Can you tell me, sir, what TYPE of gas you have?

We just got our new washer and dryer, it's installed and ready to go! So we thought...

After a couple of loads, we realized that when we put the dryer on one of the self-timed cycles, it took well over two HOURS to dry a modest-sized load. Crap. What else can go wrong? We had problems with the washer too, so time to call for warranty repairs...

The technicians come out, of course when Iti is at work. Poor Gringo me, trying to talk to the repair guys. I manage to convey that "it's broke, don't work". OK, step 1 out of the way. They start asking me a bunch of questions, but after awhile I get the gist of it. They want to know what kind of gas we have.

Huh?

The guy's trying to tell me that there are TWO types of gas service, where the gas has a different consistency. The dryer has an option of two valves: one will work fine with one type of gas, but if you have the other, it won't let enough gas through and the temperature will be too low.

Crap, how do I find out what type of gas I have???

I call Iti (on her way home), she suggests I call downstairs and ask the security guard. OK, but talking to the repair guy I came to understand there are two options: "natural gas" and "mumble-ty-oomph". No idea what he was saying for the second. I call the security guy, and I'm pretty sure it's NOT natural gas we have. OK, great, they need to change the valve.

When looking at the washer, they also find that there was a safety bolt that should have been removed by the plumber who installed it. Bolt still there, the agitator couldn't move freely. They threatened us with not honoring the warranty because we apparently had a trained monkey install it wrong, but in the end they "did us a favor" and did the work, didn't write up our ineptitude.

Now you tell me: who ever heard of two types of gas service? How were we supposed to know? Is it REALLY that hard for a country to standardize on one type of gas? Really people? Come on, work with me! I'm amazed they don't have multiple types of electric: 110 AC, 220 AC, DC... How about several plumbing standards for houses? Use any of these 17 diameter pipes! It's all good!! Jeez.

This makes for one very frustrated Chicago Gringo in Mexico...

How Many Times Does It Take?

How many times does it take to buy a washer and dryer? Seriously...

So we just moved into our new condo, the one we'll be staying at for the remainder of our Mexican adventure. With any new home, there were a ton of things to do before moving in. One of the tasks was to buy a washing machine and clothes dryer. We have a pretty constrained place for them, so had to get an efficiency unit that would stack one on top of the other.

I think it was about two weeks before moving that we looked at a few things at Costco, and a grocery/department store nearby. We found a fridge and a washer/dryer combo that we liked, and would fit into the small kitchen and the tiny utility area. Iti wanted to buy them right away. I was like "Why? We'll have to take them to our rental apartment, there's no room, they'll sit in the hallway for two weeks, and then we have to move them to the condo. Let's wait." Iti wasn't so thrilled about the prospect: what if they sell out? Pooh! I say, no way.

We wait a week, and decided that since delivery from the stores to a fifth-story condo was hideously expensive, we'd buy them, have them sit in the apartment for a week, then have them included with the rest of the stuff we hired movers for the following weekend. So of course, we go back to Costco, and the other store, and of course, they are sold out of the specific ones we wanted. They didn't have anything in stock that would remotely meet our size constraints.

Crap.

Of course Iti took it really well... she wasn't mad at me at all...

So now what?

We drive to our new condo to take care of some crap, and then decide to go shopping. We hit up a Home Depot near the condo: they have nothing. I mean nothing. We plan on hitting up a Costco about a half hour away (if we're lucky), and some other stores near there. As we jump in the car and leave our condo, I point out a store to Iti that her mom showed me a week ago. She says "Hey, they sell appliances there."

"Should we stop and check it out?"

"I'm not sure."

"What do you want to do?"

"I don't know."

"We have to decide NOW."

"OK let's do it."

Of course we were already too late. I had to take a right turn from the leftmost lane of a fairly busy street, crossing two lanes (thankfully an accepted maneuver in Mexico City), then we had to back track through this neighborhood where all the streets were designed for horseback riders. Even a horse-drawn carriage would have been cramped on these streets...

Turning in to the parking lot of the store was fun. You basically had to jet across three lanes, where all of them were on ramps from other over-passes, and it was all blind so you couldn't see traffic coming and they couldn't see you. Well, at least until your car was pasted all over their windshield. The parking lot of course was tiny and cramped, but luckily there was a spot left.

Lo and behold, this store had the SAME washer and dryer that we wanted! Same brand, model, everything. It was slightly cheaper, but huge bonus: free delivery, even up to the fifth floor. Giddy up. We saw a fridge that was decent too, but it was slightly too small, and they only had the floor unit: it was a little dirty, scratched, and no free delivery on out of stock stuff, so it would cost us 200 pesos for delivery. Not bad. Iti remembered there was another appliance store across the avenue, so we ordered the washer and dryer, paid for it, and went off to find a better fridge.

After lunch at a nice little flauta place, we hit up the other store. Not only do they have the EXACT same fridge we wanted in the first place, and cheaper, but they have the same washer and dryer, and it's cheaper too! Like a couple hundred bucks cheaper after their delivery costs.

Now, the store we bought the washer/dryer at supposedly would match prices if you found it cheaper somewhere else. So, we buy the fridge, take down all the information, go back to the first store, and try to get some money back. Should have known...

They needed to send their own employee to the other store to verify the price. Crud. We sit and wait, for about an hour and a half, in the incredibly hot and stuffy store. They finally come back: "Can't give you a discount, it's not the same." What?

It's the same size, manufacturer, capacity, power, EYE-(clap the hands)-DENTICAL to the naked eye. But apparently the model number is off by a digit...

After debating, we decide to cancel the order here, get our money back, go BACK to the other store, order it. We ordered it on Saturday, to be delivered on Wednesday. Done, right?

Wrong.

The next day, Iti's parents come over to check out the swank new empty condo with us. After looking at the space for the washer/dryer and breaking out a tape measure, we panic. Will it really fit? I didn't write down measurements...

Back to the store!

Well, we get there, I measure the damn thing, and it needs to squeeze through the patio door to get installed. It's about 2 centimeters smaller than the door. Tight squeeze, but it should fit. Hooray! We're finally done!

Of course, when it got delivered, it didn't fit.

Iti had to get the building handy man to take down the door frame (bolted into the concrete walls), destroying parts of the walls in the process, to be able to get the washer in. Then he had to patch the walls and re-mount the door. It cost us an extra couple hundred pesos for the wall work, and LOADS of time. But hey, we finally got our washer and dryer. But of course it wasn't that simple. Now we just had to get a plumber to get them installed....

Sigh.

Until next time,

A Chicago Gringo in Mexico

The Worst Idea Ever

As you've heard me say before, driving in Mexico City is, um, an "experience". You often feel like you're taking your life into your own hands when you get behind the wheel- before you even leave your parking lot. It's not just the fact that there are millions of crazy drivers with no regard for others' property or human life. It's also the hostile terrain.

It's hard to pay attention to things like the cars trying to hit you, the pedestrians daring you to hit them as they jump in front of your moving car, or the mopeds and motorcycles weaving in and out of the tiniest gaps around you, because you have to STARE at the road in front of you. Constantly. Scanning for deadly obstacles. A Mexico City street is a non-stop barrage of speed bumps, killer potholes, and general debris lying in wait to destroy your car. I will never in my life complain about a Chicago pothole again after witnessing some of the craters that go unfixed on Mexico City streets. You're guaranteed to need a tow, if not a new car, if you ever hit one of these monstrosities.

It's not just the potholes though. They go out of their way to make impossible obstacles to navigate. One of our most-traveled roads, to get to Iti's parents' house, is a two lane road that they "expanded" by repainting the lane markers to three. How do you fit three cars abreast in a space only big enough for two? Child's play for a Mexico City driver! It happens ALL THE FREAKING TIME on these streets.

There's also the fine ideas of "roundabouts" in this great city. The rules are slightly different than in any other place on the planet. You go around the roundabout in any damn direction you want- right, left, over if you are driving a truck you don't own. They become not so much "roundabouts" as "roadblocks". My favorite intersection is three one way streets crossing with a huge roundabout in the middle. In rush hour it's a riot: cars from all streets are going both ways around the traffic circle, get stuck in the intersection (because they tried to run the red), and so you wind up with this impossible tangle of cars mashed bumper to bumper, door to door, door to bumper, everyone blocked by five vehicles all pointing different directions, and everyone honking at everybody else to get the hell out of YOUR way.

As bad as the city can be, it seemed tame and sane compared to our trip to Oaxaca, where we encountered the two worst ideas ever in road construction. The runner up was in Oaxaca itself; we're driving along the main road that goes outside the historic downtown district. Some genius decided "you know, this road is busy, and everyone wants to go downtown. Rather than having people make a left turn across traffic, why not move their lane to the leftmost?" Imagine the heart attacks I suffered when I'm driving along the avenue, three lanes in each direction, and all of a sudden you have to get over to the other side at the intersection. You cruise along with oncoming traffic on your right for awhile, and then suddenly you switch back to normal. It's like you're cruising along and all of a sudden BLIP You're in England! BLIP Back in Mexico again, get over right! BLIP Hey, we just crossed into India, everybody move over! in two blocks BAM Back in North America, back right! then suddenly HEY I think we're in Tazmania now!

Jeez.

That however was NOTHING compared to us stopping in this tiny town off the main toll highway in between Oaxaca and Mexico City. We're hungry and decide to stop for lunch. Iti asks me to take the next exit. I get off, and the town is on the other side of the highway, so there's an overpass. As I get off, I see another lane merging, but the arrows on the road are pointing the other direction (like I'm going the wrong way down a one way). I slow down and freak out a little bit, but it seems like I'm going the right way, so off we go. It gets to this NARROW skinny one lane overpass over the highway, then we're on the other side and cruise into town.

Of course we found no place that looked safe enough for lunch. We switched drivers and head back to the highway. To continue south to Oaxaca, we have to get back over the highway. We go down, and there's no overpass. Just the way we came...

Huh...

Wait a minute...

IS THAT A FREAKING TWO-WAY ROAD?!? YOU GOTTA BE FREAKIN' KIDDING ME!!!

Yep, that's right: a two way road, that is about 3 inches wider TOTAL than the wheel base of our tiny compact car. After sitting there stunned and trying to figure what to do (with all the traffic northbound honking at us because we're blocking the way), we decide to go for it. Iti starts up the ramp and CRAP! A fully loaded dump truck comes barreling over the top at about 45mph!!! He slams on the breaks, starts honking, we have to back up this tiny ramp so narrow that Iti has a hard time not going off-roading. The truck goes by after we get down, we take a breath, she starts up again, about a third of the way WHOA NELLIE!! A cement truck, followed by two cars, can be seen roaring over the top of the ramp. Again, the convoy of us backing up, while oncoming cars are flipping us off. A third time, and we can't make it to the half-way point before oncoming traffic forces us back.

Finally, we go up, and get over the half way point. There was a line of like three cars (and another dump truck) coming the other way, but we got over the half way point first, BECAUSE: a dude was walking his flock of goats over the ramp and blocked traffic for us.After the goats managed to somehow squeeze by us, we got to force the conga line backwards so we could go.

That ramp, as far as road work/city planning goes, is the Single Worst Idea Ever.

I'm sure glad Iti was driving...

Happy Hour is Just a LITTLE Happier

The other day I really got a view of one of the cultural differences here. Our landlords invited me up to a Friday happy hour; Iti wasn't around, so it was just me. Now, what does happy hour on a Friday afternoon entail in the States? Some beer, maybe wine, and some munchies, right?

Not so in Mexico.

The drinks of choice were, first off, wine. OK, pretty familiar, no big deal. The other? TEQUILA. They really don't mess around down here. I was offered the choice of wine or a tequila straight up, at about 4:30 in the afternoon. Shhh, don't tell my boss. I thought to myself "There is NO way I'm getting any more work done if I drink tequila!!!". Wine it was.

Some other guests had a "few" glasses of tequila, then went out to "lunch" afterward at like 5:30 in the evening. Lunch?!? Yes, the Mexican lunch, very late, on Fridays apparently just a bit later, after a jigger of tequila to work up an appetite. I'm proud to say I actually got a little more work done, thanks to having one glass of wine rather than three or four tequila shooters! Maybe next time this Gringo will try out Happy Hour, Mexico Style.

My head is hurting just thinking about it...

Day of the Dead

This year I got to experience my first Day of the Dead, a very important day in Mexico where people remember their deceased loved ones, and make offerings for them. It is a huge cultural festival, with lots of traditional decorations, food and candy. My wife is infatuated with Day of the Dead Bread, a roundish loaf of sweet bread with bits of dough shaped like bones on top. She's partial to the standard one covered with sugar, kind of like a gigantic sugar doughnut (grain sugar, not powdered). I personally go for the one cut in half and filled with whipped cream/custardy goodness. Yum! I didn't get to try the one dipped in chocolate; oh well, next year.

The festivities started for us almost a month early. There was a huge market with Day of the Dead stuff in Toluca, a town about an hour outside of the city. Iti wanted to go to check out all the stuff. I really wanted to go to shop for some cool Day of the Dead stuff my friend Dave requested. We went with Iti's parents and spent the day there. After shopping in the market, I found a couple cool little things, but no really great statues. I saw one that I kind of liked, but Iti's mom Miriam convinced us it was WAY too expensive. Her dad suggested we go to this other town, Metepec, about forty minutes away, where they make a lot of the Day of the Dead statues and candies and things. We went, to no avail; there weren't that many really cool things, and they were all more expensive than at the market! We left feeling discouraged.

By luck, about a week later Iti and I were walking to the post office for my first trip there, and we stumble upon a store in our neighborhood that had an AMAZING selection of Day of the Dead stuff, with decent prices! Check out these photos of the store; I was enthralled. We got some stuff for Dave (hope he likes it), and of course Iti needed her own Day of the Dead memorabilia: some skulls, a Catrina (skeleton woman in a formal dress), and of course an alcoholic mariachi for me.

With our important purchases out of the way, we were free to enjoy the actual Day of the Dead festivities without any missions to accomplish. A big place that goes all out for the holiday is Mixquic, a town just southeast of the city. It takes about 45 minutes to drive there from our place with no traffic; websites talking about their Day of the Dead festivities warned of four hour drive times to get there. Yes, it's a little popular and gets a bit crowded.

We waffled a little on whether to go, but finally I decided we really should since it may be my only chance to check this out. We compromised and decided to go on Saturday night for the Day of the Children (or Day of the Dead Children, or something like that), instead of Sunday for the biggest festival. We thought that Saturday would be just about as good, and then I wouldn't have to work Monday on four hours of sleep.

Arturo graciously offered to drive, as always, and we left the parents' apartment at about six in the evening. We hit traffic in about ten minutes of leaving. I innocently asked if it was the start of the Mixqic traffic, to which Arturo replied "No, this is just Mexico City shit". Totally normal (unfortunately).

Miraculously, it only took us three hours of stop and go driving to get there. Mostly because we got there SO early; the party was just starting to hop at about midnight that night. On the way in, Iti and her mom decided after about two and a half hours in the car that they either had to find a bathroom or pee on the car seats. To spare the car, we stopped at someone's house that was offering their bathroom for three pesos a person. Arturo and I waited in the car, but the girls said the experience was pretty, uh, "interesting". The "bathroom" was basically a hole in the floor (we don't need to dwell on it any further). After doing their business, the woman who owned the house gave them tamales for free! Apparently part of the tradition is to cook a bunch of the dead's favorite food, and give offerings to any guests on Day of the Dead. Her husband loved tamales, so we got four for free. They probably could have charged us twenty or thirty for the food, rather than the six they got for two potty breaks.

After getting into town, finding a place to park, and making a pit stop for the boys (we found something more than a hole in the floor, but no light, and still not exactly, um, clean), we were able to kick back and enjoy the evening. There were tons of people crammed into this little town, with all kinds of things going on. The entire "downtown" area had the streets blocked off, people walking around, music, stages with people dressed like skeletons putting on different performances,... it just went on and on. Check out our pictures from the trip. There were hundreds of vendors selling food, beer, and candy. Also they had a huge museum for Day of the Dead, with things like miniature altars made by grade school children on display. Probably the best part was going into peoples' homes and seeing their personal offerings. People erect altars to remember their loved ones. The altars have flowers, pictures, and lots of food, usually favorite dishes of the deceased. It was pretty amazing being welcomed into someone's home to view and share in something that struck me as so personal.

We were a day too early to see people having dinner in the cemetery, but we did hang out in the church that had prehispanic ruins in the courtyard, plus a big altar comprised mostly of human skulls, with a few other bones tossed in for variety.

For dinner we stopped at a stall selling quesadillas. The choices of drink were: Coke, orange soda, and, um, Coke. No diet, no water, no other choices. I ate a pretty big meal, but then stumbled on a place selling carnitas. By some miracle I hadn't had ANY carnitas yet after getting to Mexico, so I thought "OK, one taco". I went up to order, and the guy asked me something rapid fire that took like five minutes for him to get out. This Gringo was highly confused; I thought my Spanish was progressing better than that. Guess not. The family came over to translate, and I discovered that eating carnitas is infinitely more complicated than I had imagined. You can order specific parts of the pig when you get some meat. I have no idea what they told me to order, but I was assured it was "the best". I can tell you first hand, it was the BIGGEST. This "taco" was served on two large corn tortillas, and had to be a solid half pound of pulled pork or more. Even though I was already stuffed, I ate the whole thing, smothered in lots of yummy salsas. Vomitous.

It was a great evening. The drive back was nice- it only took two hours. There were some very heated arguments about which route to take home, but otherwise the trip back wasn't too eventful. I am glad we decided to go a day early, because on Sunday I was one tired Chicago Gringo.

I'll See Your Speed Bump and Raise You...

I was driving to a Saturday market with my wife, and going down one street I was introduced to the "We Don't Want Large Cars and Trucks on Our Street" device. Instead of just having a wimpy speed bump (there was one also), they had a HUGE concrete wall running across the street, with gaps just barely wide enough for a small car on the right and left lanes. I thought our four-door Chevy was going to need to go on a diet to fit through the teeny tiny gap in the wall (we made it). I don't think there's any way a Suburban or Excursion would make it through, let alone any kind of industrial truck. I guess that's one way to control the traffic through your neighborhood.

Effectively!!!

Steam Bucket

We just got back from our second most excellent Mexican road trip, this time a camping trip- my first camping in Mexico- to Tolantongo, a gorgeous canyon filled with hot springs. Things got hot right away at the start of our trip. We were meeting friends a little ways away from home, working our way through Friday afternoon traffic in the city.

The trip would be about fifteen minutes by foot, but alas, Friday afternoon traffic in Mexico City is like an angry beast. An angry beast with a mean streak, rabies, and a loaded semi-automatic gun.

We're dropping off my mother-in-law before meeting up with our friends for the drive out, and I get in line to make a left turn in one of the few intersections of the city that a) has a left hand turn lane, and b) has a left hand turn arrow. I'm waiting behind about three thousand cars, and Iti tells me "waiting is bunk, go around and take a left from the next lane over". OK, so I follow orders like a good soldier, pull around, and get to the intersection after the left turn arrow goes red (like I thought would happen). I pull out into the intersection to the right of the first car waiting to turn left, and Iti freaks out; "OH MY GOD! DON'T DO THAT!"

Huh?

I remember calmly replying "Honey, I'm doing exactly what you told me to do. What is your concern?" She remembers it more like me screaming "WHAT? WHAT? WHAT? WHAT DO YOU FREAKING WANT ME TO DO?"

Apparently we're both severely allergic to Friday afternoon traffic in the city. Also apparently, I wasn't the worst offender, as a pickup truck pulls up to my right, so we have three cars stacked in the intersection waiting to turn. Gotta love the driving here!

Without further bloodshed we make it to our friend Moy's office, wait for his wife and kids to get there and him to finish up work, and hit the road. It took us about an hour and forty minutes to take the normally half-hour drive to the city limits, this after Moy's poor wife Karen spent like two hours driving over to his office (it's NOT that far). Wow, that really sucked.

We hit the road, thinking we'd stop and eat lunch sometime after getting out of the city. We didn't take off from the office until about 3, and Iti was starving by about 3:30. Fortunately the traffic was so bad we could pull off some emergency munchie passing between the two cars. Moy and Karen were traveling with two small kids, so they had a small convenience store's worth of snacks in the car: chocolate milk, chips, Rice Crispy bars, you know the drill.

After a couple hours, people wanted to keep going and try to get to our destination before dark. This didn't quite work out. By nightfall we were still at least 30-45 minutes away from our eventual campsite. We hit this long stretch of road after the last town before Tolantongo, that had about three thousand small convenience stores, one after another, each with its own unmarked and unpainted speed bump that was impossible to see in the dusk. But oh, we felt them, each and every one. I'll really enjoy having to put a new suspension on a two-month-old car. We made a quick potty break for the kids (and Iti) at one of the first stores.

To get to Tolantongo at the bottom of the canyon, you have to drive about 15 minutes on a dirt road with switch-backs worthy of the drive to the Mount Bierstadt trail head in Colorado. In hind sight it may have been best that we did this drive in the dark; we couldn't see how close we were to flying off the mountain to our deaths in the middle of nowhere.

We get to the one permanent restaurant just above our eventual campsite at about 8:40pm. Tired, hungry, and a little cranky from the long car ride, we go up to the restaurant, knock on the door, and ask for a table. The response: "Sorry, we've been closed since 9". Uh, A. it's not 9pm yet, and B. there was a HUGE sign on the side of the building stating they were open until 10pm. Come ON, people. After much arguing and cajoling, they agreed to let us in and give us a limited menu of quesadillas, sopes, and enchiladas. Lazy bastards. It was still delicious, and surprisingly cheap.

Just down from the restaurant, we parked, and the attendant tells us we can either head up-river to the main part of the park to set up camp, or we can head down-river. Iti made the executive decision to go down-river, which turned out to be the best possible move. We find a great spot with plenty of shade for the day time, reasonably isolated from other tents. When Moy and I went up-river to the main part of the park to buy firewood, we saw about a million tents set up side by side. It was like a KOA campground, but more packed, without little roads or lanes splitting the rows of campsites. Yowza!

Moy and Karen's youngest Ariela had a nasty infection and was on antibiotics. The poor kid ran a fever, and threw up a few times during the night, giving her parents little rest. In spite of that, they toughed it out for the weekend, and I think they were glad they stayed. She really perked up during the day and after being forced to take her medicine, and we all had an amazing time. Saturday morning Iti and I went swimming along the river with the other daughter, Liat, while mom and dad forced some medicine and a nap on the youngest. After their batteries were recharged, we all met up and went to the Grotto. You have to see this place to believe it! It is this shallow cave that's probably about the size of one and a half tennis courts, with ceilings as high as 12 feet, and hot water springs gushing out of the ceiling at various spots. It was really incredible. One spring was pushing out such a high volume of water you felt like you were getting sprayed with hot water out of a fire hose when you stood under it. If you felt like taking an excellent chance of killing yourself, there were two main attractions. First, they hung a rope off a slick rock face for the bold to climb. It was like trying to climb up a wet eel; the rock and rope were both extremely slimy and slippery, and the rock was there to smack up against when you slipped. Even more dangerous was this side tunnel: it went back probably 30 feet or more, with springs at the back of this cavern. The current was so strong, you couldn't possibly make it up the cavern without having your legs taken out from under you by the strong currents in the knee-to-waist deep water. They slung a couple of (equally slimy) ropes along the side so you could pull yourself against the current. I don't know what was riskier: going in or coming back out. I nearly died both ways. You can tell the underlying sentiment throughout Mexico is "If you want to kill yourself, go right ahead. We don't give a f#@!"

Amen.

Above the Grotto was the Tunnel, another cave, much narrower, with hot spring water coming down literally from all over the ceiling. For the adventurous, you can go to the back, climb up a ledge about as high as my head, then crawl through this small hole on all fours to get to this pool big enough for about three people (zero people if anyone has the slightest claustrophobia). There was absolutely NO light making it back there from the entrance. They had one dude paid to sit in there with a water-proof flashlight, to take tourists back and hopefully keep anyone from dying. The poor guy had to sit in this sauna for 10 hours a day, with only a 30 minute break from the water, heat, steam, and close spaces. I think this is the one place on earth that truly needs a labor union! But he seemed happy enough.

After the tunnel we decided to take a break for "lunch", lunch being the Mexican definition which means it occurs sometime between 3pm and 6pm. On the way to "lunch" we're walking along the more developed part of Tolantongo: basically a lot of stucco buildings with little shops, bathrooms, some man-made swimming pools, etc. We're walking down this narrow dirt lane with shops on one side and a drop-off to a lower level on the other, and some freak decided to pitch his tent up against the wall between two shops. It was one of the most red-neck things this Gringo has ever seen! You have to check out Iti's photos on her blog; I just can't do it justice. What a knuckle-head.

We went to lunch at the same restaurant that tried to deny us the night before, mostly because it was the only real restaurant in the place. It was nice- definitely a step up with the full menu. I had cecina for the first time (a nice cut of salted beef). After we finished lunch we went over to the other side of the park, which was possibly more beautiful than the first. There is this huge section where hot spring water was running down the rock face along the canyon. They augmented the natural rock with cement to form about 40 different little pools, with stone stairs connecting them. The water was coming out towards the top and cascading down the mountain, hitting each pool on its way down. The pools closer to the top were warmer,
since they were closer to the source of the spring, while things got cooler as you moved down. There are gorgeous views across the canyon, and you're surrounded by little cascades and waterfalls. Truly a magnificent place.

For dinner that night rather than going to the fancy "restaurant" (where the six of us could dine nicely for about $50 US), we decided to hit up one of the ladies who ran a little grill along the river. The girls were so wiped we couldn't get them up for dinner, nor even campfires with marshmallows! So we had a nice adult-only evening. We got a homemade FEAST for about ten bucks US, then had a nice evening of beers (everyone but Iti), marshmallows (all), campfires, and star-gazing. What a trip! Sunday we had more fun in the pools before the drive back to Mexico City.

We had a little excitement on the way back. We just got back into the city and we're stopped at a red light, and a sweet black BMW M6 (the expensive one) rolls up on the left. I see that car and say "Now THAT'S a freaking car!" Nice ride. The guy instantly shows his jerk reflexes, totally swerving around the car stopped in front of us, blowing through the red, gunning it and having to swerve around the cross traffic that has a green. Iti calls him some really bad names, and I say "Yeah, with a car like that he's probably a drug dealer". No sooner than I say that, two police cars come up in hot pursuit, one following him and the other going the wrong way down a five lane one way street to try and cut him off. "Wow, I guess he really was a drug dealer". We roll along another block, and as Iti is saying "hmm, a silent chase, they weren't using their sirens", then ANOTHER cop comes up with sirens screaming, hauling ass after the posse. Iti's reaction" I"M glad we didn't get caught up in that mess". True dat.

I certainly hope that's my closest encounter with a drug dealer, or whatever kind of criminal he was. This Gringo wouldn't mind a ride in that sweet Bimmer though...

A Chicago Gringo in Mexico