Guadalajara

I have been vacationing in Mazatlan regularly for over 20 years. Yes, I occasionally go elsewhere, Tokyo, Cuernavaca, even Brazil. Last April I did take a week to visit two of my mentors in Akron, OH and in Kansas City, MO. But otherwise it's Mazatlan. I have many friends there, some Mexican, some US and Canadian expatriates, some in retirement, a few with jobs or their own enterprises. Among my closest are David Bodwell who runs Editora Mazatlan, publishing books in Spanish and English--the best popular history of Mexico, including a good history of the relationship with the US, entitled Gods, Gachupines and Gringos: A People's History of Mexico, and Martha Armenta, who owned the language school I attended and who is the patron saint of wild animals who are brought to Conrehabit, the wildlife preservation group and rehabituation clinic that she began in her grown son's abandoned bedroom, but now has a large operation just outside of Mazatlan. If you want more, go to Conrehabit

This summer I decided to go to a new place--new to me of course--Guadalajara. Guadalajara is a big city, almost 5,000,000 people, it is a bustling place of technology and industry. If you want to know more about the city you can go to Wikipedia, but since you are reading my blog, I'll, with lack of humility, assume you are interested in me.

I began yesterday morning, catching a Marin Door to Door ride to the airport at 2:30am. Couldn't sleep on the planes what with changing in LA and the only two plus hour flight then to Guadalajara. The flight was packed and I was sitting with two other folk of my own size (Extra large). The walk from the airplane to Immigration was about half the distance from LA. I was very tired by this tie. Of course the Mexican  immigration and customs folk were very polite and helpful as they always have been whenever I have visited or lived in Mexico.

One Mexican curiosity is their green light/red light approach to baggage inspection. After immigration, you pick up your bags and head for customs. If you have nothing to declare and fill out the form to say so, they let you push a button. It (seemingly) randomly chooses to show a green light or a red light. If it is a red light, you have to open your bags, but on a green light you are just waved through.

By this time, not only was I tired, but very hungry. I had eaten nothing since dinner on Sunday and it was now 2pm on Monday. But I have arrived in civilization. The airport lounge sported a Starbucks and a BurgerKing in addition to several restaurants. I choose a chicken sandwich, Mexicano; a slab of breaded chicken breast slathered with salsa on an elongated bun. That and a cup of coffee. (Mexican coffee has improved tremendously over these 20 years. In the old days, if you ordered a cup of coffee, they would bring a jar or packet of Nescafe, and some hot water.)

Rejuvenated, I went to the kiosk and bought a taxi ticket for the ride to downtown Guadalajara. (From now on I'm going to use the abbreviation, GDL or gdl. These are approved and used by Mexicans all the time.) Showing the taxista the directions I had received, he had no trouble getting me there. I got out of the taxi in front of Hostel Hospedarte, where I had a reserved single room. Most hostels these days have a few private rooms, not just dormitory style. I went in and the delightful (and quite beautiful) young woman tried to find my reservation, to no avail. I showed her the confirmation and after pondering a bit, she said, that there are two Hostel Hospedarte and the offices had sent me the wrong directions. I needed to take another cab to the correct one which was even more in the heart of the historical center.

$10 lighter, I arrived at the correct Hostel Hospedarte and entered to immediately be greeted by a three flight set of stairs, up which I had to haul my bags. This was almost enough for a full collapse. But I persevered and wound up at the top, where another very gorgeous young woman checked me in and showed me to my room. (I wonder if physical beauty is joined by the bilingualism and patience as a few among the many qualifications for the job.)

By now, it was about 4pm. After unpacking and taking a short nap, it was 7pm and I was hungry again. The clerk gave me a map and marked it with the local restaurants that served the kind of food I wanted. So I went down the stairs and started walking the block to the restaurant that served salads. Three blocks later, I found a small park, but not any restaurants. Sitting down on a park bench, I hauled out the map. I had followed her markings. Studying the map more carefully, I realized that she had marked the wrong corner for where the hostel was located. Her mark was across the street. So when I turned left, per her marks, I should have gone right.

Another four blocks--one block past the hostel--sure enough there was the restaurant. I could barely climb the one step up, but I did. The tortilla soup was excellent and was followed by a small, but delicious salad and a cup of coffee.

Now back up those stairs, but not hauling suitcase, briefcase and camera case, I sat for a while, then took a shower and plopped into a sound sleep. I set my alarm for 8am. When I awoke, it was 9:30. The alarm had not gone off. Then I realized why. The alarm was on my cell phone which still had SF time. But GDL is two hours ahead. The alarm still thought it was 7:30.

I'm still not up to a lot of effort. Decided to narrate yesterday in this blog before heading to some historic sites which are relatively nearby. Also need to change some money so I'll have to find a bank. It is 12:15 and time to get on.