I'm back in Mexico City and after a brief period of culture shock from seemingly small town Puebla, I am totally back in love with this place. I can't believe I let Lonely Planet think that this was a place that I should not visit or enjoy as much as I have.
I started feeling like I might be going to have an attack of meniere's, this weird condition I have that normally means a constant ringing in my left ear (will someone answer that damn phone!!!), but from time to time leads to vertigo if I don't catch it. I forgot to pack my anti-vertigo medicine, so in Puebla I went to the pharmacy and the closest thing they had was Dramamine. I took it, and I think it helped me avoid an attack. But what it does do is make you very sleepy. In my case, it made me cranky.
So, I got to the bus station in Puebla which was a total madhouse, but eventually boarded the bus. And of all of the solo travelers I could see, I was the only one who didn't have my own row to myself. Not to be piggy or anything, it's just that my seatmate was kind of irritating.
She was a stocky, short, older woman, with a lot of plastic bags, that she put at her feet. I think because of her girth, her arms sort of shot out sideways from her body, the result was that her elbow kept digging me in the ribs. I was sort of drugged out from the dramamine, which I took as a precaution because the bus ride could have inspired a bout of vertigo, and I wanted to sleep, but every time I started to doze off, I felt this elbow in my gut.
I would snort and change positions, and try to move as far against the window as I could, but still those elbows found a way to find me. I tried balling up my sweater and putting it between me and elbow lady, but still, she would find a way to jab me. Maybe I was snoring and she was trying to wake me up, but I think she was just restless. She had asked the driver if there was a movie, and since there wasn't, I think she was bored. When I was not trying to sleep, I noticed that her arms were constantly moving, meaning that her elbow had many opportunities to hit different parts of my body.
When I finally did succeed in getting far enough away from her and positioning my sweater so that she would elbow my sweater and not me, she decided to call her friend on her cell phone! Boy, was she irritating.
The result of all of this is that I arrived in Mexico City really cranky. Then I had one of the scariest taxi rides ever. The guy was zooming through crowded streets, through red lights and weaving in and out of traffic. He passed my hotel and pulled up to the NH Zona Rosa, which would have been fine, since I really liked the NH Puebla, except that I didn't have a reservation there. My reservation was at the Hotel Geneve which we passed in the last block. What I didn't realize was that we were on Liverpool, and I had told him London. Even though the Geneve had an entrance on Liverpool, it was the restaurant.
Irritated with this crazy driver and my lack of sleep on the bus, I got out of the cab at the NH an told him I would walk, but I had to lug my luggage (I guess that is why the call is LUGgage) through the restaurant, up stairs and through the lobby.
Long story short, I woke up the next morning smelling cigarette smoke, which I think was either coming from the lobby or the restaurant below me, went down and complained, didn't like the response I got and found a new hotel. I am now across the street from the Geneve in a place called Eurostars Suites. It is lovely. I have a little apartment, with a living room, sort of kitchette (no dishes or stove, but a microwave and mini fridge), a nice bed, lovely furnishings and best of all, my own jacuzzi in the bath tub!
Yesterday after changing hotels, I went to the hotel W in the ritzy area of Polanco for a spa treatment. I really needed a super duper treatment, and signed up for the "ancestral remedy", which included a body scrub with volcanic clay, a cleansing with herbs, a papaya rub, a sit in the temescal (sweat lodge - today's pic) and a light massage. It ended with them serving me a plate of fresh fruit and some juice. It was very nice, but still didn't really do the trick. I think I need to check in to a spa for a week, but I guess it will have to wait until I go to Buenos Aires where I can afford the kind of pampering I really need.
After the spa, I walked back down Reforma towards the Zona Rosa. The weather has returned to lovely warm springlike weather. Actually, it's kind of hot. Reforma was closed to traffic because there was a parade for the arrival of the three kings bearing gifts. At first I saw nothing but the clean up crews, but eventually I caught up with the parade which had all sorts of floats, musicians, dancers, clowns, all kinds of things throwing confetting and streamers and making all kinds of a mess. What impressed me was that when I first started walking on Reforma, where the parade had been only minutes earlier, it was totally cleaned up, so the clean up crews were doing an amazing job considering the amount of junk this parade was spewing out as it went down the street.
The Zona Rosa was nice and quiet once I arrived, and I decided it was time for another haircut. I know I just got a haircut a little more than a week ago, but they are so cheap, and all of these guys walking around with these super trendy styles made me feel a little shabby and in need of a shape up. Also, at just $12, I figured it was worth it to get my hair cut here and avoid my normal $75 as long as I can.
I went to a salon very near my hotel. There were lots of young people hanging out and it turned out they were all working there. Everyone was wearing black and they all had these great spiky fauxhawk styles that I really like. A young guy escorted me to the shampoo station and washed my hair. Then I sat in a chair and a young woman who was getting these red hair extensions from one of the other guys came over and introduced herself. I forget her name. She asked my name and I told her "Ricardo". She misunderstood and from then on referred to me as "Alejandro". I didn't bother to correct her, as I was feeling kind of shy and fish out of waterish.
The music was blaring, discoey, pop, very drag queeny kind of stuff. In the mirror I could see the rest of the staff, primping in front of the mirrors, one guy with a recently bandaged nose (i.e, job) reading a gossip magazine, and the rest of them camping it up and lip synching to the music with their hairbrushes. It was really a hysterical scene, and with that and my stylist calling me Alejandro, it was all I could do to not burst out laughing hysterically. Instead, I just sat and enjoyed this exhuberant display of gayness.
I ended up with a sort of fauxhawk myself with a little bit of a shag in the back. I think it looks cute and I noticed a few more people looking at me as I walked down the street. Now they could have been thinking "look at that old goat with an 18-year old hairstyle", but instead, I think they were thinking, "who is that fox?!"
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