fresh n juicy chunks of oyster :: RTW travel blog

Any moment on the road can be categorised between two extremes: Either you're staying in one place or you're moving fast to new ones. Staying has the advantage of getting to know people and the place closely, you can relax, recover and feel at home somewhere; this is a luxury you are rarely afforded when you're moving fast but instead you get rewarded by the excitement of never knowing what awaits you around the next corner, whom you may meet, what new foods you may try and what unexpected things may happen. And in some sense both states are both easy and hard at the same time. It is tiring and exhausting to move for a long time but your travelling feet also start itching when you've stayed somewhere for a long time; as always the problem may boil down to time but I won't go into that again.
But I make no choices - usually life, circumstances or those strong gut feelings just sweep me away and make the choice for me.
I stayed in Bogota longer than in almost any other place. The city is entertaining and relaxed, I made friends and my body and mind were tired of moving and of being bombarded with new things everyday. And even though it was not cocaine addiction that kept me there (allaying my parents' fears) I had as little control over staying or leaving as a coke addict has over his habit. It was physically and mentally so very hard to get up and go - kind of like the feeling when you first battle with the decision to get up and leave your comfortable and easy home for the first time and set out into the world to travel. It takes willpower and conviction and sometimes a kick in the backside.
Eventually time kicked me in the backside and my excitement at seeing new places fuelled my conviction to have to leave sooner or later. But, just for the record, Colombia is a wonderful country with amazing people and I truly regret not having seen more of it. But I tell myself I am saving it for another time when I have more energy.
When I arrived in Mexico City I had a heavy heart and was again homeless. Adding to my woes was a fascist-style HI Hostel with a massive hotel feel to it and too many rules. And the city is pricey and huge.
On the second day there was a last minute afternoon-trip to Cuernavaca - a beautiful town, bursting at the rim with language schools and a fair number of Gringos (in Mexico and Colombia, by the way, I wasn't a Gringo anymore as only US-Americans are Gringos here) - and then hit the nightlife in Mexico City which, when experienced as a tourist, is slightly pitiful. Still, the people you drunkenly meet on the street are pretty fun, especially in Zona Rosa - go figure it out...
Next morning, hungover and after less than minimum sleep: beeline to Guadalajara, Mexico's second city, cool and funky. Arrived that night and followed up on a party recommendation from Mexico City. The party ended up lasting until the next evening. Good stuff.
I allowed myself a day of rest - or rather I was too paralysed to move anyway. But the next day's afternoon - I slept in after a night of Tequila and worm - I kicked myself again and left Guadalajara, after paralysis caused by inability to make up my mind: should I stay or should I go?
On arrival in Maruata at night, the beach and village were dark and deserted but still great for hanging around. Next day I chilled on the beach, in the town (very relaxed) and talked to the sea and that afternoon I again left to Mexico City, hitchhiking, taking taxis and buses to get there overnight.
There I washed my still salty hair in a sink at the bus station, left my backpack in a locker and went to the pre-Mayan ruins of Teotihuacan; I was so tired I fell asleep on the bus there and missed my stop - that's what moving fast does to you.
Teotihuacan is very nice but being close to Mexico City and very accessible it has groups of school kids running around whistling on pre-Mayan whistles - which is all kinda cute but not as atmospheric as Machu Picchu (yes, here I go again). But where Machu Picchu was to all intents and purposes a tiny village, Teotihuacan clearly used to be a Metropolis - the Mexico City of its day, more than a thousand years ago. But, just like Machu Picchu, it must have been a pretty cool place to live in; I'd be chilling on the wide main avenue like the army of Artesania vendors nowadays and would watch people walk by, going to the Temples and living their ancient lives. Screw Helen of Troy - I want to see a movie called Helen of Teotihuacan.
And now, I am again in Mexico City, typing this in and not knowing what will happen tomorrow. But the good news is that I've been eating delicious tacos everyday! Nice.
I don't know why I've been moving so fast, it just kind of happened so it could have been the momentum of the enjoyable air-ride that set me off here. But maybe I will leave this super-chido (cool in Mexican) country with super-chido people any day now. Maybe I will stay a few days longer for another party. And still I don't know which.
And that's the other bright side to moving fast: I don't care. I don't have time to look for meaning and to think 'I wish I was special, so fucking special, what the hell am I doing here?" (to quote Radiohead for no apparent reason).
Shit just happens and it's fun. Maybe I'm cured.

[The photos are up. Find them in Album Mexico.]