2nd of May : Mexico to Taxco; Taxco to Puebla

4pm Here I am on a bus, a position I will be quite often from now on during the rest of my fortnight. This I expected, having been to Ecuador for 6 weeks in 2006. What I did not expect was how fancy these bus trips are. There are amenities I’ve never seen in any bus in Canada or Europe. Drink of your choice and earphones on the way in, seats as large as first class plane seats. I’m in a row of just one set of seats, the other side has two. Not only that, I’ve never seen these things before: they are like leg supporting cushions which are stuck to the seat in front of you but you can bring them forward and they make a diagonal from your knees to the floor. I’m not into that cause I like to cross my legs, but still... what a luxury! The ticket your luggage in the storage and give you a stub. Film and air conditioning of course. God these are comfortable. OK, for once I’m not whining about the air conditioning. I’ve just spent 7 hours in a blasting heat. That being said, they haven’t done anything yet about the roads... they are full of mountains. Its’s horrible! The bus keeps going up and down!



Ok, all irony aside, where am I? Just left a beautiful little town called Taxco. It’s a city which has made its fortune from all the silver mines around the mountains. Cheapest silver in Mexico! I wish I could have visited the old silver mines. I don’t even know if that is really possible. So mainly it is a cute town of 46 000 which mainly has white buildings, narrow cobblestone streets and WAY too many old VW Beatles! It’s insane. Half of the cars here are Beatles! And half of those are white. OK, so you’re thinking cute. So was I, at the start. I mean how much is this town trying to match? Cute old white building and cute old white cars? Yeah, but after 10am there are so many cars its retarded. What’s worse is the noise they make, I believe they run on diesel, which means sounding like an 18-wheeler coming down a 3 metro-wide cobbled street at a 25% inclination. It’s also quite a gymnastic effort to go up and down all the narrow streets avoiding cars buses and the motorbikes trying to pass them by narrow inches!



Surtout, c’est pittoresque au bout!I arrived here at 9am, taking the first bus out at 7am from Mexico city. 140pesos. I love arriving to places in the morning because the city is still asleep, people are putting out their laundry and taking their coffee. There are much less sellers and cars about. That being said the random white girl walking around looking in people’s yards and peering into different alleyways to see which bring me higher up are a rare site indeed. The stares are normal; I respond or offer a Buenas dias! to everyone! I don’t feel at all like something awkward could happen to me. It is a great time to wander. People are going to church on a Sunday morning. Not only the big church in the middle of the Zocalo, but also the many little churches which each have their charm. Partucularly I loved this ancient-looking one.



The Zocalo is a really nice place with many trees in front of the main 17th century cathedral. It is a beautiful red and white domed creation which is infinitly detailed inside. Sunday: I don’t really want to interrupt mass, and I think pictures of insides of churches are a general fail at trying to capture the grandeur and beauty of a church. I return outside and sit with all the people in the plaza in front of the church. It is dense with people, especially in the shaded part. There are shoe waxers, old very poor looking people who sell some types of crafts like woven coloured baskets. These beautiful people make me want to cry, not out of pity, but because I admire so much their capacity to persevere. They are quite a lot smaller than the Mexicans who sell things at the market or who deal with lost tourists near the church. They are darker and their tough skin is deeply delved into by crevasses I cannot see the end of. Are they Indian? Or are their bodies this way because of age and work? I stupidly say “no, gracias” over and over again, sorry that this is the only contact we have. But I cannot bring a set of 5 staw mats in my bag and across the country even if I wanted to. I would pay a lot to be able to know what they think when they see all the tourists come to their town. What do they think of me? Of white people in general. Maybe one day I should be brave enough to ask one to eat with me and tell me their story. I hope I would understand their accent.



I love the sunlight coming in through my window and passing over and over on the computer screen. Someone has brought some fruit juices and it smells great. Mountains, villages and little shops parade across my window as if they specifically know I’m watching. They have put their best colors on, as always.

I bought quite a few pieces of silver for good prices because it’s what there is to do in this town, bargain down, admire the craftsmanship as well as the organisation and respect between all the sellers which compete for the same buyers. There are not many tourists other than Latin Americans, most of which I believe to be Mexican. But of these there are many. And just as many silver-selling places. Not to mention the artisanal market, which look much like the ones in Mexico City, at the entrance of every metro, park and corner. Fake CDs, rip-off everything you can imagine and food I couldn’t possibly start describing. It’s SO dense, but the air is nicer than in Mexico. It has stopped smelling of sulphur and fried stuffs.



One touristic thing I did was go to a temporary exhibit on torture and capital punishment methods, with descriptions in English. And bathrooms! It was interesting. And horrifying. I couldn’t take pictures. There were also posters on the wall describing torture and it’s place in humanity. And to never forget that it goes on still to this day in many countries; electricity, pharmaceuticals and neuroscience helping to perfect the methods. But the ones I saw were nonetheless effective. Self-impalement, vaginal pear, etc. It was different.

After that, I wandered. My bus for Puebla was at 4, and I’d been there since 9 am, so I walked around different streets and eventually went to a café to finish my book. Perhaps in-line with human torture is this book I bought at YUL right before leaving. Nostalgic story of a Montréal girl who falls in love with a Cambodian boy in the 70s, who returns to find his family after their year-long relationship. He has come to Canada to flee Pol Pot’s ravenous dictatorship. Eventually, she goes there to find him and does, and their lives continue in a strange way, she gets pregnant and looses the baby because she gets sick. He was hiding from her the fact that he was working against the government. They live a tortured and nostalgic life and eventually he disappears after a rally. Against all hope, she goes out into a small city where they took him and with the help of a few people, they find his skull in a river, though they are forbidden to search for it. She gets sent back to Canada after that. Sorry for blowing the plot. Needless to say it was a really sad story to read, I was crying when she finds his skull in the river and gets caught, probably like a fool alone at a table in a café. My tears are for the randomness of life: which make some people spend their day on their feet, selling one or two items just to be refused again and again, which can rip apart families for the hope of a better life for future generations, and which has brought me god-knows-how-many-miles from those who love me and care for me and especially Marc-Antoine who is with me all the time like a sprite living only in my mind.

And so here I am now. An hour into my four hour bus-ride to Puebla where I have a reservation at a real hotel tonight. Hoping for a hot shower, maybe even a bath :) I am cold from the air conditioning, but I’m writing in my blog and listening to my iPod. I haven’t eaten much today and I’m hungry, but there isin’t really much to do about that until we arrive. I should have bought something. But I am slightly short on pesos because it’s Sunday and there aren’t any casas de cambio open. So Im waiting to get to a bigger city for places where they take cards! Puebla has roughly 4 million people. So, quite in between Mexico City and Taxco.

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Now it's night-time. I am in Puebla! I had a great time in this city for the few hours I spend. The taxi driver from the bus terminal was SO nice! My hotel is right off the Zocalo and I had a great time here with this Barroquisimo! Festival! The Zocalo is huge! and it was filled with people listening to the Musique Équatorienne :)

But now I am tired good night!