought it would be easier to explain my bizarre diet to people. For all sorts of bizarre reasons, I eat most things, just not mammals. Fortunately, down here, "vegetariano" includes chicken and fish, neither of which is really meat. Gone would be the long dialogues--"do you eat pork?" "no" "isn't chicken a mammal?" "no, it's a bird"...
Tonight, I discovered that perhaps, beef is also a vegetable in Mexico.
The scene: A small taqueria, around 10:00pm
The cast: Matt, his friends Mike and Dan, at least a dozen waiters wander idly about
Matt: (in broken spanish) Do you have any tacos with chicken
Waiter: No
Matt: Oh. I'm a vegetariano. What can I eat here?
Waiter: The beef taco
At this point, I politely asked if the beef he described was from a cow, hoping perhaps I'd misunderstood the word. I was eventually brought some cheese sandwiched between a tortilla.
Tonight, I discovered that perhaps, beef is also a vegetable in Mexico.
The scene: A small taqueria, around 10:00pm
The cast: Matt, his friends Mike and Dan, at least a dozen waiters wander idly about
Matt: (in broken spanish) Do you have any tacos with chicken
Waiter: No
Matt: Oh. I'm a vegetariano. What can I eat here?
Waiter: The beef taco
At this point, I politely asked if the beef he described was from a cow, hoping perhaps I'd misunderstood the word. I was eventually brought some cheese sandwiched between a tortilla.
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