mymidlifegapyear: August 2011

My first view of San Francisco from Aeromexico flight AM664 is of a sparkling light filled city. It is no less beautiful on the ground, fog and all.

For those of you old enough to remember, San Francisco was the setting for a 70’s TV detective series starring a young Karl Malden and younger Michael Douglas. Watching the car chases up and down the hilly streets lined with gorgeous terraces, the rugged and handsome good guys fighting evil, I was hooked. One day I wanted to go and visit that hilly place and today I did!

The last time I was so exited about a city was when I first saw New York. I was not expecting San Francisco to be as beautiful and interesting as it has been already, and I’ve only been here about 10 hours, five of which I have been asleep!

I’m sure it’s partly because I have been lucky enough to be put up by a local in a gorgeous apartment near Alamo Square, famous for its “painted ladies” a row of Victorian houses featured in movies and home to author Alice Walker for a time.

From Richard’s apartment (thanks so much Malcolm for sharing your friends) you can easily walk to Buena Vista park for a view of the city or to the famous Castro area. A bus just outside his door took me downtown, full of shopping and attractions including the cable car, fisherman’s wharf, art galleries and museums and you can easily get a ferry to Sausalito or Alcatraz (make sure you book as there are big queues).

I find the most wonderful café called Mojo on nearby Divisadero St, read the NY Times over a coffee, and have a toasted sesame breakfast bagel, a mouthwatering concoction with avocado, egg and cheese. Bliss!

The San Francisco I have seen is a mature, sophisticated, gracious and open city with many attractions and distinct areas and “villages”, all with their own atmosphere, colour, culture and energy. There is a huge “China Town”, “Little Italy”, “Russian Hill”, Gay Area (Castro), Financial District, inner city Tenderloin area which you are told to avoid after dark, the Mission area, home to a huge Latino population, and the Haight Ashbury area, with its 60’s hippie feel even today.

The local bus makes announcements in English, Chinese and Spanish, a testament to an acknowledgement of multiculturalism as a reality, not just lip service to the idea.

I take an open bus tour that goes over the Golden Gate bridge (the whole circuit takes about 2 and a quarter hours and the 35 USD ticket is valid for a full 24 hours and you can get on and off as many times as you like). It was well worth it and the commentary is relevant, interesting and gives you a good introduction to the history and culture of this fascinating city.

Later, on the back of Richard’s bike, I get a bird’s eye view of the city from the top of Twin Peaks lookout where the rolling fog creates an ever changing and surreal eerie painting.

A Thai meal, red wine and some chocolate later and I can’t believe what a great day it has been.

Back soon

Mon x

Francisco is artwork

a financial dstrict

fishermen's wharf

fog rolling in

Little Italy

"my "cafe, Mojo

a guide and his ride

now you see the bay...

where's the bridge?

oh there she is...

Alamo Square

painted ladies

one more elegant than the next

serious money here

fog across the bay

view from Buena Vista park

post Qigong relaxation

bliss in any place

symbol of hope

city streetscape

earthquake proof buildings

shopping

recipe for social harmony

Union Square

60's dreaming

view from Twin Peaks

garlic is King here

fog changes the view

could be down town Hong Kong

I’m sitting in my room at the Hostel Amigos Suites Downtown in Mexico City.

It’s raining and I am not rushing to check out as I have a long wait until my flight to San Francisco tonight.

Yesterday I took yet another bus to a lovely town in the hills about 3 hours away from Mexico City in search of a jaguar. Taxco is, according to my guidebook, “set against a spectacular rugged mountainside 6000 ft above sea level and one of the least spoiled colonial towns in Mexico” It is also famous for its silver. I was hoping to find some presents, and I was looking for a silver jaguar for a friend. It was a fruitless search. There were a few jaguars, but most were cheap gaudy replicas or just a head. I was looking for something in particular, a whole sleek animal, its strength and energy apparent, in its simple form. The shops were crowded with people looking for a bargain and vendors keen to sell. I enjoyed wandering the streets and found a lovely spot high above the main square to look across the rooftops and have something to eat, but sadly it was not a successful shopping trip!

Mexico City the second time around is less attractive. The poverty is more evident, the traffic more congested, the prices more expensive. I had a really, really bad meal (ok not that bad as I didn’t get sick!) in a place that was recommended by a local. To be fair it was kind of cute. Old style professional waiters, the walls lined with old black and whites of a bygone era, and an old piano man, his jacket straining from an expanding girth, accompanied a grandmother belting out some well known latin love songs. I suspect that this has been their regular gig for the last 40 years!

The whole experience was in stark contrast to the cool “Mama Rumba” a late night club on Medellin that I eventually found after a long walk from Condesa, an up market café strip. My entrance included a strong drink (I think it was mescal, famous because a caterpillar is placed in the bottle to prove that there is enough alcohol in the drink to preserve it!) and a wrist band to prove I was hip enough to be admitted. After the now common security check I joined Mexico City’s salsa community who was already dancing in every available space while waiting for a Cuban band to perform.

I sat at the bar and watched some amazing dancers. In the main, they were not “performing” at all, just completely absorbed in the music and in perfect harmony with their partners. I was particularly envious of one older woman who was constantly dancing, adjusting her movements with each new partner, young and old and clearly having fun. It was a friendly and happy crowd, especially when the “big band” complete with brass and two stunning Cuban singers and dancers started to play. I even managed to get 2 dances and chatted to a couple of locals. It was late when I left and caught a taxi home, the music still ringing in my ears, but it was good to have gone out on my own, in a big city where I didn’t know a soul and not feel afraid or alone.

It will be strange leaving this part of the world. It really has been a wonderful adventure. I have seen historical sites, met locals and fellow travellers, learned some Spanish and danced. I have climbed volcanoes and stood on sacred sites, taken chicken buses and luxury coaches, trekked in company and alone, hidden in an “illegal club” while police waited outside, continued my love affair with a smooth vino tinto and tried all the local cervezas, seen some beautiful country, learned about the horrors of civil war, been humbled and inspired, shared my knowledge, learned about people’s dreams, realised that there are many more similarities than differences between us all and above all immersed myself completely in this amazing opportunity, with all its moments and experiences and blessings.

Perhaps I found the jaguar after all.

Hasta Luego

Mon x

Art Oaxaca square

Mexican delicacy

fried chilli grasshoppers...pass...

Oaxaca Zocalo ....quiet by day

but every evening comes alive with entertainment, colour, music

and art classes!

quirky art in my B and B

another bus trip...

past small towns

on Mexican highways

its all a blur..

a new destination...Taxco cathedral

view from my terrace cafe

Calle Juarez main street Taxco

full of silver shops and churches

luxury bus...entertainment

Mexico City Zocalo ...tent city protest

Addendum...but wait, there's more...

With a few hours to kill I decided to find a café that had been suggested to me and do some writing, but 2 metro lines later and after a 11/2 hour search I gave up. I decided to take a taxi back to the centre and go to a movie. The taxi driver told me the Savoy was the go and it was in walking distance back to my hostel.

The ticket seller, an older lady looked bemused when I asked her what was playing. “Gay porn”, she replied.

Not quite the culture I had in mind, so I wandered down the pedestrian mall to the Palacio Cultura and saw an exhibition called Painting of the Kingdoms. Shared Identities in the Hispanic world. It sounded good, something about bringing together various art under a common umbrella. I know I am a real heathen but I think I would have almost preferred the gay porn. The images of religious figures mostly looking skyward with such pained expressions was not very enjoyable. I could appreciate the technical excellence of the work but the spirit of it was depressing.

Not to be deterred from some sort of cultural experience I decided to go to a museum. Sadly it’s Monday and on Monday in Mexico all museums are closed. Oh well…God had the last laugh. I paid my 15 pesos for a guided tour of the bells of the imposing Cathedral on the Zocalo. The view from the top was worth it.

My last “cultural activity” was to have a chat to the protestors who have set up in the Zocalo. A spokesman told me they have there for 7 months protesting against the privatization of the electricity provider which has cost 44,000 workers their livelihood. I asked him if he was hopeful of a positive outcome. We’re here until there is, was his confident reply.

Buena suerte. Espero que vaya bien. Good luck I hope it goes well, I replied as yet another convoy of armed police and private security vans sped past the Zocalo at high speed with sirens blaring.

Adios from Central America.

Mon x