Shinanigans in Mexico
**** there are some good stories in here regarding travel in mexico, particularily in the Western and north-central areas. it is definatley worth a skim over.*****
Prologue
This isn't a tale of epic proportions, or of a life-changing journey, but rather the documentation of an exciting, adventurous, once-in-a-lifetime trek. Our destination: The "Barrancas del Cobre" (Copper Canyons) in Northwest Mexico, about 10 hours inland from the Pacific and 12 hours south of the US border. This trip was planned only 8 days prior to our departure, and this spur-of-the-moment spirit followed us throughout our journey. The following is a day-by-day account of our travels.
Thursday, April 13, 2000
EDMONTON
10:45pm
Arrival at the thriving hub of Edmonton; the Greyhound bus depot. This place is full of low-lifes and skids from all over northern Alberta. Outside, it is freezing cold! We go for a quick meal at the A & W (does it get any greasier?), and then track down a shuttle to the airport, after finding out that it was $35.00 for a taxi. We get on the shuttle, and as our great luck continues, our driver is a nutcase, a guy who had possible multiple personality, compulsive lying disorder, and no belief in the law. He told us one story about losing control and punching out a cop, and then biting the next officer who tried to assist him. He also told us how he would like to line up all the "bad " drivers and mow them down with his van. We nervously sat and nodded with his stories and made a quick exit upon arrival at the airport, which seemed like forever.
Midnight. Friday, April 14, 2000
Only 6 hours until take-off, 4 hours to check-in. Coffee is first on our list, so we take up our spot to sit for 4 hours and drink coffee and wait. After reading the paper five times, and consuming two cups of coffee, restlessness sets in. We wonder the airport aimlessly for the next hour searching for a cozy place to catch a couple Z's. We find nothing. Again we sit. Again we wait.
1:40am
The airport is cold, and I venture out for a walk in an attempt to keep warm. Upstairs I see another flight of stairs leading to dark room, so I curiously follow them, and ….PAYDIRT! A quiet, dark, warm room with long benches, it is small and accom0dating. I run, not walk, down to get Brad, and we soon find ourselves snuggled into the hard plastic benches for a good nights sleep.
2:45am
I awake cold; the heat has been turned off. There are three strange people also asleep in the room, 2 of them are snoring, the other is tossing and turning on his creaky bench. Although somewhat irritated, I try to sleep some more, knowing that it will be a long day tomorrow. I lay awake in the cold, noisy room and I picture the "soup nazi" from Sienfeld telling me: "NO SLEEP FOR YOU!". I make a mental note to myself to cough up the dough for a hotel next time, even if only for a few hours.
4:00am
Check-in time baby! I can smell the ocean air already. Only 2 hours left to kill, what to do? Some more aimless wondering, followed by coffee, followed by more aimless wondering.
6:15am
After a quick de-icing, we finally take off, and after a quick stop in the blizzarding Calgary (and more de-icing), we are on our way. We eat, drink, and look ahead to Mexico with giddy anticipation (probably due to our lack of sleep). The plane is very cramped and there are about 5 noisy drunk Albertans behind us, but we can live with it. Brad sleeps, but due to my phobia of plane crashes I get none, and just try to keep myself distracted by watching a Robin Williams flick in which he is a robot with a crush on a little girl and all of her female descendants thereafter. THE worst movie I've seen in a while, but it keeps my attention from the turbulence and scary noises of modern day rapid transportation.
MAZATLAN
12:00 noon
We land in the shithole they call the Mazatlan airport, which was only built to accommodate tourists 30 years ago and has had no maintenance or renovations since. But so what, we're in Me-hee-coh! We soon find the cerveza stand and purchase 4 over-priced beers, and hop on an over-priced shuttle to town, which is 25 minutes away. With no sleep for 30-some hours, and drinks on the plane and shuttle, I am feeling pretty good. It is about 100 degrees out, I am sweating, I'm tired, bring it on! Upon arrival in the "gold zone" we do more wondering with our heavy backpacks in search of a hotel for under 200 pesos per night. "Good Luck!" we are told, it happens to be Mexico's biggest holiday week: Easter. I see some girls from our plane involved in the same quest, but they are lugging two large suitcases each and I truly feel sorry for them because they had "sucker" stamped all over them. At this point I dropped any regrets I had about buying an expensive backpack. It is also nice to be wearing a backpack for the purpose of dealing with the locals. They don't badger you as much and they tend to lower their prices for you, because you look like an experienced traveler, whether you are or not. In the "hotel San Diego" we finally find a clean dive for 250 pesos a night, and (bonus) it is right across from the bar complex that serves as the mecca for all partiers in Mazatlan and area. Too tired to sleep, we throw our shorts and decide to go for a stroll. We walk along the beach with two pina coloda's each and dip our feet in the warm water, just soaking it in. Only 5 hours ago we were leaving Calgary and it's sub-arctic temperatures. As we saunter down the beach, loving life, we come upon a Mexican man waving a Canadian flag in the air in a despairing attempt to attract Canucks to rent his jet ski. I say "hey nice flag."
He enthusiastically exclaims "I love Cun-ah-da"
I respond, " Name three provinces. where is canada?", and receive a stupid look and a moment of silence.
"Province?" he replies.
So I shoot back with three Mexican states , "Sinaloa, Chihuahua, Chiapas" in a drunken attempt to impress him. More stupid looks.
4:00 pm
Already feeling quite intoxicated, we decide to eat. Remembering the restaurant/bar Gringo Lingo from my last trip, I suggest we head there for some fun and frivolity. Well, it wasn't quite the thriving hotspot it was at springbreak, but we sit down and order food and beer nonetheless. Of course it has to be happy hour so beer are 3 for 1, which would be great under normal circumstances, except that we hadn't slept since six am the previous morning. After eating and I decide to go have a siesta, because one more beer would have taken all of my common sense. Apparently Brad has already lost his common sense so he decides to keep his buzz going, and to assist him, he has enlisted the help of ephedrine. Great. I hit the sack at five-ish and Brad heads out on a solo drunken adventure. I promptly fall into a deep sleep, only to be awoken sporadically by Brad running into the room doing somersaults and jumping-jacks while screaming "WHHHOOOOOHHH!!!" repeatedly at the top of his lungs. Man, is he wired, and I mean wiii-ehrrrd. Apparently he made friends all over the north end of Mazatlan, because everyone seemed to know him when we went out later.
8:00pm
I finally get out of bed after much persuasion from super-buzz Brad and a crappy nap. I go out onto the patio and meet the new friends Brad has made. 2 San Franciscans and 6 Mexicans are drinking homemade Tequila from a jar and dancing. Brad is trying to learn a Mexican waltz from one of the Senioritas but keeps ending up two-stepping. He is way out of hand, I don't usually see him like this. We soon split from our new friends after the language barrier becomes too much and a few shots of tequila. Soon we head out on the town. We dance like crazy and with any girl available. We have so much energy and we are distracted so easily that we can't keep a conversation with anybody, and this proves harmful in any attempt to wheel a nice beautiful baby. After a blur of a night, and four different nightclubs, we end up at home around five am. 48 hours have passed and I've had three hours sleep. I'm covered in dirt and sand and have no clue why. Sleep comes easily and swiftly.
Saturday, April 15, 2000. 11:30am
I awake feeling suprisingly good, albeit covered in mud, but I'm afraid Brad hasn't fared so well. I pull myself away from the hard mattress and cheap sheets that my body is stuck to and find my amigo in the fetal position on the bathroom floor. The toilet is full of stomach bile, and what didn't make it there is clinging to the side of his face. After some motivation we check out and head to McDonalds for a well-deserved meal. Mine goes down well and Brad's goes down and right back up. The previous day we thought that two nights in Mazatlan would be in order, but after quick deliberation we decide that another night like that may kill us, so it's off to the bus and on with our journey to Creel. The bus depot is fairly clean and the bus schedule is very accommodating, allowing us to leave at 1:30pm, only a half-hour after we get there. Surprisingly, the bus is clean and the air conditioner works well. It will be a six hour ride to Los Mochis, so we settle in for a good sleep. We go about three hours until we pull into some city and sit at a bus depot for an hour, with nobody getting off, nobody getting on, we just sit. The bus driver and his co-pilot stand in front of the bus and eat, then we go. The second leg of our journey has yet another surprise for us: a movie. It is "the Chakal" and I expect to try and lip-read this version of "the Jackal", but it ends up being English, so I sit back and take it in while my boozer of a pal sleeps off his 20-hour drunkfest.
10:00pm - Los Mochis
We end up taking a little longer than expected, and pull up to this seedy urban center in the dark. Getting off the bus, we are thrust into an entirely different world than we expected. I thought it would be a pleasant city with palm trees and tourist-friendly locals. There are no other tourists. No palm trees. Instead there are old, dark buildings, and creepy looking locals, who don't look afraid to mug you in a heartbeat. Like the "brave" explorers we are, we simply just start to walk around down town, and man is this place a hole! Like fools, we try and communicate in English, but nobody speaks it. I am feeling almost ignorant coming to another country and not being able to speak in their tongue, especially being off the beaten path. This feeling only gets stronger as the trip continues and we get further into the Copper Canyons (Barrancas del Cobre). After trying a few places and failing to get a room, until we stumble upon the "Sahara", which looks like it probably was a nice hotel in it's day, but now it's the same place 30 years later with no maintenance or upkeep. We ask the girl at the front desk, " " which means: "room available for two?" We are pleased to here "Si, dos ciquente por favor" So we dish out our 200 pesos and head on up to a much needed bed. As we head down the hall, the place looks a little seedy, but hey it's only one night. The room is at the end of the hall and when we open the door a foul odor comes out and the room is hot. Not only is the room hot and stinky, but it is dirty - no not dirty - filthy. The floor has not been cleaned in a long time, there are three single beds and the sheets on all of them are covered in hairs and stains. I have never seen a room like this in my life. To top it off the lock on the door does not work, so being the intuitive dudes we are, we jam the third bed against the door and attempt sleep. Despite the fact that we are fully clothed, sleeping on top of the blankets, it is 100 degrees, and there is a nightclub directly beneath the window, sleep comes easy.
5:45am Sunday, April 16, 2000
The wake-up call rings and awakens me from my slumber. I get up easily because of the respect I have for the call that I worked so hard on the language barrier for. It is still dark out and we catch a cab (which we are thoroughly hosed on) to the train station, which is a little ways out of town. I decide that we are late enough and figure I'll get money out at the train station. Ha! The train station is very primitive, very crowded and very Mexican. Everybody is shoving and pushing their way to the front of the lines and we just go with the flow. A quick look at the Prices tells us that the prices for both 1st and 2nd class have doubled since my "lets Go" book was published. Luckily Brad has enough pesos to get us both on 2nd class and we purchase our tickets and wait. I'm just happy to be getting out of Mochas, as I couldn't stomach the possibility of another night there. As the train pulls up we assume the "every man for him" stance and I elbow my way onto the train quickly and score us some money seats. A family of 5 crowds into the two seats beside us and I feel like giving up my seat for a moment until common sense gets the better of me. It's an eleven-hour train ride and I paid for a seat (25 USD), so I think I'll keep it. The seats are spacious, comfortable, and recline very far back. I can only imagine what first class must be like. The bathrooms are another story, but hey, It's Mexico, what do you expect? All I know is that Brad is getting a big thumb's up for bringing toilet paper along, since 90% of the bathrooms I used did not have any. And to think I scoffed at him when he packed it. Silly Me.
2:00pm
The train ride is spectacular and the views are truly breathtaking. I find myself restless in my seat and go out to the open-air space between railcars and just soak it in. To think that 48 hours ago we were in snowy, cold Canada just blows my mind. The cliffs and canyons and rock-faces are amazing. We pass over 25 bridges and whiz through more than 80 tunnels. Every once and a while we pass through a small rail town in the middle of nowhere and let someone off or pick someone up. What people do in these towns, besides watching trains, is beyond me. When we hit "El divesidaro" (translates to "the view") the train stops and we are told we have 15 minutes to explore. First on the agenda is to eat, since we hadn't since McDonalds the prior day. Stepping off the train we are hit with a whiff of food being cooked nearby, so we simply follow the smell and the crowds. El divisidaro used to be a small mining town, but it is most likely the train tourist traffic that sustains them now. These people live for the several daily train stops in order to sell their arts, crafts, music, and food. All the food along the train boardwalk is cooked on large metal drums standing upright. There are holes cut into the side where a fire burns and the women can control the heat of the stove by quickly adding or removing wood as necessary. On top, various tacos, fajitas, and meat's cook, but my favorite are the " Chile", which is a large pepper stuffed with cheese, battered, and fried to golden brown perfection. All the food is fairly cheap, so we eat and head down to the canyon edge for a quick gander at the amazing view until a loud blaring of the train's horn beckons us and sends everybody scampering back. We soon begin talking with a couple of girls heading to the same hostel as us, and they seem interested in doing some travelling together. They teach English in Guadalara, and they soon back off from those plans when they see what crazy drunks we are in Creel.
CREEL
5:00 pm
10 hours after our departure from shit-hole Mochis, we arrive in Creel, the heart of the Copper Canyons, and our home for the next week or so. We have an idea what hostel we want to stay at, and just as my "let's Go" book tells me there is a young boy waiting to take us to Casa Margarita as we eagerly step off the train. The air is very hot, and very, very dry, not at all like the humid pacific coast. As my faithful book has not let me down yet (except for ticket prices), I follow it to the bank machine located in the town square for our first stop - money. My reliance on interac and ATM's in Canada has spoiled me and sure enough we get to an out of order bank machine, which is the only ATM in Creel. One must understand that this place is in the backwoods of Mexico, a dot on the map, and exists only because of a train that passes through. We find out that there is one money exchange in town but its hours are limited to 9-4 on weekdays only, and it's the heart of the weekend. We decide to head over to Margaritas, which is a very short walk across the town square, and explain to the manager (Ivan) our predicament. He is understanding and welcoming, and puts us up, telling us to pay him when we can cash some travelers cheques or the bank machine is working. We are amazed by the cleanliness of the place and since the dorm is full we get our own double room. After Mochis and the long sweaty train ride, this place feels like heaven, and to top it off the shower is full of hot water. As I dry off I can smell delicious aroma coming from the kitchen, so I hastily proceed to the kitchen to take advantage of the free meal included with my room cost - which, by the way, is a meager 60 pesos per night. Before I get to far, I should take a moment her to explain the layout of Casa Margarita. The front of the building faces north and is on the southeast corner of the town square, and is nothing special to look at, in fact its kind of run down. You enter through the front doors and are immiediatly in the kitchen area, where Margarita hangs out at one of two dining tables, and three seniorita's are hard at work cooking and cleaning. As you proceed left you enter a dining area with the other table and a bulletin board that boasts the tours of Creel and area, for only a "small" fee to the hostel.
Heading through the dining area you enter a hall and pass one of the two community bathrooms for dorm-people, and end up in the center of the complex, which is an open courtyard that serves as the nightly communal gathering location. Rooms on three levels surround the courtyard, and to your left is where the dorms are located. This large 3-room area houses about 30 bunks, and houses light-walleted campers on the floor if they desire.
8:00pm
Supper is great and we head for the courtyard for many cervazas, or however many we can buy with what is left of our money, which is not much. This courtyard is truly a cultural melting pot, and me converse with people from all over the world. Out of all the people there, a few seem on the same level as us immediately. There are the two portly, but very pretty girls from Sweden, Thomas from Norway, a few crazy Aussies, Fabio from Italy, some cockneys, and 4 hockey-loving Americans. We drink enough to be feeling good, and we are talked into heading over to - surprise - Margarita's bar. With the now very little amount of money we have remaining we walk down the street towards the bar, wondering how we will pay for drinks and it was about that time that a small miracle happened. We were about a block from the hostel wondering how we were going to afford anything on the weekend, and as we walked a light in a business turned on to the left of us, spreading a glorious path of light across our feet. I casually glanced towards it and just about broke my neck in the double take that ensued. I looked to Brad and saw the same be-dazzled look on his face, and we both let out a scream of happy excitement. This light, the light that caused us this emotional high, was the owner of the money-exchange stopping into his store for some papers he forgot. We run to the store and bang on the windows until he lets us in and changes our traveler's checks for hard currency, at a very shitty exchange rate, but we don't really care at the moment. I offer him some Canadian money but he wants no part of that, as they only like that good 'ol greenback from the US of A. We drank pretty hard to celebrate our "victory", and this bar has a policy that you must do a free shot of tequila with every beer you have. Needless to say we were pretty drunk pretty quick and before you knew it we were headed home.
1:00am, Monday, April 17
We get to the hostel and the door is locked, so instead of knocking, we let our inebriated brains do the thinking, since we don't plan to wake anybody. We decide to be ninjas, which is not good anytime, let alone pissed drunk on beer and tequila. To the left of the door is a second-floor balcony that we accessed via a large cement pillar, that is being held by only a couple loose pieces of rebar at the bottom (Imagine a large cucumber standing on end, being held into the ground by only a couple of toothpicks). Once up top, we scale over to the roof and realize it is tin and will be to loud, so we go under the roof through the attic. The most noise we make as we crawl through the attic is a few giggles, but it is dark - pitch black. I lead the way and am nearing our room until I see that it is inaccessible due to steel bars, and just as I turn to go back - BANG! - I fall through the attic floor with both of my legs. Luckily I catch myself with my hands, but it is too late. Lights are coming on and a small crowd gathers in the courtyard looking our way, including caretaker Jim, a grizzled old Vietnam vet. "What the hell are you guys doing?" he asks. Silence. We think we can hide. "What in the fuck are you guys doing up there?" he asks again, the anger apparent in his voice.
Finally I pipe up. "We didn't want to wake anyone since the door was locked."
"Well, you did a damn fine job of that. Why don't you just knock, man?"
"Okay, we're coming down."
"Yeah, good idea"
We scale back down and shamefully slouch through the front door, where our audience has come to greet us with many a scowl. All I can say is "lo sienta" over and over - "I'm very sorry." Jim continues to ask "Why don't you just knock, man?", to which we have no answer. When we get into the room, we look at each other's guilty faces and absolutely lose it. We laugh ourselves to sleep.
8:00 am
With much reluctance I emerge from the room to greet the daylight and the faces of everybody I awoke. By this time news has spread and everyone knows what the two Canadian guys did last night. I sit down to breakfast and dirty looks from Margarita, while Jim tells me I should be embarrassed to be here. Oh well. Many of the other travelers laugh about it and call us the "Crazy Canadians" and show us the back way to hop the fence after the bar closes.
Stay Tuned…….
Still to come, a 3-day broke & starving trip to Batopilas (where one of us contracts intestinal parasites), and a 1-week party across Mexico, with many a wild story.
More from creelmochis here